Pain licked at every inch of him. Pleasure coiled low and hot in his gut, blooming outward in waves. His asshole was on fire after twenty minutes … completely raw after forty minutes … longer, the lube he’d applied earlier long gone. Zander ordered three more orgasms from him like they were nothing, and Spence gave them to him, each one torn loose with a strangled cry, his body spasming under the onslaught.
When Zander’s voice dropped and commanded another, molten heat given in a cold order, Spence’s whole body shuddered. It took everything he had. Willpower, breath control, every shred of discipline he’d ever learned. He gritted his teeth and forced the orgasm from a body that had nothing left to give.
It tore through him dry — no fluid, just raw nerves firing, muscles seizing, his cock jerking against his own stomach in a rhythm of pure pain. The kind that left him gasping, chest heaving, mind dissolving into white static.
It hurt all the way to his soul, and it wasperfect.
The agony curled into his spine and sparked behind his eyes, but it was the kind of pain only the worthy got to feel. Only the owned.
And when Zander came inside him, his insides clenched around his Master’s cock. Zander poured into him with a growl that wasn’t human, a brutal flood of cold power thatfilled the emptiness. Spence whimpered a soft, broken sound, and held still for it. Let it brand him.
His Master’s release was Spence’s reward. His reminder he’s claimed and loved.
But vampires last forever, and Zander was in his faithful werewolf’s head, forcing yet another release, and this one continued long past what Spence could manage. The two came together in a brutal, tangled knot of limbs and need, Spence pinned beneath him, Zander driving in so hard the bedframe groaned, pounding until the vampire’s balls were empty and his shaft pulsed one last time inside the quivering mess of Spence’s body.
But it wasn’t over.
A giant, unforgiving plug pressed against his raw entrance. Spence whimpered, his tone high and sharp, his voice catching in his throat. He squirmed, hips twitching, instincts screamingnoeven as his heart whisperedyes. The pressure built. There was no gentleness, no patience, just the relentless push of something too big into a body already fucked far beyond measure.
He squealed and gave a full-body flinch, thighs trembling, muscles fighting the intrusion. But still, he tried to yield. Tried to submit. He knew it would go in with or without his surrender, but if he gave it, truly gave it, his vampire would know, and it would mean everything to both of them.
Total surrender. Total ownership.
Words Zander had once told him echoed in his head: As the root feeds the tree, and the tree gives shelter in return,theirs was a joining beyond description. A union that incorporates function, meaning, and love.
Belonging.
The owned and the owner, not halves of a whole, but co-creators of a single truth: One to command and another to obey. One to consume and the other to be consumed. One to protect, the other to bloom inside the protection.
And then the plug was in, and Spence relaxed into the true reward, being held in Zander’s arms with his lower extremities still on fire — a tangible, raw pulse that was proof he was owned and loved.
Not legally owned anymore, but emotionally. Chains of the heart.
Zander kissed the top of his head. “I feel it too, Dearest. Our hearts are connected, my strong, smart, loving wolf.”
A cool hand cupped his flank, both possessive and protective, fingertips brushing over the welts as if memorizing them by touch. Zander’s breath chilled the back of Spence’s neck, a silent intimacy that said more than words ever could.
Spence closed his eyes and let the words anchor him. Let the heat fade, the high linger, and the ache become the gift he’d craved.
It’d been a while since Zander had shared him with others, and he understood why that was, but…
“Sir?”
“Sleep, Dearest. I see your request. We’ll see what we can do. Perhaps an evening with Roman and I torturing afew slaves together and then sharing my beloved? Perhaps he’ll be easier to get along with after such an evening.”
“I love you, Sir.”
“And I love you, Dearest.Sleep.”
It was an order this time, so Spencer slept.
Chapter 8
Two days later, Spence unlocked the upstairs office, his mind on the early morning hours in the underground dungeon, both Roman and Zander using him at the same time, alternating who was in his mouth and who was in his ass while half-conscious slaves moaned and cried all around them, mounted on wooden ponies as they dripped blood from their countless whip marks, and they leaned forward and back, desperately trying to find relief Spence knew from experience wouldn’t come until they were let down from the torture devices.
Meanwhile, Spence was given orgasm after orgasm, all the pleasure the slaves hadn’t been allowed.
The slaves belonged to Roman, and he was a harsh owner — and that was just what Spence witnessed, which was likely only a portion of the pain they had to accept when they were alone with their Master.
