"Can't… more," I managed, though my cock was already twitching with renewed interest despite having come multiple times. My body's recovery time was becoming increasingly concerning, as if their presence alone was enough to override normal biological functions. "Impossible. Physically… defies… science. Medical miracle… multiple orgasms… male body… not designed… this frequency."
"Nothing's impossible," Stefano murmured against my ear, his hand sliding lower on my stomach, fingers ghosting over my half-hard cock. "Not when you belong to us."
The casual ownership in his words should have infuriated me. Instead, something deep and primal in my omega biology preened at the claim, a warmth spreading through my chest that had nothing to do with physical arousal and everythingto do with being wanted so completely. My inner omega was rolling over and showing its belly while my conscious mind tried desperately to maintain even a semblance of resistance.
"Made for this," Marco added, leaning forward to press a surprisingly gentle kiss to my forehead. "Made to take our pleasure, to be filled and claimed and owned by your daddies."
"Going to make you perfect," Matteo said, his amber eyes tracking every micro-expression that crossed my exhausted face. "Train your body to respond exactly how we want it to. Teach you how to please us and be pleased in return."
"One day," Stefano continued, his hand wrapping around my now fully hard cock despite the impossibility of it, "we're going to breed you. Fill this tight little hole with our seed until it takes, until you're swollen with our pups. Would you like that, baby? To be bred by your daddies?"
The words hit something primitive in my omega biology, something I hadn't even realized existed until that moment. My hole clenched desperately at the thought, fresh slick gathering despite my exhaustion. My reproductive system was apparently all-in on this breeding plan, sending enthusiastic approval signals while my brain tried to process the horror of what he was suggesting.
"No," I whispered, but my scent spiked with unmistakable arousal, betraying the lie. "Can't… not breeding… Not… baby factory. Person… with… life plans. That don't involve… miniature mafiosos… calling me… mama."
"Your body disagrees," Stefano said, his thumb circling the head of my cock, spreading the precum gathered there. "It knows what it was made for. Knows who it belongs to."
"Can smell it," Marco added, inhaling deeply as if to prove his point. "Your scent changes when we talk about breeding you. Gets sweeter, richer. Your omega knows exactly what it needs, even if you're not ready to admit it yet."
I closed my eyes, unable to bear the knowing looks on their faces, the evidence of how completely they'd dismantled my defenses. Multiple orgasms in, and they were already talking about breeding me, about owning me, about reshaping me to their specifications. The worst part wasn't even their presumption—it was how my body responded to it, eager and willing in ways my mind still fought against.
"Please," I whispered, though I wasn't sure what I was asking for. A reprieve? A continuation? "Need… can't… System… overloading. Circuit breakers… tripping. Need… something."
"What do you need, baby?" Stefano asked, his hand stilling on my cock. "Tell Daddy exactly what you need."
The question felt impossible to answer when I didn't even know myself anymore. My body was a stranger to me, responding to their commands and touches in ways I couldn't have imagined. My mind was a battlefield of conflicting desires—the need to maintain some independence warring with the craving for their approval, their touch, their possession.
"Need…" I swallowed hard, shame burning through me even as desire coiled tighter in my belly. "Need to come. Again. Please, Daddy."
The admission felt like the final surrender, the last piece of my resistance crumbling beneath the weight of their collective focus. Marco's smile was triumphant as he moved between my spread legs, his mouth descending on my cock without preamble. Matteo's fingers returned to my hole, pushing inside with less resistance than before, my body eagerly accepting the invasion like it had been designed specifically for alpha fingers.
Stefano held me against him, one hand splayed across my chest, the other tangled in my hair, holding my head at an angle that forced me to watch as Marco and Matteo systematically dismantled what remained of my sanity.
"Look at them," he murmured against my ear, his voice dark with possession. "Look how much they want you. How eager they are to taste every inch of what belongs to us."
I couldn't look away even if I wanted to, his grip in my hair ensuring I watched as Marco's lips stretched around my cock, as Matteo's fingers disappeared inside my willing body. The visual combined with the physical sensation was overwhelming, pushing me toward a precipice I wasn't sure I could survive falling from again.
"Can't… too much," I gasped, tears gathering in my eyes as pleasure built to impossible heights. "Please… can't…"
"You can," Stefano insisted, his teeth finding my earlobe, biting down with just enough pressure to send jolts of electricity racing down my spine. "And you will. Because you belong to us now, little prince. Every inch of this perfect body is ours to pleasure, ours to torment, ours to claim."
His words combined with Marco's mouth and Matteo's fingers pushed me over the edge into an orgasm so intense it felt like I was being torn apart and remade. My vision whited out, my body convulsing between them as pleasure crashed through me in devastating waves.
I might have screamed—I'm not sure—the sound lost to the roaring in my ears as my nervous system overloaded completely. When I came back to myself, I was limp in Stefano's arms, utterly spent and thoroughly broken. My body felt like it belonged to someone else—someone who'd been systematically dismantled and reassembled by three alphas with expertise in omega pleasure mechanics.
"Perfect," he murmured, pressing gentle kisses to my temple, my cheek, the corner of my mouth. "So perfect for us."
I couldn't respond, couldn't form coherent thoughts as the three alphas rearranged my boneless body with tender care. Stefano lifted me into his arms like I weighed nothing, carryingme from the main tent into a smaller one I hadn't noticed before. My limbs dangled uselessly, muscles having apparently filed for divorce from my central nervous system after the abuse they'd endured.
Inside, a large copper tub steamed with fragrant water, rose petals floating on the surface like something from a romantic fantasy rather than the aftermath of what felt like sexual warfare. Stefano lowered me gently into the water, the heat enveloping my aching muscles with blessed relief.
"We'll take care of you now," Marco promised, kneeling beside the tub, his hand cradling the back of my head to support me. "Let your daddies care for their good boy."
I should have protested the infantilizing language, should have maintained some shred of dignity after everything they'd reduced me to. Instead, I sank into the water, surrendering to their attention as they began to wash me with reverent care. My defiance had abandoned ship along with my vocabulary, leaving behind a soft, pliant omega who responded to gentle touches and quiet praise like a flower turning toward the sun.
Stefano's hands moved over my body with gentle thoroughness, soap-slick palms gliding across skin they'd marked and claimed throughout the night. Marco washed my hair, his fingers massaging my scalp with surprising tenderness. Matteo knelt at the foot of the tub, carefully cleaning between my legs where I was still sensitive and slick-covered.
The tenderness of their aftercare was almost more overwhelming than the brutal pleasure they'd forced on me earlier. There was something in their touch now—a reverence, a possessiveness that went beyond sexual—that made my chest ache with an emotion I refused to name.
