Chapter 17 Seven #3
“You hit me b-before,” Seven said, head spinning, indignant.
Enzo’s soft chuckle was as sexy as it was infuriating. “That was a reminder.”
“That’s n-not fair,” Seven said through gritted teeth.
This time, Enzo’s laugh was borderline malevolent.
“What on earth made you think this was about fairness, baby? In here, you belong to me. Remember? This is what you’ve been begging for.
What did you call it? A reset? I’m trying to give you what you asked for.
You’re the one who was mad I was only giving you ten. Consider the earlier one a gift.”
Seven squeezed his eyes shut behind the blindfold, concentrating on the softness below his cheek—the texture of the sheets, the faint scent of Enzo’s cologne lingering in the linen, grounding him—instead of the ache already growing in his limbs. “You’re just teasing me.”
He bit back a moan as Enzo’s hand closed around his cock, rubbing his finger around the wetness at the tip. “And you’re already dripping for me. What does that say about you, hmm?”
Seven couldn’t stop the desperate moan or the way he tried to fuck into Enzo’s tightened fist.
Then it was gone, dragging a sad sound from him.
The next blow landed just below the curve of his bottom, right in the crease, stealing any thoughts of Enzo’s hand on his aching cock.
He wheezed at the searing pain. “Two,” he choked out.
The crop slicing through the air made for a sinister whisper, the crack gunshot loud as it connected with his sweaty skin. The sound he made was both embarrassing and pitiful—something between a yelp and a whimper—but he couldn’t help it. Somehow, it was worse on wet skin.
He blinked back tears as his heart bounded against his ribs. “Th-Three.”
He waited for the next blow, but instead, the bed dipped, Enzo soothing his palm across Seven’s forehead, sweeping his hair from his damp skin. “Color, baby?” he asked, his real voice bleeding through the sugary sweet one that had Seven’s emotions turned up to a thousand.
He couldn’t stop the trembling. It had to be adrenaline. Or fear. Or arousal. Or all three, braided tight in his bloodstream. “Green.”
He jumped when Enzo’s fingers gently played over the wounded flesh of his bottom. “You’re doing so well for me. I wish you could see how you look right now, three strokes in and already so ruined. My pretty baby.”
Seven wanted to curl himself up in Enzo’s words like they were a soft blanket. But there was no time.
The next two slaps came back to back, criss-crossing each other, dragging a desperate sob from him.
The sting of his humiliation was almost worse than the one across his backside.
Enzo was right. There was no way he’d have taken more than ten.
He was fighting for his life, vulnerable, the leather biting into his skin.
Enzo could do anything he wanted to him.
“Forgetting something, baby?” Enzo asked, thumb dragging from Seven’s rim to behind his balls.
Forgetting? Forgetting what? He couldn’t think. His thoughts were a plastic bag caught by the wind, constantly just out of reach.
Enzo made another disappointed sound. “Do we need to start over?”
Counting. He was supposed to be counting.
“Four. Five,” Seven corrected quickly, everything coming into stark relief at the idea of starting over.
“That’s my good boy.”
The burn lingered, a spreading warmth like ink bleeding through paper, but Enzo’s praise burned brighter. It cut through the pain and the noise. It made it all worth it.
“You’re doing so well for me. Only five more.”
Five?
God, how had it only been five?
Well, six, really, but apparently, Enzo wasn’t counting the first one, though Seven felt each one of them etched into his swollen flesh like tattoos.
Another sob threatened to escape, but he caught himself, panting through it, trying to pretend it was just a breath, just the rhythm, not emotion, not something he couldn’t handle.
He flinched, anticipating the next blow, teeth bared, not in defiance but desperation. He didn’t want to appear weak in front of the older man.
“Breathe,” Enzo soothed, guiding him with a hand between his taut shoulder blades. “Just breathe, baby. In through your nose…hold it…out through your mouth. Good. That’s good. We’re already halfway there. You’re doing so well. I’m so proud of you.”
Seven choked on the emotion clogging his chest at Enzo’s words, trying to quell the way his insides shook as the salt-sweet scent of sweat and anticipation clung to the air like smoke. Enzo’s hand disappeared, his weight shifting.
Seven whined a moment before another blow landed, setting fire to his already stinging skin. It was like death by a thousand cuts. Surely, his skin had been flayed open. Surely, that was blood running down his thighs and not perspiration.
Every subsequent slap of the crop had him drifting further and further from himself, his awareness melting like candle wax until there was nothing but the knife-sharp pain of Enzo’s punishment and the soft crooning praise that had tears flowing into the sheets below.
By the time he managed a slurred “Nine,” his thoughts were as wispy as spiderwebs—thin, fragile strands breaking apart with every slap, every praise, every soft drag of Enzo’s hand.
It took longer than it should have for Seven to realize the annoying keening sounds were coming from him, but he couldn’t stop them even if he wanted to.
It was like he had lost all control of his body.
He would have laughed if he was able. He’d handed total control to Enzo, and the older man was giving him everything Seven had demanded of him.
“One more, sweet boy, and we’re all done. Color?” Enzo asked.
“Green…” he mumbled, then sniffled.
If he’d expected mercy on the last blow, he was mistaken. The final strike came low on his thighs, wrenching another high-pitched cry from him.
“T-Ten,” he managed, then he said it again in case Enzo hadn’t heard him or it wasn’t clear. “Ten.”
He couldn’t handle another one.
The riding crop clattered to the floor. What happened now?
Would Enzo still fuck him? Had he passed the test?
Was Seven in too much of a state to bother?
The answer came in the form of large hands wrapping around his spread thighs and Enzo’s flattened tongue dragging over Seven’s rim, pulling a strangled cry from him.
“Fuck, you taste amazing,” Enzo muttered, spearing his tongue against him. “I’ve been dying to do this since we started. Every time I spanked you, you’d clench up right here and all I wanted to do was eat you alive. It was so fucking hot. You’re so fucking hot, baby.”
Seven whimpered but couldn’t form words, lost in the delicious wet heat of Enzo’s mouth and the throbbing pain left behind by his punishment.
How was he so good at this? Enzo worked his mouth like he planned to make a meal out of Seven, biting softly around the edges before attempting to fuck his tongue inside.
When he breached him just the slightest bit, Enzo groaned, like Seven was some delicacy he planned to savor.
“You did so well, baby,” Enzo praised, head dipping lower to drag over the seam of his balls. “You look so pretty. Your skin was made for this. I can’t wait for you to see how beautiful you are.”
Seven tried to laugh, but it came out as another dry catch of a sob. There was no way he looked anything but a mess. Tears the blindfold hadn’t absorbed were hot on his cheeks. His nose was running, drool drying on his chin. He was covered in sweat and snot, his thighs still shaking.
But he wasn’t going to argue. Not when Enzo’s clever tongue had his eyes rolling behind his lids, a dizzying euphoria making him feel high.
Was this subspace? Nico had talked about it.
Seven had thought he’d experienced it his first night with Enzo, but that had been nothing like this.
He felt delirious, removed from his body, but somehow, still ignited by every touch.
“Did I d’good?” he asked, wishing he could wipe his face.
“So good, baby,” Enzo said, sounding as wrecked as Seven felt. “You ready for your reward now?”
Seven was nodding before Enzo finished his question. “Yes, please. Please.”
Enzo’s two slick thick fingers replaced his tongue, massaging over Seven’s sensitive rim until both pressed in, dragging another strangled sound from him. It was too much, the burn intense as Enzo forced his way inside.
“Relax, baby. You’re gonna break my fingers,” Enzo said, folding over him to drag his lips along his spine. “Fuck, you’re so hot inside. Can’t wait to see how you look when I’m splitting you open on my cock.”
Seven whined, trying to fuck himself on Enzo’s fingers, even as he forced himself to relax. When Enzo pulled out and started teasing a third finger against his hole, Seven made a noise of complaint.
“Jus’ fuck me, please,” he slurred. “Wan’ it to hurt a little. Want you to make me take it.”
“Jesus. You really are perfect.”
Seven groaned as his wrists were suddenly freed, his shoulders screaming in protest. He tried to hold himself up, but his arms wouldn’t cooperate.
“Just lie there, baby. I got you. Let Daddy do the work.”
“‘kay,” he said, a million miles away.
Enzo tossed the restraints onto the floor, taking their place between Seven’s thighs, sliding an arm beneath him and dragging him into a sitting position, his back to Enzo’s chest. Seven’s head lolled back onto Enzo’s shoulder.
At some point in the proceedings, Enzo had lost his clothes. The coarse hair on his thighs and the sweat on their bodies made the welts on Seven’s ass sting like he was sitting in lemon juice. He whined, but didn’t ask Enzo to move or stop.
Enzo latched his mouth onto Seven’s throat, hand working between them, the squelch of lube telling him he was slicking up his cock. A moment later, it was pressing against Seven’s entrance, feeling far too big. Enzo’s arm was an iron bar around his waist, holding him still as he breached him.
Seven hissed in pain, instinctively jolting away from it. Enzo’s teeth sank into Seven’s neck in a hard bite that felt like a warning before growling, “Hold still.”
Seven let his body go limp as Enzo pressed into him one achingly slow inch at a time, hissing like Seven was burning him from the inside.
“Wanna see. Wanna watch. You said I could watch,” Seven babbled. “You said if I was good, I could watch.”
“You’re awfully demanding, baby,” Enzo said, thrusting up as he slammed Seven down.
His startled cry was loud in the large room, tears escaping only to be absorbed by the velvet mask. “You’re so big,” he mumbled. “Too big. “s’unecessary.”
Seven gasped as Enzo pulled the mask free, tossing it wildly to one side.
Seven blinked until his eyes adjusted and the mirror came into focus, too sharp, too honest. He looked wrecked—hair damp and sticking to his forehead, jaw slack, eyes glassy.
Enzo loomed behind him, massive and calm, hands molded to Seven’s hips like he was sculpted just to fit there.
It was obscene. It was beautiful.
And worst of all, it looked like they were made for each other, like they were always meant to fit this way.
Enzo held Seven in place, lazily fucking into him.
Seven could only stare, riveted at the sight of them.
Enzo looked so much bigger like this, felt so much bigger inside as he took him into his body over and over.
Seven had never had anyone use him like this, but there was no other way.
His limbs were useless, tingling and numb as the blood rushed back where it belonged.
Enzo seemed to prefer him this way, pliant and pliable, boneless in his lap. Like a pretty doll he could position however he pleased. His pretty little human-shaped fleshlight.
And the terrifying thing was that Seven didn’t feel humiliated. He felt…wanted. Like every bruise had been etched with care, like every sound dragged from his throat was proof of how good he could be if he let go.
“God, you were made to be wrecked like this,” Enzo said. “Look at you. You’re gonna think about this, about me using you, owning you, every single time you sit down for the rest of the week.”
“Hope so. Wan’ that. Wanna feel you all the time,” Seven said without thought.
“You always take my cock so well. Look at you. Look at us. Look how fucking hot we are together. You’re such a good boy. So good for me. So pretty. So tight around me. I could fuck you like this forever.”
“Do you mean it?” Seven blurted, the words a whisper, almost subconscious.
Enzo didn’t miss a beat. Just kissed his temple and whispered, “I’ve never meant anything more. Look at how fucking gorgeous you are.”
Seven forced his gaze to the reflection and saw everything he didn’t want to believe. That Enzo could love him even when he was crying, even when he looked puffy or bloated or ugly. That maybe he didn’t have to break himself into pieces to be loved.
Seven bit back another sob as Enzo watched them, his eyes never leaving their reflection in the glass.
One hand slid up to tease at Seven’s nipple, while the other—finally—closed around his neglected cock, stroking him with purpose.
Seven moaned, eyes rolling as he tried to fuck up into Enzo’s fist, then down onto his cock.
His head tipped back, mouth parted, tears springing to his lashes—not from pain, but from everything. The way Enzo touched him, soothed him, fucked him, saw him…loved him.
Enzo’s mouth was all over him, teeth scraping his shoulder, lips mouthing at the column of his neck as he drove into him at a frantic pace.
“So fucking wet,” he grunted, using the leaking fluids to ease the glide of his hand. “I can feel how close you are, but don’t you dare come until I say.”
Seven made a sad sound in the back of his throat. “I can’t—I can’t—don’t stop. Please. Want to feel you come inside before I do. Please, Daddy,” he panted.
“You beg so sweetly when you’re close to getting what you want, but the rest of the time, you’re such a brat,” Enzo said through gritted teeth, driving up into him while Seven continued to babble nonsense at him.
“Wanna come. Please,” he begged, immediately proving his point. “So close. Please, Daddy.”
Enzo released something akin to a snarl, hips stuttering as he found his release, jerking Seven as he filled him up, grinding against him like he was marking him from the inside out. “Now, you can come.”
The words lit up his nerves like tinder, flaring fast, hot…uncontrollable, like a house fire in a glass room. He shattered against Enzo’s hand, pulse stuttering, tears leaking unchecked as his body gave in, drowning in the pleasure overtaking him.
Seven collapsed into Enzo’s arms, boneless, weightless. He didn’t realize he was still crying until Enzo started wiping at his tears with the side of his hand.
“You’re okay, baby. You did so well. I got you.”