Clan and Conviction (Clan Beginnings) (28 page)

Sound remained as well.  The low mutterings and excited growls of those watching him filled his ears.  The two Nobeks in the room with him were absolutely silent, as only Nobeks could be, letting him hear the approving noises of the others who readied for the show.  Soon the only sounds he would hear would be the snap of leather against his flesh and his own cries. 

He was acutely aware of touch too.  The metal manacles on his wrists and ankles trapped his nude body over a low padded bench.  His legs splayed wide, holding him open for the men should they choose to sink their iron into his ass.  He thought the big, broad Nobek probably would, the one who bore a passing resemblance to Wynhod.  The man had told him he would go mad if he didn’t feel Krijero’s warmth around his cock.  That was a pretty good indication he would be in for an assfuck, the Imdiko believed.

Krijero felt most aware of the lack of something familiar touching him.  Once they had Krijero bound helpless, one of them had pulled his hair back and tied it out of the way.  “Aren’t you sweet,” said a rough voice, belonging to the man who looked nothing like Wynhod.  “Such a cute Imdiko.  Everyone will definitely enjoy seeing this face respond to our lashes.”

The blindfold helped calm some of Krijero’s nerves about being too exposed.  He couldn’t see the audience or the men who had asked him to play with them.  He remained hidden for the most part, unlike how he’d been when Wynhod and Gelan had stared into his eyes earlier today at work.  Damn it, they’d seen everything, picking up on things he didn’t want to think about, much less discuss.

It was much better here in the pleasure club with nameless men and soon-forgotten faces.  Here, they only wished to enjoy his body.  They didn’t care about the bullshit in his head.

He felt a slight hint of movement that would have been enough to rock Krijero’s chancy balance had he been on his feet.  His companions for the next few minutes had started the revolving floor in the mirrored playroom, allowing the spectators in the viewing area to see every part of him from every angle.  He didn’t care if they saw his ass or his wet, hard cocks.  As long as they couldn’t see into his eyes, past the barriers so carefully constructed over the years, he was still safe.  Still hidden.

The first splash of pain dug stinging trails across his buttocks.  Krijero cried out and jerked.  A pleased sigh rose from the audience.  Another blow landed across his shoulders.  They were using floggers on him, the ends of the thin leather straps knotted to produce more sensation.  Lances of sparkling agony thudded his flesh and kept coming.

Krijero writhed beneath the continuous splatter of hurt that rained down on his shoulders, back, ass, and thighs.  The strikes gradually built in strength until his cries were continuous, drowning out the appreciative growls and encouragements of the crowd. 

He liked the pain.  It drove out all thought, eclipsed all fears and regrets.  Under the lashing of the two practiced Nobeks, he could forget.  Now he was not only hidden from everyone else; he was also hidden from himself.

The growing throb also triggered calming endorphins through his system, robbing Krijero of angst.  Little by little, he began to float in his head.  His body still struggled in the instinctive drive to escape punishment, his howls of pain still resounded, but he was the closest to peace that he ever came.  Krijero often thought he was every bit an addict as anyone who had fallen under the spell of Delir.  The drifting pleasure of giving himself over to the solace of physical torment made up his drug of choice.

It was the second time he’d visited a pleasure club this week.  Krijero usually didn’t play more than once a month, but his earlier encounter with Gelan and Wynhod had driven him to find release.  The offer of dinner and the bald interest in first the Dramok and then the Nobek’s eyes had made Krijero contemplate an encounter he knew he couldn’t have.  Being cornered by the two strong men had replayed in his head over and over throughout the day.  He’d felt their strength.  He’d seen their determination.  Krijero knew if he gave them the least opportunity, he’d crumble before it.  They were that overwhelming to him.

That couldn’t happen, especially with Gelan.  Gelan was a Dramok.  Krijero didn’t play with Dramoks, not even anonymous encounters in the pleasure club.

Krijero felt none of those worries right now.  For the moment there was only the steady thrash of leather, the hateful emotional pain eclipsed by the lovelier physical challenge.

He felt the two men step closer to him, the heat of their bodies radiating against his lifted face and spread thighs.  The one behind him came in contact, muscled legs pressing his farther apart.  The Nobek’s rhythm with the flogger never wavered as the tip of his hot, moist cock prodded against Krijero’s anus.  The Imdiko opened to him, his body eagerly enfolding the hard length that drove inside without mercy.  Welcoming groans mixed with the cries of pain spilling from his wide-open lips.

The spicy sweetness of another cock accepted the warm invitation of his mouth, sliding deep, all the way into his throat and choking off his voice while it filled him.  The man’s secondary cock slid past his chin, leaving a wet trail along the outside of Krijero’s throat.  Krijero swallowed the thick honey coating the Nobek’s cock, lashing his tongue against the pounding vein on its underside to make it produce more.  He heard the Nobek gasp in reaction. 

Meanwhile, the man behind him dove deep into his ass, finding that magic spot that made all the pain of the beating disappear.  Carnal delight flared at the roots of Krijero’s rigid cocks, making them swell until it seemed their skin must burst.  The prick inside moved hard against that place again, and the Imdiko felt his cock spit a small burst of cum in response.  Only a few more thrusts, and he’d be there.  Climax beckoned, gifted by the Nobek who had wanted to fuck Krijero’s ass so badly, the one who had a slight likeness to Wynhod.

Just like that, Krijero imagined Wynhod shoving his cock in deep and fast, taking him ever closer to climax.  That sparked the fantasy that Gelan stood in front of him, using his mouth for pleasure, his flavor dancing over the Imdiko’s tongue.

No.  No, he didn’t want to think of them.  But the image of being fucked by the two men, men he had no business being attracted to, would not leave his mind.  Not when he could imagine those intense eyes looking down on him, those thickly muscled arms wielding the floggers that continued to make his flesh throb.  Not when he could see their faces softening, reaching nirvana in the clutch of his bound and open body, ready to spill themselves inside him…

Brutal ecstasy drew his cocks up tight to Krijero’s belly.  Roiling heat burned its way from his smaller prick, flooding into his primary.  Nova-bright crescendo burst its way free, his seed shooting with force to make him scream his loudest against the cock working his throat.  He came so hard it hurt, a beautiful agony that the flogging had come nowhere near matching.

The Imdiko regained his senses in time to feel the cock inside his ass pulse, flooding his channel with hot cum.  A moment later, the man using his mouth grunted and shoved into Krijero’s throat to pour his release in as well.  Applause swelled.

Krijero remembered where he was.  The pleasure club, among strangers he’d probably never see again.  A brief stab of sadness assaulted him as his imagined coupling with Wynhod and Gelan spun away.  Then the old emptiness returned, almost comforting for its familiarity.

* * * *

The next morning, Krijero settled into work, his mind completely riveted on a case of a missing Matara.  The investigator in charge of the case declared himself convinced one of her clanmates had killed her, but the Imdiko’s assessment so far had led him to believe she’d run off with another clan.  Complicating the matter was Krijero’s discovery that the investigator knew and detested the Dramok he accused of foul play.  The psych had decided he needed to send Head Investigator Utta a message suggesting another investigator should be assigned to the case.

He looked away from the vid report he’d been studying to discover Gelan and Wynhod standing right there next to his chair.  He jerked with a startled cry, scattering objects all over his desktop and floor.

Krijero ignored a burst of fear in his chest at the men’s appearance.  He glowered at them instead.  “Damn it!  How about not sneaking up on me?”

He turned his back on them to lean way over and pick up fallen file recorders from the floor.  He didn’t realize his shirt had ridden halfway up his back until and roughly calloused fingertip traced a line along his bare skin.  The contact stung; the finger drew a path over a welt left behind by Krijero’s night out.

He jumped again and turned to stare furiously at the still-silent pair.  Gelan drew back, his eyes narrowed and one corner of his mouth twisting in a lascivious smirk.  Wynhod’s gaze was pure heat.

The Dramok finally spoke in a low, intimate voice.  “Someone has been playing rough.  Why didn’t you say you were involved with someone when I asked you out yesterday?”

“Because I’m not.”  Krijero snapped his mouth shut and inwardly cursed himself.  He wished he hadn’t blurted that out.  If the two men thought he was seeing someone, they would perhaps back off and leave him alone.

“It’s none of your business,” he grouched.  “What do you want?”

Gelan and Wynhod looked at each other.  They simultaneously grabbed a couple of chairs and sat down next to Krijero’s desk, much to the Imdiko’s dismay.

Gelan said, “We want to discuss the Frenzy issue.”

Krijero relaxed a little.  But only a little.  The avid eyes on him held way too much interest to make him comfortable.  He had the distinct impression that fascination was more personal than professional.

He tugged his shirt down as far as he could to keep the marks from last night’s flogging covered.  Moving carefully, he went back to picking up his belongings.  Keeping his tone cool, he asked, “You went over my findings?”

“I did, and I am convinced you’re on to something.  Something big, just like you suspected.”

Krijero dumped his things back on top of the desk.  The pit of his stomach warmed to hear Gelan put credence into his research.  “Are you going to approach your supervisor with it?”

“I already did.  The reaction is mixed, but better than I hoped.”

Wynhod grinned at his partner.  “He didn’t get reamed out for suggesting Delir isn’t a dead issue after all.”

Better and better.  Krijero said with sincerity, “I’m glad to hear that.  So what did your supervisor say?”

Gelan leaned comfortably in the chair.  “He agrees the men in our territory incarcerated for sudden psychotic illness may be users of Frenzy.  He’s asked the other precincts to order organ tissue samples from them to find out if the drug has entered Southwest Mountain Territory.”

“But?”

The investigator grimaced.  “He’s not buying into the idea that we’re ground zero for the proliferation for Frenzy.  We need hard evidence.  We need someone to connect it to.”

Krijero sighed, but he wasn’t surprised.  “Unfortunately, that issue is just as murky as it was with Delir.  I’ll have to keep working on that angle on my own time.”

Wynhod smirked.  “When you’re not playing discipline games.  Nice flog work.  Almost as good as mine.”

As Krijero felt his face heat, Gelan’s evil grin reappeared.  “We’d be happy to help you in your endeavors.  Both in researching Frenzy and pursuits of a personal, intimate nature.”

The Imdiko couldn’t help but take in the well-muscled bodies only inches from his own.  These were strong, determined men, no doubt fully capable of delivering all the kinds of pleasures and torments Krijero liked to receive.  His dicks twitched in interest.  Then they began to fill.

Damn it, he had to make them leave him alone.  Gelan and Wynhod were known to be actively looking for an Imdiko to add to their clan, and there was no way he would be that man.

Glad he’d pulled his shirt so low that it disguised the arousal he fought, Krijero turned his tone frosty again.  “I’m not interested in clanning.  With you or anyone.  If that’s what you’re looking for, forget it.”

They looked at each other, and Krijero sensed them doing that almost telepathic communication again.  He wondered if it resulted from being clanned for ten years, then he recalled they’d done it back when the first Delir case had been ongoing.  It was fascinating to watch.  Or it would have been if he’d not been so eager for them to leave.

Gelan said to his Nobek, “You were right.”

Wynhod nodded, his lips pursed with a small show of temper.  “I wish I knew who messed with his head so badly.”  He turned his gaze back to Krijero.  “If you ever want retribution for your pain, just let me know.”

Gelan added, “We’re very good at hunting things and people down.  Tell me it wasn’t an abusive situation at least.”

Krijero fought the warm feeling of safety and security that their concern tried to project onto him.  It felt too much like belonging, and that feeling was the worst lie of all.

He said, “My life is none of your business.  I’ll work on Frenzy by myself and let you know what I find out.  Otherwise, please leave me alone.”

They looked at him for a few minutes more, their gazes unreadable.  Then Gelan stood and Wynhod followed suit.

The Dramok smiled at him.  “For now, Imdiko.  If you change your mind, we’ll be around.”

Without another word, they walked out.  Krijero watched them go, his head aching with worry.  He prayed to the ancestors they would get bored or frustrated and let their pursuit of him go.  The Imdiko felt the weight of his interest and knew if they kept after him, he might be in trouble.  The last thing he needed was temptation to try for what he knew he couldn’t have.