“Both. I bought a toy online and I tried it out, but…” I squeeze my eyes shut until his fingers dig in, and I open them again. “I didn’t like it. It hurt.”
“And what you’ve got in there now, does it hurt?” His free hand slides down my spine.
I swallow, my throat moving against his palm. “Not at all. It’s delightful.”
He gives a faint huff of laughter. “You Clemenzas. Always lying.” He bends me forward, forcing my upper body down until my forehead nearly touches the cold metal of the mirror. “Look at yourself,” he tells me. “And open your legs. Wider.” He actually kicks my feet open.
I suck in a deep breath and remind myself who I am. Clemenzas don’t cry. And we don’t show when it hurts.
I stare with unfocused eyes so my face is as unfamiliar as everything else in this house. I force my expression to harden, to show nothing, and open my legs even wider.
“Good boy,” he murmurs, and the praise slithers through me, a warm poison of something shameful but enjoyable unfurling low in my belly. I hate that I respond to it—hate that some broken part of me craves approval from a man likethis.
His fingers trace down my spine again, slowly, deliberately. I know where he’s headed, so I don’t flinch when he slides between my cheeks and grasps the base of the plug.
“This thing’s been in for hours. So, as much as you might beenjoyingit, it’s time for it to come out.” But he doesn’t remove it. He twists it, watching my face. “Tell me how it feels.”
“Like I’ve been fucked over by life,” I say coolly, even as my cock strains painfully in its cage, the metal biting into sensitive flesh as I harden against my will. What the hell is wrong with me? It has to be physiological. Just a physical reaction to stimulation.
Right?
His smile is dark. “You’re real funny. You know that?” He gives the plug a slow, deliberate twist that makes my knees quake, then carefully begins to withdraw it.
The sensation is intense. I hold my breath to keep from making any sound as he pulls it free, stretching me almost unbearably before it pops out entirely. The sudden emptiness leaves me feeling strangely hollow.
He sets the plug aside on a towel, then his hands return to me. “I need to check you’re not damaged,” he says matter-of-factly, like he’s a doctor conducting an examination. One finger traces around my asshole, checking the rim, and I shiver at the intimate touch. “Last goddamn thing I need is to deal with injuries on day one.”
His finger doesn’t stop. It presses forward, sliding into me with ease, and I swallow hard at the intrusion. It’s different from the plug—warmer, more flexible, more…
Human.
But this is no human. This is a beast in disguise.
“Relax,” he says when I tense up. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
The finger moves deeper, methodical, exploring. His hand stills—just a minute pause, a hesitation so brief I might have imagined it.
And then he touches something inside me that makes my entire body jolt. “Fuck!”
“There we are,” he says, and touches that spot again, just a gentle press—but I nearly collapse.
I’ve never felt anything like this. The toy I bought never got anywhere near this deep. All those times Jesse held court in clubs about how incredibly sensitive his P-spot was, I assumed he was performing.
He was not performing.
And this thick-fingered thug massages me without hurry, watching my face in the mirror like he’s reading a manual. I can’t stop shaking.
“What—what are you—” I can barely form words.
“I’m learning you, Caligula,” he says. “Just like you’ve been trying to learn me.”
Damn it. He’s not as stupid as I hoped he was.
“What does it feel like?” he asks.
I just shake my head, no words coming to me. My brain is starting to short out.
His other hand squeezes the back of my neck. “You answer me when I ask you a question.”
