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 The Laird and the Wee Lassie (M/g spank reluc romantic hist)

   Written by cc



   [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 nowhere 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 hands 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, glabellas,
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 other's arms through the night, he reveling in the
knowledge that her little preteen body was his to punish and sweetly rape,
she in the reassurance of knowing that she was safe, and loved, and
cherished.  And punished!

   The End

   cc

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