Chapter 17 Seven #2
His hand slid into Seven’s pants, palming his erection, letting him rut against his hand for only a moment before saying, “I asked you a question.”
Seven wanted to stomp his foot and whine when Enzo’s hand disappeared. It wasn’t fair. Enzo wasn’t fighting fair. “Fine,” Seven grumped.
He gave an indignant squeak as Enzo slapped his ass, shocking him more than causing him pain. “Is that how you talk to me?”
Seven turned in the older man’s arms, looking up at him from beneath his lashes. “No, Daddy,” he said, biting his lip, hoping it read as contrition.
“Then try again, you little brat. You’re going to do as you’re told. Isn’t that right?”
Seven was already throbbing. “Yes, Daddy.”
Enzo dropped a chaste kiss on his pouting mouth. “Good boy. Was that so hard?”
Harder than he would ever know.
Enzo rubbed their noses together, the sweet gesture disarming Seven. When he stepped back, Seven stumbled forward, making Enzo chuckle. Seven fought the urge to glare.
Enzo took a seat on the bed, leaning back on his palms. “Take off your clothes, fold them neatly on the chair, then come back to me. Do it slowly. I want to see all of you.”
Seven swallowed dryly, then turned his back. His skin prickled, and he suddenly felt weirdly shy.
His breath hitched as he caught a glimpse of himself in the reflection. The mirror placement allowed Enzo a full 360° view of him.
It’s not like Enzo hasn’t seen you naked before.
But this was different. More formal. More…exposed. Like stripping in front of an audience of one. It was the intentionality of it. He was stripping for Enzo’s benefit, for his pleasure because looking at Seven like this made the older man happy.
Seven forced himself to move slowly, but refused to make a show of himself. Once he was done, he came back to stand between Enzo’s open legs. He expected him to touch him, but instead Enzo swept his gaze over him, drinking Seven in until he started squirming under the scrutiny.
Just when Seven couldn’t take anymore, Enzo stood, stepping around him, leaving him standing there as he walked to his dresser, searching for something in the bottom drawer.
A moment later, he was pressing against his back, slipping something over Seven’s head.
A blindfold. A thick, black, velvet blindfold that blocked all light.
Seven’s hands spasmed at his sides as the world went dark.
Not even shadows played behind his eyelids.
“Pretty,” Enzo murmured, stroking his cheek.
Seven’s insides were shaking. Neither the porn he’d watched nor his frank discussions with Nico had prepared him for this…whatever this was Enzo was doing. Seven didn’t want this soft domming. It was supposed to hurt. It was supposed to make him forget everything.
He wanted it to hurt.
Enzo was going to hurt him, right?
“I can hear your wheels turning from here, baby,” Enzo said, fingertips skating over his upper arms. “Not quite what you had in mind? Getting scared?”
“I’m not scared,” Seven mumbled, sounding petulant even to his own ears.
He’d asked for this. So, why did it feel like he was standing on the edge of a cliff with Enzo gently coaxing him closer, whispering sweet nothings while nudging him toward the fall?
“That’s good,” Enzo said, lips brushing Seven’s jaw. “On the bed, brat baby. Hands and knees.”
Seven willed his limbs to comply, but he had no idea what to expect now that Enzo wasn’t playing by the rules as he expected.
He stumbled, knees knocking into the mattress.
Enzo didn’t right him or help him, just let him struggle as he crawled up onto the bed, horribly overexposed without his clothes or his vision.
He jumped as Enzo’s fingertips dragged up his inner thigh, his ears burning at the older man’s soft chuckle.
“Legs open, pretty boy.”
Seven frowned. Nico had said that when Mal punished him, his voice would grow cold, distant, devoid of emotion. But Enzo’s voice was nothing like that. His silky tone was confusing, enticing, like the devil whispering in his ear. Sexy and a little condescending.
Without his sight, Seven had no idea what to expect or when to expect it. Every other sense was heightened, but it didn’t matter at all. He was still in the dark.
He widened his legs until it seemed lewd, tongue licking out to dart over his lower lip. “Like this?”
“Did I give you permission to speak?” Enzo asked softly, lips warm where they skimmed over his ass cheek, making Seven jump.
“No, Daddy.”
“Then hush.”
It was on the tip of Seven’s tongue to say, “Yes, Daddy,” but he knew that would only compound his troubles.
“Chest against the mattress,” Enzo instructed.
Seven sank down, his ass in the air. Yeah, no. It was so much worse when he couldn’t see Enzo’s expression, when he couldn’t tell if he was doing well. If he was pleased with him.
Enzo’s fingers danced along Seven’s spine. “Arms down, hands by your knees.”
Seven frowned behind the blindfold, straightening his arms on either side until he was in the world’s dirtiest version of child pose.
He waited for the next command but was met with silence.
He listened as Enzo moved around the room.
He flinched as a drawer opened and closed, the sound extra loud in the velvety darkness surrounding him.
His breaths came faster as metal clinked against metal.
Something landed beside his leg, too rough to be skin, too warm to be steel. He bit down on his lip when Enzo tsked, forced to keep his head turned to the side.
“We need to work on your posture, baby. Hips up.”
Seven’s cheeks burned with embarrassment as he did as Enzo instructed. But it wasn’t enough; something dragged across Seven’s belly, tapping it twice like a teacher correcting a dancer’s form.
“Uh-uh. Arch your back. A little more. That’s much better.” Seven was about to tell him to go to hell when Enzo said, “Now, hold it for me, sweet boy.”
Seven melted.
No matter what he thought about himself, Enzo thought he was pretty.
Enzo thought he was perfect. Nico said he felt the hottest when he and Mal played like this, and Seven understood now.
Seven never thought of himself as ugly, not really.
But he was human. He had his insecurities like everyone else. And right now, he was so…exposed.
Every inch of his pose felt purposeful, held open, held still, held captive to Enzo’s gaze. His thighs were shaking, skin prickling with awareness. He jolted when Enzo wrapped something buttery soft but sturdy—structured—just above his knees, first one then the other.
Seven tried to squeeze his knees together, testing the give.
There was none. Something was holding his legs open.
A spreader bar of some kind. He bit down on his lip to muffle the fearful sound clawing up his throat.
Enzo ignored Seven’s mewling, wrapping that same soft material around his wrists, binding them to his knees, forcing him to stay how he wanted him.
Something skimmed along Seven’s inner thigh, then between his ass cheeks before disappearing.
Once more, his brain tried to guess what it was.
It wasn’t skin or metal. Leather maybe, like the cuffs?
It was thin but hard, like a piece of bamboo or a cane.
There was no way Enzo would start with a cane… right?
Oh, God. That would hurt.
“Are you shaking already?” Enzo marveled. “I’ve barely touched you.”
“That’s the problem,” Seven muttered under his breath.
He barely had time to acknowledge something slicing through the air before fire stole his breath, making him hiss at a pain too sharp to describe. Was that a…riding crop? He swallowed the sudden lump in his throat.
“What was that, smart mouth?” Enzo asked. Seven clamped his lips shut with a whimper. “That’s what I thought.”
Enzo didn’t spank him again. Not yet. Instead, he seemed to revel in Seven’s torment, dragging the leather loop of the crop along Seven’s skin…between his legs, behind his balls, along his leaking cock.
“You’re already making such a mess all over our bed,” Enzo marveled, giving another disappointed tsk. “Gonna have to invest in rubber sheets if you keep leaking all over the place like this.”
Seven whined with embarrassment. He never thought he’d be into degradation, but when Enzo teased like this, he only grew harder…and wetter.
“Oh, don’t be shy,” Enzo said. “I know you can’t help it. Besides, you’re so beautiful like this. Just like I pictured. Like art.”
Seven blushed at the compliment. He preferred the taunting. The sweet stuff made him feel too raw, like an exposed nerve. His shoulders were already starting to ache from the awkward position, but he was ready for more, whatever that entailed.
“Since this is your very first time playing like this, let’s start with ten, hmm?”
Ten? Was he serious? Ten was nothing. Nico’s maintenance spankings were no less than twenty-five on a bad day. Did he think Seven couldn’t take twenty? Was he humoring him? Did he not want to do this with him?
“You think I can only take ten?” he blurted, immediately wanting to suck the words back in.
The sharp crack of the crop echoed, the sensation slicing through all his bravado, dragging a strangled cry from him. Enzo’s hand followed, soothing over his heated flesh. Seven hated how much he loved Enzo’s soft touches.
“Do you not trust me?” Enzo asked, his fingertips tracing over the welt the crop had left behind.
Him not trust Enzo? It was Enzo who didn’t think Seven was strong enough or brave enough or tough enough for…whatever it was he wanted of him.
“I-I let you tie me up. How can you ask me that?” Seven said, perspiration clinging to his skin like the pain the crop left behind.
“Because you keep questioning me. If you trust me, relax and let me give you what you’ve been begging for,” Enzo said. “Now, count.”
Count?
“T-Two,” he managed, voice a bit strangled.
“That was one, sweetheart,” Enzo said in that soft, mocking tone. “Are you already so gone that you can’t count?”