Bond of Passion

by Bertrice Small

  She didn’t believe him when he said it, but as he began to piston her, his long, thick cock flashing back and forth within her, the burning, stinging pain quickly dissolved, to be replaced by a new sensation that could almost be called pleasurable. Annabella made a small sound of enjoyment. When she did, his big body stiffened atop her. He groaned as she felt his seed being expelled into her. It was at that moment that Annabella realized she was no longer a bride. She was a wife.

  After a few moments he withdrew from her body. “I’m sorry for the pain,” he told her. “It won’t happen again now that yer maidenhead is gone. Wi’ yer permission I should like to remain wi’ you tonight.”

  Annabella nodded. “Aye, I would like it if ye did,” she admitted. “After the pain I felt the beginnings of pleasure, Angus. Will ye come to my bed every night now?”

  “If it pleases ye,” he told her. “There is more, ye know.”

  “What more?” she queried him.

  “Ye should feel great pleasure when we come together. Tonight ye were frightened with the newness of it all, but ye say ye felt the beginnings of pleasure, which is encouraging. My own desire for ye was so great tonight that I could not take all the time ye needed to reach yer own delight. I will not let that happen again, sweeting.”

  “I felt that if it went on just a bit longer,” Annabella confided, “I might fly.”

  He smiled, pleased. “Next time I will see that ye do,” he promised her. Reaching for the coverlet, he pulled it up over them, and they slept in each other’s arms.

  When he awoke he could see the false dawn beyond the windows of the bedchamber. He realized he was hungry for her body once again. The fire was burning low. He arose, and fed it generously. Then he attempted to sleep once more, but he could not. Her sweet bottom pressed into his groin, its cleft almost cradling his stiffening cock. He needed to satisfy his passion at least one more time this night.

  Turning her about, he kissed her awake. “I need ye again,” he growled in her ear, nipping the tender lobe.

  Annabella could actually feel her breasts grow firm, her nipples puckering at the sound of desire in his deep voice. “I have not the right to deny ye, my lord,” she said, meekly pressing herself against his hard body.

  “I want ye as filled with lust for me as I am for ye,” he said fiercely.

  “Then,” she boldly taunted him, “make me feel that lust!” What on earth had come over her? Annabella thought. But then she pushed all thoughts of propriety aside. This big, handsome man was her husband. He wanted to possess her body, and to her own surprise she realized that she was as eager to be possessed as he was to possess her. She sensed there was a great deal she had to learn from him. She knew she was going to prove to be an apt pupil. “Make love to me, my lord of Duin!” she commanded him.

  Her words sent a jolt of surprise through him. To find her so suddenly eager made him more than happy to comply with her whispered wishes. Especially when she wrapped herself about him, her hands boldly stroking his back and buttocks as he had stroked hers earlier. Delighted, he rolled her onto her back, kissing her until she was gasping for breath. His knee pressed between her legs, and she opened herself to him. He groaned when she surprised him further by reaching down to cup him. Her hand began to pull away from him.

  “Nay! Nay!” he almost begged her. “Dinna remove yer hand from me, sweeting. I need yer touch.” He caught the little hand, drawing it back down to his cock and balls.

  “Ye’re not angry?” she said softly. “I so wanted to touch ye.” Her fingers caressed him ever so gently. “It grows bigger wi’ yer lust, doesn’t it.”

  A wave of heat washed over him. “Aye,” he managed to answer. Jesu, he was getting so hard! Had he ever been this hard this quickly? What magic was it that aroused his passions so quickly, so greatly? He now regretted every moment of the last two months when he might have been making love to her—but nay. He had been wise to wait, to give her the opportunity to know him better. The loss of her virginity had opened Annabella to the passion within her.

  Her fingers stroking the length of his cock were wreaking an incredible and delicious havoc on him. He didn’t know how much longer he could bear this sweet torture she was inflicting upon him. Finally he took control again, drawing her arms up above her head as he mounted her and plunged into her wet, hot sheath. He groaned as its walls closed tightly about him. Annabella sighed with the intimacy of their contact. She was sweeter and warmer than any woman he had ever known.

  Her legs wrapped about him as she reveled in his need. So this was passion. No wonder women were unable to speak clearly about it. It was indeed indescribable. He had released his hold on her hands, and she was now able to hold him closer to her. Her fingers kneaded his broad shoulders.

  He wanted to be gentle, for she was still newly opened, but he simply couldn’t restrain himself when her legs closed around him. He began to thrust into her. Deeper. Harder. Deeper. Harder, until she was making little sounds of pleasure that only encouraged him to greater efforts. Her nails raked down his back as her body almost rose to meet his every thrust.

  He had said it would not hurt again, and it didn’t this time. His fierce, passionate need sent her senses reeling with delight. She could have never imagined that coupling would be as delicious as it was. Her head was spinning. Her body felt as if it were going to explode with pleasure. How could that be? But then it did. Her body seemed to erupt from the inside out, leaving her overwhelmed by a riot of emotions she couldn’t sort out. She soared. She flew. It was simply too much for anyone to bear.

  Angus roared with his own release as his throbbing cock exploded its juices deep into her, flooding her secret garden with his lustful tribute. He shuddered, then groaned a deep sound of utter satisfaction.

  Annabella burst into tears.

  “Jesu! Have I hurt ye?” His cock was still tingling, and he was not yet able to withdraw himself from her.

  “Nay! Nay!” she reassured him through her sobs. “It’s just that I have never known such pure pleasure as I have now experienced. Tell me you have known this happiness too, and I have not greedily taken it all for myself. That would be so unfair.”

  He laughed weakly. “Oh, sweeting,” he told her, “I cannot ever recall having been so pleased by a woman. I look forward to sharing many more such moments as we have just had. Your innocence last night was a great gift, Annabella. I thank ye for it. But to awaken before dawn to find you eager for passion was a gift I had not expected. I thank ye again.” He was now able to roll off of her, but when he did he drew her into his embrace, kissing the top of her head as he did so. The delicious fragrance surrounding her assailed his nostrils again. Plain of face his wife might be, Angus Ferguson thought. But what a wife I have been given. I want bairns of her body, and we shall have them.

  They fell asleep again in each other’s arms. When Annabella finally awoke she found herself alone. The light outside of her bedchamber window told her it was well past dawn. She realized that she did indeed feel a bit sore between her legs, and her limbs were a trifle stiff. Blushing, she remembered her boldness with him, but he had been content with her behavior. Still, was it permissible for a wife to be so bold with her husband? After the initial shock, Annabella had decided that she enjoyed coupling. She wanted more of him. Mother of mercy! Was such desire on her part a natural thing? She had so much to learn, and Jean would certainly be able to elucidate it all for her.

  The door to her bedchamber opened. “Ye’re awake,” Jean said smiling, “and none the worse for wear, I can see,” she teased. “The earl would like to know if ye’re of a mind to ride out wi’ him, though it be close to midmorning.”

  “Aye,” Annabella said, and she jumped from her bed, heedless of her nudity.

  Jean’s eyes widened briefly, for although she had served her young mistress for two months now and seen her in various states of undress, she had never seen her fully as nature had fashioned her. Oh, my! she thought. And then Jean chuckled t
o herself. No wonder Angus had come into the hall whistling that morning. Were men not simple in their needs? Angus had discovered his plain-faced wife had a beautiful body, and it was obviously more than enough to content him. “Ye’ll want a bath,” she said.

  “Tonight, but for now I will use my basin. I dinna wish to keep my husband waiting,” Annabella said, already pouring water into the basin.

  “Be sure to cleanse the blood from yer thighs,” Jean advised, then turned quickly away to gather up the bloodied sheets from the bed. Gracious, she thought at the sight of the brown stains. Angus had indeed done his duty to Duin quite thoroughly, and Annabella did not look unhappy for it. Rather she looked very happy this morning. There was a small smile upon her lips, and she was humming to herself as she bathed using the basin.

  Jean laid out a fresh chemise, stockings, breeks, a linen shirt, and a fur-lined, sleeved jerkin. She set her mistress’s boots by the bed, where Annabella was now quickly dressing. “Shall I go tell Angus that ye’ll be down shortly?” she asked.

  “Aye, but then come back to help me wi’ my boots and my hair,” Annabella said.

  Jean hurried out, carrying the sheets. She brought them to the castle laundress, who, seeing the bloodstains, looked questioningly at the countess’s tiring woman. “Not a word,” Jean warned her. “The deed is now done, and ’tis all that matters.”

  The laundress nodded silently. She wasn’t about to gossip, lest she harm her daughter Una’s chances with the lady of Duin.

  Jean went back up to the hall and, seeing her brother, said, “The lady will be down as soon as I get her boots on and plait her hair, my lord.”

  “I’ll await her in the courtyard,” Angus Ferguson replied.

  Jean ran back up the staircase to her mistress’s apartment. She helped Annabella with her boots. Then she brushed out her sable tresses, braiding them into a single plait. “Dinna ride too far,” she warned Annabella, handing her a pair of doeskin riding gloves that had been dyed a bright red. “Ye’ll get sore. He’s in the courtyard.”

  Annabella hurried down the stairs and out into the courtyard, where the earl was already mounted. A stableman helped her into her saddle. Snow danced skittishly, eager for her morning run. “I’m ready, my lord,” she said, her eyes meeting his.

  They rode out, and Annabella saw that the flocks of sheep and the herds of cattle were now back from the sheiling, as the summer meadows were called, and safely settled in the home pastures. The animals were fat with their months of grazing. When the snows came the earl would have them moved into the barns to protect them from the wolves that would boldly roam the winter hills.

  “Ye’re well this morning?” he asked her politely as they rode.

  “As well, I hope, as ye are, my lord,” she answered him.

  He chuckled. “Then ye were content wi’ our bed sport, madam?”

  “As well, I hope, as ye were, my lord,” she replied.

  He glanced sharply at her serene face. Her twinkling gray eyes met his and he laughed aloud. “Ye’re a bold wench, madam,” he told her. Then his eyes went to her little round breasts, and he felt his cock stirring. How sweet her flesh had tasted in his mouth last night. Had the morning not been cold with a sharp wind coming from the north, he would have been tempted to take her on this hillside amid the heather. Briefly he pictured her spreading herself for him, moaning with pleasure as he filled her. He was once again surprised by his desire for her. He could hardly believe his need. He could not wait until nightfall to have her again. But did he have to wait until then?

  “We’ve gone far enough for today,” he said, turning his stallion about.

  “I’ll race ye!” Snow leaped forward.

  Surprised, he urged the stallion into a canter. Mischievously, she had taken advantage of him. They raced, and she was across the drawbridge and into the courtyard, just barely ahead of him, as he thundered after her. There were no stable lads in view. Laughing, Annabella slid from her mare, leading Snow into the semidarkened stables to her stall. He followed with his own beast.

  Without a word between them, they unsaddled their horses, rubbed them down, and filled their food bins with oats and hay. As she exited Snow’s stall, drawing the gate shut as she did, the earl came up behind her, wrapping his arms about her lightly. She protested faintly as he pulled her farther into the darkened stable, pushing her facedown over a bale of hay.

  “There is more than one way to couple, madam,” he growled in her ear, as, reaching about her, he fumbled with the buttons on her jerkin, unlaced her shirt, and yanked her breeks down to reveal her tempting bottom.

  “Angus!” she squealed. “What are ye about?” She heard him undoing his own breeks, heard them drop to the stable floor.

  “My thoughts of ye last night haunt me,” his voice whispered harshly into her ear. “I must have ye, Annabella! I must!” He fisted her thighs apart, grasping her hips.

  Her heart was hammering wildly in her chest; she was more excited than afraid. Then she felt his engorged cock sliding into her love sheath.

  “Jesu! Ye’re already wet for me,” he groaned, pushing himself deep, her rounded buttocks pressing against him. Reaching around her, he took her two breasts in his hands as he slowly began to piston her. Her sheath tightened about him, setting his lust aboil.

  Instinctively she arched her back for him. This was delicious madness—being ravished from behind in a dark stable like some milkmaid or servant lass. But oh, oh, oh, it was wonderful! His thrusts grew quicker and deeper. Her head was already spinning with her own lustful appreciation of his efforts. His hot breath scalded her ear. “Oh, Angus,” she half sobbed. “It is good! So good! Dinna stop!”

  What a jest God had played upon him, Angus Ferguson thought as he enthusiastically fucked his wife. He had given Angus a maiden who appeared as meek as a lamb, but was in reality the most passionate woman he had ever known. She was like fire, and she scorched his very soul.

  “Oh, aye! Aye!” Annabella cried out as her excitement began to peak.

  “Jesu! Jesu!” he groaned as he felt himself ready to burst with his pleasure.

  The passion between them exploded. They sprawled upon the bale of hay, their breath coming in painful little gasps as they both attempted to regain their sanity. His fingers squeezed her breasts as the last drops of his juices spurted weakly, and she attempted to prolong the delight.

  Finally, Annabella sighed a gusty sigh. “Someone may come,” she said softly.

  “Aye,” he agreed, pulling himself slowly to his feet. Pulling his breeks up, he fastened them. Then he drew her up, helping her to regain some order in her garb. He couldn’t help kissing her before he released her. Then they walked from the stables as if nothing had just happened between them.

  “So one may fuck anywhere,” Annabella said in a perfectly calm and conversational tone of voice as they entered the castle again.

  “Aye,” he replied. “At any time or place.”

  “I always thought such activity was confined to the bedchamber in the dark hours only,” Annabella responded.

  “Would ye prefer it so, madam?” he asked her.

  “Mother of mercy, nay, my lord, I should not!” she told him. “I shall look forward to more of yer delightful surprises. Ye have promised to teach me what will please ye, and I promise ye that I will be a most attentive scholar, husband.”

  “Cease, for pity’s sake, madam,” he begged her. “Ye but arouse my lust again, and I have work to do this day.”

  “Then do not keep me waiting tonight, my lord,” she cautioned him. “I am so eager to learn.” She curtsied to him and, turning, hurried away.

  Angus’s head spun with the lustful thoughts her words aroused in him. Again he wondered what was the magic she was using that made him feel as randy as a young bull in high summer? Then he realized that he didn’t really care. Wasn’t his lust for her, and hers for him, a good thing? Certainly they would produce bairns at a rapid rate if they continued on as they had thi
s day. Women were cautioned by both the old and the Reformed churches that the coupling of a husband and wife had only one purpose: bairns.

  Yet he knew for a fact that his dour father and his gay French mother had fallen in love and enjoyed their bed sport. Could he ever come to love Annabella? Or would his emotions for her be confined to simply lust?

  December came. Annabella made it an extremely happy month at Duin, for there were many feast days to be celebrated. Pastor Blaine wanted to disapprove of all the gaiety, but the young Countess of Duin would not let him. “There can be no wrong in celebrating the coming of our Lord and his birth,” she said.

  “So much feasting and dancing is wicked, my lady,” he said, distressed.

  “Is it wrong to thank God for sending us his beloved son, Pastor? Is it wrong to feed the poor, and give gifts to those who have served us well? Nay! I cannot sanction such thoughts, and certainly ye do not believe such a thing,” Annabella told him.

  Her words were so reasonable, and how could God be offended under the circumstances? Pastor Blaine acquiesced. He had heard there was to be venison for dinner, and the earl would be broaching a keg of his own whiskey. “But we must always remember to keep God in mind as we feast,” he said.

  “Do ye not give the blessing each time ye’re at the high board?” she reminded him.

  “Aye, but when I am not there, who does it?” he demanded to know.

  “Why, my husband, of course,” Annabella told him.

  Satisfied, the pastor even helped decorate the hall with pine and holly. He oversaw the bringing of the Yule log into the hall, and agreed with the countess when she appointed the steward, Matthew Ferguson, as the lord of misrule. Each day was a feast, but for the few ember days still observed by the old Church, as the Fergusons were still Catholic. Pastor Blaine found himself approving of those days of prayer and fasting, much to his surprise.