Highland Heat 2 - All The King's Men

by Chera Zade

  “What a hot little Scot slut,” he hissed, grinding against my pubis with his own. And that’s when I began to come.

  I thought I might have to fake it, but the situation was so charged with inherent danger and anger that my sensations were heightened. I squealed around at the rush of pleasure, writhing on the table as the ranking officer pounded my pussy. And I enjoyed every moment of it, even as I already wanted more. I let Boyd’s small but silky cock slip from between my lips so I could say, “Oops. I suppose I should have asked if you minded if I reached climax.”

  “Of course we don’t mind, my dear girl,” James replied, plucking expertly at my nipples, squeezing them almost to the point of pain. And all the men crowded near and agreed that of course, I should find as much pleasure as I could, because they intended to enjoy me.

  Besides, they were sure I couldn’t help myself.

  Even the man fucking my cunt agreed with a nod of his head, because he was too enraptured and red-faced to actually speak. I was glad he was older than Wolfe, unlikely to finish too soon.

  “Do you think I could take all three of you?” I asked, blinking in an exaggerated way. “I don’t know if it could be done at the same time, but I’m so excited that I want to try.”

  That filthy possibility commanded their complete attention, as I knew it would. So it was like this, with forgotten playing cards stuck to my bare thighs, laid out for his fellow officers to plunder, that James quietly excused himself to take a piss…

  I knew he intended to search their rooms. And I had believed I wouldn’t mind my lover’s absence—furious at him as I was—but I felt his leaving like a cold breeze over my ardor. It had excited me to perform for James. To have him watch. It had excited me more than I knew. What if my wicked enjoyment of these orgiastic and degrading acts had everything to do with doing them for my major, and less to do with the sensations of hands and mouths and fingers on me everywhere?

  Well, either way I would have to see this through. So I would have to find the thread of my arousal again if I was to keep the men occupied. “I’ve taken it in the arse before,” I said to Boyd as his cock throbbed against my cheek. “I could take you there. I could take all three of you if—”

  I didn’t have to say more than that. Boyd hoisted me up so that he could slip underneath me, making of himself a cushion for my back as his superior continued to thrust into my cunt. Boyd laughed with drunk amusement as he pressed the head of his cock against my spasming sphincter. He spit on his hand, then tried to guide himself inside, to no avail.

  It was Wolfe who slapped him on the shoulder and said, “Bloody hell, man. That’s not how you get it done. We’ll have to turn her over. Let her ride one of you while the other buggers her. And I’ll have her mouth again.”

  After that, it was all beyond my control.

  They put me where they wanted me. They hoisted me onto Facett’s cock and I thrust down on him, coming again almost immediately, which made the other men think I liked him best. He was an older man, and it flattered him. I knew that if I kept coming in helpless abandon on his cock, he would like me best, too.

  Meanwhile, Boyd finally worked himself into the tight ring of my ass and I felt the marvelous sensation of being stuffed full. And I pretended it was the first time. “Oh! Oh! Oh! I’ve never felt this way.”

  At least, I had never thought to feel that way again.

  There was something about being penetrated by two men at once that nearly robbed me of all coherent thought. I was under the power of these men. At their mercy. And my heart pounded in my ears. It was such a tight fit in my swollen sex and arse. To feel both holes stretched by throbbing, dripping shafts was an otherworldly experience. I felt them pushing and shoving inside me against my soft yielding walls and when I opened my mouth to moan, Wolfe shoved his cock inside.

  I’d already sucked him off once. I could still taste his salty leavings. But now he was more intent. He didn’t want to submit to the slurping and swirling of my tongue along the glans of his organ. He wanted to shove himself into the back of my throat.

  He wanted me to swallow him whole.

  Tears stung at the corners of my eyes as he banged my face with his hips, his testicles bouncing from my chin. But fortunately the pleasure I experienced from the other two men overcame the pain I took from Wolfe. Boyd pinched and squeezed the globes of my arse, sometimes accentuating his lust with a little slap. But mostly, he timed his thrusts into my arsehole to go with mine. I was fucking the hard, lean body of the silver fox, Lieutenant-Colonel Fawcett, whose cock had never lost its hard vigor, and who seemed thrilled by my harlotry.

  I wanted to make both these men come inside me. I worked my hips faster to take each of them deeper.

  “Oh, Mother of God, but she’s a hot little piece!” Boyd said as my tight passage sucked him in.

  Then my orgasm overtook me, this time, like a storm. It built deep inside my belly, spreading out with hurricane force to the rest of my body, making me quake from head to toe. I screamed—yes, screamed—around Wolfe’s cock. The muscles of my channel gripping and stroking Fawcett and my arse clenching tightly on Boyd. I was rewarded by the warmth of Boyd’s creamy ejaculate shooting into my arse as he cried out, his hands tight on my hips.

  I loved that. I did. I knew I would try to deny it later. But in this moment I didn’t bother. I loved the feeling of being overwhelmed by men. Of the seeming endless stream of climaxes that were unleashed in me when I was taken in this way. I loved, too, when Fawcett’s face constricted, and he began bathing my insides with a flood of his hot semen. The old man looked as if he hadn’t had so satisfying a fuck in years, and I felt proud.

  It went on like this for quite some time.

  After Fawcett was done with me, I straddled Wolfe and he shoved his pump penis up into the frothy wetness of my already-used cunt. Boyd called in a few other men from the hall, and then I lost track of who used me. It was all a sea of cocks and semen that splashed upon my skin and left upon my body a sweaty sheen.

  And I took them all.

  ~~~

  Their chanting and cheers only made me come harder. I was absurdly proud of my slutty self. Proud enough that I slipped Wolfe’s cock from my mouth as I started to come again on some unknown soldier’s hard shaft, and gasped for breath.

  It was amazing…

  …until the slap across my cheek. “Keep your mind on your job,” snarled a drunken Wolfe, trying to shove his cock back into my mouth. I was so stunned, so impaired by the shock of being struck, that I clenched my teeth at the wrong time, and in scraping along his shaft, he was convinced that I’d bit him.

  “You she-bitch!” he cried, hitting me again.

  I saw red. I was nearly blinded with it.

  Up until this moment, it had been a carnal frenzy, but I had felt worshipped. I had felt like an object of exquisite pleasure. But now, I felt sudden terror.

  “Don’t be an animal,” Boyd said, trying to pull me back from the assault. But Wolfe showed himself to be stronger and meaner.

  He took me from his drained and half-naked compatriots, shaking me in both hands. “You dared to bite me, you little whore?”

  “I didn’t! Please, let me go,” I protested, as he threw me down onto the table on my back, and grabbed for my throat.

  Nothing in my life had prepared me for this. For the sudden violence. For pleasure turned suddenly dangerous—and possibly deadly. Wolfe’s thick hands wrapped around my neck.

  But just as suddenly as the slap had pulled me from my pleasure, I was suddenly released.

  Wolfe stumbled back. No, he didn’t stumble back.

  Looking up, I saw that he was dragged back by Major Anderson, who had a forearm clamped around his neck, and a pistol to his temple. “The lady asked you to let her go, did she not?”

  Wolfe’s eyes widened, then he turned red to the jowls as Major Anderson turned and slammed him hard against the wall, jostling every lamp in the room. “That is what my Sorcha said, isn’t
it?” Major Anderson demanded.

  Wolfe sputtered, as if unable to form words at the pure certain promise of murder he must have seen in his assailant’s eyes.

  “Now, settle down, Major Anderson,” one of the other officers said, as I found my discarded gown upon the floor and clutched it to me. “Things merely went a tad too far with the strumpet. No need to kill a man for it.”

  Major Anderson didn’t appear to hear his compatriots pleading with him to be reasonable. Instead, he cocked the pistol and pressed it tighter against Wolfe’s forehead. “Is that what happened?” he asked with deceptive calm and geniality. “Things merely got a bit out of hand with my Sorcha?”

  The man being held at gunpoint gave a quick, sweaty, panicked nod. “No harm was meant, of course. I regret giving offense.”

  “Show me,” Major Anderson insisted.

  Wolfe’s eyes bugged. “Show you what?”

  “Show me how things got out of hand,” Major Anderson said. “Let’s do a re-enactment, shall we? My Sorcha very graciously went down on her knees for you. Down you go, then. Down on your knees, Wolfe.”

  The he trembled with rage and fury, Wolfe dared not refuse. Slowly, the pink and fleshy man slid down the wall to his knees, and Major Anderson lowered down with him, into a crouch, never letting off with the muzzle of the pistol. “Now open your mouth. Just like she did.”

  “Anderson, you’ve made your point,” Lieutenant-Colonel Fawcett said, offering a hand to help me from the floor as if to soothe the temper of my lover.

  “I’ve made my point, have I?” Major Anderson replied, mildly, but his expression was utterly terrifying. “No, I don’t think I have made my point yet. Open your mouth, Wolfe. Don’t make me tell you again.”

  Sputtering a little line of spittle, huffing with fear, Wolfe’s lips parted. And the room went silent in utter fascination as Major Anderson dragged the dark barrel of the pistol down the man’s sweaty cheek and forced it between his teeth. “Now suck it, you mewling maggot-pie.”

  At that insult, Wolfe was finally more angry than he was terrified. Casting a baleful glance in my direction, he gave a vigorous shake of his head, as if he’d rather die with some dignity than suck on the barrel of Major Anderson’s pistol.

  James wasn’t about to let him have any dignity. “Oh, that’s just the excuse I need to blow your brains out. Please give it to me. This is your last chance, you see. Suck it like you mean it. Like Sorcha sucked you. Sorcha did it because I asked it of her. You’re going to do it because you want to live. You do want to live, don’t you?”

  With that, Major Anderson shoved the pistol deep, gagging Wolfe with it, and the abrupt motion seemed to terrify the man out of his defiance. With a whimper, Wolfe suddenly broke, wrapping his lips around the shaft of the barrel, suckling it into his mouth, blubbering in humiliation.

  “There we go,” my lover said, slowly stroking the barrel in and out of Wolfe’s trembling lips. “You see, it takes some skill to do it well. You’re very sloppy about it. But I think that’s because you’re frightened and humiliated and vulnerable, aren’t you?”

  The man couldn’t answer, of course. His mouth was filled with a cold, hard, gun barrel. But the swell of fear in his eyes actually made me feel so badly for him, that I cried, “Dear God, please, don’t kill him. Please don’t kill him on my account!”

  If James heard my plea, he didn’t show it. Instead, he sneered, “Here you are, Wolfe, on your knees, half-undressed, at the mercy of a man who could kill you at his whim. That’s the very position my Sorcha consented to put herself in for you. Imagine the bravery that took. I am ever mindful of that when a woman gives herself to me. I find it very upsetting when a fellow gentleman fails to be as mindful. But then, you’re not a gentleman, are you?”

  My lover continued to fuck the barrel of the pistol in and out of Wolfe’s mouth in a lewd mimicry of the sexual act, forcing him to slurp upon it until the man’s downcast eyes began to water. Only then did my lover finally pull the gun free, releasing Wolf and letting him collapse.

  “Now let that be an object lesson to you,” Major Anderson said, straightening to his full height. “To all of you, actually.”

  “You’re a madman,” Wolfe gasped from the floor.

  Major Anderson tilted his head. “Quite possibly, yes. So I would avoid provoking me in future…” With that, James grasped my elbow and clasped me against him with surprising gentleness. “Can you put yourself together, my dear, or do you need assistance?”

  “I—I can do it,” I whispered, getting into my clothes, even if I failed to get them all the way fastened. As thrilled as I was that he had rescued me, I was fearful, too. Both of the cold, hard, savagery I’d seen him exhibit in my defense, and also of the other men in this room, all of whom had pistols of their own.

  But the Major knew these men better than I did, and managed to knock down the tension a notch by clapping one of the men on the back. “Too much drink spoils the fun, gentlemen. The next time we wish to engage in such sport together, let’s water it down a tad, shall we? I’m sure we won’t remember a thing from tonight.”

  And all of them but the man on the floor murmured their agreement that they’d been far too sauced.

  ~~~

  Having retreated with me to his quarters, my lover clasped my face in both hands, forcing me to look into his eyes. “Bloody hell, Sorcha, I saw him strike you. God forgive me, I don’t know what you were subjected to before I put a stop to it. Shall I summon a physician?”

  “No, no,” I confessed, clinging to him. Crying a little bit from the fear of it. “I’ve not come to harm, but I’m shaken. Terribly shaken.”

  He grimaced. “Of course you are. Christ, this is my fault. I never thought them capable of harming you. Even now, I can scarcely conceive of any man enjoying your favor without wanting to fall to his knees in gratitude! I should never have left you alone with them. Never.”

  “I wanted to do it,” I said, still trembling from head to toe. “I wanted to do it for the pleasure of it. I wanted to do it to hurt you, or to hurt myself, I don’t know. I wanted to do it to help you find the evidence you needed.”

  “Well, I found it,” he said, stroking my sore cheek where Wolfe’s palm had landed. “Not that it was worth it. Please believe me, Sorcha, I wouldn’t trade it for the safety of a hair on your head. Please say that you believe me.”

  “I believe you,” I whispered, because I was grateful that he’d come to rescue me, but more fearful than ever. “But did you have to pull a pistol on the man?”

  “Absolutely. Because when I saw you in distress—and all for my sake—I knew I would never forgive myself unless someone was made to pay. I would have spattered that man’s brains on the wall if need be. Believe that.”

  I did believe it. I had seen it in his eyes when he head the pistol to Wolfe’s head. And Wolfe had seen it too. My major might not feel jealousy of another man touching me, but he did feel rage at the sight of anyone harming me. And that made me feel things for him—things I had forbidden myself to feel. “But, what you’ve risked! We’ll not be safe sleeping without an eye open for fear of reprisal.”

  “Do you think any of those men will take up for Wolfe?” the major asked. “No. They disliked him before. I’ve now disgraced and humiliated him in their eyes. Men do not take up the cause of those they laugh at. And they certainly will not take up his cause when he is hauled before a tribunal for his crimes.”

  “It was Wolfe, then?”

  “Yes,” he replied, still stroking my cheek tenderly. “Though I didn’t expect it to be. My money was on Boyd. It’s often a brutal criminal who hides behind a good nature. It’s the rare criminal who is exactly as he seems.”

  There would be justice, then. And I’d helped bring it about.

  I could at least take solace in that.

  In the hours that followed, I rinsed my mouth. I chewed cloves. I threw my ruined dress on the fire. Later, in a hot bath that he arranged for me himself, ha
uling hot buckets of water from where I didn’t know, James sponged me softly. Worshipfully. Mournfully. “My God, Sorcha. My God,” he repeated. “I do not dare ask your forgiveness. But I will never ask you to do anything like that again. When I think what could have happened…”

  “You wouldn’t have let it happen.”

  Very seriously, he said, “I would kill or die to protect you, Sorcha. I am besotted with you. It isn’t right that I am. It isn’t becoming of my profession. But I am besotted with you. You need not feel the same, but you need to know it. You need to know the truth. Which is that I, James Blair, Viscount Tilney, heir to the Earl of Castlemane, am besotted with you. And I will make this up to you somehow. That I vow on my sacred honor, and the honor of my family name.”

  I felt strangely as if the warm water were swallowing me up. As if I was drowning, but in a pleasant way. As if the rest of the world were far away and I could scarcely hear his words. Perhaps I was sleeping. Dreaming a very strange dream. A dream in which I was the mistress not only to a bloody English spymaster, but to a bloody English lord!

  He had just told me who he was. His family name. His title.

  “Am I the only one who knows?” I asked.

  “No. There are noblemen amongst the officers. I am known to a few.”

  “But if I told someone that, would it cause you trouble?”

  “If you told the wrong person my identity, it would cause me quite a lot of trouble, yes.”

  “Would it put you in danger?”

  His eyes met mine. “Yes, it would. Which is why I told you, Sorcha. Knowledge is power. I have abused my power over you. You now have the opportunity to do the same.”

  My heart gave a soft, dull, thump at the thought of hurting him. My anger had washed away with the bath water. I didn’t want to hurt him anymore. I wanted to kiss him, and not from lust, but from some other emotion.

  When I touched his cheek with wet fingers, he gave a start, then turned his lips to my hand to kiss my palm, again and again. “Can you forgive me for tonight, Sorcha? Can you ever forgive me?”