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Subject: THE LAIRD AND THE WEE LASSIE (ped, bdsm,violent ,abuse)
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Date: Mon, 22 Nov 2004 01:56:39 +0000
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THE LAIRD AND THE WEE LASSIE (ped, bdsm,violent ,abuse)
BY CC
cc2@afreeinternet.com
[SMACK!] "AH!" cried out the little girl, as the governess landed spank
after spank on her trim little bottom. Soon her little cheeks were
reddening as she danced from foot to foot. Finally her punishment was
over with a last SWAT! and her governess allowed her to pull her dress
back down over her tender buttocks. Tears rolled down her face as she
hung her head, forlorn. A hug at this point would have endeared her
governess to her forever, but such was not to be. She was sternly
ordered back to her studies, a minor error in which was what led to this
episode.
The little girl was around seven. She lived in a manor, almost a castle,
in Scotland. No one she was related to lived with her. She had come to
the manor through what was essentially political and economic
maneuvering.
It was the early 1700's. It was not uncommon, at that time, for powerful
men to "buy the marriage" of some child who stood to inherit property,
so that they could bestow the child's hand in marriage on whomever the
man wished, to purchase patronage, pay off a debt, or for cash in hand.
In this case, the little girl had been orphaned early in life. She was
the heir of a tidy bit of land, well farmed with good buildings, and
would receive a good income from it someday. The lord of the manor had
used his influence at court, and skillful use of bribes and threats, to
procure her guardianship. He then installed her in his home under the
supervision of a governess. It was purely a business deal, nothing more.
He rarely if ever thought about the girl once she was his. He received
weekly reports on her progress, and carefully looked over the governess'
expenses, the same as he watched all his "accounts payable", but he
cared nothing for her as a person or a child.
He was an ambitious, still fairly young, man. He had no wife and no
prospects for one; he never felt the need. He was consumed with a
passion for money and power. He was not brutal, and treated his
employees and retainers fairly, as country lords went, but he was not
emotionally involved with anyone. He went to Kirk, as all country lairds
did, and would have been considered a member in good standing. He
brought no reproach on the church in any outward way.
On this day, however, his usual state of affairs would begin to change.
By chance, he happened to be strolling by the nursery when the little
girl's punishment was taking place. Drawn by the sound, he stood and
stared at the spectacle of the preteen bent over, her trim bottom and
the nether edge of her girlcleft exposed to his gaze, as the governess
punished her. He seemed nailed to the spot. He had not intended to stay
and watch, but somehow the spectacle held his eyes, the sound of each
spank and each moan and sob flooded his brain, and there was an
inexplicable stirring below his waist...
He shook himself free of the spell, even as the governess flipped the
little girl's skirt back down. He fled the scene, the participants
unaware that he had even been there at all.
Over the next few days he made some quiet inquiries in the household
about the girl. "A bonny wee lassie" was the general opinion of his
staff, housekeeper, cook, even the butler all agreeing that she caused
no trouble, was meticulously polite, and "pretty as a summer's day".
There was an undercurrent of dissatisfaction with the governess' stern
handling of the girl, which he did not consciously recognize, although
it registered in the back of his mind. He learned that she was punished
nearly every day, usually around that same time, as that was when she
had her lessons, and the governess believed in strict discipline when it
came to academic matters, as with everything else. But academics was
about the only area in which she could find fault with the girl, as her
behavior was generally exemplary.
He tried to pretend to himself that it was just "by accident" that he
ended up near the nursery again, at that time of day. The information he
had been given was accurate; soon the little preteen was again on the
receiving end of the governess' idea of discipline.
Once more he watched, entranced, stirred. But now he was even more aware
of the little girl herself. His mind was flooded with new impressions,
desires, thoughts, barely realized consciously, but influencing him
profoundly. He wanted the girl. He wanted to spank her himself, and he
could picture his hand smacking her tender, soft bottom, then running in
to her cleft to squeeze and pinch. Images of raping her darted across
his consciousness. His rod stiffened.
Yet another part of him was vaguely disturbed at the fact that he was
desiring a girl so young, but "age of consent" concerns were nearly
unknown even in the Western world at that time.
And yet another part was feeling something new for him: a yearning to
love, to cherish. Without consciously realizing it, he desired greatly
to get to know the girl, to be her protector, to care for her.
On impulse he strode into the nursery, surprising the governess wielding
a tawse, in mid-swat. "Yes, M'Lord?" she inquired, with the tone of one
who is being interrupted while engaged in important business that the
interrupter himself had ordered her on. The young laird was nonplused.
Something was driving him, but he hardly knew what to say to her.
He blurted out, "I've decided that..that I will take over the lassie's
punishments from now on!" He could scarcely believe the words coming out
of his own mouth. Why in the world did he say that?!
The governess was even more stunned. She spluttered, "M'Lord, you can't
mean...but it's...well, I never!"
"I mean it," he continued, hardening in his position. "She needs
more...guidance from a man's hand, as the lassie has no other father.
You...you just let me know by...by the end of the day what her misdeeds
have been, and I'll take care of punishing her as I see fit!"
"Very well, M'Lord," sighed the governess, secretly not displeased with
the new arrangement. After all, she supposed her pay would be the same,
and now she was being relieved of one of her responsibilities. She may
have been harsh, but she took no real pleasure in punishing the little
girl; she merely construed it as her duty. She diffidently continued,
"She's...not done with today's punishment, yet..." as she handed the
tawse over. The little girl simply looked on, still with her head hung,
miserable, hardly knowing to be glad or anxious at the turn of events,
but hardly daring to think that the laird would be any easier on her
than the governess. Still, there was something in the young laird's eyes
that she registered only subconsciously, something that gave her some
hope that her lot was about to be eased.
"You may leave us now," the laird commanded, and the governess sailed
out of the room, somewhat indignantly. The laird turned to the little
girl. She stood in front of him, skirt still held up to her waist,
exposing her slender thighs, trim bottom, and her unfledged cleft
peeping from below. He simply stared for a few moments, entranced. She
looked to him like an angel, an angel in despair. His heart suddenly
went out to her, and he dropped to one knee by her, and spoke gently to
her.
"What was Mrs. **** punishing you for, lassie?" he asked softly.
"I...I did my sums wrong, m'Lord," the little girl answered, miserably.
"I see. Did you try to do them right?" he inquired. She nodded, glumly.
"Then that's not so bad. Anyone can make mistakes at mathematics; even I
do it, sometimes."
"Do you...are you...punished for it?" she asked naively, her little face
screwing up as she tried to figure out the situation.
The laird chuckled, "No, lassie, there's no one to punish me but myself
and the Guid Lord above! But little girls might need some extra
encouragement to do their sums right, so I suppose they need to be
punished for it. Now I'm going to finish your punishment."
The little girl trembled, and tears sprang into her eyes, hope fading.
"Now, lassie, dinna fash yourself; it won't be as bad as all that. I'll
tell you a secret, if you promise not to tell Mrs. ****: I'm not so
strong as she is, so I daresay I'll not whip you as hard as she! There
now, let's see how it is, shall we?" And with that he snapped the tawse
across her already-reddened bottom, [SMACK!].
"AH!" the little girl yelped, but, indeed, the laird was as good as his
word. It stung, a bit, but it was nothing like what the governess had
dealt out. Even so, her bottom burned, and she danced from foot to foot.
She really didn't consciously realize that his ministrations were
milder, but even as he punished her, the hope again blossomed in her.
Finally he was done. But instead of simply flipping her skirt back down
and marching her grimly off, he began to rub her reddened bottom,
soothingly, his other hand resting gently on her shoulder. He whispered
to the girl, "There, there, it's all over now. Are you all right?"
Almost startled to have any interest paid to her well-being in such a
situation, the girl looked up shyly at him, and nodded her little head,
the tears leaking out of her eyes, but a little smile on her face as she
felt his warm hand rubbing her bottom so gently. After a bit he sent her
back to her governess to finish her lessons.
So began a new pattern for the laird and the wee lassie. The governess
would turn the little girl over to him at the end of the day, with a
list of whatever complaints she had against her. The laird would talk
with her for a bit, then whip her bottom until it was faintly reddened,
the girl whimpering. He would finish by gently rubbing the sting away,
as she relaxed and leaned against him, and he whispered in her ear words
that managed to express his concern for her.
As the days passed he spent more and more time with her. Theirs became
almost a father-daughter relationship, which, legally, it nearly was
anyway. He augmented her studies with his knowledge and experience, and
became the person she would seek out for comfort.
Of course the laird still had his business dealings, his political
influence. Through this side of his life he made an acquaintance, a
certain Lord D*****. The laird found him fascinating, and yet repellent
at the same time. The man was amoral. He could be entertaining, and
useful to the laird, but the laird didn't trust him. Yet he was drawn to
him, just the same. He had heard rumors about Lord D*****, dark
rumors...
One day, unbeknownst to the laird, Lord D***** witnessed the end of a
punishment session with the little girl. He did not mention what he had
seen, but he began to steer his conversations with the laird in a new
direction. Soon he revealed that he had connections with a group of
lords, a group that participated in unusual sexual practices. He
mentioned to the laird that young women were brought in to the group,
and punished in various ways, then used sexually. The laird knew he
should be horrified at the information, but he was strangely attracted.
He agreed to attend one of the sessions.
A young prostitute, barely into her teens, was brought in, clearly
experiencing significant trepidation. It was an appropriate emotion, for
she was quickly stripped, then spanked by multiple members of the group.
Still sobbing from her punishment, her wrists were tied and pulled above
her head and fastened to a beam. She was whipped sternly on buttocks,
thighs, breasts, anus, and cleft as she screamed and writhed. It was
difficult for her to tell which was worse, the whipping, or the radical
exposure of her charms to so many men at once.
The laird did not participate in the action. He just observed, part of
him repulsed at the scene, and part of him thoroughly sexually
stimulated. The rational part of his mind was calculating his chances of
rescuing the girl, but the odds were too great. As he watched, the
activity shifted, and he perceived that the members were probing the
girl in her anus and cleft, and rubbing her clitoris, then one fastened
his mouth on her sex. She seemed to be, willy-nilly, obtaining sexual
satisfaction, judging by her moans and the way she arched her pelvis to
receive the attention. Soon the men were raping her, three at once, in
anus, mouth, and cleft. Presently the laird could see that the men had
succeeded in bringing the young teen to climax, as she yelped and
yipped, rocking her hips back and forth. The men spent themselves in her
and withdrew, leaving her sobbing out the last of her orgasm.
On the carriage ride home, the laird was silent, and his "friend" left
him in peace. As they parted, the laird said, "Thank you for the
invitation...but I think I won't be joining you again for
such...activities."
"What a shame," Lord D***** replied, "when you seem to enjoy it so
much." The laird reddened, but did not respond. "At the least, you
should think about adding some new entrees to your...punishment
repertoire."
"What do you mean?!" the laird inquired sharply.
"Your ward, of course. Such a toothsome little slip of a girl, and so
responsive to your tawse. You should try whipping her...other places. It
could be interesting."
The laird didn't trust himself to reply. He spun on his heel and stalked
off into the manor.
For some time after that the laird tried to put what he had seen out of
his mind. But it was impossible. Visions of the young teen being
punished and raped darted across his brain, only somehow "the wee
lassie" was in her place, writhing and moaning, crying out and coming
from the ministrations, in his imagination being applied by himself
alone.
Without his conscious decision, the punishments he gave to the little
girl began to...migrate. Soon he was applying the tawse to the back of
her thighs. In time he had inched around until the strokes fell on the
fronts as well. He would rest his hand on her shoulder as if to steady
her. After a while, as he whipped the fronts of her slender thighs, he
let it drift down until he was cupping her bare buttocks.
By the time she was nine, her punishments had progressed to the point
that they were openly sexual. He would strip her naked, and ogle her
sweet body as she blushed and squirmed, deeply embarrassed to be so
exposed to his gaze. She was heartbreakingly slender, and gorgeous: long
straight auburn hair, slim shoulders, nipples barely breaking the plane
of her chest atop mere breast buds, unfledged girlcleft peeping from
between her thighs.
He would whip her buttocks, admiring the red glow imparted to her cheeks
as she whimpered and danced from foot to foot. Then he might tawse her
thighs, back and front, as he casually cupped and squeezed her bottom,
and even seized her nipples, kneading and working them as she writhed
and gasped
Next he would tawse her nipples sharply, bringing cry after cry to her
lips. Soon they would be erect, and reddened fetchingly. Finally he
would whip her on her tender, delicate anus, or full upon her cleftlips
as she nearly screamed from the intensity of her punishment.
Yet the laird remained predominantly gentle with the little girl. Still
true to his word, the punishments he applied were not forceful,
producing no more than a faint redness that faded quickly; it was the
embarrassment, and the sexual stimulation, that provoked more response
from her than the actual pain itself. For, although she blushed deeply
to be so young and naked before a grown man, she would appear to push
her little bottom out to accept the strokes of the tawse, and spread her
legs wider in response to being punished directly on her cleft. And she
would moan, most fetchingly, and cry out wildly, as he whipped her and
whipped her.
Then would come the gentle rubbing of her sweet, slender, punished body.
He would pull her naked down onto his lap, and caress her nipples and
buttocks as she sighed, then run his hand down, down to the core of her
being, sliding his finger between her unfledged cleftlips to find her
clitoris as her sighs progressed to moans and soft cries. She never came
from these ministrations, but she often seemed close to it.
The rest of their relationship had only deepened and become more
satisfactory. Truth to be told, he had forgotten all about selling her
marriage for a profit. He simply delighted in her company. The governess
had some time ago decided to return to her home town for family reasons,
and the laird did not replace her. He took up her learning himself,
together with the instruction she received at Kirk.
Unbeknownst to the laird, Lord D***** had long been hatching a plot. He
had investigated the details of the girl's endowment, and found it
suitably attractive. He also found a loophole which, combined with the
influence he had at Court, would probably suffice to transfer the girl's
wardship to him, if he actually had her in his possession.
On a time that the laird was gone for the day, Lord D***** made his
move. The girl was outside playing, under the not-too-watchful eye of a
servant, when his carriage pulled up outside the manor, between the girl
and the servant. In the cloud of dust, it was difficult to see what
happened, but when the carriage rolled away, the girl was nowhere to be
seen.
The laird arrived home soon after, and hearing the news, sprang upon his
fastest horse in pursuit. Lord D***** miscalculated how long he had to
"make his getaway", perhaps trusting in the reluctance of the laird to
pursue him alone, a reluctance that seemed no where in evidence as he
raced down the lane, sword at his side, and a brace of double-barreled
pistols charged and stuck into his belt.
The girl, meanwhile, was being alternately cajoled and vaguely
threatened by Lord D*****. He told her that he was the laird's friend,
and he was taking her to him. He advised her to cooperate, "or it will
be the worse for you", with a quick slap to her thigh, bare to his
touch, as he had slid her dress up and pulled her onto his lap. His hand
were beginning to meander over her body.
She was somewhat in a daze at the speed of the whole ordeal, and was
only barely beginning to realize that something was amiss, when the
coach lurched to an unexpected halt. Lord D***** burst out of the
compartment, prepared to fly in a rage at the driver, when he was
brought up short by the laird's sword at his throat, one of the
double-barreled pistols cocked and aimed at the driver's head.
It was over in a moment. The laird let Lord D***** go, with appropriate
threats if he bothered them again. Going to the authorities was not a
good option; that would have meant taking the whole matter to Court, and
there was no telling how it would have ended up. He might have simply
slain Lord D***** then and there, but repercussions would doubtless have
ensued. In the end he simply pulled the girl up behind him and sprinted
for home.
The incident shook the laird, and he thought carefully about his
relationship with the "wee lassie". He admitted to himself that he loved
her, and no longer desired to sell her marriage for power or profit. He
sat her down and talked with her that evening.
"Lassie, are ye happy here, with me?" he asked her. Her eyes sparkled as
she nodded her head vigorously. "Then I have a question for you. Would
you like for us to be married?"
"Yes, m'Lord, yes!" she cried happily, nearly dancing up and down with
excitement.
The laird wanted to make sure she understood fully what that meant, and
asked her if she knew. She lowered her head, but looked up shyly at him
from under her eyelashes. "It means that you will rape me, won't you,
m'Lord?" she asked, softly.
The laird's head spun. He managed to croak out an affirmative answer to
her astonishing question. Then he spent some time simply holding her,
and kissing her hair and forehead, as she melted against his chest. Then
he whispered in her ear, "I think it's time for you to be punished,
don't you, lassie?" He waited for a long beat, then she gave one short
nod.
He lost no time in bending her under his arm, tossing up her skirt, and
giving her a brisk, businesslike spanking on her bare bottom as she
yelped and danced from foot to foot. When he judged her little cheeks to
be sufficiently reddened he let her up, sniffling and whimpering. He
took up the tawse and swung it back and forth against the back of her
thighs. His left hand rested on her shoulder as he did so, ostensibly to
steady her, but soon he slid it down to her chest, and commenced to
knead and work her little breast buds and nipples through her thin
blouse. She moaned and writhed. He moved around to her front, smacking
her slender thighs with the tawse as she cried out. His other hand
cupped and massaged her tender bottom.
He stripped her of her shift, leaving her naked, a ten-year-old girl
fully exposed in front of a grown man. He drank in the sight of the
pretty little preteen, trembling, nipples erect but barely breaking the
plane of her chest, tears in her eyes, her face like an angel in
despair. Her unfledged cleft peeped shyly from between her slender
thighs. He brought the tawse across her breast buds, bringing fresh
cries to her lips and a fetching red glow to her nipples. Then he
snapped it repeatedly across her mons, as she nearly screamed from the
intensity of her punishment.
He swept her up in his arms and held her close for a while, as she
burrowed her face into his shirt, shivering with anxiety and passion. He
laid her down upon his bed, and kissed her all over: forehead, glabella,
the tip of her nose, spending time at her sweet lips, then nibbling her
neck, sliding down to her nipples, sucking and biting them as she
writhed and moaned, slipping down to her navel where he blew a flurbish,
bringing a giggle to her lips which he mock-squelched with a 'stern'
command and a sharp slap to her thighs, then suddenly there, essentially
raping her with his mouth, pressing firmly against her abused cleftlips,
probing to her hymen, then seizing her clitoris in a long, excruciating
bite between tongue and teeth that left her bucking, sobbing, nearly
yelling, and finally beginning to come.
As she did so he suddenly stood, seized the tawse and brought it down
sharply onto her gleaming, reddened girlcleft. She gave a short scream
and bucked wildly, yipping and yelping as he repeatedly disciplined her
on her preteen sex, as she came and came and came.
A few days later they were married in the Kirk. It did not provoke as
much comment as we might think nowadays; after all, most girls were
married by the time they were thirteen, anyway. And no one was liable to
question the laird, in any event.
That night he punished her again, he sweet, slender body swaying from
the intensity, little nipples, bottom, cleft, even her anus feeling the
sting of the tawse as she crouched in knee-chest position on his bed,
her pudenda fully exposed to his gaze and the administration of strict,
intimate discipline. Finally he could hold back no longer. Smearing spit
on his rampant rod, he poised it at her bottomflower, then thrust
forcefully and deeply through her rosebud, raping her of the virginity
of her anus as she screamed. After the first thrust he halted for a
moment, holding her slim shoulders and kissing her hair, until her
distress died down to the occasional sob and sniffle. After a bit he
resumed her punishment-rape, pounding into her rear passageway
rhythmically as she yelped, reaching around to seize and molest her
cleft and clitoris. Soon she was climaxing again, even as he poured his
hot seed into her abused rectum. They collapsed on the bed together. He
held her close, whispering to her of his love, as she melted into his
arms, sobbing out the last of her preteen orgasm, and the reaction to
her punishment and rape. Soon she was asleep.
The next night he repeated her punishment, spending much time
disciplining her tender, delicate anus with the tawse as she yipped and
moaned. He brought her to the brink of orgasm with his tongue rasping
against her punished clitoris, then raised up over her, stretched his
full adult form over her preteen slenderness, and rammed his rod into
her girlcleft, raping her of her maidenhead, driving for her cervix as
she spasmed and screamed under him. Again he waited, caressing her
tenderly and soothingly, until her wild cries and writhings had stilled
to coos and little tremors, then proceeded to rape her in earnest, long,
insistent strokes, rocking her forcefully, pinning her to the bed,
bringing cry after cry to her lips, until finally she was over the top
again, giving voice to the intensity of her preteen passion. Even after
the wave of sexual release had passed, he continued to punish her with
quick, hard thrusts for a few more minutes as she sobbed, until he
deigned to empty himself at her cervix. Then he collapsed on the bed
next to her, shifting his weight to one side so as not to crush her
little form.
They lay in each others arms through the night, he revelling in the
knowledge that her little preteen body was his to punish and sweetly
rape, her in the reassurance of knowing that she was loved, and
cherished. And punished!
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