"Listen to those sounds he's making," Marco murmured, his lips brushing against my throat. "Our little prince loves being filled, doesn't he? Made for it."
I wanted to deny it, but Stefano chose that moment to crook his finger, finding that spot inside me that made coherent thought impossible. A broken moan escaped my throat as pleasure jolted through me, my cock jerking against my stomach. It was like he'd located a hidden button labeled Destroy Leo's Dignity and was gleefully pressing it on repeat.
"M-more," I gasped, my body taking full control of my mouth. "Please, Daddy, more. Need… bigger. Fuller. More… everything. My omega biology is… staging revolt. Demanding… complete surrender. Traitor cells… everywhere."
Stefano rewarded my begging with a second finger, the stretch burning in the best possible way as he scissored them inside me, preparing me for something my conscious mindrefused to acknowledge but my body eagerly anticipated. My hole greedily swallowed his digits, clenching around them like it was afraid they might escape if not properly restrained.
"So tight," he murmured, his free hand sliding up my inner thigh to cup my balls with gentle possession. "So perfect. Taking Daddy's fingers so well."
His praise hit something deep inside me, something that responded to the approval like a starving man to food. My omega biology—that traitorous parasite that had been cheerleading this assault from the beginning—practically purred under the attention. I was developing a praise kink in real time, my body's reward centers lighting up like a Christmas tree at each "good boy" and "so perfect."
Marco's mouth trailed down my chest, pausing to lavish attention on each nipple before continuing its journey southward. When his lips finally closed around my cock, taking me deep in one smooth motion, my back arched off the pillows with a strangled cry.
The dual sensation—Stefano's fingers working inside me while Marco's throat constricted around my length—was too much to process, my nervous system completely overwhelmed. All I could do was whimper, my hands clutching desperately at the sheets beneath me like they could somehow anchor me against the tsunami of pleasure threatening to sweep away whatever remained of my sanity.
"Do you have any idea," Stefano said conversationally, as if he weren't currently two fingers deep inside me while Marco swallowed my cock, "how perfect you look right now? Spread out for us, taking everything we give you, begging for more?"
I couldn't answer even if I wanted to, not with Marco's lips wrapped around my cock and Stefano's fingers hitting that spot inside me with unerring precision. My world had narrowed to points of contact, to wet heat and stretching fullness andthe edge of an orgasm I shouldn't have been capable of after coming so many times already. If my reproductive system had a suggestion box, I'd be filing a complaint about unrealistic performance expectations and inadequate recovery periods.
"I think we need to make sure you remember who you belong to," Stefano continued, his fingers curling inside me in a way that made stars explode behind my eyelids. "Make sure your body never forgets, even when that clever mind tries to deny it."
Matteo appeared at my head again, his hands framing my face as he leaned down to claim my mouth. The kiss was different from Marco's—more methodical, more thorough, as if he was cataloging every response for future reference. His tongue pushed past my lips in rhythm with Stefano's fingers, creating a sense of being penetrated from both ends that made my head spin.
I was surrounded, consumed, owned from every angle. There was no escape from the pleasure they were forcing on me, no defense against the coordinated assault on my senses. They'd studied the blueprint of my nervous system and were exploiting every vulnerability with military precision.
When Matteo finally released my mouth, I was sobbing—tears leaking from the corners of my eyes as pleasure built to unbearable heights. "Can't," I managed, my voice breaking on the word. "Too much… can't… Human bodies aren't… designed for this. Nervous system… overloading. Blue screen of death… imminent."
"You can," Stefano assured me, adding a third finger alongside the first two, stretching me wider, pushing deeper. "And you will. Your body knows what it needs, even when you fight it."
The third finger burned, but in a way that somehow transformed directly into pleasure, my nerve endings apparently completely confused about which sensations were which.Marco's mouth worked my cock with devastating skill, his tongue finding all the spots that made me see white, while Stefano's fingers maintained a rhythm that had me teetering on the edge of what felt like the most intense orgasm of my life.
"Gonna… can't… please," I babbled, beyond coherent speech, beyond thought, beyond anything but sensation. "Need… come… please… My brain is… melting. Vocabulary… extinct. Only… feeling… nothing else."
"Not yet," Stefano commanded, his fingers slowing inside me, denying me the friction I desperately needed. "Not until you tell us who you belong to."
With a nod from Stefano, Marco released my cock, leaving me gasping at the sudden loss. Both alphas began repositioning me, flipping me onto my stomach with the pillows now elevating my hips, presenting my ass at the perfect height. I was being rearranged like human furniture—the expensive omega coffee table, now in spanking position.
"Wha—no—stop—" My protest cut off on a shocked gasp as Stefano's hand connected with my right ass cheek in a sharp slap that echoed through the tent.
"Count," he commanded, his voice dropping to that register that made my spine tingle despite my outrage.
"F-fuck… you," I snarled, the words slurring together as I tried to glare over my shoulder. "Not… counting… sh-shit… This isn't…Sesame Street. Not… teaching numbers… to preschoolers. Won't… participate… own humiliation."
The second slap landed on my left cheek, harder than the first, the sting radiating outward in a way that shouldn't have felt good but somehow did. My cock, trapped beneath me against the pillows, throbbed traitorously in response. Apparently, my ass had developed a direct neural pathway to my arousal centers, bypassing all normal pain processing.
"That's two," Stefano said calmly. "You've forgotten to count both. Shall we start over? Or perhaps add extra for your disobedience?"
"Shove… extra… ass," I managed, fragments of threats spilling out between gasps. The words sounded pathetically weak when my body was responding so eagerly to his discipline. "You can… take… counting and—FUCK!"
The third strike landed with brutal force at the crease where ass met thigh, a particularly sensitive area that sent electricity shooting straight to my cock. The sensation hit like a lightning strike, pain transforming into pleasure through some alchemical process my science education had failed to cover.
"Th-three," I gasped involuntarily, the number forced from me by sheer shock. "You… psycho… gonna… kill… when regain… motor functions. Death by… household objects… your future."
Instead of anger, Stefano's response was to lean down and press his mouth against the spot he'd just struck. The contrast between the sharp pain and the sudden wet heat of his tongue made me jerk against the pillows with a strangled cry that contained no actual words. My linguistic abilities had packed their bags and left for vacation, leaving behind only animal sounds and half-formed expletives.
"Such colorful attempts at language," he murmured against my heated skin, his breath cooling the wetness he'd left behind. "But I don't hear gratitude, little prince."
"Grat—? Delu—? Fuck…" My broken attempts at coherence dissolved completely as his teeth grazed the sensitive flesh. "Hell… freeze… Satan… ski… vacation. Universe… joke… my expense."
