by Daryl Devore
"Yes."
He spread her lower lips and fondled her clit. He rubbed, licked, and sucked it. The heat between her legs became unbearable. She squirmed against her bonds.
He poured cool oil on her pleasuring place while his other hand roughly spread it around. He slipped his fingers into, but did not stroke her. Instead, he pounded his hand against her. He showed her the large manhood-shaped object she had used in Sasha, then pressed it into her and pumped it back and forth.
Branwyn moaned.
Malack's arm ached.
He pinched her nipple, dropped the object and slipped his manhood out of his garments then braced himself on the chair and entered her. His mouth found hers. He forced his tongue into her mouth. Their kiss broke off with a gasp from both.
He pounded with a force that shook the chair. Her loud moans mixed with the slurping sounds coming from her wet pleasure hole and the slapping noise of his flesh against hers. "Surrender now," he commanded, sweating dripping down his face. One last thrust.
He trembled as his seed left his body. His knees buckled as his spasms slowed. He slipped out of her then collapsed on the pillows.
After a moment's rest, he stood, adjusted himself, picked up his sword and her gown, untied her and carried her back to his chambers. He lay her beneath the covers and kissed her forehead. It took all of his remaining strength, but he walked around the bed, climbed in beside Branwyn and pulled up his covers.
He crossed his arms behind his head and rested on them. He was content. He had chosen a bride. She would give him sons. The bloodline would continue. Black Dorn was safe. He rolled onto his side, placed his arm across Branwyn's waist and let sleep invade his body.
Chapter Seven
Malack was the first to crawl out of the blackness that had engulfed him. He opened his eyes, yawned and stretched. Every muscle in his body complained. He had trained hard yesterday, but he had an even harder night. Leaning over, he kissed her cheek and slipped out of bed. His return woke her. She stretched and climbed out of the bed.
She returned with two goblets of ale and some biscuits and nestled next to him. "It was a wonderful experience." She caressed his arm. "I enjoyed it. I was afraid, but not of you. I was afraid I would not enjoy something that pleases you."
"There is so much more I can teach you."
"And I will be your willing student." She placed both empty goblets on the floor.
It all began with a kiss. They made love in the bed, in the bath, on the floor, in a chair, front to front, back to front, her on top and him on top. She pleasured him and he returned the favor. The morning turned to afternoon, to evening, and to night. Duncan brought food and drink. They ate, talked, rested and were driven to explore and release each other. Sated and exhausted, they slept.
"Gon-Dra." The urgency in Duncan's voice snapped Malack alert. "Uplands has been taken."
Malack jumped out of bed and dressed before Branwyn could comprehend his actions. She sat on the bed watching while messengers informed Malack of what had happened. He snapped orders to Duncan, who ran about fulfilling them.
Still Branwyn sat. She tried to make sense of Malack's movements as she folded the edge of the blanket in her fingers. Why had he jumped out of their bed? Why was he dressing? Why did he seem to be preparing to leave? No answer was offered.
When he had dressed and wolfed down a meal, he slid his sword in its scabbard and turned to Branwyn. "I must go." He exited his room.
Leah brought clothes. "Mistress, let me dress you, so you may watch the soldiers leave."
Branwyn stood, quietly. She did not speak. Leah poured water into a bowl and ran a towel about Branwyn's body, sweetening its scent. She dressed her then tied her hair in a simple braid. "Duncan said they will form in the courtyard."
"Come. So you may say good-bye to…Duncan." A sob slipped from Branwyn's lips as the realization of what was happening formed in her brain.
She and Leah walked to the courtyard, and curtsied to the gonness, then Branwyn stood beside her. Leah stood with the other waiting-ladies.
"You are well?" The gonness' voice betrayed her anxiety.
"I am well, but my heart is heavy with fear."
"The Gon-Dra - Malack…" She covered her mouth. "…my son." She paused, regained control of herself and continued. "He is a strong warrior. He will lead his men well and will get back what belongs to Black Dorn."
Soldiers, leading their horses, wandered into the courtyard. There were wagons stationed along the edges. Branwyn guessed they were whatever contained what the soldiers needed to wage war. She glanced about the courtyard. Daily life had stopped. Friends and family loitered about waiting for their soldiers to leave for battle. The mood was somber.
The gon joined them on a small platform. The gonness and Branwyn dropped into a curtsey. When Branwyn stood, the gon placed a hand on her shoulder. "Malack will be here in a moment. He is a good soldier: strong, smart, a skilled swordsman and an experienced archer. He will defend Black Dorn with honor."
The clatter of horses' hooves on cobblestones stopped him from speaking. The soldiers positioned themselves in formation as Malack rode his dark brown stallion into the courtyard. He did not wear his armor.
"Gon Lacke?" Branwyn curtsied and waited.
He turned his head. "Yes, Branwyn?"
"Why does Malack not wear his armour?" She rose and looked into the gon's gaze. "He will not go into battle dressed as he is."
A brief smile appeard on the gon's mouth. "No, my child, The soldiers have many days of hard travel ahead of them before they reached Uplands. Armor is heavy and would wear down the horse too soon. Malack will be well amoured before he leads his men into a fight."
The gon-dra reined his horse to stop in front of the dais. He dismounted, tossed his reins over his horse's neck then walked toward his father. He bowed.
The gon looked at the waiting soldiers then down at his son. "Gon-Dra, are you ready?"
"My men and I are ready to go to Uplands and take back our lands. I…" He glanced at Branwyn. "I apologize for not training with my men yesterday and preparing them for—"
The gon raised his hand. "You…we…could not have known the news would be so bad. When one has a distraction as beautiful as the one you have chosen…" His sentence trailed off.
"I will not forget my tragor to Black Dorn." Malack turned to his men. "Say goodbye to your families. We mount soon."
He stepped onto the dais.
The gon and gon-dra shook hands, but familial bonds overcame them and they embraced. "Stay well, my son."
The gonness did not give him a moment to bow. She hugged him with the love and fear of a mother. "Stay well. Bring back my youngest sons." She brushed his cheek. "And my oldest."
He turned to Branwyn. Tears filled her eyes. She tried not to let them escape, but they trickled down her cheeks. He rested his forehead on hers. "I vow I will return. I will take back what is ours, strike down the traitors and return to be by your side."
Composure lost out to panicked love. She hugged him and sobbed onto his shoulder. "Please, do not go. I am afraid. Why do you have to go? Stay and protect Black Dorn. Protect me."
She could feel the heat of his breath as his lips neared her ear. "I am gon-dra, this is my tragor. I must." Their kiss was wet from her tears.
She held him tighter. If she did not let go, he could not leave.
He stepped back. The gonness put her arm around Branwyn's waist and pulled her to her side.
He started to leave, returned, and dropped to one knee before her. "I have told you with my body, but have never spoken the words. I love you, Branwyn. I will return."
She saw confidence in his eyes and heard firm belief in his words. She would hold onto that until the moment she had him in her arms and body.
"Mount up!" He reined his horse around then walked it to the head of the formation. Soldiers scrambled to their beasts.
Branwyn caught a glimpse of Duncan as he mounted a horse near one of the
wagons. She turned her head. Leah wiped her face on her sleeve.
Without another glance back at Branwyn, Malack clicked his horse and led the way out of Black Dorn and toward his fate.
As the sounds of the hooves on cobblestones faded and the dust settled, people wandered off to resume their daily routines. Leah led her mistress back to her chamber.
"Rest now, Mistress. I will have your bath readied for you." Leah pulled back the covers and helped Branwyn settle into her bed. "Sleep, Mistress. Dream of the gon-dra."
When she woke a warm bath awaited her. Branwyn soaked, ate a small meal, then sat staring at the empty hearth. In the background, Leah's soft sobs broke the strained silence as she straightened the room.
"Leah." Branwyn stood next to her waiting-lady. "You must be strong with me or I shall not be able to face this. Malack said he would return. When he does, he will bring Duncan. There is nothing for us, if we do not believe this."
Leah nodded and sought to compose herself.
Branwyn glanced out the window. "It is a bright, warm day. Let us go enjoy the sun and last of the flowers before the cold winter winds arrive."
Leah agreed and followed her mistress to the garden. The final blooms of gold and bronze were all that remained of the summers flowers. Branwyn gingerly sat on a stone bench. She caught Leah's momentary smile. "What pleases you?"
"Oh, it does not please me." She dropped to her knees.
"Please sit, Leah. We are alone." Branwyn hesitated. She understood Malack's statement and reasoning. When alone with a friend or lover, both are equals. "Leah, I am going to ask you to do something. When we are alone, like now, please do not kneel. Again, I am alone at Black Dorn. I may no longer keep company with the dunes. And the noble ladies…" She sighed.
"They are angry the gon-dra chose you."
"The rules of court are confusing. I fear I will make many mistakes and embarrass or anger Malack."
"Is that why he…" Leah clamped her hand to her mouth.
"Why he what?" Branwyn insisted.
"Not too long ago, I was the one who had been instructed. And now your flesh is pink. It hurts you to sit upon the hard stone."
Branwyn laughed. "Yes, I remember. No, Malack did not instruct me out of anger. This was play between a man and his love."
"Is he…does he…oh, I fear I should not ask this. It is not my place."
"He pleasures me greatly. He has taught me the difference between the man you see as the gon-dra and the man I call Malack."
"Duncan has spoken of this. But I do not understand how it could be so."
Branwyn carefully shifted her position. "The last dune he bedded—Sasha. He was angry and Duna Trea asked him to bed her to help instruct her. Trea knew Malack would take her as a gon-dra should—powerfully, with no concern for her needs. If he is to rule someday, he must have the respect of everyone in the castle. He does not bed me the same way."
"I have another question? Duncan—"
"Does he desire to bed with you?"
"Yes."
"Do you desire to wed him?
Leah shook her head. "We cannot. We must have permission."
"I grant you mine."
"But then I would have to leave you."
"I do not wish to lose you." Branwyn placed a hand on Leah's arm. "When he returns, I will speak with Malack. Now, to keep ourselves occupied, we each get new dresses. My waiting-lady shall be dressed as beautifully as the ones who serve the gonness."
"Oh, Mistress, thank you." Leah looked at her dull brown dress.
"Let us return and prepare for supper." They returned to the castle.
The first evening meal without the soldiers turned into a quiet, somber affair. A red-eyed gonness sat next to a stone-faced gon as they presided over the meal. No entertainers performed. When she had completed her meal, Branwyn visited Trea. Hearing the cries of someone receiving instruction, she entered. A dune was bent over the instruction chair and Trea wielded the horsewhip with vigor.
Trea looked up, stopped and dropped to a curtsey. "Hush," she snarled at the howling dune.
This one was new and young. Branwyn did not know her. "May we speak?"
"Do not move," Trea told the dune. "Your instruction will continue when I return."
Relaxing on the pillows, Branwyn said, "I do not know if this is proper, but I wish to complete a part of my training. I remember you told me about Malack's favorite way of release. I wish to continue learning how to use the lune, so I may pleasure him this way on our wedding night."
"You will make our gon-dra a wonderful wife. I will come to your chambers tomorrow."
"Thank you, Trea." She stood and walked next to the dune. "Do not howl so. Accept you have erred. Accept your instruction. Learn tragor."
As Branwyn settled into her bed, Leah blew out the candles about the room. As each light dimmed, Branwyn slipped deeper into sleep.
After breakfast the next day, the seamstresses returned to Branwyn's chambers. With a queasy stomach, Branwyn sat and discussed what she wanted for her waiting-lady. Leah could barely stand still as they measured and placed cloths about her. She protested against two new dresses, but Branwyn insisted her waiting-lady look like she tends to a future gonness-dra.
Next, the most experienced seamstress discussed the gown Branwyn would wear on her wedding day. "We must begin soon as it will take weeks to sew on the beads and pearls. I shall embroider the bodice with silver and gold threads.
During the afternoon, Trea arrived. Both sat in front of the fire. "You have grown so, since you arrived."
"I feel I was but a mere babe then and have since become a woman."
Trea unwrapped a gold lune. It had a small bulb on top and was lined with ridges. "Do you remember what to do?"
Branwyn settled herself on the floor, pulled her skirts high and poured oil onto herself. She rubbed it around and spread it onto the lune. Inserting the bulb, she tried to find the muscles.
"Remember, think of it as if you are sucking in soup. Pull the lune into you."
"Do not make me giggle. I will not be able to hold it."
With persistence, Branwyn was able to pull the lune in the length of one ridge.
"Let us practice the next part. Push it in all the way and hold. Your grip on his manhood will be very pleasurable to the gon-dra."
Branwyn did as requested and stood. The lune held.
"Now let it drop, one ridge." The lune crashed to the floor.
Branwyn tossed back her head laughed. "I shall get this. It is for Malack."
For two hours, they worked on the skill while Trea offered every piece of advice and assistance she had learned in her many years of training Dunes. Trea's voice was wistful as she spoke, "Of all the people in the castle, Gon-Dra Malack is my favorite. We have spent many hours together. Me pleasuring him and him, often, pleasuring me as his skills increased. I will guide you in the ways of the castle, the delights of pleasuring and will listen when you wish to talk."
"I tire." Branwyn sighed. "I did not feel well this morning. Worry about Malack has left me uneasy and ill."
"Much has happened in the past few days. Rest." Duna Trea started for the door, but turned. "I leave knowing my beloved Malack will be much pleased with his choice of wife.”
The warm days of autumn turned to cool, gray, rainy days. Fires burned in the castle fireplaces warding off the chill. Branwyn practiced with her lune. She had learned how to pull it into her, but still struggled with releasing it. Kneeling, she inserted her lune, held it and tried to drop it a bit at a time. It fell to the floor.
When she inserted it, a shiver slid up her spine. She remembered Radella telling her to use the lune like a manhood—the ridges increase pleasure. She slid it in and out. Her body instantly responded. Curious, she repeatedly thrust the lune into her pleasure place. A shudder passed through her body, her breath quickened as she moaned. Heat rose in her.
She moved to the edge of her chair, and continued thrusting it into herself. Using
her other hand, Branwyn fondled her clit. Her moves were not as skilled as Malack's. She fumbled but continued. Her pressure built. It was not as it was with him. Her surrender was small. A tear trickled down her cheek. Her whole body missed him.
The days were short as winter settled in and night came early. Outside, cold winds howled.
Branwyn went to visit her mentor. "Duna Trea." She called as she entered the dune's training room. It was dark and quiet.
Trea sat next to Branwyn. "Are you still having problems with your lune?"
"No. I am able to do what you instructed and am impatient for Malack to return."
"Have you pleasured yourself with it as I suggested?"
"It does not give me the same enjoyment."
"Malack is skilled."
Branwyn smoothed the wrinkles on her dress. "I have a new question. And it bothers me so. Can having a grieving heart make my bleeding time stop?"
Trea's eyebrows rose. "When did you bleed last?"
"When Malack took me the first time, there was blood. But he said that was to be. Since he has left, I have not bled."
"We must visit the gon."
Puzzled, Branwyn followed Trea out of the room.
In the gon's chamber, Trea knelt and Branwyn curtsied. Ministers and nobles sat in small groups about the room. The gonness sat by the fire, embroidering a new scarf to keep the winter chill off her shoulders.
"I have news." Trea waited for the chatter to cease.
"Of the battle?" someone asked.
The gonness looked up.
"No, not of the battle. Branwyn is with child. She has not bled since the gon-dra left."
"But someone with a heart as heavy as hers—the bleeding time…" The gonness stepped closer.
Trea smoothed Branwyn's dress over her belly. A small bulge had grown where once she was flat. "Branwyn is with child," Trea insisted.
Heart hearted soar with joy."I am carrying Malack's child?" Her hands went to her belly. It felt rounder and fuller than when she had arrived at Black Dorn. Her heart soared with joy. She slowly turned in a circle, making eye contact with everyone. "I carry Gon-Dra Malack's child! It will be a son and he will be strong and brave." She bowed her head to the gonness. "And he will be handsome like his father." Placing her hand on her belly, she looked into the gaze of the gon. "The future of Black Dorn."
