by Daryl Devore
Branwyn peeked over the pillows. On the other side of the room, Duna Trea spoke with a dune. She reached between her legs and slid the lune in. The ridges rubbed her with a delightful sensation. She started to pull it out, when Trea’s face appeared above hers. She clamped her muscles shut.
"Ah, you managed to insert it. Stand. Let us see if you can hold onto it."
It took a moment for Branwyn to organize herself but she managed to stand. No thump. Trea held her hand underneath. Nothing happened. Trea straightened then explained how to relax and tighten her muscle to allow the lune to drop a bit. Branwyn’s first attempt was a failure as the lune fell to the floor. Trea smiled. "Keep trying, Branwyn. Radella, touch Clovis again and I will beat you."
Several dunes rested after lunch, but Branwyn was determined to learn this pleasuring method. She was just beginning to be successful, when the dunes had to leave to prepare for the evening meal. When Branwyn stood, she staggered as the room spun before her. She felt hot, especially inside. It was similar to the way she had felt when Malack pleasured her. She had never left an instruction feeling this way.
As she crossed the courtyard, she paused by the well and splashed some cool water on her face. It dribbled down her chin and dripped onto her breast. She did not need to look up. She sensed him standing behind her. She turned and knelt. "Gon-Dra. Would you care for a drink?" With raised hands, she offered him the ladle. He shook his head, started to speak, turned and left. Brushing the water from her breast, she stood and walked to her chamber.
Leah had made a chain of flowers and wove it into Branwyn’s hair. She dressed her dune in a dark green gown to highlight the color of her forest green eyes. She anointed her with fragrances from a small vial. "To cause fire in the one you love. It is from an elder woman in the village."
Branwyn entered the great hall and sat with the other dunes. Those who had trained with the lune chatted about their successes and failures; others gossiped about Malack and his exploits of the night before. Branwyn waited for the meal to begin. A guard stepped up next to her and requested she follow him. He escorted her to the part of the castle where she had been when she had entertained the gon.
Another guard stood outside a chamber door. He held the door for her. She entered. It was a magnificent bedchamber. Much larger than the one she slept in. Rich tapestries hung on the walls. Silver and gold threads adorned the bed curtains in an intricate pattern around the edges. Thick fur rugs lay scattered on the floor. A fire snapped in the hearth. Near it sat a table laden with food and drink. A movement behind her caused her to turn. She dropped to her knees.
"Stand." Malack held out his hand and helped her up. "When we are alone, I want you beside me, not beneath me."
"Are we to be alone?"
"I very much wish that to happen."
She held her voice firm, "But I am bound to my duty and that displeases you."
"I understand duty. I also am bound to mine." He pointed to the table. "Let us forget duty while we dine."
The wall torches remained unlit, so candles on the tables and the glow from the fireplace provided the only light. It made the room inviting. Branwyn relaxed. Malack escorted her to a seat then filled her goblet and his. "Usually the gon makes a toast, but instead I will offer an apology. It is not easy for a gon-dra to ask forgiveness, but I feel I must. My quick temper quick to rise; it has gotten me into trouble ever since I was a child. I fear it has done it again. Your offer to release me yesterday was not given as the tragor of a dune to her gon-dra; it was offered as a woman attempting to give pleasure to a man." He traced her jawline with his finger. "I am humbled by your presence. The great warrior is defeated by the eyes, lips and face of a beautiful woman."
"I have longed to be touched by you—as many of the other dunes do. My longing is not tragor. It is to be with the man known as Malack."
They ate in silence. Both brows furrowed, as each was obviously deep in thought.
A discrete knock broke the silence. Duncan stepped before Malack and lowered his head. "Gon-Dra, Duna Trea is seeking her missing dune. I have told her that I understood she has taken to her bed."
Malack nodded.
"Shall I bring more wine? Mead?"
"No. Just keep Duna Trea away from my door."
Duncan exited.
Branwyn rose. "If the duna is looking for me…"
Malack put a hand on her arm. "You wish to leave?"
"No."
He rose and held out his hand. When Branwyn stood, he swept her into his arms and carried her to his bed. "Branwyn, I choose you as my wife, not my duna, my wife." Branwyn’s eyes widened as her hand clasped to her mouth. "You were bought for another, but that can be dealt with. I am the gon-dra."
"Do you know by whom I was purchased?"
"It is of little matter. Every castle or manor house in this part of the land is loyal to Black Dorn." He placed his sword and knife on a table then stood next to his bed. "There is one thing I must ask. Long ago, one was chosen for me—the daughter of a high-ranking noble—who rejected me. I was inexperienced. I vowed I would choose my mate. I have chosen you. Do you…will you accept me?"
Branwyn knelt on the bed before him and looked into his eyes. "Malack, I choose you with all my body and all my love." She wrapped her arms around his neck then pressed her lips on his, sealing her promise. Stepping off the bed, she untied the ribbons that held her hair in place, letting her red-brown tresses fall far below her shoulders. There was no fumbling of her fingers as she loosened the ties to her gown and shifts. They fell to the floor.
She spoke as she undressed Malack. "When I first arrived, Duna Trea tried to explain my title. She said I would become a duna after I was taken. I did not understand. In the land I come from, matters between a man and woman are not discussed." She lay back on the bed. "It is much different here in Black Dorn. I now understand what taken means. It is when a man lays with a woman and they are joined as one."
She tried to complete what she wanted to say, but Malack kissed her chest and moved toward an awaiting nipple. "I do not understand what you meant when you said that you could not take what is his—meaning my master’s."
Malack stopped two kisses away from her nipple. "When I place my manhood in you, the first time, there will be blood. It will prove you have not been bedded by another."
"Will I bleed because…because—I fear…I fear…" Tears dribbled down her cheeks. "I want to be taken by you, but I fear you. My head whirls and not from the wine of Black Dorn."
Malack pushed up some pillows, rested on them and wrapped Branwyn in his arms. "Why do you fear me?" His breath was hot across her neck.
"I saw you…bedding Sasha. I heard her screams."
"Sasha’s a dune. You are not. You could never be a duna. I sense a spirit inside you. You have hidden it, but it is there." While he spoke, he caressed her arms.
"I have felt lost and afraid since coming to Black Dorn. The land and its ways are much different from my home. Only now do I begin to feel as if my feet are planted firmly on ground once again.
Malack chuckled. "Then is it I who should be afraid? When your fiery spirit awakens again."
She leaned her head back and planted a kiss on his chin. "You may instruct me if my will becomes stronger than it should for the wife of the gon-dra."
"I would never instruct you that way. That is how I bedded Sasha. You watched us in the training room?"
Branwyn nodded.
"I was drunk and angry. Trea asked me to bed Sasha. Her master will care not if she is pleasured. She must learn this. I bedded her as a gon-dra should." He stopped. "As a gon-dra." He rubbed his forehead. "My birthright has cost me a brother." He paused. "I must be seen as strong and powerful, even when injured or sick or…drunk and angry?"
She closed her eyes as she listened to his words, reveling in the casual strokes of his hands on her arms. When his hand brushed a breast or a nipple, her chest would rise to his touch.
"The Gon, my father, grows
older. As he weakens, I must grow stronger to protect Black Dorn. That power must be seen by all. All must fear me. Fear my anger. My power. All but you. I would only bed you, as I did Sasha, if it were desirous for both of us. Trea taught me how to receive pleasure. I learned on my own, how to give pleasure. Did you enjoy our time by the creek?"
"Yes."
"I truly enjoyed my time exploring your body. You are giving and responsive."
Branwyn turned to speak, but a kiss interrupted her. His lips pressing against hers, stoked that warmth that grows below. He broke off their kiss and lay her belly-down on the bed. With long broad strokes, he rubbed the muscles of her shoulders and back. His fingers breached the slight expanse of her back and curled in to fit snugly about her waist. He brushed his lips across her aroused flesh. There was no urgency in his motions, only fluid heat. Wherever he touched or kissed tingled for a moment, as if a spark from the fire had landed on her flesh.
The tensions of the day melted away as she gave herself to his hands. A giggle escaped her lips when he ran his finger up the sole of her foot. Malack's strong fingers rubbed the muscles of her legs, making each as relaxed as her shoulders and back. His tiny kisses started at her ankle, moved up her leg, past her knee then up her thigh.
Anticipation built, waiting for his touch on her buttocks. It quivered. She trembled. "Oh," she squealed, when a sharp nip replaced what she thought would be a soft kiss. His fingers trickled across her buttocks, calming her. When she began to relax, he would nip her again—nothing painful, only playful.
When he finished exploring, stroking or teasing her backside, he rolled her over then laid down the length of her, his manhood pressing against her thigh. His lips met hers with an urgency that surprised him. Joy filled him when she responded with equal passion. His lips parted as he deepened his kiss.
Her lips parted. Her tongue reached out to touch his. She nipped his bottom lip then kissed his neck. His lips moved to her neck, placing small kisses from chin to chest. He shifted his weight between her legs then leaned back resting on his knees.
He started at her shoulders and repeated the caresses he had done to her back. He slipped a nipple between his lips, suckled it, then smiled at the sigh that escaped her lips as her back arched. He twirled Branwyn's other nipple between his thumb and finger. His hand and mouth acted in competition, which would make the firmer nipple. Branwyn’s breathing had gone from soft, shallow breaths, to deeper, faster ones, mixed with moans and a few sighs.
Each time she moved or sighed, it triggered a shiver of delight in Malack. His need to pleasure her was equal to his need to breathe. A bead of sweat slithered down his arm. He had trained hard that day and his muscles ached. But, he could ignore his aches to revel in the delight he caused in Branwyn's body, and the delights he knew she would bestow onto him, once they bedded.
He moved his hands to her legs and stroked the insides of her thighs. The fragrance of her sex stirred his soul. Almost in a daydream, he leisurely ran a fingertip from her knee to the top of her thigh. His eyes closed as he stroked her. Her skin felt soft under the toughness of his hands. He intertwined his fingers in a tuft of her curly hair. What joys lay waiting for him beneath?
She ran her fingers through his hair. He opened his eyes. "I thought maybe you had gone to sleep," she teased.
"Just enjoying the moment."
"Let me enjoy myself with you."
He settled back on the bed to let her explore his body.
Branwyn's hands were small, but her fingers were not timid. She brushed a curl off his forehead then traced a small scar on his left cheek. "Who gave you that?"
"Timous."
"What about this scar?" She rubbed his right forearm.
"An angry woman."
"Your voice changes when you say that."
"She was a very angry woman."
Her tongue flicked one of his nipples. It responded. So did he. His body tensed, a bit. She licked it again, then sucked.
"Hmmm."
She wrapped her fingers around his manhood and stroked him. He did not need much urging. She placed a kiss on the tip. His back arched. She lapped at him. He was too big for her mouth. Placing her hand near his base, she squeezed the rest of him with her fingers. Synchronizing her mouth and hand, she stroked him the full length of his shaft. His breathing deepened. Wishing to pleasure him, she increased her pressure and pace.
"St...stop," he gasped. "I want to release within you."
She rested her head on his chest. He calmed his breathing and slowed his heart then opened his eyes.
"Soon?"
"I have been fighting myself not to take you."
She lay back on the bed and spread her legs. "I'm yours, take me my love."
A shudder rippled through Malack. His body ached to be inside her, discovering the wonders of thrusting deep into her pleasure hole.
He reached between her legs and slipped two fingers inside her womanhood caressing her, he used his other hand to rub her clit. "It is an omen of good luck if at the first time, we release together. But I fear I am going to lose myself in you." He knelt between her legs and positioned the tip of his manhood at her glistering opening. As he entered her, he pressed a passionate, open-mouthed kiss on her mouth.
As he entered her, she reacted as if a sharp, sudden pain filled her. She bit his bottom lip, apparently overwhelmed by his thrusts. His tongue swirled around hers, as their mouths hungrily kissed. He fought not to hurry, but with each thrust, he moved closer to release. She moaned, her eyes closed. Fully opened to him, she bucked her hips matching his strokes. Reaching around him, she clawed her fingers up his back.
His breath became fast and hard as he thrust. Primal instincts took over. Her cries urged him as her ankles locked around his back. He unwrapped them and pulled them up to his shoulders so he could drive deeper into her. Opening his eyes, he watched as each thrust made her breasts bounce. She reached out, but could not touch him.
Each move was a powerful thrust, deep into her. He wanted this to last a lifetime - if not forever. The feel of her body wrapped around his manhood filled him with a lust he could not explain. It, also, drove him to passion screaming for fulfillment. His pacing increased. She looked so beautiful lying before him, hair splashed against the pillow, eyes watching him.
The urges overwhelmed him and he slammed into her. The jiggling of her body drove him to thrust harder and deeper. The bed shook from his furious pace. His heart pounded. He gasped for breath. Sweat burned his eyes.
Her cries of bliss acted like kindling to the fire in his groin. He would not release. This must last. His groans filled the room. The fire needed release.
"Branwyn!" He gasped. His chest heaved up and down.
"Malack?" Her breaths were matched in speed to his.
"Surrender. Now! Aah!" Malack arched his backed and drove into her.
"Oh, I surrender!" She clamped down on his manhood.
He thrust as deeply as he could, arched, moaned and expelled his seed. His movements slowed as his body trembled, his pulse calmed and his excitement ebbed. Lips locked tightly in a kiss, he moved her legs and rolled onto his back.
When he opened his eyes, Branwyn smiled. "I am yours." She placed a soft kiss on his chest.
He lifted her hips then slipped out of her and stretched out on his bed. She settled down beside him.
* * * *
Awake and energized, Branwyn realized Malack had dozed off. She slipped out of the bed and crossed his room to the table. Picking up her goblet, she sipped its contents as she stared into the fire and relived what had happened. He had not hurt her. She did not feel torn into two halves, as Sasha had said. Instead, a calm, serene feeling enveloped her.
The fire had faded to smoldering embers. She stepped closer, picked up a small log and tossed it in. Sparks flew about, landed on the stones and cooled. Momentarily, the log caught on fire, and flames began to dance.
Turning, she glanced at the bed. Gon-Dra had not moved. His ey
es were closed. A contented look had settled onto his face. Malack had chosen her. Of all the dunes and noble ladies in Black Dorn, he picked her to be his wife. She rubbed her belly. She would bed him often and give him many sons, pleasuring him in the ways Duna Trea had taught her.
Swallowing the last mouthful of the spiced wine, she returned to bed and sat on Malack’s hips. She slid her fingertips down his flat stomach. He moved, but settled back into his sleep. She stuck her tongue into his belly button and tickled him. His belly quivered. Sliding the tip of her tongue along his flesh, she made a direct line for the nearest nipple then flicked back and forth across it. He yawned and stretched.
"More?" he asked.
"Your pleasure is my pleasure."
"My pleasure is to pleasure you." He wiggled underneath her, spreading her thighs until his face was beneath the juncture of her legs. She rested her weight on her hands as he pulled her hips down to his mouth. He teased her breasts and nipples as he slid his tongue in and out of her pleasure hole then up through her lips to her clit and back down. His teeth left tingles from his nips on her inner thighs. He pulled her clit into his mouth and sucked upon it.
The fire rose within her, his tongue stroking her, pleasuring her, urging her to surrender. All that existed was his hands on her breasts and his tongue in her pleasure hole and on her love button. She closed her eyes and her arms buckled. He caught her shoulders and steadied her.
Her moans started softly, but built as her arousal deepened. "The fire you cause within me, my love, it is a joy."
His response was sliding his tongue back and forth inside her.
"Ahh. More, Malack. Pleasure me."
He lapped his way toward her clit and paused.
Waiting expectantly for the splendid sensation his mouth and tongue would deliver to her awaiting love button, she felt instead a gentle tug on one of her nearby lips. "I feel as if I will burst. Your tongue gives me such joy."
