Shared by the Highlanders

by Ashe Barker

  “I am. Please, don’t tease me…”

  “Ah, but I love to tease you, surely you know that by now. Tell me what you want next.”

  “I don’t know. Something, anything.”

  “You can do better than that. And you’ll have to…” He slows his caress, lightening his touch until it’s barely there at all.

  I writhe under him, lifting my hips in a vain attempt to create more friction, to get the stimulation my clit is throbbing to receive. He lifts his hand from me entirely, and when I would have reached to touch myself he seizes both my wrists and pins them above my head.

  “Wee Charlie, you have only to ask. Don’t be difficult.”

  “I want you to stroke my clit. Hard. Rub it. And, I want your fingers inside me. I want you to finger-fuck me, then do it again, with your cock. There! Is that good enough? Explicit enough for you?” I grind my teeth, forcing the words out.

  His grin is nothing short of lecherous. “Much improved, certainly. So, this then?” He gives me another long, slow caress, from my anus to my clit, then pauses to lay the pad of his middle finger over the quivering, swollen nub. “Look at me, Charlie.” The command is soft, but insistent. I realise I had closed my eyes. I open them to meet his deep sapphire gaze, just inches from mine.

  He offers me a soft, seductive smile as he flicks my clit, then takes it between his finger and thumb and rolls it. I moan my delight, and he increases the pressure. I could come from this alone, and soon. Very soon.

  “Oh, God, that’s so good. So…” I arch, seeking yet more.

  Will releases my hands; I am no longer wanting to interfere with his plans in any case. He angles his body so he is leaning across my stomach, his back to my upper body. He gazes at my exposed pussy, and I love the sense of openness, of intimacy between us. I sigh and raise my hips as he uses his fingers to spread my pussy lips wide, exposing my clit entirely. He leans forward, and I know what he intends before his lips touch me.

  “Oh, Jesus, Will…”

  He dips his tongue in my entrance, swirling it around as though to taste my slick juices. He seems to like the flavour and goes back to lap some more. The curl and clench of orgasm is seizing me, low down in my belly. I thrust upwards as Will shifts to take my clit in his mouth, gripping it with his lips as he flicks it with the end of his tongue.

  To destroy me utterly he sinks three fingers into my cunt, and I detonate.

  I come, hard, fast, the orgasm powerful yet sweet. Will is a generous, demanding lover, intent on drawing out my pleasure. He strokes my G-spot, attuned to my wriggles and appreciative moans, bringing me back to orgasm twice more before finally relinquishing his control of my senses.

  I lie still, gasping, my body shuddering. Will turns to take me in his arms, cradling me against his chest as my heartbeat returns to normal and my breathing slows.

  “Good so far, wee Charlie?” His low tone is seductive, a whisper of pure lust.

  I nod, and turn to snuggle against him, my skirts still hiked up around my waist. His mention of ‘so far’ suggests there’s no point in restoring my clothing quite yet.

  Will’s palm cups my bottom, caressing it in wide, circular motions. I’m reminded of the last time I felt his hand on that part of my anatomy, as he and Robbie spanked me. It seems a long time has passed since then, though it was just two days ago. And Robbie intends to take a switch to me again, before this night is out. I stiffen, remembering that.

  Will knows.

  “He won’t harm you.”

  “I know that.”

  “But?”

  “But it’s going to hurt.”

  “Yes. So?”

  “So, I’m scared. A little.”

  “Don’t be, not ever. You’re safe with us, either of us. Robbie loves you. As do I. We will take care of you.”

  I curl my fingers in the rough wool of the tartan draped across his chest. “I love you too. You and Robbie.”

  “Well, then, that’s okay. I’m glad we have that settled. Now, I’m ready to fuck you. If that’s still your wish.”

  “It is. It surely is.”

  Will chuckles and tumbles me onto my back. He positions himself between my widespread thighs and with one swift thrust is embedded balls deep inside me.

  “Ooh!” I let out a startled yelp.

  “Too much?”

  “No, it’s fine.” I squeeze and wriggle my hips to prove my point.

  “We’ve done gentle. Now I think we need hard and fast, and maybe just a little rough. Yes?”

  I whisper my response. “Yes.”

  Will pulls back, only to slam his cock deep inside me again. The jolt sends me sliding up along the tartan beneath us. Will adjusts so his elbows are behind my shoulders, effectively anchoring me in place, then he delivers the next equally hard stroke.

  The head of his cock bumps against my cervix. The force of the driving stroke ricochets through me, exhilarating but intimidating too. I’m acutely conscious of his brute strength in comparison to mine, his ability to hurt me if he chose. He won’t though, at least not more than I want him to. And in this moment I think I want him to fuck me until I forget my own name.

  As though reading my thoughts Will obliges. His hips are thrusting like pistons, each plunging stroke filling me to the hilt, the friction against my inner walls exquisite in its intensity. He angles his entry so that my G-spot receives the full benefit of every tingling, shattering slide of his erection inside me. I clench my inner muscles, gripping him hard, then harder still, my response an echo of his powerful dominance. I want to submit, I surrender, I have no choice. Yet I want to give back too, offering Will my body, fair exchange for his expert mastery.

  My orgasm bubbles again, gaining strength rapidly then erupting in a blinding flash of white light. I cling to Will, my hands on his shoulders, my ankles locked together at the back of his waist. He enfolds me in his arms, holding me safe at the same time as he pummels into me.

  His breath hitches, he lets out an obscene string of sixteenth-century Celtic profanity, the literal meaning of which is lost on me but I get the general idea. I tighten my grip, inside and out, revelling in the power of being female as he spears his cock home one last time then holds still, every muscle taut, his entire body solid and unmoving as his semen fills me.

  Minutes later Will is recovered, up and seeing to our horses while I continue to lie in a crumpled heap on his tartan. I think I probably have time for a well-earned nap, while we wait for Robbie to re-join us.

  “Idle wench. Is this how you spend the afternoon, lolling about on the Sinclair plaid as soon as my back’s turned?”

  Robbie’s mocking voice carries across the bracken. I roll over to see him trotting toward us. I squint hard in the failing daylight, and sure enough, he has three fine trout dangling from his saddle. We’ll eat well tonight.

  I try to sit up, and only then do I realise my skirts are still hiked up in a distinctly unladylike display of bare leg. Robbie grins as he dismounts next to me, scanning the near area for his other travelling companion. He spots Will, and apparently satisfied crouches next to me.

  “You look like a wench who’s been well fucked.”

  I’m not sure just what the correct answer to that remark should be. I elect to say nothing.

  “Ready to move on?” Robbie stands, offers me his hand.

  I take it and struggle to my feet, only now realising how very sore I am. Will’s approach was mind-blowing, but it has taken its toll.

  Robbie grins at me as he remounts. “Having trouble standing, eh, lass? Riding will be even harder on you.”

  I grimace, but even so I reckon it was worth the discomfort.

  “Would you prefer to ride with me? Or Will, since he caused your problem?”

  Now that does sound better. Sitting across either man’s thighs will enable me to find a more comfortable position. “Yes, that would be very kind of you. But, don’t we need to make more speed than we could if we double up?”

  “We
have three horses now, so we can rest one while the others do the hard work. You can share with me for a few miles, then Will.”

  He reaches down from his perch high above me and I clasp his forearm. He hauls me up in front of him, astride his thighs, then waits until I’ve gingerly positioned myself. Meanwhile, Will has re-joined us and with a curt nod at Robbie and an approving glance at the fish he has collected, he gathers his plaid from the ground, stows it in his saddlebag, and we are ready to be off.

  “Comfortable?” Robbie asks me.

  I nod. Robbie clicks his tongue and nudges the horse with his heels. Our journey together continues.

  Chapter Eleven

  It’s shortly after dusk and we are ascending the steep slope of Helvellyn. I’m recognising landmarks, even in the diminishing light. A stream here, a particular rock configuration there, we are definitely on the right track, retracing our steps. I’m riding with Will now, sitting side-saddle across his knees and twisting my body around to peer ahead into the gathering gloom.

  A shape emerges, over to my right. I screw up my eyes, stare harder.

  “Yes! There, look.”

  Robbie is just ahead of us, but stops to look at me over his shoulder. “Do you see anything, lassie?”

  “Yes, the hut. Or shelter or whatever it was. There, see?” I point to the dim, indistinct shape only just discernible a few yards from us.

  “She’s right, this is likely the place.”

  “It is. It is, look! There’s the tree. With the branch sticking out where you…”

  “Aye, that’s the same tree, right enough.” Robbie directs his horse over there, circling the huge oak. “So, Charlie, to the best of your recollection then, here or hereabouts is where you were the last time you saw your own century. You said the tree was ruined though, dead. And the shelter derelict.”

  “That’s right. But it was this spot, I’m sure of it. I sat on the hillside, about a quarter of a mile or so above here and looked out across the valley. It was sunny, a clear day at first, then I saw mist start to roll in from over there somewhere…” I wave my arm in the general direction, “and I got up and started walking that way.” More arm waving. “A few minutes later I was grabbed from behind. You know the rest.”

  Robbie looks pensive. “By the time you met us, you were already in this time, and before the mist fell you were in your own century, right? So whatever strange event brought you here must have happened close by. I suggest we make our way a little higher, to more or less where you think you sat and saw that mist, and we’ll make camp there. In the morning, with the daylight to help us, we can have good look around, see if there’s any sign of what might have caused all this.”

  It sounds like as good a plan as any other to me. Will is in agreement too so we continue on for a minute or two more, travelling up the incline. Robbie signals us to stop.

  “Here?”

  I nod. “Yes, I think so. Here.”

  Robbie slides from his horse and comes over to us. He reaches up to help me down, then unbuckles my rucksack from Will’s saddle. “I’ll get the tent up, then we can start cooking. I’m famished.”

  He’s not the only one. Will gets started on gutting the fish and I help Robbie to find some firewood. It’s not easy in the dark, but we collect enough to meet our immediate needs. Soon the three of us are sitting next to a roaring blaze inhaling the delicious aroma of roasting fish.

  We finish our meal, washed down with the remains of our supply of ale. We’ll need to hunt up some fresh water tomorrow. If we boil it, it should be safe to drink.

  I lean back, propping myself on my elbows. My stomach is full, I’m warm, enjoying my beloved outdoors in the best company I could imagine. Sexually I’m as satisfied as I can ever recall being, not that I’ve particularly dwelt on the matter up to now. I should be happy, if it were not for the impending prospect of again finding myself at the business end of Robbie’s switch. And the parting I fear may come in the morning.

  As if by telepathy, Will gets to his feet. “I’m going to set some traps. We’ll need to eat tomorrow, and a couple of fine rabbits would do nicely.”

  Robbie watches in silence as his cousin saunters off into the gloom. We are alone, he and I.

  “Are you ready then, lass?”

  “As I’ll ever be.” I don’t insult either one of us by asking what for.

  “You’ve been dreading this all day.” It’s a statement, not a question. “Did you talk to Will about it?”

  “Yes. He said you won’t harm me. That you love me.”

  “Aye, he’s right about that. On both counts. Did you listen to him?”

  “I tried to. I do believe you love me. I love you too.”

  “Aye, I know that. But do you trust me?”

  “I think I do.”

  “Thinking isn’t the same. Do you trust me, sweet Charlie? Can you bring yourself to?”

  I heave in a deep breath. “Yes. I do. I can.”

  “We’ll see. I’d like you to kneel down, on all fours if you would, please. And lift your skirts.”

  Well, this is better than being stripped and tied to that low-hanging branch. Still uneasy about what might happen next, I nevertheless roll over and get into the position described. Robbie stands and walks over to his horse, to retrieve that dreaded switch I imagine. Sure enough, I watch him over my shoulder as he comes back, the narrow, supple stick dangling from his hand. He tests it once or twice as he approaches, causing the air to whistle. I’m sure he’s doing it to frighten me. He knows the bloody thing works.

  “Your skirts, Charlie. I want your bare bottom, please.”

  “Sorry,” I mumble, hurrying to lift my clothing. “I was distracted. Watching you.”

  “Perhaps I can aid you in focusing.” Robbie stands behind me for a few moments, I assume to peruse my now naked buttocks, displayed for his punishment. “Can you oblige me by recalling just why you deserve to be disciplined?”

  “I was rude to you. That remark about the Pope.”

  “Ah, yes. And in your opinion, Charlie, would a beating to your naked and quite glorious bottom be an appropriate chastisement for such a misdemeanour?” His tone is not unkind, quite the opposite. Perhaps there is room for negotiation here.

  “I’m not sure. It seems a little extreme to me if I’m honest. It was just a saying. I meant no disrespect.”

  “And of course, you’re accustomed to saying what you think.”

  “Yes, I am.”

  “I like that about you. I like to hear your tart responses, though I confess you can be a mite waspish on occasion. Even so, I’m not minded to punish you for your words alone, not unless they harm us or put you in danger. What you say to me, or to Will, in private, is between us and you’ll not be made to suffer for it.”

  I turn my head to peer at him, wondering if perhaps I could lower my skirts again. This is a most vulnerable position from which to conduct what seems to be an important conversation. “So, what is this then? You, me, that thing?”

  “Well, if we find ourselves in agreement that it’s not a punishment, it must be something else. Any ideas, little Charlie?”

  “No. None.”

  “You would have let me do it though, wouldn’t you? You would have knelt there, your bare arse raised. You would have gritted your teeth, tried not to make too much din, and taken however many strokes I decided to apply. Why is that, I wonder?”

  “Because you would have made me, if I didn’t submit to it. You’d have tied me up again and I don’t want that. And because I need you. And Will.” I’m aware of the slight catch in my voice. Does he hear it too?

  “Now that’s a daft answer. You know we won’t just leave you on your own, to face whatever fate comes your way. You must know that, no matter what happens. We love you.” He drops to his knees behind me, the switch landing on the ground at my side, abandoned at least for now. He caresses the upturned curve of my buttock. “You told Will you believed that.”

  “I do. Oh!” I
start as he slides his fingers down the groove dividing my cheeks, finding the tight pucker of my anus. “What are you doing?”

  “Ah, sweetheart, you know full well what I’m doing. Is it good?” He dips the tip of one finger into my pussy, swirling it around the entrance.

  I moan out loud. “Oh, God, please don’t do that if you’re going to hurt me afterwards.”

  “Hurt you? I intend to make you scream, but you must realise by now that doesn’t have to mean hurting. Or maybe it does, but sometimes, hurting is good. Yes?”

  “Yes. No. I don’t know. Please…”

  His fingers are continuing to work their magic on my disgracefully wet pussy. I had thought my body was sated after Will. It would seem not. Even when he reaches to pick up the switch I don’t flinch. This feels too sweet, too intense. Nothing can break this spell.

  I gasp as he uses the narrow birch to drop a series of light, fast taps on my left buttock. This is certainly a very different type of switching. I’m utterly confused. He stops, and presses the supple rod against my skin, just where he has been tapping, then lifts it and delivers one hard, sharp stroke in that exact spot.

  “Ow! Oh, that hurt.”

  “Did it?”

  I stop and think for a moment. “No. Not really.”

  “Again?”

  Intrigued and curious, I nod. “Yes. Again.”

  Robbie repeats the treatment, this time on my right cheek. When he drops that final, sharp lash I hold my breath, anticipating a stinging pain. It does hurt, but it’s different somehow. It’s deeper, sinking right into my flesh then dissipating. He was right, some hurting is good. This hurting is good.

  He rubs the sore spot, massaging the pain away.

  “Again?”

  This time I just nod, and spread my legs as he inserts two fingers right into my cunt. He exerts just the slightest bit of pressure to ease my body up a little higher, positioning me for the next stroke. Then he holds me there, his fingers in my pussy, rubbing my G-spot as he applies the switch to my arse.

  He doesn’t ask my permission again, just continues, by tacit consent. I could ask him to stop and I know he would. I don’t though. I don’t want him to stop. Ever. I remain there, kneeling on all fours before him, absorbing every delightful stroke, allowing it to sink into my flesh, my bones.