Black Dorn by Daryl Devore

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EXTRACT FOR
Black Dorn

(Daryl Devore)


Branwyn stepped into a vast room with a wood floor. She looked about. Many tapestries hung on the walls. One displayed heroic soldiers crushing an enemy and another portrayed a mother suckling a child by a stream. Others confused Branwyn. On the floor, mounds of pillows were scattered about and a few chairs.

Duna Trea appeared, as if from nowhere. "Good morning Dune Branwyn. I trust you slept well and have recovered from your journey."

She dropped into a deep curtsy. "Oh yes, Duna Trea. I am quite rested."

"Leah serves you well?"

"Yes, though we struggle with confusions over language and customs."

"Sit down, Dune Branwyn." Duna Trea pointed to a smaller chair as she settled onto a velvet-cushioned one. She ran her hand down the sides of her dress smoothing out the wrinkles. In her youth, the blackness of her dress would have matched the color of her, now speckled with grey, hair. "We must converse. It is time to explain to you why you are here."

"I know I have been given to a man. I understand my duty to my uncle and aunt. They raised me and I have been a burden to them. It is time I-"

Duna Trea raised her hand. "That is not why. It is because of your wondrous beauty. Are not your cousins of a plainer state? It is most simple. You were gotten rid of. With your smooth, fair skin, bright green eyes, long, thick hair and full, healthy breasts, your uncle saw no chance for a good match for his daughters. "

Branwyn started to speak but stopped. She bit her bottom lip to cease its trembling. Duna Trea continued, "A very rich man purchased you and he demands that you be trained to satisfy his specific tastes."

"I served my aunt. I was a dutiful niece and learned to cook, sew, play the spinet, read and embroider. People have told me I have an enchanting voice and I know many songs. I am an accomplished young lady."

"Those are not the skills your master wishes."

"I...I understand there are needs of the bed, but those my husband will teach me." Blood rushed to Branwyn's cheeks at the vaguest mention of husband-wife relations.

The duna shook her head. "Listen, Dune Branwyn. You must learn total obedience. You are now a dune. To become a duna you must lose all inhibitions."

"When will I become a duna?"

"When you're taken."

"Taken where?"

Duna Trea sighed. "Not taken where, child, taken how. When a man takes you. When that which makes you a dune is lost, you become a duna." Trea continued, "Did no one teach you anything about relations between a man and a woman?"

Branwyn shook her head. "It is not right to speak of these things. One must be pure on one's..."

Trea brushed a stray hair from her face. "When a young girl becomes ripe she must learn to serve. You have much to understand. You cannot properly serve your master without knowing the ways of your body or his. Your instruction begins tomorrow."