Black Dorn [submission/punishment/bondage] Page 3

  Branwyn sighed and rubbed her face. "I do not even know where to begin. I understand nothing. I feel like a lost soul wandering blind in a fog. You ask me to bare myself. You serve a man who is not your husband. I…I…do not understand." Branwyn held back tears of confusion and shame. She wanted to be strong when with Trea.

  "The beliefs of our two lands differ. A man possesses his dune. She is part of his property, like his land, his wealth, his cattle and his bitches. She must serve her master in all that he commands, and never question or falter when obeying." Trea reached over, pulled a rose blossom close and inhaled its fragrance.

  She continued, "If your master demands you remove your clothes you must proudly do so, immediately. Your obedience will show other men the power your master holds over you. Your beauty will make them envious of his possession and he will be held in high esteem of everyone. Power is important. If a man appears weak, he will be killed, and his lands taken away. Or worse, the man will be subjugated."

  "Subjugated?"

  "Imagine Malack conquered and being forced to work as Duncan does, to serve another. Forced to only enjoy self-pleasuring."

  Before Branwyn could ask for an explanation, voices alerted them. Duna Trea turned to Branwyn. "You know what my command will be. Remove your upper clothes. Allow these people to see you naked. They will not touch you. You do not need to be afraid of them. Do so now, before they come."

  Branwyn tried, but her fingers fumbled. She watched as three men and two women strolled toward her. She prayed they would turn and follow another path. They smiled at Duna Trea and walked forward.

  Branwyn fought the stubborn knot, but her vision filled with blinding tears.

  Duna Trea curtsied to the group and asked them about their health.

  Still Branwyn could not release the ties.

  "This is our newest dune. Her name is Branwyn." Trea stood beside her. In a deep whisper she said, "Tragor!"

  The ties released and Branwyn peeled the shield that protected her nakedness. A cold chill shuddered through her, causing her to tremble and her nipples to harden. She wished the earth would rip open and let her fall into its dark depths.

  The group continued on their stroll and conversation.

  Trea did not look at Branwyn. "Go, prepare for supper, but do not cover yourself. You have failed tragor. You will not be allowed to cover your breasts for three days." Duna Trea turned and walked away, leaving a half-naked and ashamed Branwyn to find her way back to her room.

  Leah remained silent as she combed Branwyn’s hair and laced ribbons in among the strands. She tied it so it rested on her dune’s smooth white back. Selecting a gold-colored dress, she helped Branwyn slip into it. She lowered the top and tucked it in at the waist then secured the skirt with an embossed leather belt. Lastly, Leah draped jewels around her dune's neck that encircled her breasts drawing the gaze toward the splendor of the gems - both stone and flesh.

  Leah escorted Branwyn to the dining hall entrance. "Remember, do not speak unless spoken to."

  The guard held open the door. As she entered, a herald bellowed, "Dune Branwyn."

  The members of the court turned and watched her enter. The grand hall was full. Male, female, noble and servant, and all focused on her. Heart pounding as if it would burst, Branwyn forced herself to enter, curtsey, then paused waiting for a cue. A footman next to her whispered, "This way." He led her to a group of women who introduced themselves as other dunes.

  To Branwyn’s relief, few were fully clothed. She was ashamed at her nakedness, but felt a bit less alone. The conversations paused every time new arrivals were announced. Branwyn’s new friends quickly offered a bit of gossip or scandal about whoever had just entered. A tall man dressed in fine grey robes entered with a woman who moved with the waddle of one late in a pregnancy.

  "The bulge in her stomach does not come from the seed of her husband. I hear they haven’t bedded in many months." The dune called Radella chuckled.

  "One must not bed when with child," gasped the dune with brilliant blue eyes.

  Radella’s eyes sparkled with gossipy glee. "But one must bed to make a child. I hear that Malack will soon be a father."

  "Again." A dark-skinned dune with eyes the color of a chestnut mare giggled.

  "Again." The blonde called Tess smiled.

  "May I ask a question or would that be wrong?" Branwyn was not sure if she was breaking the spoken to rule.

  A ripple of laughter erupted from the dunes. "Those rules do not apply when we are together. We are equals. Of course you may speak." Clovis gave Branwyn an encouraging smile.

  Branwyn pointed at all the different, but beautiful dunes. "Are we all from lands far away? We speak the same language but we are not alike. Clovis, your hair is the color of fire and your skin—"

  A forceful blast from the trumpets ended conversations as the guests were invited to sit. The heralds announced the arrival of the gon and his wife, the gonness.

  The gon, once a strong warrior, now walked stiffly and with a limp. His black beard and hair were both streaked with grey. The deep maroon of his robes was decorated with gold trim and a broad gold belt. His wife was fair skinned and her hair was the color of wheat in the fall. She wore a dress of dark blue velvet trimmed with gold and lace, which seemed to drip rubies.

  When the royal couple reached their chairs, they bowed their heads to the guests, then sat as everyone applauded. As the guests settled, Branwyn glanced around the room. Several women were as naked as she and some even more. They proudly sat next to their husbands, heads held high with bodies exposed to all.

  The doors flung open, but there was no fanfare as Gon-Dra Malack strode in the room. He walked to the center of the room and faced his parents. "Gon Lacke." Malack lowered his head and bowed. "I bring Black Dorn conquests from battles."

  Young boys and men struggled carrying the loads of furs, skins, caskets of wine and jugs of mead and ale. Soldiers led in chained men and women, who knelt before the gon and offered their promise of loyalty and fidelity to him and Black Dorn.

  Gon Lacke stood. "My son, Malack, has returned, victorious in battle. He brings wealth, new lands and new people for me to govern. All honor Malack!"

  A cheer rose from the seated guests. Malack turned and bowed. His gaze rested on Branwyn. A glance down confirmed what she sensed. Her nipples jutted out, full and erect. She felt flushed. Placing a hand on her cheek, she could feel the heat. I burn with shame at the Gon-Dra seeing me so. Clenching her fists, she took a deep breath and raised her head. No longer staring at her, Malack sat next to his father.

  The servants raced in with food and wine, filling plates and glasses. While the guests dined, jugglers and musicians entertained. Laughter and conversation filled the hall.

  Branwyn tried to ignore the intense eyes that kept staring at her during the meal. Even when she wasn’t looking in Malack's direction, she sensed he watched her. She fought every urge to cover her breasts. Although shame filled her at being exposed before him, Branwyn refused to disappoint her duna.

  A tall, dark-haired woman walked to the center of the hall.

  "That is Duna Reelan," Clovis whispered to Branwyn.

  "There is another Duna?"

  "There are four. Duna Trea, Duna Reelan, Duna Cha—"

  A herald announced, "Dune Elaya, come forthwith."

  A petite, black haired woman rose from a table behind Branwyn's. With small steps she crossed the room, knelt before Dune Reelan then bowed her head. A servant brought a blindfold, secured it around Elaya’s head, and removed the dune’s clothing. Branwyn dropped her eyes and controlled the fear that began to boil inside her.

  "What do you desire?" Duna Reelan asked.

  "What my master wants me to desire," Elaya replied.

  "What does your master desire for you?"

  "Tragor."

  Duna Reelan looked toward the gon, who motioned to his son. A hush fell upon everyone as all eyes watched Malack rise and walk to the kneeling, naked
dune. He knelt down on one knee, and slipped a hand between her legs. Branwyn did not understand what he did, but the effect it had on the dune, was obvious. She moaned and jerked her hips as he moved his hand.

  "You may not surrender." Malack said.

  Her moans built to cries as she collapsed forward, weight resting on her hands and knees. Malack adjusted his position and continued.

  "May I surrender?"

  "No." Malack did not change the pace of his movements.

  Branwyn raised her hand and rested it above the swell of her breasts. She was breathing almost as hard as the dune.

  No one around her spoke.

  "Please, may I surrender?" Elaya begged.

  "No."

  The dune's arms buckled and she collapsed. Malack's bare handed blow to her ass echoed throughout the hall. Her body trembling, she struggled to push herself back onto her hands and knees.

  Branwyn sat erect on the edge of her chair. She wiped a trickle of sweat from her forehead.

  "May…I please—"

  Malack smacked the dune's buttock again. A hand shaped red mark appeared.

  Her cries mixed with sobs and screams as she fought to remain upright.

  "Now."

  The scream signaling the dune's release startled Branwyn. She yelled and fell back on to her chair. She closed her eyes and tried to calm her breath.

  Malack stood and returned to his seat. He picked up his wine goblet and gulped the contents.

  Duna Reelan smiled at her submissive student, who knelt next to her. "Dune Elaya leaves us tonight. In two days time, she shall become a Duna as she begins to serve her master. Pleasure him well. Tragor." Reelan removed the girl's blindfold and indicated permission to leave.

  Duna Trea walked to center of the room, curtsied to the Gon, and announced, "Gon, we have a new dune." She turned, found Branwyn, and pointed the spot next to her.

  Branwyn rose as if by magic. She was too scared to move, but she found herself floating toward Trea and kneeling next to her.

  "Gon, may I present Dune Branwyn."

  The Gon scrutinized her. "Wonderful piece. Such firm breasts. Such red lips. But I hear she does not serve well yet."

  Branwyn lowered her eyes.

  "Bring her serving girl." Trea snapped her fingers.

  Leah entered and knelt next to Duna Trea.

  The gon placed his wine goblet on the table. "Your dune does not obey. Explain."

  Leah kept her eyes lowered. "She is new and from another land and is only beginning to understand." Branwyn sensed a timbre of terror in her voice.

  "Instruction is required." The gon looked toward his son. "Don't you agree Malack?." Malack stood and walked to Leah. She bent over as he threw her skirts over her head.

  Branwyn bit her bottom lip and the gon raised his hand to stay Malack's action. "What is it you desire to say, dune?"

  "Do not instruct Leah. I erred. Instruct me." The words burst from her lips.

  A grin crossed Malack’s lips.

  As he pulled down Leah’s skirts, she turned to him and knelt. He hitched his head, indicating she should leave then turned to Branwyn.

  "He has little patience," whispered Duna Trea. "What you are doing is good. But be quick about it." She pushed Branwyn forward.

  A chair was placed before Branwyn. She leaned over the back and rested her hands on the seat. In a moment, her skirts were over her head, covering her face, and blinding her. All sounds were muffled.

  A warm hand stroked her buttocks. She waited for the first strike. When it came, she was unable to stifle a large gasp. Three more strikes followed before there was a hesitation. She knew her sobs could be heard, but she did not care, the humiliation was more than she had ever experienced.

  Relief came as his hand caressed where he had struck. His other hand slipped through her skirts and the side of it pressed against her mouth. Understanding, she bit down as the flurry of strikes began. She released her grip when a soft brush of his hand trickled across her cheeks. For a moment, the burn of pain faded to a joyous tingle. A strange, but enjoyable, flutter in her belly faded when Malack lowered her skirts.

  Branwyn dropped to her knees and lowered her head. With a flick of his hand, Malack told her to leave. He returned to his place, gulped the contents of his mug and demanded more. He wiped his napkin across his mouth then discreetly bound the bleeding wound on his hand.

  Duna Trea helped Branwyn stand, whispered to her that she should go to bed and gently pushed her toward the door. That was all the convincing Branwyn needed.

  As she hurried to her room, she realized the burn on her buttocks had faded to a tingle. It was a pleasant feeling. Malack's hands were big and strong. His strikes caused discomfort, but his caress…a shiver scurried down her spine. She paused before opening her chamber door. Maybe instruction was not so bad.

  Chapter Three

  Leah pulled back the curtains, allowing the brilliant morning sunshine to flood the room. Branwyn moaned and rolled over, covering her face with the blanket. "Dune Branwyn," Leah whispered. "Your bath is ready."

  "Must I? I would rather lie about in bed all morning."

  Leah giggled. "Yesterday was a difficult day and you must be tired and sore. What you did took courage. It impressed Gon-Dra Malack. He refused everyone else all night. I think he likes you. He has not liked a woman in a long time."

  Branwyn dragged herself from the bed, walked to the bath and dropped her shift. "What happened to harden his heart so?"

  Leah's eyebrows raised in surprise at her dune's acceptance of the bath. She grabbed the soap, dipped it into the warm water rubbed it around Branwyn's body. "A wife had been chosen, but she refused him. Instead, she left Black Dorn to be with his hated rival." Leah poured warm-scented water over Branwyn’s back.

  "How could anyone refuse such a man? He is strong and powerful and will be gon." Branwyn let her thoughts wander to Malack as her bath completed. She half-dressed, remembering to leave her breasts exposed and walked to Duna Trea’s room.

  She paused a step inside the training room. Malack’s back was to her.

  "Trea, I have been away too long. The mead of Black Dorn will be the death of me. My head aches. I fear it will burst."

  Trea motioned with her head for Branwyn to hide as she escorted Malack to a mound of pillows. "Sit. I will tend to you." After ringing a bell and telling the servant what to do, the duna returned to Malack. She picked up his hand and peeled off the blood-soaked napkin protecting Branwyn’s bite mark. "A souvenir of last night’s conques…No, you bedded no one." She examined the mark. "It is a bite from a tiny mouth. A female bite. One who was being instructed and—"

  Malack’s glare stopped her. "Sometimes you go too far, woman."

  Trea sat before him, placed her hands on his temples and rubbed him in a small circular pattern. "Close your eyes. Over time, we have developed a bond that will only be passed by the one between you and your bride. I have watched you watching her. I have seen what the effects of thinking about her do to you."

  "I am entranced, Trea. I can sense when she is near. Her scent is in this room."

  Branwyn nestled back behind the tapestry.

  "Yes, she is trained here." The servant entered, knelt and offered the duna a large mug then left. "Drink this."

  He swallowed the contents, leaned back, and sighed. "Her flesh was soft. Her sobs touched my heart. I could lose myself in her body."

  "I fear you must decide, is she worth fighting a war over?"

  "Arrgh!" Malack grabbed a handful of pillows and threw them at the wall. Shoving Trea aside he strode from the room.

  "Good morning, Branwyn. Are you rested?"

  She entered and stood before the duna. "Yes. Did you pass a restful night?"

  Trea nodded. "I am pleased you are obeying my command. Today we are working in another part of the castle. Walk with your hands behind your back. Eyes lowered."

  Branwyn followed Duna Trea through a confusing channel of hallways. "This is
one of the dune training rooms. There are six different rooms."

  Branwyn stepped inside and stifled a gasp. Chained to the wall was a naked man. His arms and legs were spread. He was blindfolded.

  Try as hard as she could, Branwyn could not pull her gaze away from the sight of what was between his legs. Her hand began to reach for it. Branwyn inhaled and clasped her hands together.

  "Today’s lesson. This is a man."

  Branwyn held back a chuckle at the obviousness of Trea’s statement.

  Trea grabbed his penis. "This is his manhood. It is what he uses to pleasure women." She flicked it with her finger. "It is now soft, but with a little effort it becomes big and straight. Touch it."

  I must not. It is wrong. You must. That was your old life. Now you live in Black Dorn. You are a dune. Tragor. Branwyn stroked it with the tip of one finger. It is so smooth. She suppressed a giggle.

  "Now wrap your fingers around it like this." Slowly Branwyn obeyed Trea. "Yes, That's it. Now slide your hand up and down. See how it responds and grows. Feel it harden."

  "It grows long and thick. And look…the tip is peeking out of my hand."

  "Yes, this is a very nice one. It is what will be inserted into your pleasure hole."

  "I do not understand."

  "When a man pleasures a woman he places this between her legs where her pleasure hole is. He slams himself into the woman until he reaches his moment and this begins to shoot out his seed." Trea touched Branwyn’s arm. "He is nearing his moment. Stop your hand. Wait a few moments, and see how it returns to being small and soft."

  "May I ask a question?"

  "Yes."

  "Is that what Gon-Dra Malack did to you the other day?"

  "Yes, but I sat upon him and inserted him into me. It can be done in reverse where the woman pleasures the man."