16. Milo
MILO
Maxim’s grip on my hand is firm, almost bruising, as he pulls me down the hallway toward a door I’ve never seen open before…
“Wait!” I holler, panic surging through me. “Maxim!”
My heart is hammering so hard I can feel it in my throat. The confrontation in the living room had been terrifying, his voice low and dangerous, eyes burning with suspicion. I’d sworn I didn’t know anything about a plot, but he hadn’t believed me.
Not fully.
Maybe not even at all.
Now Maxim stops in front of the locked door, punches in a code on a discreet keypad, and the heavy mechanism clicks open. He pushes the door wide and pulls me inside.
The room is dimly lit, windowless, and clearly designed for one purpose only…
Black padded walls, a padded bench, hooks and pulleys hanging from the ceiling, and a cabinet filled with implements I can only guess at.
My stomach drops. This is Maxim’s playroom.
Or his interrogation room.
Maybe his everything room.
“Maxim, please…” I start, but he’s already moving.
He tears my clothes off with ruthless efficiency: sweater yanked over my head, jeans shoved down my legs, briefs ripped away. I’m naked in seconds, shivering in the cool air but my insides are hot.
Before I can protest again, Maxim spins me around, pulls my wrists behind my back, and binds them with soft but unyielding rope. He hooks the rope to a pulley system on the ceiling and pulls until my arms are raised high, forcing me onto my toes.
I gasp, tugging instinctively.
The position arches my back, pushes my chest out, and makes my cock dance.
I’m completely exposed, vulnerable, and utterly at his mercy.
“I don’t know anything about a plot against you!” I cry out, voice shaking. “I swear, Maxim! I’m not lying!”
But Maxim circles me slowly, like a predator examining prey. His eyes are dark, unreadable. “You’re a Lentini,” he says flatly. “You will have information I need. And you’re going to give it to me. One way or another.”
He selects a thick wooden paddle from the cabinet. The first crack against my ass makes me yelp, the sting sharp and immediate. He doesn’t hold back. Another swat, then another, painting my already-tender cheeks with fresh fire. I dance again on my toes, whimpering, tears pricking my eyes.
Between swats he attaches heavy nipple clamps. The bite is exquisite agony, sending jolts straight to my dick. I moan despite myself, shame flooding my face as I feel myself growing harder and harder by the second.
Maxim steps behind me again and presses a lubed, buzzing vibrator against my ass hole. The sudden intense vibration makes my knees buckle. I cry out, bucking backward, chasing the pleasure even as the paddle comes down again.
“Please… I don’t know anything… I swear…”
Maxim pushes the vibrator dee inside my ass and leaves it there, buzzing away.
He then proceeds to edge me mercilessly.
Every time I get close—thighs trembling, moans turning into desperate sobs—he pulls the vibrator out for just about long enough for the moment to pass before driving it back inside.
The paddle lands.
The clamps are tugged.
The vibrator goes again.
I’m a mess of pain and need, tears streaming down my face, my cock leaking onto the floor.
Finally, I break.
“Okay! Okay, please… I overheard something!” I moan.
“But it was before I was handed over… I heard my mother talking to Paolo. They said the truce was leverage. That they could use it to get a better deal with the cartel. That’s all I know, I swear!
I didn’t tell you because I was scared and honestly I hadn’t put two and two together. ”
Maxim is silent for a long moment. Then he steps close, his body heat surrounding me.
“Thank you for telling the truth,” Maxim murmurs, voice softer now. He removes the clamps, making me cry out as blood rushes back into my aching nipples. Then he presses the vibrator firmly inside me again, right onto my G-spot, this time without pulling away.
“Cum for me, malysh. Let it all out.”
The orgasm crashes over me like a tidal wave. I scream, body convulsing as I shoot my seed, covering the floor beneath me. Wave after wave rips through me until I’m shaking, moaning like an animal, barely able to stand.
Maxim catches me as the rope is released, lowering me gently into his arms. He carries me to the padded bench and holds me close, stroking my hair as I come down.
“Good boy,” he whispers. “My good boy.”
I cling to him, exhausted, relieved, and still trembling. The interrogation is over.
For now.
Later that evening, I’m curled up on the thick rug in the living area, Nintendo controller in hand, lost in the gentle world of Animal Crossing.
The soft music and cheerful villagers help quiet the storm still swirling inside my chest after everything that happened in the playroom.
My body feels pleasantly sore in all the right places, and there’s a deep, satisfied calm settled over me like a warm blanket. I take a slow sip from my mug of warm milk with chocolate sprinkles—Maxim made it for me earlier without me even asking—and let the sweetness soothe the last of my nerves.
The apartment is quiet except for the gentle hum of the game and the occasional rustle of pages as Maxim works on his laptop nearby. For the first time in what feels like forever, I feel… serene.
Safe.
Like maybe I can just exist here without constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop.
But when Maxim closes his laptop and walks over to me, my stomach tightens with instinctive fear. I pause the game and look up at him, heart racing.
After the interrogation, the edging, the intense orgasm that left me squirting and sobbing in his arms… I’m still raw. Part of me is still waiting for the next wave of suspicion or punishment.
Instead, Maxim lowers himself onto the rug beside me, long legs stretching out. His hand comes to rest gently on my back, rubbing slow circles.
“You look peaceful,” he says, voice low and warm. “I’m glad.”
I swallow, searching his face. “You’re… not mad anymore?”
Maxim shakes his head. “I was never mad. But I have responsibilities. As Pakhan, I have a duty to my family. I’m grateful you chose to tell me the truth.
It took courage. And the truth is, a part of me always suspected Paolo’s truce wasn’t fully legitimate in its intentions.
Men like him don’t make deals without multiple exit strategies and ulterior motives. ”
Maxim’s words settle over me like a balm. I lean into his touch, letting some of the tension melt from my shoulders.
“What will happen to me if you and Paolo go to war?” I ask quietly, almost afraid of the answer.
Maxim pulls me closer until I’m half in his lap. He sits with his back against the couch, one arm wrapped securely around my waist.
“You are mine now, Milo. You belong with me. That doesn’t change, no matter what happens between our families.”
A warm glow spreads through my chest at his words. Mine. The possessiveness should scare me, but instead it makes me feel anchored. Wanted. Safe in a way I’ve never been before. But then reality crashes back in.
“Paolo is still my uncle,” I whisper, conflicted. “He’s family.”
Maxim’s hand strokes my hair. “I know. And that makes this difficult for you. But if war comes, I will have no choice but to kill him. Business is business. Blood feuds don’t spare anyone, not even family. You need to understand that. And I’m sure you know that is true deep down too.”
I nod slowly, even as my stomach twists.
Part of me wants to argue, to beg for another way. But another part—the part that has seen how this world really works—knows he’s telling the truth.
I rest my head against his chest and breathe him in, letting the steady beat of his heart calm me.
“I understand,” I say softly. Internally, the conflict still rages, but for now I push it down. There’s nothing I can do about it tonight. “I really do understand.”
Maxim kisses the top of my head. “It’s time for bed. Let me bathe you first. I want you nice and warm before a good night’s rest.”
I sigh in a breezy relaxation as Maxim stands and scoops me up effortlessly, carrying me toward his master bathroom. I wrap my arms around his neck, feeling small and cared for.
The huge soaking tub is already filling with steaming water when we arrive. Maxim adds bubbles and a few rubber ducks from a basket I didn’t even know existed, bright yellow ones with little crowns.
The sight makes me giggle despite everything.
He undresses me slowly, reverently, then lowers me into the warm water. I moan lightly as the heat envelops me, bubbles tickling my skin.
Maxim rolls up his sleeves and kneels beside the tub. He washes me with gentle hands, soaping my arms, my back, my legs. When he reaches my shoulders, he begins a slow, thorough massage, thumbs working out the knots I didn’t even realize were there.
I moan softly, melting under his touch. “That feels so good, Daddy…”
“You carried a lot of tension today,” Maxim murmurs. One of the rubber ducks floats past my cock and he flicks the duck away playfully, making me laugh. “Let me take care of you.”
The tenderness after the intensity of the interrogation is overwhelming. Tears prick my eyes, but they’re happy ones. I lean back against the edge of the tub as Maxim continues the massage, his strong hands working magic on my neck and shoulders.
The bubbles smell like vanilla and lavender.
The rubber ducks bob cheerfully around me.
For a little while, the outside world… the cartel, the truce, the threat of war… it all feels very far away.
When I’m thoroughly relaxed and pink from the heat, Maxim helps me out, wraps me in a huge fluffy towel, and carries me to his bed. He tucks me in, then slides in beside me, pulling me close.
“Thank you,” I whisper, nuzzling into his chest. The words feel right. Important. “Thank you, Daddy.”
Maxim’s arms tighten around me. I can feel his smile against my hair.
“Sleep, little one,” he says softly. “I’ve got you.”
With his heartbeat steady under my ear and the warmth of his body surrounding me, I drift off feeling safer than I ever have.
Maybe life as a Kovalev might be what I’ve been searching for all along…