“What the hell are you?—”
“You heard what I said,” I tell him calmly, even as my hand comes down hard across his ass and his whole body jolts. The shock of it travels through him into me, so that I feel it in my thighs, in my palm, in the pretty bloom of pink that spreadsacross his skin. “That little toy between your legs belongs tome. Sometimes I might decorate it for company, like I did today.”
Another strike, harder, lower, catching the crease where his ass meets his thigh. He cries out, but his back arches, pushing into it even as he tries to squirm away.
“Sometimes I might even play with it myself.”
Another slap, this time across the backs of his thighs, where the skin is thinner and the sting much sharper. He hisses through his teeth.
“But whatever I choose to do with it, it’s still mine. When you’re alone. When I’m showing you off. It’smine, and you don’t touch it without permission—like you did this morning.” I give him the hardest spank yet, full palm across both cheeks, and he thrashes in my lap. “You need to learn your lesson, golden boy.”
“Please—I’m sorry—I won’t—” His words dissolve into a moan as I strike again at his reddened flesh. Heat radiates from his skin, and his muscles tense and release with each blow. The sounds he makes are desperate as he writhes around in my lap.
I pause, running my palm over the hot skin of his ass, feeling him tremble. His breathing is fast and shallow, and when I flick hard at a particularly red spot, he whimpers.
“You want to do better, don’t you?” I tell him. “And you’re learning. Aren’t you? Learning to be sorry.”
Another sharp slap, and his whole body jolts. This time I don’t miss the way his hips grind down against my leg, seeking friction that he won’t be able to find, thanks to the cock cage.
“Yes,” he pants out. “I’m sorry!”
“Sorry. For.What?” I punctuate each word with another spank. His skin is crimson now, hot to the touch, and each impact draws increasingly frantic sounds from his throat. “For touching what’s mine without permission? For showing off in front of Benedetti like you still matter? For forgetting that you’re my property now?”
His hips are moving now in a rhythm that has nothing to do with escape. His ass pushes up to meet each blow, red and hot under my palm, and the sounds he’s making have changed. Longer. Deeper. Sweat is glistening in the small of his back, and his hands twist in the bedsheet as another moan tears from his throat.
He goes rigid across my lap.
And I feel a hot flood soaking into my pants.
For one second, I think he’s pissed himself. But then a familiar and more welcome smell rises up…and I’m genuinely shocked. He came. From being spanked. While wearing a cage.
His body took all of that sensation and turned it into an orgasm.
And I’m so hard it’s painful.
This is not how it was supposed to go. But underneath the shock, something else rears up—hot, possessive,proud. I just pulled sounds out of Caligula Clemenza that no one else has ever heard. His orgasm happened undermyhand. Whatever that reaction was, it belongs to me alone.
“Well,” I say, forcing my voice level as my cock begs for attention in my now-damp pants. “We’re making progress. Youarelearning your place, aren’t you? Even enjoying the lesson.” I runmy palm over his hot skin as he shakes in my lap. “Youshouldenjoy it, golden boy. It suits you.”
He scrambles away from me the instant I release him, flattening himself up against the wall. His shoulders heave as he sucks in air, and his eyes are closed.
Just as well. Gives me a second to pull myself together.
“Nothing to say?” I ask, standing and straightening my clothes, giving atskof disgust at the mess he’s made of my pants. “No clever comebacks?”
The Clemenza doesn’t respond, doesn’t even open his eyes.
“Look at me.”
A sliver of honey appears between cracked lids. His gaze slides over me, up to my face.
“You forgot your manners along with your place,” I say. “Now tell me: what are you?”
A long pause. “Your property,” he says at last, cold as ice.
“Good boy. And what do you say when someone teaches you a lesson in respect?”
Another pause, even longer this time. But his voice is steady when he finally speaks. “Thank you, Damiano. You’ve taught me a lesson I won’t soon forget.”
