Black Dorn [submission/punishment/bondage] (7 page)

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 could 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?