Finding Bliss: Fantasy MMMM Gay Romance (Trial of Submission Book 3)

by Natalie Wish

  “We will take care of you,” he murmured a promise to the bound man, before he turned to Mexi with a command. “Begin.”

  He moved aside, to have a clear view of both his boys. And what a view it was! Xanran, impatiently testing his bonds, naked as sin, and Mexi, who probably would look less lascivious if he was completely bare; the lingerie on his body pulled the stares of the crowd that started to gather around them like moths to a flame.

  The first hit made Xanran give a noise of surprise. He tried to look behind himself, but he couldn’t in the position he was in.

  “Hey!” he said indignantly. “That’s not what I wanted!”

  The first strike was made with a soft flogger and not a whip and his sub found the sensation wanting.

  And here Saainren thought the dragon had already learned some patience.

  He slowly moved to the back of the cross and took Xanran’s chin in his hand, their eyes meeting.

  “And does what you want matter?” he inquired politely.

  The dragon spluttered, sensing that either answer was a trap. Saainren could see him thinking hard.

  “It does,” he finally answered. “Otherwise, it wouldn’t be such fun to deny me. BUT,” he interjected fast, trying to cover for being a brat. “But, sir knows what I need.” He nuzzled into the hand holding his chin.

  That was a nice save.

  “Indeed. I know what you need. Mexi, continue.”

  He stayed like this, pinning Xanran with his gaze, expectant, judging, while Mexi peppered the dragon’s back with light hits of multiple tails. His dominating stare had the effect the too light impacts didn’t, and after minutes of this slow agony he could feel Xanran’s breathing growing shorter, his cheeks flushing a bit, blood pulsing hard in his veins.

  This is how he wanted him. Open to the sensation, with all his nerves flaring up with the slow and deliberate awakening. He wanted him so sensitive he would cry.

  Soon.

  “Wonderful, Mexi. You can give it to him harder.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  He could feel the moment Mexi put more force into his strikes, when Xanran’s body tightened for a second, before relaxing in relief; the harder strikes were easier to take for a man like Xanran, then the deceptive gentleness that was like a temperature steadily rising in the room, instead of the fire he wanted.

  “You are doing so good,” Saainren mouthed just for his trapped sub to hear, a caress of words only for them, sealed with a slow kiss.

  “Sir...” Xanran called out, once his mouth was free, eyes a bit dazed.

  “Shhh, I know,” Saainren murmured. “You are ready.”

  Those golden eyes flashed with gratefulness, his sub already tethering on the edge of subspace, on the edge of truly wanting to please Saainren more than he wanted to please himself.

  He took a step back, taking the hand off the dragon’s face and reassured him when he made a wounded noise.

  “I’m here, I won’t take my eyes off you. Are you ready for your reward?” he crooned at his submissive.

  “Yes, yes! Please, sir, please,” Xanran panted out.

  Saainren addressed his second sub, who waited patiently for his orders.

  “Mexi, darling, give him the whip,” he ordered calmly.

  A swishing sound, an impact, a breathless moment before Xanran’s body registered the hit.

  “Ah!” he cried out and briefly closed his eyes overcome with the sensations he had been seeking for so long, before they snapped open again, frantically searching for Saarinen’s eyes.

  He smiled at him.

  “Good. Another one.”

  This strike made him gasp and pull at his bonds, but the leather held tight, the sturdy frame not moving an inch, anchored to provide a steady support in the sea of conflicting sensations.

  “Another.”

  “Nnngh...” Xanran moaned incoherently, his head snapping back, as the whip put a line of red over his backside.

  “More,” Saainren demanded and Mexi interpreted it by giving three successive strikes, each biting hard into the flesh.

  “Ah... nnn... ah!” Xanran’s face contorted with pain, but from his position Saainren could very well see that his cock jumped, fully hard now, leaking pre-cum.

  “Again,” he commanded and couldn’t help how hungry his voice sounded this time.

  “Mmm!” Xanran closed his lips against the sounds that wanted to escape.

  Saainren narrowed his eyes.

  “Again.”

  “Again.”

  “Again.”

  At the third strike a sob left Xanran’s throat and he opened his mouth to take a shaky breath. His lower lip was bleeding from where he bit into it.

  “Good,” Saainren said with cruel pleasure and kissed the dragon hard, prodding the stinging cut with his tongue. All of his pet’s pain belonged to him. “Don’t hide your noises. I want to hear you fall apart for me. I want to hear you scream under Mexi’s hand.”

  The dragon nodded against his lips, a small, overwhelmed sound of acquiescence escaping his throat. Saainren drew back again. His pet dragon needed space to thrash around when he was beaten into submission.

  “Mexi, you heard what you have to do.”

  “Yes, sir, with pleasure.”

  The next strike rattled Xanran’s whole figure and from the expression of painful ecstasy he could guess that this new strike was cruelly layered over another, crisscrossing to provide an agonizing response. The wounded noise, as Xanran nearly choked on his own spit, was wonderful, but still not enough.

  Given free range, Mexi was laying down one strike after another. To the strong shoulders, to the wide thighs, and the plush buttocks, already red from the previous strikes. Saainren wanted to see the painting that was being created, but he could wait. He drank in every one of Xanran’s expressions of mingled pain and pleasure, every gasp and moan and shudder. Watched the tears that gathered in the corners of the druid’s eyes, and waited, waited...

  “AH!” Finally, the whip wrenched a proper scream out of the shaking sub. The salty droplets of wetness spilling down his cheek, trembling on his lashes when he dazedly blinked at his Dom.

  “More,” Saainren said greedily.

  “Ah... aaa... AH! AH! Please!” Xanran sobbed out, trying to arch his back away from... or maybe into the strikes.

  “More,” Saainren said as he reached down, to touch Xanran’s leaking cock, full of pumping blood and as red as the welts just given to him.

  “Nn... o-oh... Please...” the sub called to him in a wrecked voice.

  “More,” Saainren called for the next lash, moving his hand on Xanran’s cock and the dragon was coming before the last strike even landed, his cock exploding at the swishing sound of the upcoming impact.

  Xanran writhed in place as the last hit mingled with his orgasm, heightening the sensation until he was wailing and shaking, eyes unseeing, as the current of pleasure took over his every thought.

  He gradually slumped against his bonds, until Saainren feared for a second he lost consciousness, but he was only so dazed, so deep in the subspace, that he let himself be moved like a ragdoll. Saainren sent Mexi a proud smile, as they worked together to free the man. Rogan stumbled over, flushed from the show, and helped them carry the barely lucid dragon to a place where they could take care of him.

  It turned out this place had something akin to a first aid station. There was no problem with procuring proper materials to clean Xanran’s back with and the healing salve for the few cuts that were bleeding was not only effective, but smelled really nice, like honey with a note of clementines. Saainren let himself appreciate the sight of his lover’s whipped body, the marks directed by him adorning him like rising tides of pleasure before it was covered with Xanran’s loose shirt. He bought a healing potion as well, giving the sub a portion of it to
speed up the healing. He would love to see the proof of his and Mexi’s work for days, or even weeks, but they would have to repeat the visits here over the next few days. Saainren could always put fresh marks on that delicious body.

  They decided to go to the second room they saw - the one with couches and a thick carpet for Mexi to kneel on - and Rogan carried the still floating Xanran inside gingerly, like he was a precious treasure made of glass, putting him down on a couch, so that he could lean on Saainren, his back free.

  Saainren patted him on the head for the good job and the guard flushed, before sitting on Xanran’s other side. Mexi eagerly plopped down on his knees and then moaned with regret as the magical plug in his ass shifted in him, rubbing against his spot.

  Saainren smiled to himself and curled one hand around the dragon’s unhurt arm and nestled the other in Mexi’s fiery red hair. This was nice. They could stay like this for a while.

  “Xanran.”

  A voice spoke. A voice that didn’t belong to any of Saainren’s little group. A voice that knew the dragon.

  With dread Saainren realized, they didn’t even think to check who else was in the room. Stupid, so stupid, how could Saainren be so stupid!

  “I see you stayed with your fellow traitors. Like calls to like I suppose.” Rodner, the Black Market Boss that they worked for a long time ago, before they picked up Mexi, stood before them in all his pissed off glory.

  Saainren could feel Xanran stiffen in his arms and turn to look at the man that was once his lover and his friend. He blinked at him, not quite back yet from his previous adrenaline rush and said in a wondering voice:

  “Rodner...”

  “I hadn’t used that name in years. Because you destroyed it. Destroyed me. Destroyed all I had.”

  “What...? No...” the dragon tried to protest, but his words wouldn’t come to his muddled brain as readily as he would have wanted.

  “Mm? No? I suppose it wasn’t only you who grinded me into dust. Congratulations to all three of you. You got your money and washed your hands from the troubles of my city. No matter how many lives you destroyed, by working with that harpy.”

  Saainren wouldn’t stand for such abuse of his sub, who was starting to tremble from distress.

  “Our agreement with Lady Areen was that the people responsible for the poisoned wells in the Beggars Town area would be punished, and the residents of the sector given help,” he said harshly to the muscular elf towering over them.

  “Oh, they were given help... for some time. After all, the Council needed the people’s approval to fight against the people responsible.” He made the last part sound mocking and Saainren gritted his teeth, shooting Rogan a quick glance to ensure the guard wouldn’t attack the man. Not here.

  “If Councilman Gerande was punished and the innocent people of Beggars Town saved, then we did good,” the guard growled at the other man, but stayed in place.

  The man laughed, the sound grating against Saainren’s ears.

  “I see, I see, you didn’t keep with the news, ey?” the elf started again. “Then let me tell you how the situation went down. The punishment Councilman Gerande received from lady Areen was... her taking over one of his estates. That’s it. His involvement as the one who ordered the poison from the Black Market and planned to use it to kill innocent men, women and children, as the instigator and perpetrator of that evil plan, was never revealed. Why tell the public such things, when the Lady could blackmail him to get more money and power? But, alas, there had to be someone responsible, hmm? And you gave her the perfect proof to convince the masses that it was my fault, no, the whole Black Market’s fault.”

  The unexpected words and that bitter, twisted smile shook Saainren to the bone. But they absolutely cut into Xanran when he was still in a vulnerable state.

  “Stop it,” Saainren ordered harshly, his throat closing in worry as he took in Xanran’s empty stare. “Stop talking!”

  “Why? Is the truth too much for your righteous band of-”

  Xanran turned on the couch, hiding his face in Saainren’s neck with a sound like a wounded animal, exposing his freshly whipped back to the other man.

  “Saainren,” Xanran sobbed, like there would never be anything good in the world again. “Saainren, please, I c-can’t...”

  Rodner’s eyes widened, like he was just now realizing that he poured a river of negative emotions into someone still in subspace, when they were susceptible to others, when they felt so much more, but Saainren couldn’t pay any attention to that blasted man. He was dimly aware that Rogan was dealing with him while he used all he could think of to help Xanran through a massive, horrifying subdrop. Xanran’s nails dug into his skin as he clung to him tightly repeating “please, please, please...” until Saainren’s heart nearly broke.

  Chapter Eight

  ∞∞∞

  There were about twenty seven dicks in the dining room. Or should he count not only those being part of the decor, or in paintings, but belonging to living people as well?

  Xanran tilted his head back and looked idly at the ceiling.

  Oh, hello, there was another one, hidden in the center of the decorations over his head.

  “You should eat more,” Rogan prompted him gruffly, putting another small meat pie on his plate.

  Xanran was too tired to do anything but stare at the offered food.

  He dimly remembered how his friends got him home and how he slept like a dead person when he finally passed out. The problem was; he didn’t feel refreshed at all. His head pounded like a drum, he was twitchy, and Rodner’s hurt smile wouldn’t leave his thoughts. Even gulping down the rest of the healing potion didn’t help. He was just wrung out.

  But at the same time he couldn’t just sit here and do nothing.

  “I need to speak with him,” he said and the hushed chatter around him fell into silence.

  “I... don’t think that’s a good idea,” Rogan said.

  “I agree. We were lucky to meet him at a public place. If he meets you again he may hurt you,” Saainren seconded his guard.

  “Hurt him again, you mean,” seethed Mexi, his hand pulling at his braid in a nervous gesture.

  Xanran lowered his head with what felt like an insurmountable effort and looked at his three companions. Really looked them in the eye for the first time since he awoke in the late morning.

  “I need to speak with him,” he repeated slowly.

  It was important. He had to. He couldn’t just leave like-

  “No,” Saainren said in a firm voice.

  No? But he needed this. They always gave him what he needed. He trailed his eyes to Rogan, but his face was set in stone. Of course, he supported his prince. And Mexi... his face was twisted in hatred towards a person that he only knew as an enemy. Not as a friend and a lover, a steadfast and hard-working man, that Xanran knew.

  No.

  It really was a no.

  The small smile slipped on his face before he knew. The mask that he thought he left behind.

  “Ah, you guys are right... it’s not a good idea,” he sighed softly and rose from the table. “I feel like crap, I’m going back to our room.”

  His lovers exchanged fast looks and Mexi spoke up:

  “I will go as well. Weix gave me a book of fairytales and I can’t wait to read it.

  Right. They were keeping a watch on him.

  “You can read to me!” Xanran managed to say with an enthusiasm he didn’t feel.

  He spent the rest of the day idly, not really doing much of anything. Everyone hovered and made him even more anxious. When the night came and they clambered into the bed to sleep Xanran made sure to position himself on the edge of their pile of bodies. After all, his back was still healing and they all cuddled hard.

  It made it easier to sneak out hours later, when his companions finally left the wakin
g world for the land of dreams.

  Not wasting any time, he walked confidently through the rooms to the foyer where the portal to the outside world was located.

  Just as he reached the ornate door, he felt somebody walk behind him and stiffened, caught.

  “What a time to take a stroll.” Vitorous drawled.

  “It’s none of your business,” he said, aware that if the mage tattled on him, he wouldn’t be able to go far.

  “Hmm, isn’t it?”

  The infuriating elf stayed there, not sounding any alarm, so maybe, just maybe, he could be reasoned with.

  “What do you want?” Xanran asked brusquely.

  “Your friends can be a bit... overbearing, but I think their idea of you not going alone has merit.”

  “What’s your point?”

  “You should take Weix with you,” Vitorous said.

  It sounded like somebody lending a guard dog. Or maybe a toy. Xanran gritted his teeth, but the idea actually had merit. He wasn’t stupid; the awareness of how badly this could go niggled at the back of his mind, so he wouldn’t be opposed to going with someone who would have his back but be removed enough from the situation to not do anything monumentally stupid.

  Vitorous grinned at him.

  “I will go wake him up.” He strolled unhurriedly to the door connecting to the rest of the Dungeon, throwing over his shoulder. “And if you are not here when I return, I will wake your merry band of friends.”

  Xanran stayed in place.

  Weix joined him a few minutes later, still scrubbing sleep from his eyes.

  “Hi,” Xanran started and didn’t know how to continue, how to explain, not knowing how much the other dragon was told.

  “Hello.” Weix smiled at him. “I’m glad Vitorous woke me up. I may have been rambling at him about how much I worry about you.”

  Xanran felt a moment of guilt thinking about how worried his lovers will be when they found him gone.

  “And you will still go with me?” he asked quietly.

  “It’s what you are asking for.” The dark-skinned cleric hip-checked him on the way to the portal. “Of course, I will help you. You are of my Clan.”