The Captive Heart (51 page)

“That is different,” he replied.

“Not really,” she told him. “When a man’s cock is engaged by lust, he does not ask the woman in his bed if she is also lustful. He just mounts her and has his way because he believes it is his right.”

“Have you never loved?” Beinn asked her.

“Love is for fools, darling. Now I need a taste of that fine cock of yours, and I am not of a mind to wait,” she said as she arose and then mounted him. Positioning herself over his great length, she lowered her body to take him in, sighing gustily as he filled her. “Ahh, God, that is good,” she murmured as she sheathed him entirely. Then, leaning forward, she took his face in her two hands and kissed him hard. “Tell me it feels good,” she purred at him, and then, leaning back, she began to ride him hard.

He fought with himself to deny her what she wanted, but he could not. Whatever had been in the water, and he was now certain something had been, his manly lusts were well aroused and beyond his own control. Unable to help himself he rose up and fastened his mouth about the nipple of one of her large breasts. He sucked on it hard, and then his teeth clamped down on the tender flesh. She spasmed around his throbbing cock and screamed with her own pleasure as she fell forward.

“Ah, you devil! That was very good,” Robena praised him as she finally sat up again. “I can see we shall have a fine time together.”

Beinn closed his eyes, ashamed. What had made him do that? And then he realized that she was still mounted and he was still hard as iron.

Robena leaned forward and rubbed a breast against his lips. “Open your mouth again, darling, and suck me sweetly,” she ordered him.

Mutinously, he clamped his lips tightly together, and she laughed. “If you persist in being a bad boy, Beinn, I shall have to whip you into obedience. Yes, I think I shall have to give you just a little taste of punishment so you understand that I am the mistress here, my captain. It is your duty to serve me as I wish to be served. Rafe! To me!” she called to her serving man. Then she climbed off of him and, to his surprise, put the pointed tip of a dirk to his throat. “Rafe must move you, and while I know thoughts of escape are already in your mind, do not attempt to be foolish. My dirk’s tip is poisoned. The slightest cut, and you will die a most painful and swift death, darling. So be a good boy, and let Rafe do what he must.”

Go to the devil, bitch,
Beinn thought as Rafe came to unfasten the manacles about his wrists. But as he sat up he was overwhelmed by a terrible wave of dizziness. Before he might consider a struggle, the wiry Rafe yanked him forward over the end of the bed and fastened his wrists into clamps that were set into the floor of the chamber. His ankles remained manacled to the bedposts. Beinn had never in his life felt so helpless. Or so angry and frustrated. Sweet Jesu! What did she do in this place that it was so equipped for torture of this nature? The laird should have killed her when he had the chance, Beinn thought. It was his right to slay an adulterous wife. The Ramsays’ pride could have been assuaged in some manner. Then her hand smoothed over his buttocks.

“Round and tight,” she said softly. “And so ready for my strap and my switch. Leave us, Rafe! I will call you when I want you.” Then she waited until her servant had departed the room before speaking to him. “I want you to understand, darling Beinn, that I am your mistress. You are a hard man. A difficult man. You lack discipline, but I shall teach you that fine art this day. First you will receive ten strokes of my rod. It will be painful, but pain can lead to pleasure. My leather tawse will warm your buttocks after the rod has punished them. Then your cheeks will be burnished to a fine glow with a bunch of switches. And finally . . .” She paused and laughed. “I shall let the last be a surprise. Now, are you ready for the rod, darling?”

“Go to hell, bitch!” he growled at her.

She laughed, and the first blow fell upon his helpless flesh. He sucked in his breath, but remained silent. By the sixth blow he could no longer deny the pain, and he howled with it. Robena laughed again as she laid the last four blows upon him. “I have never had a man last so long before crying out,” she told him in a delighted tone. “You obviously have a goodly capacity for punishment. I shall render you two more blows of the rod,” and he yelped in pain as she did. Tossing the rod aside, she took up her tawse—a strip of leather several inches wide, its ends cut into narrow fingers that had been knotted. “Now to heat up your bottom,” she said as she began to flog him.

Oddly, the leather beating him hurt less than the hard rod had, but he was still, to his shame, unable to restrain his cries.

“I like the sound the strap makes when it meets your lovely rump,” Robena said. “Your white flesh is becoming quite pink. Soon the shade will deepen until the pink turns a most delightful shade of red.” She wielded her tawse to deliver several more smacks to his flesh. “Beg me to cease, Beinn,” she taunted him.

“Go to the devil!” he cried.

She laid several more spanks upon his hapless flesh. “Do you want me to stop, darling? But oh, I must, for your bottom is quite scarlet. Now I must burnish it with my switches,” she told him.

The switches stung and irritated until he thought he could stand no more. She seemed to sense it and ceased the punishment, rubbing her hand gently over his wounded flesh. Her fingers playfully drew the twin halves of his buttocks aside, and she ran a finger about his anus.

“God in his heaven, bitch, what are you doing?” Beinn demanded of her.

“I am curious,” she murmured softly. “Have you ever taken another cock there, Beinn, my darling?” The finger rubbed him suggestively.

“Are you daft?” he shouted at her. “Do you think I am a sodomite to copulate with other men, bitch?”

Her finger circled the sensitive little aperture over and over again. “You were not even curious of such things as a boy?” she persisted. “My brothers said all lads were.”

“Never!” he denied vehemently. “
Never!
Your brothers were surely as depraved as you are, lady.”

“Tell me you want me to put my finger in your ass,” Robena said softly. Her finger pressed against the opening and it began to give way.

“Nay! Nay! And again, nay!” Beinn roared.

“But I want to do it,” Robena said, “and I will. You cannot stop me!” Then, wetting her finger with her own juices, which were already flowing, she pushed her middle finger into him as far as it would go. “There now, darling,” she crooned at him. “That is not so terrible, is it, Beinn?” She began to simulate the actions of his cock with her finger. “Do you liked being fucked this way, darling? Is it nice?” Robena purred. “Shall I let you do it to me when you are a little more amenable?”

The Dunglais captain was outraged by her actions, but he was also horrified by his own reaction to the finger moving back and forth in his ass. It actually excited him when it should have repelled him. Yet that wicked finger in concert with whatever potions she had fed him was stoking his lusts. He could feel his cock swelling painfully beneath him, and he groaned, helpless to this shameful arousal.

“Shall I make you come, Beinn?” she asked him. She bent and slipped her other hand beneath him to feel his swollen cock. “Ohh, how hard you are,” she cried, excited. “I must have that great cock of yours again!
I must!
Rafe, quickly!”

The serving man burst into the room. “Mistress?”

“I must feel his weight atop me,” Robena said, and she was almost weeping in her eagerness to have him in that manner. “Get him back on the bed, facedown. Leave his legs free, but keep his arms chained. Hurry! Hurry!” She began to play with herself in her great need as she scrambled to get on the bed.

The serving man did as he was bid, and again Beinn was overcome with dizziness as he was yanked about. Then he was kneeling between Robena’s thighs, and there was no help for him. He had to fuck her or he would die. Without release, he would be crippled for hours, and he believed now that he might break the chains that held his arms fastened to the bedposts. He had been more tightly constrained when his legs were bound. “Get out!” he growled at Rafe, and to his surprise the man obeyed him. “Now, bitch,” he said to her, and he drove himself to his hilt as hard and as deep as he could go.

Robena screamed, but it was a sound of pleasure, of satisfaction. “Fuck me, you great brute!” she said to him. “I want to come thrice, and if you fail me I shall beat you again, and this time it will be the worse for you.”

Beinn said nothing to her, but instead set to work to do as she bid him. She came quickly for him the first time and again the second time. But as his cock throbbed with its own need, she withheld herself from him a third time. He was not certain he could contain his juices much longer, but then he felt the tremors within her beginning, and Robena began to moan and cry as a great pleasure overcame her.

“Yes!” she screamed. “Yes! Yes!
Yes!
Oh, you beast, I cannot stop coming! You have killed me with your passion as I knew you could all those years ago!” She shuddered and fell into a deep swoon.

He had seen this happen to a woman once before. She would not regain consciousness for some time, so great had her sexual excitement been. Able to kneel, he looked at the chain attached to the manacle. Then he examined the bedposts. They were solid oak, but now he saw they were carved so that the middle of the post was thinner than the rest of it. He slid the iron ring at the end of the short chain down to that narrow spot, and then he began to yank against it. After several hard tugs the bedpost gave way, and Beinn was able to slide the ring off of it. There was no way to remove the manacle and chain from his wrist, but he would in effect be free once he snapped the other post, which he quickly did.

Beinn slid off of the bed quietly and looked about the chamber. Against a wall was a small trunk. Opening it, he discovered his breeks, sherte, and boots. He quickly dressed himself despite the disadvantage of the manacles and chains he bore. Then he went to the small window and squeezed himself through it. He immediately headed for the hill where his horse had been tethered. But the animal was not there. Had Rafe found it and stabled it? Had it wandered off? Beinn decided he had no time to go back or even consider where the horse might be. He had to reach the keep. It was not quite evening and he began to run. When darkness settled in he slowed to a walk.

With luck the bitch would not awaken for another few hours. Rafe had been taught not to disturb his lady, nor would Fyfa. Beinn trudged on. He was furious with himself for having been so careless as to be put at a disadvantage by the lack-wit Rafe. The man walked like a damned cat, for he hadn’t heard him at all when he came up behind Beinn. As for the beating and sexual torture the bitch had inflicted upon him, he had wanted to kill her when he got free, but then he had realized that that was his master’s right and not his. He felt no guilt for what had happened between them this time. She had forced him, and he knew better now, though he would confess the sordid hours spent in the cottage to poor Father Donald. It wasn’t something he wanted to keep to himself, and it was the priest’s business to listen. Though he had been bound and impelled to her will, Beinn knew his lust had also been responsible, especially when Robena lay beneath him, clawing at his back and howling with her satisfaction.

The moon rose, and while on the wane it still gave him more than enough light to travel. He began to run carefully and after several hours the tower of Dunglais Keep came into view. He stopped and listened carefully. The moor was silent but for the soft rustle of a few night creatures out hunting in the grass. None pursued him, he realized to his great relief. He moved swiftly across the moor, down a hillock, through Dunglais village, and finally up to the closed gates of the keep. He knocked softly.

“Who goes there?” a young voice quavered.

“Beinn, your captain,” he replied.

The little grate in the door was opened and a face peered out at him. It was quickly shut, and the small privy gate was unbarred for him. Beinn hurried through, saying as he did to one of the several men on duty, “Wake the blacksmith! Wake Iver, and find the priest for me if he’s in the keep tonight. If not, fetch him at first light.” Then he directed his footsteps to the smithy.

The blacksmith came, looking irritable until he saw the manacles and chains about Beinn’s thick wrists.

“Get them off,” the captain instructed, “and ask no questions of me.”

“Aye,” the smith said with a nod of his head. He was by nature a taciturn man.

Iver arrived as the first manacle and chain fell from Beinn’s wrist. He cocked an eyebrow with curiosity, but did not ask. If Beinn wished to tell him, he would.

“Fetch the laird, but be careful not to frighten the lady,” the captain said. “She should know nothing of this.”

Iver nodded silently and disappeared back into the building. The second manacle and chain fell loose. Beinn was rubbing his wrists as Iver returned.

“He’ll see you in his privy chamber,” Iver said. “Can I go back to bed now?”

“Aye, and say naught to Fenella,” Beinn responded.

“Fenella?”

“She’s in your bed, isn’t she?” the captain said with a small grin.

Iver neither denied nor confirmed Beinn’s query.

The two men entered the house, Iver going one way and Beinn the other. Reaching his master’s privy chamber, he knocked and then entered.

The laird shoved a goblet of wine in his hand. “What happened?” he asked. “Why did you not remain watching longer?”

“There was no need. Sir Udolf was there. She’s killed him, and he’s buried. I would have been back a day sooner but that her lack-wit somehow heard me and hit me with something, probably a shovel. When I awoke I found myself restrained. It took me several hours to break free from the wooden posts I was chained to, and then several more hours traversing the moor home in the darkness.”