Chapter 18
eighteen
. . .
By the tenth slap, I was a wreck—crying, trembling, my cock leaking steadily into the pillows beneath me despite my continued stream of incoherent threats and fragmented profanity.
Each strike was now followed by the wet heat of Stefano's mouth or Marco's tongue, creating a rhythm of pain-pleasure that had thoroughly dismantled any ability to form complete sentences.
I was operating on a primal level, my higher brain functions having vacated the premises in search of dignity I'd probably never recover.
"T-ten," I managed, voice hoarse from shouting broken obscenities. "When… function… all… dead… revenge… cold… dish. Serve… you… pieces. Small… unidentifiable… pieces."
"Listen to him," Marco said with obvious delight, fingers trailing through the slick coating my thighs. "Still trying to threaten us when he can barely string two words together. That's what makes our little wildcat so perfect."
"Indeed," Stefano agreed, his palm smoothing over my burning flesh. "So beautiful when you're fighting what we both know you need."
I should have been furious at the possessive claim, should have been plotting elaborate revenge for the humiliation of being spanked like a disobedient child.
Instead, I pressed back into his touch, my brain too scrambled to maintain even the pretense of resistance.
My body had changed sides in this war, enlisting as a double agent for Team Alpha.
"I think our fierce little prince has earned a reward, don't you?" Marco suggested, his fingers still tangled in my hair. "Even if he can't form enough coherent words to admit how much he enjoyed his discipline."
"Indeed, he did," Stefano agreed, and I could hear the smile in his voice without needing to see it. "Flip him over. I want to see his face when we make him come again."
Hands were on me immediately, turning me with careful efficiency.
The pressure against my freshly spanked ass made me hiss, the sting reigniting with my weight against it.
But before I could adjust, I was being repositioned again—back onto the pillows, spine arched, legs spread wide.
The Alpha Rearrangement Committee was in full swing, treating my body like a particularly interesting piece of erotic origami.
Matteo appeared with something in his hands—silk ties, I realized with a jolt of alarm. Before I could protest, he was securing my wrists above my head with surprising gentleness.
"No," I tried, tugging weakly against the restraints. "Not… tied. Can't… Already… powerless… overkill."
"Shh," Matteo soothed, his thumb brushing away a tear I hadn't realized had fallen. "Just to keep you safe. So you don't hurt yourself."
Marco took each of my ankles, spreading my legs wider than before, securing them with similar silk ties until I was completely exposed, unable to close my legs or lower my arms. The position—spread-eagle on my back, wrists and ankles bound—was the most vulnerable I'd ever been, every intimate part displayed for their hungry gaze.
I was the centerpiece in their feast of omega submission, arranged for optimal viewing and access.
"Beautiful," Stefano murmured, his eyes dark as he surveyed my bound form. "Absolutely perfect."
He moved between my spread legs, hands sliding up my inner thighs with possessive intent. When his fingers found my entrance again, now slick and loose from his earlier attention, I couldn't even try to move away—could only whimper as he pushed two fingers inside.
"Listen to those sounds," he said to his brothers, though his eyes remained fixed on my face. "Such pretty noises our baby makes when he's helpless."
"Please," I whispered, not even sure what I was begging for anymore. "Need… something. Anything. Empty… terrible. Fingers… not enough. More… something. Anything."
"What does our good boy need?" Marco asked, positioning himself beside me, his hand trailing down my chest to circle a nipple that was already sensitive from previous attention. "Tell Daddy exactly what you need."
The praise—"good boy"—hit me like a drug, sending warmth flooding through my system that had nothing to do with physical stimulation.
My omega biology responded to their approval like it was oxygen after near-drowning, something essential I hadn't realized I was missing.
My therapist would have a field day with this—"Neglected Omega Develops Praise Kink: A Case Study in Daddy Issues. "
"Need…" I couldn't articulate the confused tangle of wants and needs coursing through me. "Everything. Touch… me. Please, Daddies. Can't… words… anymore. Just… feeling. Please."
"So polite," Stefano approved, his fingers working deeper inside me, finding that spot that made white explode behind my eyelids. "We're going to touch you everywhere, little prince. Going to make you come so hard you forget your own name. The only word you'll remember is 'Daddy.'"
The promise should have terrified me. Instead, my cock jerked eagerly against my stomach, precum beading at the tip like a visual exclamation point to my body's complete betrayal.
My reproductive system was the Benedict Arnold of body parts, enthusiastically saluting its new commanders while my brain tried desperately to maintain even a semblance of resistance.
Marco's mouth descended on mine again, swallowing whatever response I might have attempted.
His tongue pushed past my parted lips with confident strokes, claiming every corner with thorough possession.
At the same time, Matteo's mouth found my nipples, alternating between them with devastating precision while Stefano's fingers continued their relentless assault on my prostate.
I was being overwhelmed from all directions—Marco's tongue in my mouth (invasion point one), Matteo's teeth on my nipples (assault zone two), Stefano's fingers inside me (breach of defense three).
The triple-alpha assault team had mapped my body's vulnerabilities with military precision, exploiting each weakness with brutal efficiency.
If they'd applied this level of tactical coordination to actual warfare instead of omega subjugation, they'd probably rule several small countries by now.
When Marco finally released my mouth, I was gasping, tears streaming down my face from the intensity. "Can't," I sobbed, my body trembling on the edge of another orgasm that felt both impossible and inevitable. "Too much… gonna… Biology… defective. Not possible… again. Physically… impossible."
"Not yet," Stefano commanded, his fingers stilling inside me. "Not until we say so. You come when Daddy allows it, understand?"
I nodded frantically, beyond words, beyond thought, beyond anything but the desperate need for release that was consuming me from the inside out.
My higher brain functions had taken a permanent vacation, leaving behind only the most primitive systems capable of registering pleasure and begging for more.
"Good boy," he praised, resuming the devastating rhythm of his fingers. "Now, Marco is going to suck that pretty cock of yours, and you're not going to come until I give you permission. Can you be good for Daddy?"
I nodded again, though I wasn't sure I could actually obey.
My body felt like a live wire, every nerve ending raw and exposed, the slightest touch enough to push me over the edge.
The idea of having Marco's mouth on me while maintaining control seemed as likely as spontaneously developing the ability to fly.
Marco moved between my spread legs, his mouth hovering just above my cock. "Look at me, baby," he demanded, waiting until my tear-filled eyes met his. "Watch Daddy take care of you."
His lips wrapped around the head of my cock, his gaze never leaving mine as he took me deeper, inch by torturous inch, until I hit the back of his throat. The wet heat was overwhelming, his tongue working the underside with devastating skill.
At the same time, Stefano's fingers maintained their relentless rhythm inside me, while Matteo continued his assault on my nipples.
The combined sensation—being penetrated, sucked, and tormented simultaneously—was too much for any system to handle.
If the human body came with warning labels, mine would be flashing OVERLOAD in bright-red letters, possibly with accompanying sirens.
"Gonna… need to…" I gasped, feeling the familiar tightening at the base of my spine that signaled impending release. "Please, Daddy… need to come. Can't… hold… physically impossible… breaking physics… laws of nature."
"Not yet," Stefano denied, his free hand wrapping around the base of my cock, applying just enough pressure to stave off my orgasm. "Not until you tell us who you belong to."
I shook my head desperately, some last shred of resistance fighting against the tide of pleasure threatening to drown me.
This was the final surrender they wanted—not just my body's response but the verbal acknowledgment of ownership.
"Can't… don't… not saying… words. Those specific… words. Last… dignity… shred."
Marco's cheeks hollowed as he applied suction that had me seeing stars, while Stefano's fingers found that spot inside me again, pressing with ruthless precision. Matteo's teeth closed around my nipple with just enough pressure to send jolts of electricity straight to my core.
"Tell us," Stefano demanded, his voice commanding absolute obedience. "Tell us who you belong to, Leo."
I was trapped between their bodies, surrounded by alpha, every point of contact designed to break down my remaining defenses.
The pleasure was too intense, too overwhelming, too perfect to fight anymore.
They'd discovered all my weak points, all the places where resistance crumbled beneath skilled hands and demanding mouths.
"You," I sobbed, the admission torn from somewhere deep inside. "Belong… to you. My daddies. All… three… you. Own… everything. Me. All… me."