His Scottish Pet: Dom of the Ages

BOOK: His Scottish Pet: Dom of the Ages
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His Scottish Pet:

Dom of the Ages

 

By

Red Phoenix

His Scottish Pet: Dom of the Ages

Copyright 2013 by Red Phoenix

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. Your support and respect for the property of this author is greatly appreciated.

Edited by RJ Locksley

Book cover design by
Erin Dameron-Hill

Phoenix symbol by Nicole Delfs

Thanks to my two beta readers: Nickimcc and one who wishes to remain anonymous ;)

This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental.

Disclaimer: The material in this book is for mature audiences only and contains graphic sexual content. It is intended only for those age
d
18 and older.

CONTENTS

Master Leon

Scottish Waif

Naughty Seamstress

Kegan & the Crop

His New Pet

Her First Flogging

His Pet’s Pleasure

The Taking of Her

Sharing His Pet

Chrisselle

Wicked, Wicked Fate

Good Morrow

About the Author
Red Phoenix

 

Master Leon

 
 

Ryce Leon leaned over her bare shoulder and growled lustfully, “What am I called?”

“Lord Leon.”

“No.”

He took her delicate wrists and bound them above her head, pulling the rope tight. He stood back and admired her naked form. Widow Kegan had luscious curves despite having borne four children. “I am
Master
to you.”

“Aye,” she moaned softly.

He moved in close and wrapped his arm just under her breasts. Ryce bit down on her neck before stating, “You will speak to me in proper English.”

“Yes,” she answered, correcting herself.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, Master.”

He cupped her breasts, appreciating their fullness before pinching her sensitive nipples. She cried out in aching pleasure. Ryce knew she preferred it rough.

“I believe I shall give you ten lashings,” he murmured casually.

“Thank you… Master.”

His lips traveled to the other side of her neck and he bit down hard. Ryce felt her shift as her knees gave out and her full weight hung from the rope. He waited until she recovered her position.

“Don’t move,” he ordered, walking away from her.

She’d waited a week for this and he wasn’t inclined to hurry. He took his whip from the hook and let the thong slowly unfurl. He watched with amusement as her body tensed at the sound it made contacting the floor. He’d constructed a special area in the barn for such encounters. It allowed for the abundance of room required for the wielding of a bullwhip.

“Are you ready, Kegan? I will not be light.”

“Ay—yes, Master.”

He snorted. “An extra one with bite for that slip.”

She shuddered. Ryce knew if he were to feel between her legs, he would find her already dripping.

He cocked the bullwhip, extending the length of it behind him. In a relaxed, fluid motion he cast it towards her. It cracked beside her ear, close enough to cause a wisp of hair to move from the air current.

She whimpered.

He moved the handle around his head gracefully, following the crack immediately with a solid stroke across her back. She cried out in pleasure as the skin reddened on contract.

He stopped and let her suffer while she waited for the next stroke. “You crave it, do you not?”

“Yes, Master. I
need
the whip.”

This was their temporary escape. She from the responsibility of being the sole parent of four starving children, and he from the loneliness that resulted from the curse that plagued him.

“I know you do… and I shall provide!” He cocked the whip again and gave three lashes in quick succession. He relished her lustful cries, watching as her body quivered with desire.

“Master…”

Her need called to him, but he forced her to wait; it made for a more passionate coupling. He set his jaw as he delivered four more strokes with added sting. His expertise gave him complete control over the intensity of her experience.

She struggled against her bonds, swaying her ass seductively.

Ryce crisscrossed the next set, leaving a lovely red X.

“Thank you, Master,” she moaned huskily.

“We are not finished, Kegan.”

Her muscles stiffened at his words. Oh yes, she knew this one would bite. Again, he waited, allowing the seconds to tick by, satisfied in the knowledge each one was multiplied many times over in Kegan’s mind.

Ryce delivered the final blow with enough power to make her scream. His cock stirred, demanding its own fulfillment. “Are you ready to please your Master?”

She twisted on the rope, gasping, “Yes…Master.”

“I will be rough with you tonight.”

“Please.”

He cleaned and oiled his bullwhip, taking his time as she hung on the rope. He wanted her to boil at the peak of her desire before he ravished her. Once the bullwhip was returned to its proper place, he walked over to his temporary slave and began gently untying the ropes. She fell into his arms when the last was released.

Ryce picked her up and headed towards the cottage. He had chosen a small, unassuming residence this time. Although the locals suspected he was a man of some wealth, they could not be sure how much. He found it better that way. Too much wealth and you became an outcast among the commoners and a prize to be fought over by the aristocrats.

He laid his conquest on the sizable bed, caressing her pale Scottish skin. Her areolas were a soft brown and contracted alluringly into hard buds under his focused manipulation. Ryce gazed between her legs. She had an attractive patch of chestnut covering her womanly honor.

Kegan gasped when he brazenly separated her pink outer folds with his hand. He could tell by her dripping moistness that she
needed
to be consumed.

It was a rush like no other

transporting a woman to an intense level of passion she could not reach on her own. The ability to deliver both pain and pleasure in equal proportions while leaving the woman desperate and hungry for more was a gift. It was a gift that he could use solely for his pleasure; however, that was not his intent.

Ryce’s greatest satisfaction came from watching his women climax just before his own release. The feeling equaled no other, bar one…

He shook his head to rid himself of the unwanted thought and flipped Kegan onto her stomach with more force than he intended. She shrieked in surprise and then panted with anticipation. Yes, this one liked it rough.

Ryce grabbed her ankles and pulled her closer. “Stay,” he ordered as he ripped off his boots. He crawled on top of her, grateful for the ease of the kilt. He held down her buttocks as he plowed his throbbing staff inside her depths. His cock forced her body to stretch, it was a sensation they both enjoyed.

She screamed as he drove the full length of his rod into her. “Take it, woman.”

“I want!” she begged.

He pushed down on her hips as he delivered stroke after merciless stroke. She grunted, taking his pounding with enthusiasm. His hands dug into her flesh as he plunged into her. Ryce changed angles, rolling his pelvis as he sought even deeper access.

“Too much,” she whimpered under his beefy frame.

It was the game she played, asking for more by pretending she couldn’t take it. He grabbed her shoulders for more leverage and delivered the fullness of him. Kegan screamed and then became silent as she lost herself in the animalistic thrusting. For a short moment in time, everything fell away for the two of them. All pain, horrors of the past, and the cherished memories that made life unbearable now.

Ryce
almost
gave into the orgasmic eruption building inside him. He became still to regain control as he waited. Kegan’s body trembled wildly beneath him, her inner muscles massaging his stiff organ as she climaxed. When her caress began to subside he snarled, pulling out from her moist depths to spread his seed over her heart-shaped ass.

He collapsed beside her and whispered, “Good, Kegan.”

“Thank you, Master,” she said with a satisfied sigh.

Thankfully, Kegan only sought this passionate release without wanting emotional attachment. Her world revolved around her children—they were a complication he could ill afford.

But he had to admit, the constant uprooting was beginning to wear on him. He hoped to stay fifteen years this time, possibly longer. It all depended on how long it took for people to note his ageless face. Eventually, rumors would start and he’d be forced to disappear… or suffer the consequences. The burning rage that he buried in his heart reared its head for a brief moment and he growled ominously under his breath.

Kegan, who had reached out to him, suddenly froze. He could feel her terror radiating from her.

Ryce drove it back down; his consuming need for revenge had no place here. These people had done nothing wrong. If he kept a level head, he had many years to look forward to in this quiet Highlands community. Ample time to taste and tease the feminine outcasts of Rannoch. To distract him from the displaced anger, he thought about Avril, the lonely peasant with a comely face despite the deep gashes across her jaw. She deserved to discover the pleasures of a man and the thrill of a good spanking. He had a mind to visit her after he returned from his visit to the Baron of Rannoch.

Ryce turned his attention back on Kegan, brushing her cheek lightly in reassurance. “I’ll be gone for several days. I have business with
Sir Ryan.”

“No!” she pleaded, grabbing onto his arm in protest. “The Baron is thrawn. Dinnae go!”

He unclasped her hand and placed it on her stomach. “Proper English, Kegan,” he reminded her coolly, before leaving the bed and walking over to his cupboard. “I
am
leaving tomorrow.” He gathered most of his food in a worn bag and handed it to her nonchalantly. “Take it or it shall go to waste.”

Kegan quickly grasped the sack to her chest. “I will make sure it does not, Master.”

“Fine. Dress and leave. I have a long journey ahead.” He turned to spare her from thanking him. Ryce had to carefully orchestrate his contributions to her large brood. He could let her children starve; however, he could not come across as overly generous either. Charity was not appreciated; he’d learned that lesson long ago.

Ryce listened with amusement as Kegan walked to the door, noticing the extra lightness in her step. She shut the door quietly before scampering to the barn to retrieve her clothes.

It pleased him to provide for her and her bairns. He chuckled to himself. Now
he
was thinking in the native dialect.

He packed up the rest of the food, leaving only a few pieces of dried meat for supper when he returned. The trip ahead would be arduous, but was required. Ryce must pay homage to the powers that be if he wanted to remain undisturbed. Considered a Saxon by the locals, he was in danger of being ostracized or banished and required the protection of the Baron. It was an unwelcome, but necessary complication when living abroad. He had grown tired of England and needed this chance to spread his wings again.

BOOK: His Scottish Pet: Dom of the Ages
13.16Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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