His Scottish Pet: Dom of the Ages (4 page)

“More, Avril.”

She glanced up at him with a look of understanding and then began to lick his entire shaft, even caressing his balls with her sweet tongue. The momentum was building for an intense climax. Ryce threw back his head and groaned as his come erupted, shooting into the air in passionate triumph.

He was disappointed that Avril let go of his manhood, but he instinctively grabbed onto it to stroke himself to completion. He was remotely aware that Avril was sitting back, observing his actions. After the last spasm ended, he opened his eyes and smiled down at her, thinking,
Next time I’m instructing you on how to stroke and swallow.

“Guid?”

He nodded. “Yes, very good.” Ryce motioned to the bucket. “Fetch it.”

She quickly retrieved the water and helped to clean him off. Afterwards, he lay down on the hay and asked her to join him. She snuggled up against his chest and sighed contentedly.

He played with her long auburn hair as he spoke. “I suppose a woman as comely as you must have a line of suitors.”

She looked up from his chest questioningly. “Ar ye lookin’ for a wifie?”

He chuckled. “No, I am not interested in marriage. I was just curious.”

She frowned and laid her head back down on his chest. “There’s not a dunderhead haur I fancy to marry. They ar all too old or too cross. I prefer livin’ in ma own hoose.”

Ryce’s hopes of freeing himself of Chrisselle began to crumble. “Surely there is at least one decent man among them.”

She lifted her head and shook it sadly. “Nae.”

He snorted in disgust. “God’s teeth!”

Avril laughed. “Whit, ye want to marry me off?”

Ryce realized his reaction seemed odd and covered himself, chuckling lightly. “No, Avril, but you deserve a good man.”

“Ah dae fine on ma own.”

“Yes, you do at that,” he replied, kissing the top of her head before getting up. “Thank you for your gracious hospitality.”

She scrambled to her feet, grinning. “Thank ye for ma spankin’.”

He smiled and kissed her hand before starting down the path back to his place.

“Master Leon, were ye serious about needin’ ma help?”

Ryce turned around, feeling a ray of hope. “Yes. I have a niece back in England. Would you be able to fashion her a dress? No, make it two.”

Avril nodded. “How big is the lassie?”

Ryce held up his hand to indicate Buchanan’s petite height and added, “She’s thin like you.”

“Color?”

“Anything but blue.”

She laughed as she headed into her cottage. “I wull dae it fur ye.”

****

Despite Avril’s offer to help, Ryce was not happy as he made his way back home. The distraction of their time together could not make up for the fact he had to face Buchanan without a plan for her departure. It was more than he could stomach.

He took a detour to the MacPhersons’, knowing he would be able to procure onions and turnips. No matter the level of famine, there were always those who ate well. It just took a man of means to part such people from their spoils.

Ryce hoisted the bag of root vegetables onto his back as he opened the door to his cottage. He fully expected to be greeted with the smell of cooking meat. Instead, the fire was dead and he found no sign of Buchanan. He called out her name several times, but got no response.

He set the bag on the table and ran outside, concern overshadowing his irritation. Had he scared her away with his callous attitude? As much as he resented the responsibility of her, he couldn’t abide the thought of her wandering alone.

She’s an idiot to run. God knows what might happen to her…

“Buchanan!” he yelled as he checked the barn and surrounding fields. He reasoned she couldn’t have gone far, considering her health. He saddled Eventide and then went back to the house to retrieve his claymore, the unique two-handed sword he had crafted before he came to Scotland.

She was sitting at the table, preparing the vegetables as if nothing was amiss.

“Where have you been?” Ryce roared.

She smiled up at him. “A’m cookin’ yer meal.”

“Where were you?”

She blushed before she could recover. “Ah… slept all day, Master Leon.”

“You were
not
here when I returned.” He looked at the unruffled bed for added emphasis. “I do not tolerate liars, Buchanan.”

She put down the knife and fidgeted uneasily. “I followed ye.”

Ryce closed his eyes. Why in God’s name would the girl follow him? But more importantly, how much had she seen? “Come over here,” he said ominously, his anger dangerously close to the surface.

Her hands shook as she got up from the table. She walked over to him, her eyes riveted to the floor.

“Look at me.”

She lifted her hollow face and met his furious gaze with courage.

“Why did you follow me?”

“Ah wus feart.”

“Afraid of what?” he asked evenly, reining himself back in.

“Afraid ye were gaein’ to leave me.”

“And how would following help?”

Her bottom lip trembled. “I dinnae ken.”

He corrected her. “Say ‘I don’t know’.”

Buchanan said in a mere whisper, “I dinnae know…”

He held her chin so she could not look away when he asked, “How much did you see?”

Her whole body seemed to blush a dark shade of pink.

Well, that answers that question.

Ryce couldn’t understand how he had failed to discern her presence. He was an experienced huntsman after all. He should have heard her following. The idea he was slipping unnerved Ryce and he took it out on the girl.

“I do not appreciate being spied on, Buchanan. In fact, it makes me very angry.” She shifted in discomfort and attempted to pull away. His grip became tighter around her bony chin as he snarled, “I will not tolerate it.”

“Aye,” she whispered, tears rolling down her cheeks. “Ye wull get rid o’ me now.”

He snorted in disgust. “I would if I could. Until I find an acceptable home I’m stuck with you.”

Ryce didn’t miss the look of hope that sprang in her green eyes. “But I
will
find someone, Buchanan,” he added cruelly, “even if it means marrying you to old MacDougall.” He felt her shudder in his hand as he let go of her. Although he wouldn’t marry her off to an old lecher, the girl needed to be put in her place. “I fully expected you to cook the game I caught while I was out. I instructed you to eat it and rest. You have disobeyed me twice today. To make matters worse, you sneaked off and spied on me. There is only one remedy for this.”

“Ah’m sairy,” she pleaded.

He pointed to the food. “Get the meal ready. I will return shortly.”

“Ah’m sairy!” she called after him as he left.

He slammed the door and headed towards the barn. He knew exactly how to handle the waif.

Kegan & the Crop

The next morning he woke up relaxed for the first time in ages. He glanced over at Buchanan. She was curled up on the makeshift bed he’d made her on the floor. Buchanan looked all that that much sweeter with the collar around her neck attached to the long leather leash.

She opened her green, soulful eyes and stared at him.

“Good morning, Buchanan. While I am out today, you will wipe down the place from top to bottom. I will be checking your work when I return, so be thorough or suffer the consequences.”

“Ar ye gaein’ to spank me?”

He shook his head to clear it. Had he heard her correctly? Buchanan’s attempt at flirtation was completely wasted on him.

“
You
are not worthy,” he replied simply. He got up, grabbed the leftover turnip from the night before and headed outside to get her a bucket of water. When he returned Ryce informed her, “I’ll be out the entire day. I expect the place to be spotless when I get back.” He added with a devilish smirk, “Oh, and there’s a chamber pot in the corner for you.”

He left with a deep-throated chuckle. If he applied just enough humiliation, she would run into the arms of another without looking back. It was a harsh tactic, but necessary. He needed to make her uncomfortable enough to desire escape.

Ryce spent the day hunting deer and eventually tracked down a small buck in a concealed thicket. Ending life, even that of a beast, was not a pleasant task. He watched with a sense of sorrow as the buck took its last breath. “Go in peace,” he whispered, stroking its neck.

Its end was unfortunate, but the animal would fatten Buchanan up and still leave enough for Kegan’s brood. He quickly gutted the beast and threw it over Eventide’s flank before starting the trek back.

After washing the blood from his hands, he entered his home, curious what he would find. Ryce glanced around the room. It appeared she’d followed his instructions, but what surprised him more was the fact that Buchanan was kneeling on the ground with an expectant look on her face.

He had expected defiance, and wasn’t prepared for this. He walked around the room, intending to find something to criticize her for, but she had been thorough. Ryce glanced down at Buchanan, with the skirt of blue pooled on the floor framing her small body. It was… enchanting.

He huffed angrily, “Do not think that following my orders for one day will have any sway over me.”

“Ah ken.”

“And I want only proper English spoken in this house. If you don’t know what to say, answer with a simple ‘yes’, ‘no’, or ‘I don’t know’.”

“Yes,” she answered quietly.

“Always address me as Master Leon,” he admonished.

She looked up at him and smiled hesitantly. “Yes, Master Leon.”

Ryce sighed inwardly in frustration. This was not going the way he envisioned. She was hanging on to every word he said. He was about to chastise her for it when he heard a knock at the door.

With lightning speed, he untied her leash and ordered, “Get under the bed and whatever happens,
stay
there until I say otherwise.”

Once she was out of sight, Ryce opened the door and hid his relief when he saw that it was only Kegan.

“Come for a visit?”

“Yes. I’ve brought you this, Master Leon,” she said in perfect English, holding out a loaf of oatbread.

He hated that she’d sacrificed food to offer her thanks, but knew better than to decline it. “Thank you, Kegan.” He took the loaf and placed it on the table without inviting her inside. “I have in mind something a little different for tonight.” He walked through the threshold and shut the door behind him.

She smiled seductively. “A surprise?”

“Yes. I have had a
very
stressful trip.”

She swung her hips alluringly. “I like the sound of that.”

Ryce gave her a knowing glance. “I thought you might.”

When they entered the barn he instructed her to undress. He lifted his saddle off the wooden stand and placed it on Eventide’s stall door. The steed moved forward, obviously curious as to why his saddle was suddenly within reach. Ryce tapped his nose lightly. “No chewing on the leather, Eventide.”

He covered the stand with a horse blanket and grabbed a length of rope, directing Kegan to it. “Spread your legs and lean over it, holding onto the legs of the stand.”

She purred as she bent over. “Oh, this
is
different, Lord Leon.”

He picked up the crop hanging on the wall and snapped it hard against her right buttock. Kegan yelped.

“Master to you,” he reminded her curtly. The woman was predictable—however, he was not. Ryce tied each ankle tightly to a separate leg of the stand and moved to the other side to secure her wrists as well. He stood back to admire his work.

Kegan’s legs were spread wide for him. When she gazed up at him from her helpless position, the look of lust in her eyes was inspiring.

He began slapping the crop against her buttocks, warming them up for more lustful play. “I am in a dark mood tonight, Kegan. I think I shall test your tolerance.”

“Yes, Master,” she answered eagerly.

He watched her try to sway her ass for him, but she was too securely bound to move and only twitched ineffectively.
Excellent.

Ryce did not want Buchanan to hear their tryst and gagged his defenseless captive. He knelt down beside her head and said, “I want to leave marks.”

She nodded, moaning her acquiescence through the cloth.

“Fine.” He stood up and spoke to her as he moved behind her. “Tonight I will take you where you have never been.”

He caressed her smooth ass, noting its warmth from his previous attention. He would need to make it a little warmer before he unleashed himself on her. He tapped the crop over the surface, covering every inch. He made a second pass, hitting with more conviction. Kegan’s muffled moans encouraged him to continue without a break.

He slapped her upper right cheek and then hit the exact same area again. She twitched and groaned. Now she would know a new level of pleasure as he took her right to the edge of concentrated pain. He caressed the area tenderly and then hit it two times in succession. She cried out into the cloth. He rubbed a new area in concentric circles and felt her muscles relax. Again, two hard strokes, one after the other in the same place. She screamed into the gag.

Ryce felt between her legs and found her soaked with her own juices. This was what she had longed for from the beginning, she just hadn’t known it until now. But he
knew
. He could read women like horses. He could sense their unspoken needs. He knew when he was reaching a woman’s breaking point, when to pull back and when to forge ahead.

It was a gift… a gift he’d honed for hundreds of years. It was his pleasure to deliver such attention to females whom society had shunned. In his estimation, every woman deserved to know the loving touch of a man and the commanding force of his masculinity. They were like flowers—unique in their beauty. Each woman with her own flavor of passion, pain tolerance, and ability to please him.

Making love to them was the only thing that kept him sane. However, he could only love them to a point. To give any more of himself only invited an eternity of pain. Ryce was unwilling,
but
Buchanan was beginning to pull on him.

He slapped the crop over Kegan’s back, knowing that it would cause her considerably more discomfort. The less fleshy the area, the more intense the stimulation. She squirmed in her bonds. He moved up to her shoulders, striking her upper back. Her muscles tensed and relaxed as he played with her. But he needed more passionate amusement, so he returned to her buttocks, caressing and grabbing them possessively between thrashes.

Then he stood back and delivered his hardest hit yet. She squealed into her gag. He slapped her with the leather tongue in the exact same spot and she whimpered. Once more, slightly harder than the other two. The mark he’d left was clearly visible and exquisite.

She cried out and then began whining.

Ryce walked over and knelt by her head again. Tears ran down Kegan’s face. “Are you ready to stop so soon?” he asked.

She looked up with tear-filled eyes and shook her head.

“Once I being, I won’t stop.”

It wasn’t true. If he saw she was in too much distress he would end the session. However, he found it thrilled women to think they were hapless victims in a particularly intense scene. He lifted her chin and brushed away a tear, gazing directly into her eyes. “More then?”

She nodded without hesitation.

“It shall be done.” He stood up again and watched her tense. At that moment she was solely focused on him. Every movement, every sound… Her body was primed and ready for the passionate assault he was about to provide.

They were in sync—she acutely aware of him and he equally of her. He closed his eyes to savor the moment before he began. He could sense Kegan’s nervousness of the unknown, but he was confident of the ecstasy he was about to deliver.

His body was relaxed, his movements fluid, as the crop danced loudly over her white skin, bringing with it red marks she would cherish later, their tenderness reminding her of this night and her complete surrender.

The crack of the leather tongue, the impact on her skin, the knowledge she was not only accepting the pain but falling into it made his shaft ache. This power over a woman was a heady experience Ryce had become addicted to. It had been far too long
since he’d had this kind of freedom over another. He was ravenous for it.

The crop made its way over her back, making Kegan twist and writhe in her bonds to avoid the burn of it.
Pointless, my dear.
But he could tell by her slowing reaction that she was beginning to fly. Each impact now only deepened her level of ecstasy.

He caressed her ass again, gliding his finger between her moistened lips and slipping it into her. Her walls were slippery with her molten desire. He stimulated her sensitive spot and heard a long, deep-throated moan erupt from her. The convulsion of her inner muscles began, alerting him to the fact her first climax was at hand. He planned to give her several more before the night was over.

He pulled his finger from her and moved back over to her head, untying the gag. “Taste,” he ordered.

It took her several moments to respond, but she opened her mouth and he ran his finger across her tongue. “That is your sweet taste, Kegan. Have you partaken of it before?”

She shook her head slowly.

He licked his finger and smiled. “A lovely tang, wouldn’t you say?”

Her eyes drifted up to gaze into his, expressing her agreement.

“Are you ready to be used for my pleasure?”

Again, it took several moments but a smile eventually spread across her face.

“I shall leave the gag off. However, you are to remain silent.” He returned to her lovely, reddened ass and slapped it several times.

Kegan gasped, but did not cry out.

“That’s good, Kegan.” He shed his clothes, wanting nothing to distract as he took her.

Grabbing both cheeks, he slammed his rod deep inside her bent frame. She moaned loudly at the suddenness of his entry. He pulled back out and reminded her, “Silence.”

He waited until she nodded before slipping the length of his cock inside her. She was hot and slippery, beyond any level he’d experienced with her before. However, he was disappointed that he’d gotten her too aroused—she was loose. He felt like he was swimming inside her when what he desired was a tight caress.