The Chieftain Needs an Heir - a Highland ménage novella (Clan MacKrannan's Secret Traditions) (13 page)

Sorcha could not believe that the scarily immense object
inside her belonged to any one man… and yet there must be still more of it, for she could not feel anything else of him yet but for the hands holding her up.  She looked beyond Niall to the painting of the goddess heavy with child and knew she must have
all
of this phallus.  The arch that had held her now became a solid brace for her to push against as she straightened her elbows and jerked her body to meet his next thrust.

Hector saw that the
Tall Wife knew what she wanted with this, and helped her to lock her ankles behind him.  He was a bit deeper in her now, with two hands to spare as long as she managed to cling on by herself.  One hand went back to her breast and played with the teat there, and the other went to her bud to continue its work.  She would need this to take all of him.  And he started up with his thrusting, setting the rhythm and feeling her relax to receive him as he moved deeper within her.

Every single movement brought such a stinging sensation that Sorcha was sure she was being ripped
up the middle, yet she couldn't stop wanting more.  This was her last chance.  She rode the phallus in desperation, ignoring the pain and yearning for bliss.

Hector felt her tightness squeezing him so hard his balls began
their ache for release.  He needed to take control of this again, and the Tall Wife was no' helping one bit.

He pulled out completely, freeing her legs and setting her feet down on the carvings.  The Tall Wife could grit her teeth and moan all she liked.  He had a job to do here.

This time he parted his own legs wider to straddle hers, put his hands on her shoulders, bent his knees and fed her his length.  And he stilled, not thrusting, just rocking into her gently again and again until she had all of him.  Her moan was more of a gasp now, and the breath left her when his ballocks finally hit home.  And he nudged her more with his phallus, letting her settle around him and feel what was there.

And
she could forget having his hands back on her breast and bud, for it roused him too much and he was no' here to enjoy himself.  He must focus on Pushing In the Spend with everything he had, and her bliss must come from that alone.

The Tall Wife had
laid her head back onto his chest again, her cheek lying flat on his own nipple which rose to the occasion.  That was stopping right now.  He reached under her outstretched arms and pointed her chin firmly at the chieftain.

And he fixed his own gaze
on the space between the chieftain and the Bard, beyond his own empty star where his kilt lay, and onto the painting of the ripe goddess about to fill the Heir's Cradle.  He took a good grip of the arch for a bit of leverage, and started moving.  Spreadeagled they were, and it was no' the comfiest position he'd ever tupped in, but he knew this to be the right way.  Finding purchase for his feet among the floor carvings, he moved from thrusting to pummelling, long strokes from nearly out to full deep, battering her backside with his groin and feeling his ballocks slap against her.  And he kept ramming into her so hard that the arch shook.  Leaves started coming loose, and with every thrust more fell amongst his hair and stuck green to his sweating back as the Spend was Pushed and Pushed and Pushed to its home.

The portal to procreation opened further and
Sorcha had never felt so filled with new life.  Niall gazed at her open-mouthed.  He and Ruaridh were still naked, and they both stood with white-fisted hands and proud phalluses as if their turns were yet to come.  The goddess near to birthing the heir seemed to smile upon her from the wall as the leaves fluttered down from the arch, dislodged by a man's punishingly hard activity and his hands twice the size of her own.  The giant phallus was relentless in its thrusting, a ceaseless stabbing assault that made her womb the centre of the universe.  Her hands began to slip as he battered her forward… and his hands were engulfing her own.

Hector was driving her to a bliss she was beginning to be frightened o
f and could not evade.  She felt it start as a heightened awareness of the man at her back, stray leaves dripping off his shoulders and head, the muscles on his arms contracting with every thrust.

A
helplessness coursed through her which opened her for his plunging even deeper inside her, faster and faster until her entire body seized rigid and she cried out in panic as the waves of blissing came to an acute peak.  And she couldn't help but squeeze her legs together, trying to hold onto the phallus, but it had gone, leaving only the memory of its purpose in her rhythmic clenching which refused to stop.

On the floor was carved an oak tree at which Hector knelt and gave up his spend.  O
nto  his spend there fell from his bowed head some fresh oak leaves as he caught his breath again. And Cecily came to cleanse him, and he took her free hand and held it tightly while she hummed the bees' song and did her Wisewoman work at the forest grove built for them all by Coinneach the Chief in the Chamber of the Green Man.

Much time was let pass before the Bard invited all but one of the Circle of Nine to reconvene in the Vault. 
And for all that eight chairs had been set out in a half-circle around the fire, only five of them were occupied.  Oona was the only wife not sitting on her husband's lap.  The Green Book of MacKrannan Fertility Traditions must be updated, and much had happened in the intervening twelve moons which required recording for future generations.  Some parts were more joyous than others.

There were no Summonses, for this was more of a celebratory
occasion, and Oona made sure her mead flowed around the merry company in such copious amounts that the purpose of the gathering was the easier to fulfil. 

"Right…" said
the Bard, all notion of proper convention forgotten as he suppressed a hiccup.  "Who wants to go first?"

He opened the book at the section headed
'
REMEDIE FOR WYFES TOO TALLE – THE PUSHYNG IN OF SPEND'
and loaded his quill with ink.

The Grandam Wisewoman stayed his hovering hand.  "Should we no' be starting with the Rules being met?"

"Oh… aye, ye're quite correct, Oona."  It was as well his dear wife was here to keep him right, for some of the events needing recorded had led to much confusion by way of who knew what, and when did they find it out, and who
didn't
know anything about it, and who must never find out what, and should they even be recorded at all… ach, Oona was good at all that.  The Rules.  Start with the Rules.  "Have ye that part prepared?  Let's hear it, then."

Oona swigged more mead to grease her throat for the oration
, and fetched a parchment from under her chair.

"The R
emedy was completed wholly and utterly according to the Rules for the First Moon," she began.

"
Sorcha the chieftain's Tall Wife went willingly to the arch and Niall the chieftain did Spend inside her from the front.

"Hilde the Wisewoman did rouse Ruaridh the chieftain's brother in his time of need, and
Ruaridh did Push the Spend in from the back, and did himself spend outside of her.

"Cecily the Wisewoman did rouse Hector the chieftain's cousin in his time of need, and
Hector did Push the Spend in from the back, and did himself spend outside of her.

"And Sorcha the Tall Wife was blissed the customary three times, the first caused by the chieftain Niall
, and her hands did stay on the arch throughout the Remedy.

"Are we all agreed that the Rules of the First Moon were met?  Say Aye…"

A chorus of Ayes and much back-slapping came back to her from the circle, and she passed the parchment to the Bard for transcribing into the Green Book.

Niall
shifted his Tall Wife Sorcha to a more favorable position on his lap.  "We never heard the Rules for the Second Moon," said he.  "Come on, tell us what we were in for."

The Bard passed the Green Book to the chieftain, and pointed to the relevant passage.

"Three nights in a row?"
spluttered Niall, and read further on.  "…Third Moon, one night, all Spend in the Tall Wife to assist the Pushing In… Fourth Moon, three nights, all Spend… Fifth Moon, one night, six men – ach, this is just savage!  Who is to say which is the father?"

He
read on silently, and gave the book back to the Bard lest Sorcha espy what she'd been in for at the Ninth Moon.  The MacKrannans' reputation for obstinacy was legend.  A problem like this would be solved from every conceivable angle.

"The Second Moon was as far as we had planned before another remedy tried," said Oona, crossing her fingers behind her back.  "But had ye read on, ye would find all present swearing their
blood oaths under the arch that any bairn conceived was the husband's and destined for the Heir's Cradle, for his was the first Spend."

"
It's no' half as savage as putting the wife round the brothers in secret," said Sorcha, who had since heard of such a thing in the local nobility, "and all are better yet than murdering a barren wife.  And the First Moon worked, so there's an end to it."

Niall
gave his wife a wee tickling, and felt his cock stir at her resultant squirming.  He was still of a mind that Sorcha had taken more delight in the First Moon remedy than she'd ever admit, and his cockstand grew the more just thinking about her abandonment during the three couplings.  It was the Chamber of the Green Man's triumph.  They had all been savages in their lust in that place.

The images would be seared in his memory all the days of his life. 
He still had no' decided whether he was incandescent wi' jealousy or thoroughly aroused by the scenes.  All was fine until Ruaridh had laid hands on her, and he'd to watch his wife blissing full on with his brother's cock ramming into her from the rear.  He'd made his mind up that very minute that Sorcha would be moving into the chieftain's bedchamber, and no argument about it.

And then
their cousin… god's teeth, that was bloody
pagan
… it was as if Hector the Tripod had been taken over by some entity, standing there in his height and covered in leaves like the Green Man himself.  Truth be told, he'd wondered if they'd all been possessed by the spirits of the ancients in the Chamber, for they'd confessed to each other of how it felt coming back into themselves and resuming coherent speech in the moments after.  Even Sorcha had been thinking herself some goddess from the cosmos, and then running for her gown like a prude.

The Remedy
had worked.  Thoroughly.  The clan's Traditions might seem strange at times but there was no denying their efficiency.  He'd learned much from the lesson, and felt the wiser for it, and he'd sign his name wi' pride to the Bard's recording in the Green Book. 

"So," said the Bard, "
it will be recorded that the Rules for the Second and other Moons were unrequired.  All say Aye?"

"Aye," said all.

"Moving on, then.  We must record something of Mirren, deceased wife of Ruaridh, for she was one of the nine."  An unease filtered through the eight assembled at the mention of the absent ninth's name.  "Have ye anything prepared on that, Oona?"

Prepared, he asked…
fine well her husband knew the angst of her toil in putting the story into the written word, for he had to ask the Scribe nicely for extra parchment, she having burned a considerable pile in this very fireplace until the phrasing was euphemistic enough. 

"I have," she said, bringing another parchment from u
nder her chair.  "Mirren, wife of Ruaridh, was of unpleasant disposition when she came to the Vault, and did try to disrupt the remedy further in the Chamber of the Green Man until sedated with medicinal honeymead.

"
And the assembly were distraught to later discover that her many pains and worries and troubles had been caused by her taking a fall at the Clootie Well, and her grabbing hold of many cloots, and a whole branchload resting on her, and all the pains and worries and troubles contained in the cloots transferred to her own person.

"And
such were the severity of the ills that her own family took her home, thinking the Curing Wells on their own lands might alleviate her ills, but sadly they did not, and Mirren passed from this world soon after."