Chapter 13 #3
"Of course you do," I muttered, trying desperately to cling to sarcasm as my last line of defense against the rising tide of arousal.
"Nothing says 'normal, healthy interaction' quite like three grown men debating the merits of my bare ass like it's a paint swatch at Home Depot.
Should I spin around so you can get a three hundred and sixty degree view, or would you prefer I just email you photos for your personal collection? "
"Such a mouthy baby," Marco said, his voice warm with amusement despite the heat in his eyes. "Always fighting even when your body is begging to surrender. It's what makes you so perfect for us."
"I'm not perfect for anyone," I insisted, the words coming out breathier than intended as anticipation of the next blow wound through me. "Especially not three alphas with god complexes and a shared delusion that 'no' means 'spank me harder, Daddy.'"
Smack!
The fourth blow landed with surgical precision, right at the curve where ass met thigh—that tender junction where nerve endings clustered close to the surface. The pain was immediate, sharp and bright, like someone had pressed a hot iron against my skin.
"Holy mother of—" I bit off the curse, teeth sinking into my lower lip as the initial sting transformed into something entirely different.
It was like some demented alchemist had discovered how to transmute pain directly into pleasure, the sensation melting from one form to another until my cock throbbed against the mattress like it had a personal vendetta against the sheets.
"Four," Stefano counted, his voice dropping to that register that vibrated through my bones and made my inner omega sit up and beg. His hand lingered this time, not just resting but actively caressing the spot he'd just struck. "Such a good boy for Daddy, taking your punishment so beautifully."
"I'm not your good boy," I managed, though the protest sounded weak even to my own ears when I could feel slick gathering between my thighs. "And if you keep calling yourself Daddy, I'm going to—"
"You're going to what, baby?" Stefano asked, his hand sliding to the waistband of my shorts. "Make more empty threats while your body begs for my touch? I think it's time we see exactly what we're working with, don't you?"
Without waiting for my answer—not that I could have formed coherent words anyway—his fingers hooked into the waistband of my shorts, dragging them down my thighs in one smooth motion.
Cool air hit my exposed skin, a shocking contrast to the burning heat radiating from my punished flesh.
I was acutely aware of how exposed I was now—my ass bare to their gaze, marked and flushed from their attention, my cock trapped beneath me, pressing against the mattress with every trembling breath.
"No underwear," Marco said, his voice dropping to a register that made my spine tingle. "Someone came prepared for Daddy's attention."
"I didn't—it wasn't—" I stammered, mortification burning through me as Stefano's hand returned to my now-bare ass, his fingers tracing the pink marks he'd already left. "I sleep like this! It wasn't some premeditated—"
"Shh," Marco soothed, leaning down until his face was level with mine. "The next four will hurt more without the barrier. But you can take it for Daddy, can't you? You remember how it felt in the forest—how good the pain can be when you surrender to it."
The words sent a fresh wave of heat through me, my cock jerking against the mattress at the reminder of that night—how Stefano's hand had broken down my resistance stroke by stroke until I was begging for release.
How Marco's mouth had taken me apart afterward, how completely I'd surrendered to whatever they wanted to do to me.
"I'm not yours," I said, but the words rang hollow, an empty protest undermined by the way my hips shifted restlessly against the mattress, seeking friction I didn't want to admit I needed. "This is just blackmail. Nothing more."
"Then why are you hard?" Matteo asked from where he'd positioned himself at the head of the bed. His amber eyes burned with an intensity that belied his calm exterior. "Why do you smell like omega arousal? Your body knows who you belong to, even when your pride won't let you admit it."
The anticipation of the next strike was its own special torture, seconds stretching into eternity as my skin prickled with awareness. I hated that I was waiting for it, hated that some part of me was craving the moment when Stefano's hand would connect with my flesh again.
Crack!
The fifth blow landed without warning, bare palm against bare skin, the sound obscenely loud in the confined space.
Without the barrier of my shorts, the impact was a revelation—a sharp, stinging fire that exploded across my right cheek, radiating outward in waves that seemed to penetrate to my core.
"Jesus fucking Christ!" I yelped, my entire body jerking forward with the force of the blow.
The initial shock of pain lasted only seconds before it transformed—a chemical reaction at the cellular level, pain receptors somehow cross-wiring with pleasure centers in a way that shouldn't be possible but was undeniably happening.
This time, I felt it happen—the exact moment when pain transformed into something else entirely, like a switch being flipped. My cock jerked violently against the mattress, now fully hard and leaking steadily, a hot pulse of slick escaping from my hole that I knew they could all scent.
"Five," Stefano counted, his voice rougher than before, something dark and hungry entering his tone. "Halfway done, baby. You're taking your punishment so well for Daddy."
Marco's hands framed my face, tilting it up for a kiss that was surprisingly gentle given the circumstances. His lips pressed against mine with careful precision, not demanding but inviting, his tongue tracing the seam of my mouth in silent question.
I should have bitten him. Should have kept my lips sealed. Should have maintained that last shred of resistance. Instead, I opened for him like I was possessed, a broken sound escaping my throat as his tongue slipped past my defenses.
This is such a bad idea, my brain screamed, even as my body surrendered completely. You're making out with one of your kidnappers while another spanks you. This isn't Stockholm syndrome—this is the express lane to complete psychological breakdown.
Smack!
The sixth strike caught me with my mouth still joined to Marco's, the pain-pleasure exploding across my left cheek just as his tongue stroked against mine.
The dual sensations—Marco's mouth consuming mine while Stefano's hand connected with my tender flesh—created an overload that short-circuited my brain completely.
I gasped into Marco's mouth as Stefano's hand connected with my ass, the sound trapped between us like a dirty little secret.
My body immediately recognized the pattern—pain transforms into pleasure, rinse and repeat, my nervous system apparently reading from a script titled "How to Betray Your Owner in Three Easy Steps. "
"Jesus," I managed when Marco finally let me breathe, my voice embarrassingly breathless. "Do you three practice this routine, or is the synchronized assault just natural talent?"
Marco's tongue invaded my mouth again, his kiss hungry and demanding, just as Stefano's hand connected for the seventh blow.
The impact sent me lurching forward, deeper into Marco's hold, my tongue pushed farther into his mouth in what felt like the universe's cruelest metaphor for my current situation—trapped, overwhelmed, and somehow participating in my own undoing.
Crack!