“Duel,” Janet commanded harshly.
“I…um…what?” asked Marjorie, biting her lip.
Lachlan pressed closer. “Ease your fingers…in the m-mistress’s cunt. I’ll ease mine…in her arse. A duel ’til release.”
Marjorie brightened. “Oh! I see. I may lack experience, but I warn you, husband, I shall win this battle.”
“Not a chance,” rasped Lachlan, his oiled fingers circling Janet’s back entrance.
At the gentle press of two fingers into her cunt and two fingers into her back entrance, Janet gasped in delight. But when they began a wondrous duel of thrusts and strokes only separated by thin flesh, a wild cry burst from her lips. Lachlan wrapped his free arm about her waist to hold her up, yet his marauding fingers were relentless, as were Marjorie’s. Then he bit her neck just as Marjorie laved her right nipple, and Janet barely muffled her scream of ecstasy as a violent, prolonged release tore through her trembling body.
Sheer perfection.
When Janet at last regained her senses, she gently dislodged both, then walked over to her bed. When she’d arranged herself on the pillows, a wicked smile lifted her lips. Now they would receive their reward: a marital bedding like no other.
“Do join me, newlyweds.”
…
She was a wedded wife. And soon, so soon, she would be a bedded one.
Quivering with a combination of excitement, anticipation, and anxiety about the unknown, Marjorie allowed Lachlan to escort her over to the bed.
What an overwhelming day of twists and turns it had been: The lighthearted fun and gentle intimacy of their time beside the stream. That terrible letter from the queen that had turned her world upside down. Janet’s knowledge and Lachlan’s comfort to devise a plan. A hasty, irregular, and possibly treasonous marriage in a lawyer’s chambers. And now, the occasion she’d awaited so long…learning all the secrets of the marriage bed. If she’d had to do this with an elderly English stranger, it would have been unbearable. But she had Lachlan—her gruff, brawny hero—and Janet, her lusty and commanding mistress, and although the unknown and the possibility of pain were unnerving, she was eager to begin and share this special moment with them.
Together, she and Lachlan had willingly served their mistress and brought her to a screaming release with their wicked duel. Now it was their turn to pleasure each other as Janet instructed.
“Come sit here, between my legs, Marjorie dear,” said Janet as she lounged on the pillows, her thighs spread wide, one hand lazily stroking her jutting nipples.
Taking a deep breath, Marjorie climbed onto the large bed and crawled into position, settling herself against Janet’s breasts. Her mistress clearly understood the emotions swirling within her, for she began to stroke her skin and murmur words of encouragement before kissing her on the mouth, light kisses that soon turned deeply passionate.
She moaned, drawing away to catch her breath. “I don’t…I don’t know what to do. How it is supposed to be.”
“How do you w-wish it to be?” asked Lachlan, perched on the side of the bed.
Marjorie smiled at his care and courtesy. His cock was so hard and ready for release he was clearly in discomfort, but not by so much as a twitch had he insisted upon his need being met before hers. “I should like, ah, to be touched some more before you, er, enter me. If you are willing.”
“Oh, my dear,” said Janet, very seriously. “We shall both ensure you are ready. I know the first time can be overwhelming because you just don’t know. It can be a little unpleasant to start as your body adjusts; occasionally there is pain and some bleeding. But while it is our duty to assist and support and pleasure you, it is your duty to tell us how you are feeling, whether something is not enough or just right or too much, because we cannot know your mind. Do you understand?”
“Yes, mistress,” said Marjorie huskily as a slow throb began between her legs. Janet explained lusty matters so clearly. It was so freeing, so reassuring, to know exactly what she must do rather than awkwardly stumble, and that she might stop something she did not enjoy. “Kiss me, Lachlan.”
He leaned over and cupped her cheek before brushing his lips against hers. But she did not want such gentleness, instead curving a hand around his neck and kissing him back firmly, her tongue darting against his lips until he opened his mouth and kissed her properly.
Janet really was a most excellent tutor.
“What next?” rasped Lachlan eventually, his chest rising and falling, and it did her heart good to know he was equally affected by their kisses.
“I want…I want…please, Janet, touch my breasts. And Lachlan…down there.”
He hesitated and glanced at Janet.
“No, dear one,” said her stern mistress. “Down there is not sufficient. If you wish him to kiss your pearl, say so. If you wish him to stroke or lick your sweet little cunt, say so. He will do as you desire, but you must state plainly what that desire is. Do not force us to withhold release from you in punishment.”
Marjorie squirmed on the bed at the reprimand. She had indeed been instructed many times on plain speaking and did indeed know better. Now was not the time to retreat to the comfortable familiarity of convent virgin. She was a married woman with a husband and a mistress, who had been well taught on how to give and receive pleasure.
“It aches, Lachlan,” she whispered. “My…my cunt aches. Use your tongue until I scream. Until I make your mouth all wet.”
“There now,” said Janet, and Marjorie whimpered when those nimble fingers rewarded her candor with caresses and light pinches of her swollen nipples.
Lachlan moved to kneel between her spread legs. By the saints, the way he was looking at her right now, reverent and yet so hungry, as he ran his hands along her sturdy thighs, as he carefully parted the crisp brown
