by Daryl Devore
"But he did not slam into you. Oh, it is going soft."
"You will learn special moves where you cause the pleasure to the man and make him release his seed. That is what I did." Trea checked that snugness of the man's blindfold. "Stroke him back to hard. Reach under here. This is where the seed is. Stroke them."
Branwyn ran her fingertips across his seeds sacs. They were softer than his manhood. As she brought the chained man to full erection for the third time, she was fascinated at how strenuous this task was. She felt flushed and uncomfortably hot between her legs.
"See how he moans and his body is covered in sweat. You have learned quickly. Continue, but change the speed and tightness of your grip. Stroke his seed sacs. Stop." Trea placed her hand on Branwyn's arm. "Feel the wetness on the tip. He is near his release. Faster, Branwyn."
The man bucked his cock into Branwyn’s hand. His back arched and a warm fluid shot out of him and sprayed Branwyn’s breasts. "Do not stop," demanded Trea. "Continue milking him like a cow. Release him of everything. Good girl. You may let go. No, do not wipe yourself. Smell his seed. Wipe some on your finger and taste it. It won’t harm you."
Her hand trembled as she raised a finger to her mouth. She tested it with the tip of her tongue. It tasted salty.
"Now, settle yourself on those pillows. Hands at your sides."
As Branwyn sat, another man entered and knelt next to her. Trea pulled up Branwyn’s skirts and placed several pillows under her hips. "Your next lesson’s about allowing yourself to be touched. Will you obey or must I tie you in place?" She held up a handful of ribbons that had been on one of the pillows.
Cold chills raced through Branwyn's body. She took two deep breathes to calm herself before speaking. "Tragor, Duna Trea."
"Very good, Branwyn." To the kneeling man she spoke, "You performed well yesterday, and this is your reward. Arouse her, touch, stroke or kiss her. Do not enter her. If she does not moan then you may not release."
The man did not speak, but moved closer to Branwyn. She tried to lie still, but her body trembled. Trea stood beside her and looked down. "This will be pleasurable, Branwyn. Your body will burn like it is on fire. You’ll beg for more."
Branwyn's pulse raced as his hand neared her breast. She reminded herself of tragor. This is her duty. She squeezed her eyes shut, praying that he would somehow disappear. His fingers rippled across her nipple. "No. Stop."
"Tragor, Dune." Trea grabbed her wrists, wrapped a silken rope around them and tied her to a metal loop in the floor. Slipping another rope around each ankle, she secured them to rings embedded in the wood.
The man slid his fingers along the fullness of her breast and pinched a nipple. In the depth of Branwyn's belly nausea began to rise. A cold clamminess covered her body.
"No. No. No." She tried to flail her arms and kick her feet, but her ties held fast. "Don't touch me." Malack! Would he help her? Her scream was so violent the man jerked his hand away from her breast.
Trea stood next to her and held a long stick in her hand. "Tragor. Why must I repeat myself?" She held out the stick. "Do not fail." She pointed at the man. "Continue."
Branwyn whimpered and waited, for what she did not know.
He lowered his mouth to her nipple. His lips squeezed against her flesh as his tongue flicked at her.
She gagged and forced herself not to throw up. "Malack!" Tears streamed down her cheeks. Why did he not come to rescue her? "No. Stop. Stop."
Trea loosened a tie, roughly rolled her onto her belly. A jolt of pain surged through Branwyn's buttocks. And again. Trea stopped. "Branwyn. move again and I will instruct you mercilessly. Tragor."
She fought against her ties. Her arms ached from the strain. "I will not. This is wrong. I hate you!"
"Remove yourself." The duna yelled at the man. He scurried from the room. Trea turned. "Now, you." She tapped Branwyn with her crop. "I am disappointed. I thought you finally understood tragor. This is used to break horses and insolent dunes. This is going to hurt. Your flesh will burn and tears will stream down your cheeks. Begging will only get you more punishment. Submitting will not lessen the number of strokes but it will not add any more. I have not the strength of a man, but I will not be weak in my instruction of you."
Shaking and sobbing, Branwyn clenched her eyes and waited. The crop cracked on her buttocks time and again. Screams escaped from Branwyn’s lips. "Mercy, please Duna Trea. I beg you. Mercy." Between her screams, darkness filled Branwyn’s head.
Trea exited.
Leah entered and knelt next to Branwyn. A noise made her look up. The gon-dra walked across the room. With a gentle touch, Leah applied a soothing paste of herbs and oils.
Malack loosened the ties binding her to the floor, lifted and carried her to her bed. For a moment, he stared down at Branwyn then turned and left the room without speaking.
Leah placed a mug of warm wine and a piece of fresh bread next to the bed. The scents woke Branwyn. "Drink this, dune, and eat. I have put oils on you that’ll make the pain go away and there are herbs in the wine to make you feel better."
Tears trickled down Branwyn’s cheeks. "I failed today. I angered Duna Trea."
"I have heard you can sing and play the spinet. Possibly you might entertain the gon after dinner?"
"Oh, Leah, what a wonderful idea. Would I be allowed?"
"Lay there and rest while I inquire."
Branwyn dozed until Leah ran in exitedly. "Dune, it is done. You may play and sing in the quarters of the gon. There will be many people there, including the gon-dra. We must hurry and dress you, weave ribbons into your hair and drape jewels over your breasts."
Two hours later, Leah and a guard escorted Branwyn to the gon’s main chambers. "I may not enter," whispered Leah. "But I will wait out here and listen from here."
Her body trembled as she entered, crossed over to the spinet piano and waited. A distant voice commanded her to play. Looking at the hard stool, she hesitated. Settling herself on it, she stifled a cry, rested her fingers on the keys and played a lullaby she had learned as a child. Some of the people listened. Others continued to talk. With brief glances between songs, Branwyn was unable to find Malack. With such a commanding presence, she assumed he would not be difficult to find, even in a crowded room.
Duna Trea appeared beside the spinet. "Come with me." Without question, Branwyn stood and followed with her head lowered and her hands behind her back. Trea stopped in front of the gon. Branwyn dropped to her knees. "Ah, Duna Trea. I see the young one is learning."
"She was instructed today."
"Let us see." The gon turned his head and looked at a far back corner. "Malack, come. The new dune was instructed. Let us see the marks left on that beautiful white skin." Malack rose, walked forward and stood next to his father.
Trea whispered to Branwyn to stand and turn around. Her skirts were thrown over her head.
The gon chuckled. "Beautiful, Duna Trea. You marked her well. Is she not beautiful Malack?"
His son grunted.
"You are jealous you did not mark her," teased his father.
"Stand straight," commanded Malack. When she did, Branwyn found herself staring into his face. Her knees buckled, and her head swam. His strong arms caught her before she fell.
"I apologize Gon-Dra." Trea lifted her hands to her chest. "She has had an exhausting day. I was taking her to her serving girl, but thought you might like to see her training."
Malack looked down at her breasts. He shook his head knowing he should not imagine suckling those firm rosy nipples. With long strides, he followed Leah to Branwyn’s room and laid her on the bed.
"Leah."
"Yes Gon-Dra Malack."
"Take care of her."
"Yes, Gon-Dra Malack."
Trea allowed Branwyn to rest the following day as Leah tended the welts on her buttocks. However, that luxury did not extend to a second day. Leah woke her, prepared her for her day, then escorted Branwyn to the maze.
Standing in a large open space, were Duna Trea and a blindfolded naked man. Four iron rings had been secured to the ground. As Branwyn approached, Duna Trea pointed to a pile of small ropes. "Secure this man to the ground. He must not be allowed to move. If he frees himself, your flesh will suffer."
Branwyn secured him then returned to stand next to Trea.
"Now, I will teach you how to pleasure with your mouth. Many men enjoy their woman pleasuring them this way. When it is your bleeding time, you can still pleasure your master if he desires. Watch and see how I make him grow."
Trea flicked little licks all over his penis. When his penis was shiny with spit, she slipped him into her mouth and bobbed her head up and down. He grew and filled her mouth. Trea let him slip out of her mouth. "Next we wait until he becomes small. Put your finger in your mouth. Close your lips around it and suckle it like a baby at breast. Swirl your tongue around your finger. Feel the ways your tongue can move. It is pleasurable, both to a man and a woman." Trea pointed at him. "He has softened. Kneel here, use just the tip of your tongue, and learn how he feels and tastes. Listen to how his breathing changes."
Everything in her wanted to refuse, but the fear of punishment made her comply. The tip of Branwyn’s tongue flicked against his flesh. He did not taste repulsive. He smelled musky.
"Reach down between his legs and lick his seed holders. See how he quivers. Now lick him. Yes, long laps. Hear his breathing. Take him in your mouth and suck him as you slide your lips and hands up and down his length."
A pleasurable warmth grew between Branwyn's legs. Why did she feel this way? Could it be the nearest to the man? But it is wrong?
"Yes, good girl. Feel him grow and fill your mouth. Let him go."
Branwyn opened her mouth, let him slip out and stepped back. Her head whirled. She reached out to grab Trea's arm for support. Did pleasuring him like that make me feel this way? Maybe she was becoming ill.
If only he was Malack. Branwyn flinched. If only he was Malack? Would she pleasure him? She turned her head pretending to glance about the maze and smiled at the thought of pleasuring the gon-dra. A shiver raced through her body.
A vision of Malack's strong body, lying waiting for her to touch him quickened her pulse. She ran her tongue on her top lip imagining it to be the gon-dra's manhood. His hands on her body would feel like—
"Now tickle him with your hand as you begin to suck him."
Branwyn blinked and turned to face Trea.
"If your master allows, stare up into his eyes. Men like to see the submission in their women. Begin again."
She stood in front of the man. Do not think of him. Think of Malack.
Taking a firm grip on his flaccid manhood, she jerked her hand up and down. As he began to grow, she licked her lips and slipped the tip of him into her mouth. She continued to stroke him as she let him fill her mouth. Matching the stroking of her hand with her mouth, she rapidly slid up and down his full erect shaft. He groaned and moved his hips, pushing himself into her mouth.
"Yes, very good Branwyn. Stop. Let go." Trea slapped his erect penis.
He moaned and squirmed.
"Do not release until I allow it" Trea turned her attention from the man back to Branwyn. "Now, lightly lick the tip. Taste that. That tells you he is about to release. That is when you must suck harder and faster and stroke his seed holders. Continue."
Keeping the thought of pleasuring Malack in her mind, she matched the stroking of her hand with her mouth while fingering his seed sacs with her other hand. Branwyn's heart pounded so fast she was worried it would burst from her chest.
Trea touched Branwyn's hand. "Let him relax. While he is in agony at not being allowed to release, he is enjoying this. Some men love to command and others love to submit." Trea's brow wrinkled. "Are you ill? You are flushed and look as though will swoon."
Calming herself, Branwyn said, "I am fine, duna."
"Then release him."
Wanting to please Trea, Branwyn focused on her work and brought the man to his swollen fullness then she pounded her mouth on him as her fingers raked his balls. His hips bucked as he drove himself into her mouth. With a furious scream, he blew his seed into her mouth. Branwyn gagged and pulled back. His spray continued onto her face. She started to wipe herself, but stopped, knelt and lowered her head. Trea untied his bonds. The man sat up and crawled toward Branwyn. He reached for her knees. Trea slapped his hands and told him to leave.
The duna snapped her fingers and a serving girl entered. She knelt next to Branwyn and cleansed her with warm, sweet-smelling cloths, then scurried away.
Branwyn turned to find Trea lying on her back, knees pulled up and legs spread wide. Her eyelids opened wide.
"Now you will learn to pleasure a woman. Almost the same as pleasuring a man. Start with the tip of your tongue and rub it here. This little mound is called joy. It is very sensitive, and brings great pleasure. Do not be rough."
Branwyn's heart raced. It was difficult enough to be expected to pleasure a man, but now this. She looked down at her hands, unable to express her concern.
"I know what you are wondering, dune." Trea pushed up onto her elbows. "Yes, pleasure can be given between women. Some masters enjoy bedding more than one at a time. And receive great enjoyment from watching the woman pleasure each other. Come here. Settle there and do what I asked."
Reluctantly, Branwyn positioned herself between Trea’s legs and flicked the spot. "Now, long laps and little flicks. Change what you do."
The scent of a woman was sweeter than a man's, but the heat between her legs was just as intense. Branwyn’s mouth, tongue and neck ached from the day’s lessons, but she feared the riding whip and continued with her duties.
"Now gently pull it into your mouth and suck it. Oh, softer." Trea’s breath was coming quicker and her voice was soft.
Branwyn's pulse began to race and her breathing came in short breaths. As she licked Duna Trea, the ache deep inside her built to a painful pressure. She felt as if she was a wine skin filled beyond its limit and was about to burst.
"Take a finger and slip it into my…give me your hand. There, slip the finger in there. Feel the wetness. My heat. That means you are good at what you are doing. You are pleasuring me, and I will surrender. Slip another finger inside of me. Slide them back and forth. Keeping licking me. Faster. Another finger. Yes. Yes. Do not stop. I surrender!"
Branwyn felt a spasm clench on her hand. "Oh!" An involuntary moan escaped Branwyn's lips as a shudder passed through her body. It was not one of pain or revulsion, but a shudder of enjoyment and pleasure. Wondering what had caused it, she lifted her head to speak. Trea's eyes were closed. She appeared to be sleeping. Branwyn knelt and waited.
Trea sighed as she opened her eyes. "That is all for today. You may wander about the castle." With a flick of Trea’s hand, Branwyn understood she had been dismissed.
Chapter Four
Branwyn wandered along the paths that wound about the flower gardens and out into the meadow. She thought about how much her life had changed in the last few weeks. Everything was so different at Black Dorn; women displayed their bodies, adults spanked like children and she had touched a man and brought him release.
Even from a distance, she could tell it was Malack who rode in her direction. He slowed his horse. Branwyn dropped to her knees and lowered her head.
"Trea let you out?"
"Yes, Gon-Dra Malack."
"Stand."
She rose and looked up at Malack then gasped when he scooped her up and set her behind him on his horse. Reining it around, Malack urged his horse to trot across the grass. Tightly holding on around Malack’s waist, Branwyn reveled in the closeness of him. His back and arms felt strong and his scent made her head swirl. He slowed his horse near a creek, jumped off, and helped her to the ground. Again, she knelt and lowered her head.
"Stand." He held out his hand. "We are alone."
"I do not understand, Gon-Dra." She gripped his hand and let hi
m assist her.
"Call me Malack. Use my name. Not my birthright." He busied himself with his horse, loosening the reins and leading the animal to the river. While it drank, he opened a sack and pulled out a wineskin. He pulled out his knife, cut off a chunk of bread and cheese, then handed them to Branwyn. She accepted it then settled under a willow tree near the creek’s edge.
He sat beside her and ate his meal. Finished with her lunch, she sipped her wine in silence, admiring the sound of the creek and the birds. With quick glances, she studied Malack. His eyes were the depth of some of the blue flowers in the garden. A faint scar marred his left cheek. His face was shorn of beard, but for the slight stubble of a new day’s growth. His features were pleasing--very pleasing--to her.
"Tell me where you come from? What is your land--your people—like?"
Why did his deep voice make her heart beat faster.
"My land is like Black Dorn but flat and not as beautiful. I have not seen so many rolling hills. Our languages are similar, but we each have words the other does not."
He lay back and closed his eyes. "Such as?"
"Gon. I believe it to mean king--one who rules all. Gon-Dra has no match in our language. The son of a king is a prince and the oldest is the heir to the throne, but he is not called by that title."
He opened his eyes. "Are all the women from your land as beautiful as you?"
Branwyn felt a flush run from her belly to her scalp. "My six cousins were not as…" She looked at the creek. Her voice softened. "Which is why I was sent to be trained."
Malack sat up. He moved closer -- too close. "Standing beside you, even the most beautiful of cousins would be less so. Your green eyes are like the newly born spring--alive and full of hope. Your lips…there is a flower, a rose I believe, in the garden the same color. If your lips taste as wondrous as the smell of that flower…may I kiss those lips?"
"You are the gon-dra. You take—"
A frown crossed his forehead. "I do not ask as gon-dra. I ask as Malack. I wish to be granted the kiss."
"I am sorry if I have offended you." She pressed her fingers on his forehead and smoothed his creased brow. "A kiss from you would—"
