by Ann Jacobs
“Yes. As I imagine your jewels bring you joy.” She stroked the length of his rod, tugging gently at each paired stud, grasping the jeweled ends of the thick bar and rotating them. Shards of intense pleasure began where metal touched flesh and spread cell by cell throughout his body. Lubrication pooled in the slit in his cockhead when she played with his balls. “Why do ye remove yer body hair?”
“To enhance my pleasure. Why do you remove yours?”
“To keep it from tangling in the iron maiden, or so thought my nursemaid when Da presented her with the device. I am sorry—”
“Do not be. I wish you always to keep your sweet slit smooth for me. Come, sit on my lap. I’d bring you to a climax for the last time ere I show you the ultimate woman’s pleasure. Lift your gown, that I may fondle your pretty breasts whilst I bury my cock in your tight, hot ass.”
Will wet his hand with Meggie’s hot, slick cream, then rubbed it over his cock. Positioning himself, he let her down inch by inch. Incredible tightness. Heat. Her rear entrance grabbed him, milked him, sucked him in until his balls rested against the puckered rosebud of her ass. When he reached under her gown and tugged on the hard nubs of her nipples, her breathy little whimpers nearly made him come.
His gaze locked with his brother’s as Evie bobbed up and down on Gavin’s cock. Gavin smiled. “A sandwich with two layers, my brother?” Will asked Gavin, and Meggie gave a breathy little laugh. “Plow her well, for in but three more days you’ll take her for your bride.”
Evie let out a scream, and Will watched Gavin’s eyelids close. The look of ecstasy on his face, and the jerking movements of her buxom body above his twin, had Will ready to burst within Meggie’s tight rear. As ready to burst as he sensed that she was.
Her heart beat fast and hard beneath his fingers. She clamped down on his cock with strong inner muscles, as if she’d never let him go. Her whimpers gave way to breathy moans of impending satisfaction, and her body trembled. Her slick wet honey drenched his balls and his thighs when he rocked beneath her and buried his cock to the hilt. Her climax sent him over the edge, and he felt his seed building, then spilling, scalding his cock within the tight confines of her rear passage.
* * * * *
His lust sated, Gavin was feeling mellow toward his wanton betrothed. He could have as easily been stuck with a withered prune of a woman. Instead, he was about to gain a wife he loved to fuck. One it would be a pleasure to get his heirs on.
Still naked, he lay back on the cushions by the fireplace in the hunting lodge and watched Evie gather her garments that he’d strewn about in his haste to get to her pale, generous flesh. He liked her alabaster skin, the full curves of her breasts and buttocks, the roundness of her belly that cushioned him, keeping her hipbones from digging into his flesh the way skinny women’s did.
Her smile warmed him, whether they were fucking or sitting at the high table before his family and their retainers. The demeanor the jongleur had seen as haughty, Gavin read as the mark of a strong chatelaine who’d keep his castle folk in line, thus keeping him comfortable and well-fed. Evie didn’t hesitate to speak her mind, but she did so with good humor and consideration for those who served her.
And by God’s bones he loved burying his cock in her soft, tight cunt. Loved pleasuring her and taking pleasure in her. That alone made him content with his bride. He raked her with an approving gaze, glad she apparently had no worries about him seeing her as God had made her. Gavin liked that, too. The only thing he didn’t like was the thought of sharing her with men other than Will.
‘Twouldn’t happen. He’d keep her so stuffed with his cock that she’d be too weary to even think of straying. And if he had to go away, he could always confine her in one of the castle’s three towers.
All in all, Gavin was content. He could have done worse. Much worse. Instead he’d been given a wanton bride who made his blood boil, and rich lands to rule. Returning Evelyn’s smile, he reached for his own clothes and started to dress. Suddenly he was anxious to get on with the revelry of the season—and the celebration of his wedding.
Will’s too, he’d wager from the protective way his brother had treated the MacFarlane lass. Two hot-blooded brides for the brothers to share—though for the first time in his life, Gavin was feeling a hint of need to keep this one woman for himself alone.
He shrugged off that emotion as a result of the afterglow of a good fucking—no, a great one, the best he could recall ever having enjoyed. ‘Twas the enthusiastic whore in her that he lusted after, but he found he was also coming to like the fine widow lady who was to become his bride. “Come, my hot sweet wanton, we must return to Summerfield and resume our roles as prospective bride and groom, ere we are missed.”
Chapter Seven
Later that afternoon the yule log crackled in the fire, its sap perfuming the air with a clean, woodsy scent. The serfs came in groups, and straggling one by one, to claim their gifts from the earl and countess. Giggling maidservants hung fresh garlands of mistletoe about the hall, while the older housemaids served honey cakes and the earl’s finest wine to the family and their guests. After they sat to partake of the evening meal, Lord Rolfe lifted his glass and proposed a toast.
“To my heir, Sir William, and the woman he’s chosen for his own. May they have the joy I’ve found with my Jasmine…the prosperity God has granted Summerfield…a long life together and many sturdy sons.”
Gavin lifted his cup to toast his brother, genuinely happy that Will had made a love match. He glanced at his own betrothed, full of pride in her with her fine garb and pretty manners, yet sad in a way that he’d fallen in love not with her but with the bawdy castle whore she’d portrayed—the Evie he couldn’t acknowledge in noble company—Lord of Misrule or not.
Evelyn spoke cordially with his lady mother about some boring household crisis while all Gavin wanted to do was lift her skirts, put her on his lap, and fuck her until she screamed. Mayhaps he’d do that once they wed—and once they went to live on her property a day’s ride distant.
Gavin fingered the gift she’d bestowed on him this night—a matched pair of turtle doves beautifully crafted of gold, their beaks hinged and poised to clamp down upon his nipples—or hers. The two were joined by a finely wrought chain. “I’d try these on your tits tonight,” he whispered once the carolers began to sing.
“They’re for you, not me. Would you like for me to—”
“No.” He had the feeling the bite on his nipples would flow straight to his cock, and he’d be hard as stone and hurting ere he could possibly retire for the night. With her. Strangely, neither Mavis nor any of the other wenches he’d bedded held much appeal, compared with his buxom Evie. Evelyn. His betrothed.
* * * * *
Two days hence, Gavin tossed Will the latest gift. Evelyn’s maid had delivered it moments earlier: a cleverly made cock cage bearing four golden bands, each etched with a calling bird upon a perch. The pear-shaped partridge key she’d given him on Christmas Day fit easily into the tiny lock on the device. As with the nipple clips, the cage was a fine piece of goldsmithing.
Damn, he’d thought the series of provocative toys had been broken yestereve when Evelyn had served him three plump roasted guinea hens for their evening meal.
“Tomorrow ‘twill be five gold rings she gives you,” Will commented while making a show of examining the cage and the heavy gold chains that would lock it to the wearer’s body. “Pray God the rings do not fit through this.”
“True.”
Will looked again at the golden cage, laughed. “Mayhap she intends to fuck with me whilst you watch. Or…”
That would happen over Gavin’s dead body. He’d share, but he wouldn’t sit idly and watch another man fuck Evie, even if it was his twin brother. “Begone with you. Go to the armorer and have him cut away the iron maiden that keeps you from your lady’s cunt. Then you will have something to occupy yourself other than tormenting me.”
* * * * *
The fifth day
of Christmas. A holy day of celebration for all, what should have been a joyous day at Summerfield. A feast fit for King Henry himself. Gavin lounged at the high table, a jeweled coronet perched precariously upon his head, a joint of venison held high like a scepter in one large, powerful hand.
Evelyn smiled at her handsome raven-haired bridegroom, glancing past him to his identical twin and the MacFarlane lass, now Lord William’s bride. The yule log crackled cheerily in the huge fireplace, warding off the chill from a cold, damp wind that howled beyond the castle walls. The air of gaiety that prevailed in the hall didn’t extend to her, for her husband’s last order had cast a pall on her enjoyment of the wedding festivities.
Her cheeks still burned when she recalled his words moments earlier. “A joyous day indeed. Drink a toast to two brides for me and Will, one blond and buxom, the other slender with hair of flames. One bedding. ‘Tis my order as Lord of Misrule. As we’ve shared all else, so my lord brother and I will share the women we’ve wed this night.”
Lady Jasmine had gasped before consulting with Lord Rolfe and composing her beautiful face into a smile. The Summerfield knights and men at arms had let out with cheers and all manner of ribald comments. Meggie had blushed prettily and whispered something that made her husband grab her for a long, public kiss.
Gavin had merely raised his joint of venison and swigged another goblet of wine.
Jongleurs, ropedancers, and minstrels vied for his approval, for as Lord of Misrule, his word was law. None dared to defy him, not even Evelyn, who despite her embarrassment looked forward to the public bedding that would come ere long.
“Wine, more wine for all!” Gavin’s voice rang out over the sensual sounds of lutes and harps, sweet voices of the wandering minstrels.
“We await th’ bedding, m’Lord of Misrule!” exclaimed Alex, Will’s squire.
Gavin clapped his hands. “Then wait no more, my friends, for my cock is randy, my bride ripe for the plucking. I wager Will’s as ready as I to sow his seed. Will?”
“To the bedchamber, ladies. We will soon follow.” Gavin turned to Will after the women guests had dragged their brides away. “What did your fair lady gift you with this day?”
“A gift of gold. Her maidenhead, bared for the taking. For locking her in that wicked device, Laird MacFarlane deserves to die of apoplexy at the news that his one surviving bairn now belongs to his sworn enemy. With what did your bride present you?”
“As you predicted. Five gold rings.” A signet ring bearing the fitzSimmons device, two identical rounded gold bands for his forefingers…and the fourth and fifth, smooth circular rings too wide for any of his fingers yet not wide enough to span his wrists. “The MacFarlane knows not of the marriage?” Gavin had watched a contingent of armed knights and men ride out the day before, to carry the news of the upcoming nuptials about the countryside. He’d assumed the countryside included the rotting MacFarlane keep that lay a stone’s throw across the contested border.
“‘Nay. The party rode out yesterday to ensure peace for this day’s festivities. The news of my marriage to Meggie, I thought to impart personally, after we consummate our vows. Come, my brother, it is past time we did our husbandly duties.”
Gavin drained the rest of his fine red Flemish wine. “Come. We must not keep our women waiting.”
* * * * *
Meggie tossed back her flaming locks, met Evelyn’s gaze. “What troubles ye, milady?”
“Only that it suits me not, to be mounted like a prize mare for all to see.” At the sound of heavy footsteps on the solar stair, Lady Evelyn struggled to arrange her hip-length blond locks. ‘Twas a poor job they did, hiding her pale, plump form from view—but she had naught better, for the ladies who attended them had vanished with all their garments. She spared a glance at Meggie, who seemed not to care that her compact tits and ass were in plain view of all who might wish to see.
Despite the warmth of the fire, Evelyn trembled. Not from fear. God knew she’d done this before. She’d spread her legs for all to see and flushed with embarrassment when old Baron fitzSimmons had hoisted the bloody sheets and proclaimed his ownership of her person. Proclaimed his manhood for all to see. Ha. Manhood indeed. The rutting old bastard had cared naught for her pleasure, only his own. At least the new man her estates had bought her knew how to wield his jeweled cock. And gave every appearance of loving to wield it on her.
As did his identical twin, the Scotswoman’s eager bridegroom. Evelyn would take part in this pagan ritual, the joining of two men, two women. Truth be known, she’d enjoy once again experiencing the twin lovers stuffing her every orifice, bringing her to pleasure.
What she’d not like one bit was watching her husband dipping his randy wick in his brother’s young bride. ‘Twould make her blood boil to see Gavin caressing Meggie while her own soft flesh craved his mouth, the touch of his callused fingertips. Mayhaps…the cock cage should remain. He’d not fuck her, but then he couldn’t fuck Meggie, either. He could only arouse them with his tongue, his hands.
Nay, ‘twould never do. Evelyn could never more forego the incredible fullness that came with having that cock stuffing her cunt, spurting its hot seed deep into her womb. ‘Twas good Gavin held the key, for he’d certainly dispense with that gift without delay if indeed he’d chosen to honor her gift by wearing it ere they wed.
Evelyn glanced again at Lord William’s bride, trying not to compare their bodies but failing miserably. Her husband had gained a plump widowed pigeon, two years his senior, while his twin possessed an auburn-haired beauty still fresh and ripe for picking. Knowing she’d bought her bridegroom with land and titles did little to quell the sense of inadequacy that gripped Evelyn. Nothing to squelch the growing reluctance to share her man with one so fair and lovely.
They came. ‘Twas not the time for trembling like an untried girl, which she certainly was not. Instead she’d pour out her growing feelings for Gavin in her touch, her kisses. In her enthusiastic participation in the ritual that meant so much to him and Will. With a deliberately lascivious expression, Evelyn raked her husband’s and his brother’s naked bodies with undisguised interest.
Mirror images, each tall and strong, each bearing bride-gifts in identical casks clad in gold and set with precious stones, Gavin and Will stood before Evelyn and Meggie, as naked as when they left their mother’s womb but for the winking jewels in their cocks. Laughing, jesting knights and men-at-arms shouted bawdy suggestions as they ogled the brides their lord’s eldest sons had taken this day.
Gavin’s cock stood at attention, the glittering ring in its head glowing in the candlelight, its magnificent shaft encased in the cage Evelyn had ordered fashioned to ensure his faithfulness. Jewels winked at her from the studs that passed through his corona. Will’s cock sparkled, too. He lacked the cage and the ring passing through his slit. Instead he had a jewel-crowned bar that entered the head of his swollen phallus on one side and emerged on the other. Accouterments Evelyn hadn’t noted the other night when he’d introduced himself by kneeling at her back and plowing her ass with his big, hard sword.
Mmmm. Taking them both at once had given her a heady rush…a climax the likes of which she’d never known before. Still… Sir Gavin was her husband, bought and paid for. Share him with Will’s bride? By God, only on her terms!
Evelyn dragged her gaze from Meggie’s husband, settled it upon her own. “Like you what you see?” she asked him, taking care to look him in the eye. Hoping not to read longing for the fair Meggie there.
“Yes, wife. Sweep back the pale curtain that hides your bounty from my eyes. I’d see all of you. I’d have Will view your bounteous charms as well. ‘Tis only fair, for I can plainly see his bride.”
Vowing she’d not be stung by the inevitable comments some of the drunken guests would make about her girth, Evelyn did as Gavin bid, sweeping her pale locks over one shoulder, revealing her heaving breasts, her rounded belly and generous thighs. Her cunt creamed at the thought of once again becoming
the filling in a sandwich fuck, taking two hard bodies, two rigid cocks pounding her ass, her cunt.
She wanted them both and yet…having them would mean she’d have to watch whilst Gavin joined Will in fucking the Scots maid.
Nay. She’d wed with Gavin. She’d have him to herself. His hungry eyes swept over her, swept the expected catcalls and insults from her mind. ‘Twas no doubt about it. For all that her lord husband might chide her for having deceived him, he found her desirable. Even now his caged cock stood in salute not for his brother’s beautiful bride, but for her.
Meggie looked at Evelyn, then shifted her gaze back to Will. Sweeping back her titian curls, she stood proudly, smoothly naked before his appreciative eyes. “Come, if ye see no flaws in me. I’d have ye consummate this marriage, fill the aching empty sheath between my thighs. I’d have ye first ere ye share me wi’ yer bonny brother.”
“I, too, would have my husband’s fine cock all to myself ere we share.” Evelyn reached out and caught Gavin’s cock ring with one finger. “I see you chose to wear my gift. I like it.”
Gavin glanced down at his trussed-up flesh and grimaced. “I do not, my lady.” He tossed her the golden key. “I order you to remove it so we may get on with the business of fulfilling the vows we’ve made. As your husband, Madame, notwithstanding the fact I’m also Lord of Misrule.”
Evelyn watched Will scoop Meggie easily up in his arms and toss her on the huge marriage bed. When they began to fuck, she averted her gaze. The men crowded in the solar doorway cheered. Evelyn hated it—the ritual bedding, the splitting asunder of a virgin bride by her husband while a drunken horde of his men watched and shouted ribald suggestions.
