Black Dorn [submission/punishment/bondage]

by Daryl Devore

  He did not let her finish her sentence. He reached behind her neck and pulled her face to his. His lips parted. She felt his breath, then nothing.

  "Have you been kissed before?"

  She lowered her eyes. "When I was being…trained, he…"

  "Being instructed and being kissed are as different as the day is from night. One is about tragor and the other is passion, lust and possibly love."

  She glanced up at the word love.

  He pressed his lips on hers and pulled her so close her breasts pressed up against his chest. She released him with a gasp. Her gaze did not leave his.

  "More?" he whispered.

  She pulled his face to her and planted her mouth on his. He opened his lips. She did the same.

  Minutes swam by in a blurred state of locked lips. Heat rose within Branwyn. She pulled away. Holding her hand to her chest, Branwyn gasped for air. "This is…I should not be doing this. You are not—"

  "Did you like it?"

  She nodded.

  "Would you like more?

  "Yes." It was a whisper. "But it is wrong."

  He kissed her cheek, her neck, her throat, then looked into her eyes. "A thing feels best when it is wrong." He pressed his lips against hers.

  Branwyn was helpless to resist.

  Tentatively, he touched the tip of his tongue to hers. She moaned.

  He laid her back against the ground and trailed kisses down her neck to her chest. "Malack." She pressed her hands on his chest. "I must not."

  "I must." He pressed up onto straight arms and looked down at her. "I am humbled by your beauty, but consumed by thoughts of you. I want to taste you, feel your skin, smell your scent. Explore your body. I will not take what is his. You must bleed at your first time. If you do not, he will be angry. But I can have the rest, and I can teach you what pleasure is."

  "Teach me"

  * * * *

  A jolt of passion surged through Malack. A lust he had not experienced before. His lips met hers as his hands explored the texture of her skin. Trying not to break their seal of passion, he struggled to roll onto his back settling her on top.

  He moved his hands down to her waist attempting to remove the last bits of her clothing. "There is just too much skirt between me and you. When I am gon, I shall pass a decree about this." After an exasperated sigh, he mumbled, "I believe I shall lose the battle of the skirts."

  Branwyn giggled.

  The more skirt he tried to remove, the more there seemed to be. Unsuccessfully trying to stifle her laughter, she rolled off.

  He straddled her hips. "It is not good to laugh at your gon-dra." His hands slid down her stomach to the ribbon at her waist, untied it and successfully removed the offending garment.

  He paused as her gown slipped from his fingers to the grass. She was beauty. It was not that she was beautiful. If someone were to ask what does beauty mean? Without hesitation, his reply would be, Branwyn. He started to settle himself, but paused, adjusted his manhood and lay down.

  "You look uncomfortable. I should release you."

  "It is uncomfortable, but my pleasure will come later. I want to lose myself in you. Knowing that, and suspecting the wonders I am about to discover makes this discomfort more enjoyable." He ceased his caress of her body and focused on her breasts. He tickled his fingertips across her nipple. She closed her eyes and sighed.

  "Open your eyes. Look at yourself. It is not only a man who grows when pleasured. See how they grow. How firm they become." He leaned over and brushed a kiss across a nipple. It quivered. His lips parted. He licked her pink flesh. He slipped her nipple between his teeth, closed his lips around it, suckling her like a baby. Branwyn’s back arched, pressing her breast into his face. Her breaths changed from short and shallow to long deep, contented sighs.

  While he pleasured her breasts, Malack tenderly stroked her abdomen. His gentle fingers left goose bumps where they glided across her flesh as his lips moved down her in a path of little kisses. He did not stop when he reached her dark brown patch of hair. His hands were insistent as they pressed her legs apart. He lingered in the scent of her sex and the heat between her legs. Spreading her nether lips, he slid his tongue from her pleasure hole to her clit. He lapped at the sides then circled her nub.

  Branwyn's body tensed. As his tongue moved, her pulse surged. Moans escaped her lips while she instinctively moved her body with each stroke.

  Malack slipped a finger into her pleasure hole and stroked her. He adjusted his position so his finger faced upward tickling the inside of her while his thumb made gentle circles on top of her clit. He inched up the bed and while continuing to ignite the fires inside her with his hand, he teased her nipple with his tongue.

  Uncomfortable pressure built in his loins, he struggled with not entering her. That joy had to be her master’s, the first entry. He forced himself to focus on her, away from what his loins were commanding. Guessing her moment was near; he increased his speed and was rewarded with the first spasm.

  Her muscles clenched on his fingers. She gasped as her whole body tensed. Sharp fingernails dug deeper into his shoulders as each wave surged through her.

  He did not stop his stroking. He forced her to revel in her pleasure until it subsided. With a shudder, she relaxed. He slipped out his hand then placed a gentle kiss on her cheek. She closed her eyes and smiled.

  He released his manhood. It had swollen to its peak. He grasped it firmly, and being wet with her juices, his hand easily slid up and down. He allowed his mind to wander to thoughts of being inside her. It would be a most wondrous moment to slip his thick, hot cock into the fiery pleasure hole between Branwyn's legs. Her heat would pleasure his manhood better than any well-trained duna.

  A powerful surge shot forth from him as he released. He pumped harder; savoring every moment. When his bliss subsided, he snuggled next to the sleeping Branwyn wrapping his arm over her. In a moment, he was asleep.

  Malack's horse nudged his shoulder. He opened his eyes, patted its nose, yawned and sat up. His movement awakened Branwyn. She stretched.

  "The sun is soon to set. My horse wants his feed and bed. He can be very insistent."

  "But I must release you." She reached for his manhood. "It is my tragor."

  "Tragor?" He walked toward his horse.

  "But, I thought…your language confuses me." She stood next to him, placing her hand on his arm. "I have angered you. Why?"

  "Dress. We must return to Black Dorn before nightfall. Raiders roam these woods at night. It would not be safe." He held his voice, busied himself with checking his horse’s reins. He did not make eye contact. When she was dressed, Branwyn picked up the wineskin then stood next to his horse. He lifted her onto it then mounted behind her.

  With a fierce click with his heels, he urged the animal to charge home. The noise of hooves and motion of the animal made conversation impossible. He slowed when they reached the courtyard. Duncan and Leah stood side by side.

  Branwyn thought she heard Leah say, "Not again," as she dropped to her knees. Duncan took the horse’s reins as Malack dismounted.

  He reached up to help Branwyn down. Without a word to her, Malack walked away. Trea walked toward him. As he passed, he snarled, "She is as she was."

  Once in her room, Branwyn fell across her bed and wailed. When her sobbing softened, Leah whispered, "A warm bath?"

  Branwyn wiped her tears and nodded. "I have grown to like baths."

  Soaking in the rose scented water, sipping the mulled wine, Branwyn remained silent. Leah had finished straightening the room when Branwyn whispered, "I have truly angered him."

  Leah stood near the bath.

  "We…he…he met me in the meadow. I was walking. He put me on his horse. We rode to a creek. We dined and talked. He told me…he asked me to call him Malack."

  "Oh, Dune." Leah lost her composure, knelt next to the bath then leaned on its edge waiting to hear more.

  "He kissed me. It was wondrous. I had not known anything c
ould be so…so… there is no word for it. My heart soared. More wine?" She held out her goblet.

  "I have no more, but I shall get some." Leah hurried from the room.

  Branwyn exited the bath, dried herself and settled onto her bed. Leah returned, filled her goblet and eagerly waited for more gossip.

  "He pleasured me and it was…again, I desperately search for a word to…he caused a fire in my body. It was like pleasant torture. His mouth, his fingers, his lips, his hands all caressing me. Look, I have goose bumps remembering it." She rubbed her hand along her pebbled flesh. "When it ended, I sank into a dream. It seemed like a warm blanket being wrapped around me." A tear trickled down her cheek. "I offered to pleasure him as it would be my tragor."

  A puzzled look crossed Leah face.

  "He said he would not take what was my master’s to take, but he could have everything else. While he instructed me, he was uncomfortable." She smiled at the memory. "Very uncomfortable. I offered, but he refused. He said it would be dealt with later. It would add to his enjoyment of pleasuring me. When I awoke from my nap, I again offered but he became… Oh! I believe I understand why he got angry. I mis-spoke. I should not have said tragor. He is insulted." She paused. "If he is insulted that means he…" She covered her mouth as an idea formed in her mind. "He is in love with me."

  "Yes, he is." Leah giggled.

  "I must go to him. Drop to my knees. Beg forgiveness."

  Leah pressed her dune to return to her bed. "No, he is drunk. Duncan says he has already bedded two and is in a mood most foul."

  "I shall have to apologize to everyone in the castle." She nestled down in her bed then giggled. "The Gon-Dra’s in love with me."

  As Leah pulled up the covers, she whispered, "Yes Dune."

  Sleep would not come. Branwyn tossed and turned. She pushed back her covers. She would find him and beg forgiveness. She must. If he was to love her.

  As Branwyn walked down the passageway, no sounds echoed. Guards snapped to attention as she passed. Someone cried out. Not a cry of grief, but one of bliss. She hurried in the direction she believed it came from. Standing next to a broad door, what she heard caused her to pause. "Gon-Dra. Release into me. More. More! More!"

  Branwyn opened the door enough to slip inside. It was a large room, one she had never been in. At the far end, Malack pounded himself into a screaming dune. She sat in a chair, with her raised legs suspended by straps. He held her roughly by her hair, and possessed her with a furious energy. From the doorway, Branwyn could see the sweat rolling off his back.

  "No wait, I am not ready to surrender," the dune called.

  "…care not!" he gasped slamming himself into her with such force that the chair moved. "Aaaah!" When his breath returned, he slipped his manhood out of her. As he dressed he said, "Surrender yourself. It is not the concern of the gon-dra if a dune is pleasured." He exited by a side door.

  The dune struggled to free her legs from their straps. Seed from Malack dripped from her pleasure hole. Branwyn crossed the room. "You are Sasha?"

  The dune nodded.

  "Let me finish you. You need releasing."

  Sweat dripped from Sasha’s face. "There." She pointed to a manhood-shaped object on the floor. "Use it inside me."

  "It is shaped like a swollen man."

  "Yes, it is used when no man is around and you wish to pleasure yourself. Have you not learned?"

  Branwyn shook her head.

  "Place it in me. Yes, slide it back and forth like a man, were he to be bedding me." The dune rubbed her clit while she squeezed her nipple. "Harder."

  Fascinated at the motion of the manhood sliding in and out of the dune, Branwyn tried to give her the satisfaction she had been denied by Malack. Her groans and the slurping sounds from where her pleasure came from filled the room. The dune demanded "more", "harder" and "faster." Branwyn’s arm ached. The dune’s body gave a short convulse. "Oh. Oh. I surrender. I surrender!" Branwyn continued her movements for a moment then slowed. When the dune relaxed, she pulled out the artificial manhood.

  Branwyn lowered the dune's legs and helped her out of the chair.

  "I will sleep here." Sasha dropped to a pillow on the floor.

  "No, you need your bed. Can you walk?"

  "I do not think so. I feel like I have been torn into two. The gon-dra’s powerful in his thrusts, but he seemed possessed by something this evening. A demon he could not expel."

  Branwyn dressed the dune then escorted her to the door. Peering through the doorway, she signaled a guard. "She has been bedded by the gon-dra and cannot walk to her room. Will you take her?"

  The guard picked her up, asked where she slept, then followed her instructions.

  As Branwyn returned to her chamber, her head was filled with the picture of Malack driving himself into the dune. She had never seen a man bed a woman. Slipping under her covers, she found herself trembling. Not from the coolness of the night air, but the fear of being bedded by Malack. Such anger, such force could not be pleasurable. It must cause pain. How could pain be pleasurable?

  Malack did not treat me like that. In that room with the dune, he was gon-dra, masterfully pleasuring himself. Today at the creek, he had been Malack. Not pleasuring himself but pleasuring me. Why the difference? Is it because he loves me and would not hurt me? But how will he pleasure himself in me, if he does not bed me like he bedded her? She yawned. What is it he said? The difference between being instructed and being pleasured is—one’s about tragor and the other is passion, lust and possibly love. Was he trying to tell me he loves me?

  Too many confusing questions whirled in her mind. Maybe answers will come tomorrow. Answers only Malack can give. Branwyn drifted off into a troubled sleep.

  Chapter Five

  "Is the castle still standing after the wrath of Malack?" Branwyn asked as Leah helped her into her morning bath.

  "The others are saying he bedded four last evening."

  "A lusty appetite."

  "Duncan has not seen the gon-dra in such a mood since—"

  "When the wife chosen for him left him. Silly creature, to reject someone so handsome." Both girls giggled, then prepared Branwyn for her day’s lesson. She followed Leah to the room she had found Malack in the previous night. It looked much larger in the daylight. Pillows now covered the floor.

  The strange chair still rested on the platform but the manhood-shaped object was gone. Not all of the dunes were present. Branwyn seated herself next to Clovis and Radella.

  "But I heard he had bedded six, three of them at one time," whispered Clovis. "Good morning, Branwyn. Are you well?"

  Branwyn settled herself next to the dunes, nodded a greeting then sighed. "I did not have a good night’s rest."

  Radella laughed as she finger-combed her long brown hair. "Nor did many people in the castle. Where is Sasha? Duna Trea will beat her if she is late."

  "Sasha is excused today." Clovis giggled. "She is resting. The gon-dra bedded her. Almost tore her into two halves. The guards could hear her screams."

  "Screams of ecstasy." Radella leaned in to whisper. "She loves—"

  All chatter ceased as Duna Trea entered the room. She pointed to someone near the front. A girl stood next to her. Branwyn did not know this dune. Trea flicked her hand. The girl stripped, leaving her clothes in a pile at the foot of the platform.

  "She is naked…down there." Branwyn’s hand covered her mouth. Many other dunes whispered among themselves.

  Clovis leaned over to whisper, "I have heard that some men prefer their dune’s like that. It is so they can watch their manhood as they bed them."

  "I wonder how she removes the hair?" Radella seemed intrigued by the sight.

  Trea pointed to the chair. The girl mounted it and placed her feet in the straps, exposing herself to the other dunes. Trea pulled an object from the folds of a bag. It was thick and shaped like a manhood, but with ridges on it. She picked up a jug of oil, poured it on the object then on the dune’s exposed genitals. R
ubbing the oil around, she slid the bulb into the dune’s pleasure hole, snapped her fingers and the object slid in the distance of one ridge. The silence was shattered by the chatter of the surprised dunes.

  "That is a lune. We are to be trained in a special skill for our masters." Clovis whispered.

  With a snap of Trea’s fingers, the lune slid deeper into the dune. She snapped her fingers three times. The object disappeared. Releasing the dune’s feet, Trea helped her to stand then slapped at her inner thighs. As the dune stood legs apart, Trea held her hand underneath. Nothing happened. The dune held the object.

  Trea clapped once. A bit of the lune descended. She clapped again; more of it appeared. She snapped her fingers. The lune jerked back inside.

  Branwyn glanced at her fellow dunes. The dune had everyone's undivided attention.

  Trea stepped forward. "You each will go to a serving girl, get a lune and a jug of oil. Pour oil onto the lune then run your fingers over it. Get to know what it feels like. Prepare yourself by pouring oil on your pleasure hole.

  Excited chatter filled the air as each dune rose, went to a serving girl and collected her oil and lune. Branwyn settled herself on the pillows near her friends.

  Radella winked at Clovis. "Let me." She dribbled some oil down the insides of Clovis’s thighs then spread it around with her fingers. She slipped one inside and stroked her. Clovis moaned.

  Trea’s voice boomed across the room. "Radella, remove your hand. I expect you dunes to do well in this lesson. You have been selected for this training. Do not fail me."

  Branwyn did not look up. She suspected Duna Trea looked at her.

  For the first hour, peals of laughter filled the room as each dune tried and failed. Some managed to pull the lune into themselves, but it dropped to the floor as soon as they stood. Branwyn lay on her back with the lune partially in her, but try as she might, she could not draw it in. Radella lifted her head to check where Duna Trea went to, then reached over and slid Clovis’s lune in and out. "Try it," she whispered to Branwyn. "The ridges increase your pleasure."