Chapter 3
THREE
CALEB
I check my phone, but Seven hasn’t texted. I would assume that means he’s fine, but Seven wouldn’t text even if he had an issue, as evidenced by all the previous instances of him quietly breaking down and forgetting to reach out to us.
If it hadn’t been for Havoc and Vortex being with him the previous day, I doubt he’d have asked me to come home.
I can’t focus on Seven right now, though. I’ve got my own problems to deal with—namely, Trent.
He’s on the couch in my office, feet up on the coffee table, while he taps on his tablet. “I think you could save money by switching detergent brands,” he says.
I scowl at him and send off the email I’ve been working on. “I’m not switching detergents.”
“You’re using one of those expensive eco-friendly ones! I’m pretty sure we could cut that cost in half.” Trent taps his tablet. “And you need to start offering bottled water in the gift shop. Do you know how much money you can make with some branded water?”
“No,” I repeat, irritated. “I didn’t hire you to audit my expenses. The casino is running well as it is. All I need is somebody to oversee the day-to-day operations.”
Trent lets out a laugh. “You didn’t hire me at all, did you?”
No, no I didn’t. That had been my grandfather. I’m still not sure if he actually likes Trent that much, or if he’s secure in the knowledge that he can keep Trent under his thumb. Since Trent is from one of the smaller mafia families, his position is tenuous. As long as he remains married to my sister and does as my grandfather says, he can enjoy all the benefits of the Spade family name.
If he fucks up, though, Alice will be a young widow. I’m sure she won’t miss him, but Lori adores her father.
“I’m certain Grandfather doesn’t care about what detergent my hotel uses either,” I say. “You can look over yesterday’s reports and tell me if anything stands out. I need to talk to the marketing department to see how the promotions for the upcoming match are doing.”
At the mention of the match, Trent perks up. “Ooh, the MMA match? I’m going to bring a few buddies for that.”
“The match is sold out,” I say, gritting my teeth. “You can bring one person.”
“Yeah, yeah. How are you handling the books for the match?” He looks down at his tablet again. “And… sheesh, is this really a fair fight? Looks like everybody’s betting on Blade Fury.”
I rub my brow. “Trent, I don’t really care. I trust the promoters to know what they’re doing when they book the matches, and the bookies are handling the bets.”
Unfortunately, Trent definitely does care. “We could make a killing betting on the other guy.”
“I already make a killing,” I point out. “And you’d only earn out if the other guy wins.”
Trent grins widely. “Caleb, don’t tell me you’ve never rigged a match!”
Shit. I forgot that his family runs a lot of illegal fighting rings in Calamity. I prefer my violence to be a little less raw, so I’ve never bothered to look into that business .
“I don’t need to rig matches,” I point out. “I win no matter which player comes out on top.”
“Forget the detergent. This is what we need to fix.” Trent nods to himself. “How many matches are lined up? Hmm. Okay, it can’t be too obvious, since you’re selling pay-per-view rights, but I think I know a few guys who would take a fall. You’d be surprised how many of the fighters have gambling debts.”
“What? Gambling debts, in Calamity? You don’t say,” I answer sarcastically. “And forget it. I don’t want to risk drawing attention to our operations. Run the side hustle if you want, but the big televised fights stay clean.”
“A thousand bucks says the promoters are running their own side hustle,” Trent says. After a few seconds, he adds, “Yeah, you can deposit that straight into my wallet because I know one of the promoters. He’s a regular down at my dad’s ring.”
“No,” I say forcefully. “Do your job as the general manager, Trent. That means managing the staff, overseeing the day to day operations, and dealing with casino problems. Any outside strategy is my responsibility, not yours.”
Most men would fall in line, but Trent smirks at me. “You sure that’s how you want to play it, Caleb?”
I narrow my eyes at him. “Yes. This is still my casino, and my operations have tripled my family’s wealth in the past six years. There’s no sense in wasting all of my effort on a risky venture.”
“Okay. Suit yourself.” Trent gets up and heads to the door. “Guess I’ll go see what’s going on at the casino proper.”
When he reaches the door, I say, “Oh, and Trent?”
He stops to look over his shoulder. “What?”
I smirk at him. “Careful. You don’t want to end up like Grant.”
His eyes widen, and he gives me a curt nod. “Got it. Boss .” Then he’s gone, the door slowly shutting behind him.
Shit.
I can’t believe I miss Grant, who was content to do his fucking job without giving major input on the rest of the operations. Yeah, he had to go, but he knew his place.
It doesn’t help that Trent is my brother-in-law. He doesn’t want to be treated like staff. It’s almost as bad as having Uncle Earl around, except I can safely ignore Earl. Trent isn’t so easily pushed aside.
I glance at the computer’s clock display and sigh. Already seven p.m. Why the fuck was Trent still here instead of going home to his family? I send a quick text to Alice to see if she wants to meet up for lunch or dinner sometime—without Trent—then turn my attention back to the spreadsheets Trent distracted me from.
It’s no good, though. The information is in one ear and out the other, and I’m left re-reading the same few lines over and over before I give up.
I type up another text.
I’m coming up. Feed the cats, then get ready for me. On the bed, ass spread wide.
I deserve to work out all this tension.
The reply comes almost immediately.
Yes, Master.
I smile, then close the documents I’ve been half-heartedly working on and lock everything up. I take the laptop with me, because I know well enough that if I leave it here I’ll end up coming back for it later in the evening anyway.
If not for Seven, I’d be working while watching Lori’s anime.
The guards greet me in front of my suite, and I head inside. Nacho and Miss K are both gobbling down their food. Nacho will try to steal Miss K’s meals, but she’s gotten good at scaring the kitten away—although Nacho must be eight months old at this point, and he’s growing fast. He’s going to be bigger than she is in a few months.
I take my shoes and jacket off, then make my way into the bedroom.
Seven is on all fours on the bed, completely naked, with his ass in the air. He must hear me because he reaches back to spread his ass cheeks. “Hello, Master,” he breathes without looking back at me.
What a sight.
His hole twitches enticingly, like it’s waiting for me to abuse it.
“Hello, pet,” I say, sitting down behind him. I run my hand over his bare ass cheek. Absently, I note that his hole is completely hairless, which means he must have made use of the waxing kit recently. I press my knuckle against his taint. “I’ve had quite a day.”
He shivers. “My hole is ready for you,” he says. “If you want to fuck me senseless to forget all about it.”
“It would be nice to have somebody do what I ask for once.” I trail my knuckles lower, to his balls, and gently caress them.
“Yeah?” Seven finally glances over his shoulder even as a shudder wracks his body. “Good thing you have someone here who does everything you want at home to make you feel better, then.”
My eyes land on the thick scar on his side, where a whip must have wrapped around and sliced him open. Senseless anger rushes through me. I already know what he’s been through. The scar isn’t new.
But still, I hate whoever used him so carelessly.
“I’m going to hurt you,” I state as I massage his balls.
He lets out a whimper, nodding quickly. “Yes. Yes, please, Master. I’m yours.”
I lean forward and kiss his shoulder—and squeeze his balls at the same time. Seven gasps and arches his back, moaning in pain and pleasure both.
“What did you do today?” I ask as I ease up the pressure.
It still takes him several seconds to reply, shakily, “I watched TV and played with… with Nacho. Had lunch with Havoc.”
And gambled, probably, in between those innocent-sounding activities.
“What did you watch?” I roll his balls in my hand, making sure to be gentle, to give him only pleasure .
He inhales slowly, his hips bucking into my touch. “This drag show… Master, please,” he pleads.
I loosen my hold on his balls. “Please, what?”
“You said you’d hurt me,” he whimpers. “I need it.”
I wonder if something in particular happened to make him crave the pain today or if he’s only telling me what he thinks I want to hear. “I’ll hurt you in due time. Now, I’m sure you didn’t spend all day marathoning a drag show. What else did you do?”
He winces. I don’t know if he really thought he could get away with the half-truth or not, but when a little bit of pressure is applied to him, he always caves so beautifully. “I spent a little time at the blackjack tables,” he says reluctantly. “But I only lost a little.”
I almost laugh about that. A little, by whose standards? Because if the daily reports are to be believed, Seven has consistently been losing the five grand I set aside for him every day. Sometimes he’ll win, but he’s back the next day, spending all his money on blackjack instead of buying himself clothes or food or random junk he wants to have.
It’s a problem.
We all know it’s a problem, but we can’t decide on how to deal with it.
“I’ll have to lower your spending limits,” I suggest, digging my fingers into his balls.
He lets out a low sound, but I’m not sure whether it’s from the physical pain or the pain of an addict who’s potentially going to be cut off from his fix. “Please don’t,” he whispers — and I know that , at least, has everything to do with the latter. “I’ll… I’ll start winning soon. You know I will. It’s just taking time.”
“You do win, Seven. At a slightly lower than average rate, but you do win.” I sigh and pull his balls down, eliciting another yelp. “You can’t negotiate with the odds, though. There’s no endless winning.”
“There’s only endless losing,” he mumbles, his hips bucking forward as he presses against my hand for only a second before pulling away to put more strain on his balls .
I let go entirely and spank his ass once. “All right. Why don’t we add to that losing streak? I’ve got a toy you’re going to love to hate.”
“Yes,” he says immediately.
I almost shake my head. He’s never going to learn to negotiate at this rate, not when he only knows how to say yes to anything we tell him we’ll do to him.
I walk over to my closet and pull out the container with all the sex toys in it. I don’t think I accessed this container nearly as much before I picked up Seven.
To think, that this all started on a whim. If Seven hadn’t been on the side of the road that day, if I hadn’t been on my way back from a business meeting… hell, if Vortex hadn’t been my driver, or if Havoc hadn’t pissed off Grant.
A series of random events that some people might consider luck.
There’s no such thing as luck, of course. It’s all random, coincidence—and if you want better odds than that, you have to make them yourself.
I pull out the nasty set of clamps that I’d never used. The man I’d bought them for had chickened out before I’d gotten around to even suggesting clamps.
I go back to Seven and dangle the clamps in front of him. “How many do you think you can handle? Three? Five? Ten?”
He looks up, freezing as his eyes go to the clamps. Then he relaxes slightly in that way he does when he’s done something before, when he thinks he can handle it. “I don’t know,” he lies.
I give him a stern look. “How many do you want?”
That’s the real question. He licks his lips. “I want as many as you want to give me,” he says — and that, I know, is the truth. Whether it’s too much for him or not enough, he’ll take what I give him.
I grip his hair and force him onto his haunches, then lean in for a harsh kiss. Seven gasps and moans, opening up for me all the same.
When I pull back, I say, “You still haven’t learned how to negotiate.”
He bites his bottom lip instead of replying, but his pupils are blown and I can tell he’s already sinking under, into that place where he cares even less about negotiations than usual.
I push him onto the bed, on his back. “Grab your thighs and keep your legs nice and spread for me. If you close them, I’m done. Got it?”
Nodding, Seven obeys. Once he’s settled onto his back, hands gripping his thighs, he tells me, “I’m ready.”
I sit down by his ass and give his cock one long stroke. “I have twenty clamps,” I tell him with a wicked grin. “I think I could fit all of them on your balls and your cock.”
That seems to get through to him, and he looks at me with a mixture of arousal and growing apprehension. “I…” he begins, only to pause and give me another nervous look. “Maybe.”
“I’ll guide you through it, pet,” I say, arousal thrumming through me. I can already imagine how he’ll look, squirming in pain and trembling for me. I pick up the first clamp, open it, and let it snap shut with a loud click.
Seven looks at it, then at me, and his fingers flex against his thighs. “I can take it,” he assures me, but he winces. “Maybe not so… forcefully.”
I stroke the inside of his thigh. “I know you can. Take a deep breath, pet.”
Seven obeys, taking in a long breath.
“Now exhale,” I say, and as he does, I place the clamp on the shaft of his cock.
He lets out a squeak, but he sounds more surprised than in pain — for now. The sound turns into a low moan, and he closes his eyes.
“Open your eyes,” I tell him.
He does, looking at me even as I place the second clamp. This time, I get his balls, and he lets out a quiet wail.
I stroke the head of his cock and kiss his bare stomach. “Shh. You’re doing a good job. Two down. Eighteen more to go.”
I sit up and put the next clamp onto his cock, right below the first one.
He makes another mewling sound, and I follow the same path, placing the third and fourth while he’s still recovering from the second.
Looking dazed, he stares up at me, his hands shaking on his quivering thighs. A bead of sweat trickles down his forehead, and I’m sure more will soon follow.
I place the next two clamps in quick succession, next to the clamp already on his balls. He shouts and lifts his hips, but his hands stay on his thighs. I wait for his body to stop trembling and for his breathing to even before rubbing the head of his cock again.
“I can… I can take more,” he chokes out as he thrusts against my hand. “It feels… It feels…” He can’t seem to find the right word, because he shakes his head and gives up on trying before getting anything else out.
“That was six,” I say casually. “Do you want to stop?”
He shakes his head quickly, but I see the way his fingernails have started to dig into his shaking thighs. “No, Master,” he whispers.
“That’s what I thought.” I kiss his knee and grab another clamp. “Keep breathing steadily.”
Seven gulps, but he nods too.
I add three more clamps to his cock. Seven keeps whimpering and moaning, and his entire body is covered in a sheen of sweat.
His green eyes are filled with tears, too.
He’s so beautiful.
I take another clamp, and after a few seconds of deliberation, I clamp it on his taint.
He howls in pain, and his legs snap together before I can even pull away completely. The clamp doesn’t stay put, and Seven cries out again before struggling to force his legs back open.
“Oh, god,” he wails. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Master.”
I reach for him, and Seven flails, almost kicking me in the face. I grab his leg and force it flat onto the bed. “Hold still, Seven,” I hiss.
Seven sobs and goes completely limp.
I reach for his cock and begin removing the clamps.
He shakes his head desperately, tears spilling down his cheeks. “ No,” he protests. “I can take it. I can. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to?—”
“Quiet,” I order, and Seven whimpers harder. He doesn’t argue back, though, and I manage to remove all the clamps. By the time I’m through, Seven is completely soft.
I reach for the lotion on the bedside table. “I’m going to rub this in to ease some of the pain. All right?”
“I… I…” he begins, shaking beneath my touch. “O-okay.”
I’d planned on doing this later, after I’d fucked him with the clamps still on his cock. I should be angry about the derailed sex. I would have been annoyed at anyone else.
I massage his cock and balls with the lotion, watching his tear-stained face, and find that I don’t even care that I didn’t get an orgasm.
When Seven’s breathing evens out, I put the lotion away and stretch out next to him. He tries to avoid my gaze, but I take his chin and force him to look at me.
“I’m not angry,” I say.
“You… You should be,” he whispers, his eyes every bit as pleading as his voice. “I did so… so bad. I could take more. I know I could. Just please, let me try again. Please, Master.”
“You did exactly right,” I answer, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “I told you to close your legs if you couldn’t take more. You did that. I’m glad.”
Seven bites his bottom lip, then wets it with his tongue. “I could have though. I could’ve taken more. I… It was dumb.”
I wipe a tear away. “I’m sure it wasn’t.”
He shivers. “You wanted more, though. I promised you more. You should… You should punish me.”
I let out a small laugh. “Seven, I wanted to make you tremble and cry. You did that beautifully. I don’t care if you can take five or fifteen or fifty clamps. Your reaction is what I wanted.”
His gaze searches mine. He seems to be looking for some sign of anger, but I’m not upset. It’s exactly as I told him: he’d done exactly what I’d needed.
“Will you fuck me?” he asks.
Normally, I would agree, but I hesitate. Not because I don’t want to, but because I don’t know if this is a good idea for Seven.
“Should I call Vortex?” I ask gently. “He’ll be nicer to you. I’ll watch him fuck you.”
He blinks at me, confusion briefly crossing his features. “I don’t want nice . I want you to fuck me.” He pauses, then says more quietly, “Unless I’ve disappointed you too much and you don’t want to.”
I’m probably fucking something up, but I lean in to kiss Seven. “I want to,” I say. “I’ll lay back while you ride me, pet.”
He nods quickly, as though he’s afraid I’m going to change my mind, then leans down to help me out of my pants. We reposition on the bed, my back firmly against the headboard, and he straddles my lap. “I lubed up,” he tells me, still looking anxious. “When you texted. I don’t need prep. I don’t want prep.”
“If you wanted somebody to finger you open, we really would have had to call Vortex,” I answer, nipping at his shoulder. “Show me how fine you are, pet.”
He nods, some of the doubt and shame clearing from his expression as he grabs my cock and lines it up with his hole.
I groan as he starts to sink down onto me. As promised, his hole is slick but tight, and I grab his hips, pushing him down harder, faster. He kisses me, and I push my tongue past his lips to explore him as he wraps his arms around me.
“Hard,” he tells me. “Please.”
I pinch his ass to make him clench tighter. “Yeah. Get my cock real deep into you, pet.”
“Yes,” he breathes against my mouth, only to choke on a moan as I pinch him again.
His cock and balls have to be aching, and I reach to grab his cock in my hand.
He lets out a startled cry that turns into a half-sob, half-moan as I squeeze it. Then I switch to a more gentle pace, switching it up with quick scratches. I scratch one of the spots I’d put a clamp on, and Seven lets out a long wail.
“Please,” he begs, the tears shimmering in his eyes again.
I’m so close, simply from his tears.
I grab his hair and force him into a kiss, still torturing his cock. His mouth opens, and the next sobbing breath has him coming into my hand.
My own breathing isn’t any steadier. I snap my hips up and give over to the pleasure, shooting into him while his ass clenches around me.
His tears don’t slow, and the feeling of his shoulders shaking as he cries has my orgasm seeming to last forever as he feeds that need in me to see him suffer .
When I finally release him, he lets out another long, shuddering sob, then rests his head against my shoulder.
I wrap my arms around him and stroke his back. I feel as wrung out as Seven, even though I’m not the one in tears.
My phone is too far away for me to call Vortex or Havoc so they can cuddle with Seven.
I don’t want to call them.
I want to give Seven everything.