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'smouth 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!
fourteen
. . .
"Mother of—" The curse dissolved into a strangled noise as the sting radiated outward, transforming from pain into something entirely different with each passing second. It was like watching a chemical reaction in real-time—pain molecules rearranging themselves into pleasure molecules through some sadistic alchemy that my body had apparently majored in while I wasn't paying attention.
Each blow sent electrical currents racing through my system, short-circuiting rational thought and replacing it with the kind of desperate need I'd spend the next six months denying ever existed. My cock throbbed against the mattress like it was trying to dig an escape tunnel, apparently under the impression that freedom lay somewhere beneath these obscenely expensive sheets.
"Six and seven," Stefano announced, his voice dropping into that register that made my spine tingle like I was receiving direct downloads from Alpha Central Command. "Look how beautifully our baby responds, Marco. Just like in the forest—pain becoming pleasure before our eyes."
Marco pulled back just enough to speak, his breath hot against my lips. "You're doing so well for your daddies, taking your punishment like the good boy we know you can be."
The praise hit something deep inside me, some pathetic, omega part that had apparently been waiting its whole life to hear those exact words from this exact alpha. A warm glow spread through my chest like I'd swallowed a tiny sun, entirely different from the heat between my legs but somehow connected to it by invisible threads of need.
"I'm not your good boy," I managed, though even I could hear how pathetic the protest sounded when I was practically melting into the mattress. "And you're not my daddies. You're just three alphas with too much time and money who've developed an unhealthy fixation on a captive omega. Pretty sure there's a documentary about people like you.Alpha Kings: The Dark World of Omega Collectionor something equally ominous."
