A Quest for Power

A Quest for Power

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

This story will consist of multiple chapters, its length will depend on how much reader feedback I get (i.e. how many people are enjoying the story) and how many ideas I have (although readers feel free to send me ideas, I quite often use them in plot lines).

Since the codes for the story have to be predetermined before the story is posted (and I can't change them with each new chapter) I guessed at what codes I will be incorporating. I apologize if the code you were looking for was not in the chapters posted so far – I am intending to get to it. And I also apologize if I add something to the story for which I did not chose that code: it wasn't in my original design, but I have been known to change things as I write. A note on the gender codes: I tried to pick the ones which would apply to the main characters of the story and the ones which I will be using most often, otherwise, given the way the different societies of this world are set up, I would have had to have chosen all of the gender codes!

To make it a little easier, I will post a set of codes for each chapter at the beginning, so you can know what to expect.

I hope you enjoy!!!

Cheers, Anon.

Chapter 1 – The New Amoureux

STORY CODES: M/m interracial spanking BDSM slavery gothic reluctant Serious

A huge smile lit his face. He was finally here. Runory shifted his backpack a little higher and winced slightly, as it brushed his bruised left shoulder. He had fought well and bravely today at the games; his blade had slain everyone he had come across, until he was the only one left alive in the ring. The dark elf, or drow as they were otherwise known, was tired and elated at the same time. He was alive. And he was now an Amoureux, part of the harem of one of the most powerful female drow in the city. He would no longer have to worry about fighting to stay alive. As part of her house, he would be under her protection.

A drow looked up and saw him. "Put your stuff over there," he pointed carelessly to an empty bed. Runory noticed the place was packed with male drow, moving here, there, and everywhere like a bunch of busy insects. Runory ignored them all and the idle chatter than seemed to buzz in the air, as he began to unpack his things.

He had always wanted to be an Amoureux. Now, he was in the most famous house of lovers, the one most sought after, for the head Amoureux of this house was not a drow at all but an elf. Runory had only seen him once from a distance, the pale skin was hard to miss among the dark gray of the rest of his race, as was his blonde hair among the sea of black.

Runory was almost finished unpacking when he felt the blade on his throat. His heart raced, as he mentally began to think of ways to escape. It was only then that he noticed that it was silent in the room; there was no one there except him and whoever stood behind him. Runory had been so caught up with relieve and joy to finally be here, that he had not been paying attention to his surroundings. A mistake which had proven to be the death of many drow.

A white handle flashed in the torchlight and the hard, cold steel pressed more firmly against his skin, as he felt in contrast the very hot body push against his from behind. The warm breath fanned out against his cheek and heard the voice whisper in his ear. "I'm going to take you now," it told him. "And you will do nothing. Nothing at all."

Runory felt a large, pulsing penis push into his buttocks. His first reaction was to pull away. Males did not touch other males; it was unheard of in drow society. The only thing males did were pleasure females, or oneself if they were discrete and took the risk of getting caught. For females made sure that male drow had as little power as possible, and that included over their own body. The knife cut into his throat as he moved, and Runory stopped.

"It would be a shame to kill you, after you just survived the games," the voice said. "But I will tolerate no disobedience among my Amoureux. You will do what I tell you to."

Runory started to tremble, as he felt the erection against him again. He was not sure if it was from fear or from desire, for despite what was happening to him, the drow was strangely aroused from this encounter. He cleared his throat. "Alright, whatever you say," he whispered.

He prided himself on being a fierce and cunning warrior. The fact that he found himself thrown on the bed was disconcerting enough, but to find a pair of balls pressed right up again his chin caught him totally off guard. He just stared at them for a moment, and a second was all the time the figure on top of him needed.

Bellar, wearing nothing but his tunic, moved himself down to the drow's hips, as he took a minute to observe the figure beneath him with glittering blue eyes. Runory's muscles were large, even for that of the drow, and he was taller than most too. His long, fine black hair was knotted at the back of his head, and those green eyes showed a mixture of confusion and uncertainty to them. The firm set of the drow's jaw revealed his reluctance to turn over control to another mere male, but Bellar would soon change that. There was no trace of fear whatsoever in his stance, and the elf's respect for the drow went up a notch. That Runory was an extraordinary fighter there was little doubt, for it took great courage, ambition, and skill to compete in the games, let alone to win. The price set for failure was great, but so was the reward of winning. And now, Bellar would show him exactly what it was he had won.

The elf briefly recalled how his own path had brought him to this point. The female drow had captured him many long years ago and made him one of their Amoureux, for he was no good to them as a fighter; his skills in the art of killing were inferior to those of the drow. The trees, the sky, and the sun warm upon his face were now nothing but distant memories in this underground city. Many would have given up, but Bellar was grateful just to be alive and tried to make the best of the situation. He had worked hard at his new trade, always keeping in mind that failure to remain of value to the drow would be his death. The elf was skilled at the task set before him, and soon he found himself in charge of a large group of males. He prided himself on teaching his males how best to pleasure another sexually. In fact, they frequently practiced on each other. Although this was not allowed, the female drow ignored his activities simply because the results were so intensely erotic compared to anything else they had ever experienced.

Bellar let his eyes travel over the length of the drow. Today's lesson was about submission. In order to be a good lover, one first must learn how to give oneself completely to another. Bellar twirled his knife in his hand absently, as he watched the muscles in Runory's body tighten.

The elf was making him nervous with that blade. Runory knew that he was a superior warrior, that although the elf was lithe and lean, Bellar was no match for his own brute strength. Runory moved his arms, only to find that they were bound to the iron headboard by a thin silk scarf. Damn. The elf must have done that when he was distracted by his balls.

Bellar smiled. "You will not break those bonds," he told the drow. They both knew that Runory could in a moment if he wanted to; in fact, the elf had probably chosen silk because he knew the drow could easily free himself. That was not the point of this exercise. Runory wanted to be an Amoureux, so he would be taught exactly what that meant. The drow started to quiver as Bellar moved his knife lower and lower. But somehow he knew that the elf would not hurt him. Indeed, it was as much anticipation of what he would do next that made him shiver; a feeling the drow did not understand.

Bellar used the blade at his captive's waist to cut into the fabric of his breeches, narrowly missing an important part of Runory's anatomy. He heard the drow's sharp inhale, but it only served to increase the enjoyment of this game. In several smooth fluid movements, he sliced Runory's breeches and tunic to rags. Bellar dropped the knife carelessly to the floor, where it landed with a soft thud, before he moved to Runory's ankles and removed the ruined cloth. The elf ran his hand up his captive's legs, lingering on the drow's hips, and saw Runory's eyes widen. Then he removed the drow's tunic, leaving him naked and vulnerable, tied to the bed with no weapons or armor of any kind. His hands traveled to Runory's throat, and for a moment he watched, as the blood fell freely from the small cut he had made on the drow's neck. Bellar smiled, as he watched the red rivulet stain the satiny softness of the white pillow. Blood was such a pretty colour. The elf lowered his mouth and began to drink the dark fluid.

Runory started to breath faster. He could not believe this elf was being so bold. He could not believe how incredibly turned on his was by this treatment. Vaguely he wondered when Bellar was going to bring in the female. Runory had his share of members of the opposite sex, but none who were high ranking in the city.

Runory felt Bellar's hands on his chest, tracing the outline of his muscled body. When the wandering fingers found his nipple and squeezed it hard, the drow bit down on his lower lip to stifle a groan. Bellar smiled, pleased with the new Amoureux reaction. The elf then moved back to sit between Runory's legs, as he ran his hands down to across the rippled plane of his captive's abdomen and lower still to cup his scrotum; briefly, fleetingly, like a soft breeze caresses one's cheek. Runory's penis started to become aroused, not fully, as if he was unsure what his reaction to all of this should be.

The drow watched, fascinated, as the elf took one of his own fingers in his mouth and began to suck. He did not know why his mouth went dry at the sight. He knew he should not be enjoying this; it was forbidden. Maybe he would take more pleasure in it if he knew what the elf had planned, but this was totally new for him.

Bellar removed his finger and moved it between Runory's legs. It was a shock, when that cold, wet finger traced the opening of his body. The drow moved away in surprise and fear, as he clenched his butt cheeks tightly together, refusing the elf what he sought. "No, we shouldn't be doing this," Runory cried desperately.

"You are mine, and I will not be denied," Bellar spat at him, as he lunged forward; his mouth finding the drow's nipple and biting down hard.

Runory cried out his face contorted in pain but soon it eased, as Bellar started licking the tortured nipple. Like a cat drinking milk the pink tongue darted in and out of his mouth, lapping at the sensitive skin. Runory's features took on a new look, and suddenly he no longer cared what the elf did to him. As if sensing his acceptance, Bellar moved his hands to the drow's inner thigh parting those legs once again. The soft fabric of the elf's tunic, brushed against his balls, and Runory's mouth parted slightly, as he gasped for a breath. Bellar found his original target and with sure, deft strokes, he played with his captive's opening. He could feel Runory growing harder and harder against his arm, as he continued to touch without entering the drow's body.

Bellar moved his head lower, licking his way downward, as he felt Runory's surrender to his touch. The drow's muscles moved, not away from him, but arching every so slightly into him, eager for more. The drow made a soft moaning sound, as Bellar lowered his mouth between his legs and started to lick Runory's balls. Not, fast and furious like his had done with the nipple, but slow and languid, taking his time to make sure not a single spot was missed. As he licked, his other hand moved to the drow's penis; his fingertips light as a feather, gently caressing, teasing the hard erection.

He knew he was winning, and Bellar was satisfied. But it was one thing for Runory to let him touch and explore; it was yet another to yield to him enough to climax. "Let go, Amoureux," the elf told him. "Give in to me." Bellar flicked his tongue up the drow's shaft, which was standing erect and proud. His tongue touched the tip and was pleased to find a salty bead of moisture there.

The elf's long, unbound, blonde hair, draped across Runory's stomach, its silky softness teasing his skin. He felt one of Bellar's hands on the base of his shaft; the other reached to cup his balls. That is went he felt himself being buried in a warm, wet environment. He groaned loudly and arched into the elf's mouth. Never before had he experienced anything like this. The intensity of it astonished him, calling to the primal depths of his sexuality.

Bellar's teeth dragged along his skin, as he took the drow as far into his mouth as he could. He could not fit entirely inside, so he massaged the rest of his penis with his hand. Slowly, Bellar sucked, as he pulled his mouth back, hallowing out his cheeks. He reached the tip and gently nipped it with his pearly whites. He circled it with his tongue, again, and again, until he drew it deep into his mouth once more.

The elf was torturing him, Runory decided, for there was no other sensation that he had ever felt that was so sweet and at the same time so painful. He wanted it to stop. He wanted more. He wanted it to last forever. He did not know what he wanted, so he let instinct take over; he surrendered himself to the awareness, which had been awakened in his body and thrust into the elf. Again and again, the elf moved up and down his shaft, with hands squeezing, teasing, and tormenting him. He could take it no more.

Bellar took the drow deep in his throat and sucked hard. Then he drank. Ah, there was nothing better than the salty taste of another male. It was better than the finest wine, the sweetest juice, and the purest water. Only when the drow lay back, emptied and satisfied, did the elf pull back and stand beside him.

Runory lay with his eyes closed, and a smile upon his face. His body was bruised from the fighting that morning, but at the same time it held a glow that could only come from intense delight of the body. Bellar removed his tunic, his fingers trembling slightly over the buttons. This drow was magnificently built, a fine specimen. He was really going to enjoy this.

Runory was so relaxed, he did nothing as the elf rolled him over, and pulled his butt up in the air, his legs curling under him before resting his abdomen down on his knees. He just lay there content to do nothing. Until he felt a sharp pain unlike anything he had ever experienced before. Runory let out a piercing yell, before a hand clamped over his mouth.

"Be quiet!" Bellar commanded. "Do you want every female in the place to discover what we are doing?" He did not trust the drow to be silent, so he kept his hand there as he thrust inside him again. Oh, but he was so tight, like a virgin. Actually, he probably was in some sense of the word.

After a while Runory's pain receded leaving only pleasure in its wake. The elf's hand was pressing against his mouth and nose which made breathing difficult. He feared he was going to pass out, so he bit into the soft, tender, flesh that held him.

Ah, so the drow has spirit in him after all, Bellar thought, as he felt the pain in his hand. But it only served to increase the desire, as he pushed harder into Runory. It was only when he felt the drow start to fall over that he removed his hand. After all, he had proven that he was in control of this situation, and he did not want his captive to lose consciousness.

Runory gasped for air and steadied himself. He felt Bellar pulled back and slapped him in the ass, before plunging into him again. Runory felt himself grow hard again. He did not think that he could so soon, but the sensations were too pleasurable to resist.

Bellar sensed the change in him and continued to hit him again and again. The elf heard Runory's muffled cries, as the drow buried his face in a pillow, but Bellar did not care at all about his captive's satisfaction. This was not about Runory's pleasure at all. First it had been to make the drow surrender. Now it was all about taking what was owed to him as head Amoureux.

He reached with both hands around the drow's ribs and dug his fingernails leaving a trail of blood in their wake. Bellar could feel his impending release. He was so close. The drow was so tight. He thrust one more time violently against the drow; his face contorted, his mouth opened, his eyes closed, with his head thrown back in wild abandonment, as his long blonde hair fell like a curtain behind him. Bellar spilt his seed into that tight ass.

As Bellar withdrew, Runory straightened his legs flush onto the bed. The elf noticed the wet stain on the sheets and was pleased. At least the drow would not put up a fuss when he took him again, for there would be another time. The head Amoureux looked up to the drow's face, and saw Runory was already asleep. He ran his fingers along the drow's head, in his dark hair, much like one would pet a dog, for that was all he really was to Bellar. He smiled, as he released the scarf from his captive's wrists. The drow would make a good Amoureux.

The female watched from the doorway as the scene had unfolded before her. It was one thing for Bellar to conduct his practices in private and quite another to do so in front of an opened door where anyone walking by might see. She would be a laughing stock if the other females knew what went on between her Amoureux. They were drow - the ultimate terror in the world, fierce, cunning, and ruthless in their quest for power. She would not tolerate anything that would jeopardize her standing, and these practices among her Amoureux definitely would do so if discovered. She would have to teach them a lesson for their carelessness; one they would not soon forget.