Duty of the Chieftain - a Highland 'Lord's Right of the First Night' novella (Clan MacKrannan's Secret Traditions #3)

by Jonnet Carmichael

  "Fair enough. They're no' all as pretty as Ranald's bride here. It would oft times help to have a hand on me afore the breach."

  "And what about a mouth?" said Ishbel, moving down her list.

  "Nay, nay! A beginner might bite me."

  "Hmmm… could we include it as an optional extra, milord?" said Beatrix. "I worry that some brides' hands may be coarse from their toils."

  The Chief held up his own hands, calloused and scarred from years of swordsmanship, and then he leaned down to Elinor. "What say ye, Elinor, the sample bride? Any complaints?" He swirled his rough palms around her breasts, and the nipples came instantly prouder.

  Elinor's eyes flickered as she squeaked, "…None…"

  "Let's tutor ye some in the art of husband-pleasing, then. Sit up."

  He rearranged them on the bed so that he lay on his back, ankles crossed and hands behind his head. "See how far yer instincts get ye first."

  Elinor knelt to her task, absolutely clueless but willing to try. If his actions until now made her more inclined to couple, the same must conversely apply.

  She rubbed a palm over his nipple, and tickled his armpit.

  The Chief opened one eye to say, "A pity I am no' ticklish." He seemed tickled nevertheless.

  Mirroring what she remembered of the other movements he'd made with his hands, she stroked his neck and shoulders, fingers deep in his hair, a thumb along his collarbone. A palm on the muscle of his chest again brought his little teat proud. The further down his abdomen she touched, the more the hairs of his chest prickled in response. Her manoeuvres took her to the scar across his ribs and onwards.

  Being watched by Lady Agatha did not help at all, but then perhaps Agatha was just a teensy bit mortified as well.

  When her outspread hands dipped below his navel, the muscles of his groin twitched... and his manhood seemed more alert, although she had not touched it, and was a little afraid to do so.

  The Chief's massive hand clamped around her wrist and manoeuvred her attentions to that very item.

  She didn't know how to touch him there, having no mirror on her own self, so she copied what the Chief had done to her wrist and grasped the item like a flagpole.

  So far, so good. Experienced only with licking Ranald's manhood, and for a short time at that, she familiarized herself with it lest she be asked questions. She mentally noted the sac at the base, a craggy and moveable item. The main part was rigid in this state, and had velvety skin which moved down under her hold to reveal a pinkish-purplish crest, which was again enclosed by the skin as she moved her hand up.

  The Chief moved his groin in such a way that her motion began to repeat itself although her hand stayed still. When a little bead of juice came forth from the crest, she submitted to the instinct to take a long lick of it as if this were a succulently dripping plum, and proceeded to suck at it for more juice.

  "WHAT do ye think ye're at…" The Chief bolted upright and pulled her head away. "Nay to that, bride. Ye must use yer hands on me only. Just hold it in one hand, and use the other to… Agatha! Yer assistance here, if ye please."

  The Wisewomen stood courteously as Lady Agatha arose from her chair, and sat again in unison when she reached the bed.

  The Chief smacked a kiss on his wife's forehead and said, "A bit of educating is called for, my dear. Have at it." He lay back again and left Agatha to play teacher.

  Agatha took a second to think what would work for all future brides in the Bride's Right Bower. Knowing her husband's likes and dislikes extremely well, she settled on a particular failsafe skill she knew for rousing the Chief, the one she believed he'd intended to describe. Her own hands meekly on her lap as she sat on the bed, Agatha began talking Elinor through it.

  "Ye're right-handed, so take hold with yer left hand. Nearer the top. Nay, dinna try to hold it all… ye would need three hands for that. About there… that's it. And be firm. Sir Thommas likes a firm grasp. Now, give it a pump up and down… like that, aye, but dinna haul at it or ye'll…"

  "Is that a bellringer at me?"

  Agatha patted his leg affectionately, and rolled her eyes at Elinor.

  "A bit more gentle, as I say… that's it… keep going, keep going… aye, ye've got the hang of it. See how the droplet appears from the top? That's yer measure for getting it right. Now, pull to the down position and keep it there. Open yer other hand and spit into the palm. More spit than that… Fine. Lay yer palm flat atop the crest. Now ye start circling and spiralling the spit over the crest, and at the same time pump yer other hand up and down…"

  Elinor found it a bit like the game of patting her head and rubbing her tummy at the same time, and she had to work long at co-ordinating the movements. She had also never been so embarrassed in her life. Bad enough to be watched by four women, but for Agatha to be guiding her hands on the Chief's manhood was beyond the pale. Even worse to be receiving such a lesson while bare naked.

  "It takes practising but ye're doing grand now. Put more spit on yer palm and keep it well wet… See how Sir Thommas begins to shake a wee bit when ye do it just right?"

  The two heads bending over the teaching material were joined by another above them as the Chief motioned both ladies to get off him.

  "I thank ye, dear wife. Ishbel, make note of this skill and credit the Lady Agatha with its devising."

  The Wisewomen stood again as Lady Agatha returned to her chair. Ishbel hastily fetched out a new quill, for she seemed to have split a nib in her arduous recording.

  "Are ye sufficiently roused, milord?" asked Hessa.

  "Verra well indeed," said the Chief. "I should have been fetching Agatha along with me more often. Right, we'll move on. Ready the bride for the breach, is it? Any changes to be made there?"

  "Just the oil, milord."

  "The oil… and where would I find that in a hurry?"

  "We have attached a bowl to the bedpost, milord, for yer convenience."

  "I see it."

  Beatrix scurried to the fireside to fetch a bottle. She tested the temperature of the oil on the inside of her arm, nodded, then scurried to the bed and poured the contents into the bowl.

  "Warmed, eh? A thoughtful touch. And at what point in the procedure will the bowl be filled? Is it something I should be calling out for?"

  "Nay, milord," said Hessa. "We left it warming at the fire only this night, since there would be a bit of stopping and starting. Henceforth the oil will be in the bowl afore yer arrival. We know ye're not long in reaching the stage of needing it."

  "Ideal. And if I should need a top-up?"

  "The bottle will be warming at the fireside, milord."

  "Excellent," said the Chief. "Right. We shall proceed, then."

  "Thank ye, milord… and if ye could continue to provide yer commentary, as and when ye can manage without interrupting yer activities."

  Elinor found herself on her back again, being kissed full on the mouth by the man very similar to Ranald although seventeen years his senior. The Chief's experience far surpassed her own, but she responded as best she could. The Wisewomen had advised her on how important kissing was in the preparation of a virgin for the breach, and that her wholehearted collaboration was necessary if the goal was to be successfully achieved.

  The Chief being quite the expert, she found it extremely pleasant although it did not touch her heart in the same way his son's had. She closed her eyes for it, and determined to keep them closed, for matters seemed to be moving forward rather quickly now.

  Her silk chemise went mysteriously missing to be substituted by his skin against her own, the feel of which was much better. She felt a warm puddle on her breast, followed by his hand spreading it around in circles… oh my… oh the oil and the hand together felt so wondrous… She pushed her chest towards him for more… both breasts now… her nipples were singing to his touch and she felt her tummy and legs tightening. And suddenly his touch was gone, and he'd sat back a bit, leaving her able to gasp aloud.

  "First I get t
he gownie out my road. Then I let her get used to the feel of me against her, and she must be easy with that afore I'll go further. There's some will resist and need more kissing. It is all co-ordinated with other enticements. Ye'll see that the bride here is responding well."

  He reached past Elinor's head.

  "Then I park a pillow or two under her backside to raise her up, and I begin readying her to receive me."

  He scooped more oil down and spread it across her belly and loins, massaging it into her softness and keeping a hand at work on her breasts.

  "The oil is new to me in the Lord's Right, although I canna deny being familiar with its general usage in bedsport."

  Ishbel scribbled like mad, drips of ink flying from her quill as she recorded this unexpected result. They had intended the oil only for the breach location but the Chief had found a wider use.

  "See how her legs begin to open of their own accord now, as is nature's way, letting me in to ready her with fingerwork. Pay close attention, ladies, for dexterity is the key. One wrong move at this stage and I would need begin all over again."

  The four spectators leaned forward.

  "Draw in yer chairs if ye like."

  Eight arms lifted sixteen chair legs and scraped them from flagstones onto the plush floormat. The four spectators still found desire to lean forward.

  "The proof of it is in the bride's breathing. Sometimes in her words, though I do no' encourage the intimacy of speech at this stage."

  Elinor was lost in his hands' work. The oil bade them feel less rough upon her now, yet his fingers were more firm and agile in their wanderings as they glided over her skin. It came to her that he must have done this to a hundred and more girls in his time as Chief, and still he made her feel special and beautiful and desperate for more of his cleverness.

  She moved a leg, letting her knee crook and fall to indicate her readiness. Her body was singing to his every touch already, and there was plenty for him to still to reach.

  "...See how wet she is, and I have yet to touch her wee bud? And her legs open even wider in her need now? A bit more oil… and I make sure to be working at her teat with finger and thumb at the same time that I slide a finger of my other hand along her crack for the first. And the response should be… Aye, there it is!"

  Elinor's chest immediately heaved in a loud intake of breath. She felt his finger move to and fro along her private place… please… please higher…

  "And my first touch to her bud must be as a feather, and my finger well wet."

  Elinor heard a whimpering, and realised it was her own. Please… more…

  "A few more strokes the full length of her crack. Beyond it to her wee rosehole, ye will note, for that is also a sensitive place."

  The sensation of his finger rubbing at her bud and travelling to circle her bottom almost undid her completely.

  "...And then I'll check for a maidenhead."

  His finger was inside her and she felt as if swooning. Further… please deeper…

  "Nay. I find the castle gate to be without portcullis with this bride. Yet it is clear she has but little experience or none at all, so I would no' necessarily think she'd been had already…"

  His wicked finger moved further inside her all the time he talked, and his other hand still busy at her nipple, palming it so easily because of the oil and tweaking as it pushed to seek more.

  "…If a lady, more likely it would be that she'd ridden a horse astride since young instead of side-a-ways, and likelier than that with the servant class would be sitting astride the ox that was pulling a plough all the day. And we must remember that a portcullis might exist yet no' bleed enough to show on the linens, so the manual check is all the more important. Beatrix, a bit more oil, if ye will, for the bowl is empty."

  Beatrix near knocked her chair over in her rush to the fireside and back, scared she'd miss anything while her back was turned. Ishbel took the chance to flip to a new page, change inkpots and make the decision to write smaller to avoid needing anything in the clerical supplies line for some time.

  "…I thank ye, Beatrix. In the time ye've been gone, I have worked at her bud to bring forth more of her wetness. She is well ready, in my estimation, yet I will still ask. Would ye have me breach ye now?"

  Elinor was in a far place where her body's sensations were the only thing of matter and the gravelling voice concerned her none. Until the hands stopped moving and her name registered.

  "Elinor… Elinor… may I breach ye now?"

  She opened her eyes briefly to say, "Me? Oh please..."

  "Ye are sure of this?"

  "I am SURE…"

  The Chief turned his head aside to speak low to the Wisewomen. "Twice asked is the custom. I would keep that as a courtesy, even if there will always be witnesses henceforth."

  He took his cock in his hand and wet its head up and down her folds, readying himself for the next stage. Taking a fresh scoop of oil, he worked it into her groin, rescuing a drip trickling down her buttocks, and using his thumbs to lave it well around the perimeter of her gate.

  Elinor whimpered all the more at the sweeps of his manhood and the hot oil on his hands. She could feel her legs quivering in his grasp as he spread them further apart.

  Battering ram in position, the Chief took firm grasp of her inner thighs and determinedly leaned on them, opening her full wide for his entry, and lunged in once, twice, and the third though the gate. He slowly moved further in and there he stilled, and watched the bride to see what the reception was to his invasion.

  "…The oil is vast improvement. See how easily my cock slid past her folds there?"

  Elinor whimpered all the more. How could being impaled on a pole this thick not hurt like it had with Ranald? Yet the feeling it gave her was one of quiet desperation to have more of it.

  "…Ranald did not continue after this, the breach itself. She is a tight one indeed in her smallness. Easy to see how he could become wholly stuck, for his cock is bigger yet than mine own."

  Three pairs of spectator eyebrows lifted. The fourth pair did not, belonging to Ranald's mother, who already knew many such details about her husband and sons in the Lord's Right.

  Elinor found the fullness of being stretched so widely a natural sensation, as if something she'd been waiting for, and the precursor of better yet to come if only he'd keep moving. She wriggled her bottom on the pillow in hope. And she found her hands slinking round to hold onto Sir Thommas's nether cheeks, lest he try to leave. She hoped this was encouraging enough without being demanding.

  The Chief again turned his head aside to speak low. "It is custom to now continue until the bride achieves her bliss by way of a cock and no' just a finger. Some lords will keep a bride up to three nights for the purpose."

  He brought up a hand to work constantly at her breasts while he spoke, keeping each of the teats tender and gauging her need by her squirmings.

  "Really, milord?" said Hessa. "I had thought the three nights was for the siring of recruits for a lord's army."

  "Ach, siring is easy. Bringing a lass to bliss with a cock for the first takes skill. It is an exercise in control, both of self and of situation. A bride must be conditioned, ye see, and the timing gauged according to her response. See how I remain still and allow her to be the first to move in her wantings?"

  What was all this talking! She tried to wriggle more but was impaled into immobility by the Chief. He did at least scoop up a little more of the oil and work it over her breast while he continued his explanation of the point.

  "Any lord will tell ye it is a challenge no' to be missed. Sometimes it will take longer. Maybe her maidenhead has been strong and hurtful to breach, or maybe her feminine urges need coaxing out. I will keep a bride the night through in such case."

  The hot oil coming onto her reddened nipple made her crazed now that she had the feel of him inside her. The combined feelings radiated through her until she thought herself soon to burst. She wished she could have avoided the moan which
left her, for it made him take his hand away to join the other again in holding her loins.

  "The early morn can be ideal, when a man awakens stiff, and a bride is more relaxed, and she has breathed his scent in her sleep. As I say, this oil of yours seems to assist well for the moment. Let us see how we do here..."

  The Chief finally let go his grasp of her loins and leaned forward to brace his hands either side of her. He began rocking very gently, hardly an inch at a time, until he was occupying to capacity. The pillow underneath her seemed to deepen his reach until she felt his sac come against her bottom, and she came to crave the feel of that as he touched her deepest places.

  He next took hold of the bedhead with one hand and put the other back lightly on her breast. Elinor arched her back, pushing it right at him, for she never wanted to lose his touch there ever again. And while she thought of that part of herself, the other part was being filled to the limit in competition for her attention.

  "…My hand on her tit brings her focus there and lets the cock do its work unresisted. I would never put a finger to her bud at this stage, and I try to keep from nudging it when I'm full in. A bride needs conditioned from the first into blissing from a cock alone, else she will employ her own finger in the hours of sunlight and deny her husband at night."

  She clung to his cheeks, feeling the hard muscles tense one second and relax along with her the next as he began moving within her. The rhythm then changed. He began to tweak at her nipples only sometimes, and stopped moving while he did it, so she came to crave the glory of the empty moments because it was then that he filled her full beyond bearing.

  "It must be gently done with a virgin, for her castle is unacquaint with such intrusion and will still be stinging from the breach. It is more of a rocking motion than a thrust that I employ."

  He kept feeding her his length and with each move the pleasures grew. The separate sensations at her breast and her nether place fused together with all her body in a trembling that increased as the rhythm sped up.

  "…And here it begins," the Chief said rather seriously, narrowing his eyes. "I now take my hand off her tit to divert her fullest attention to the cock inside her."