Page 27 of The Captive's Curse
“—and believe me, that never ends well for any—eep!” Everything spun again as he dropped onto a chair and flipped me over his lap, knocking the air out of me. “Oof! You, you savage,” I gasped, scrabbling for purchase, pushing off the floor and succeeding only in rutting against his thighs, all the blood rushing to my head, and I hated being upside down, kicking frantically, with my teeth clashing together—
His hand came down with an echoing crack.
The pain hit a second later. First it bloomed on the curves of my ass, and then it…then it…I let out a high, shaky moan as the sting arrowed between my cheeks and in, my hole clenching, the pressure making me—another strike, and the sensation doubled, my eyes watering and my body going rigid and then limp in waves.
Enzo spanked me on one side, and then on the other, his left hand clamped around my waist. Every strike ratcheted me higher, my balls drawing up tight, my insides twisting around an emptiness I’d never known I could feel without my curse actively trying to kill me.
I cried out with every strike, my cock hardening, trapped and crushed against Enzo’s legs until it hurt more than the spanking. Any strength I had to struggle drained out of me. My head and arms and legs hung down. When I opened my eyes, I focused my gaze on the join of a honey-colored floorboard and a mahogany one in the parquetry a few inches from my face. I blinked. The boards wavered.
One more spank to the middle of my ass, the force going straight between my cheeks, and I moaned, sobbed, and convulsed, my cock throbbing and soaking the placket of mytrousers. My magic crested at the same time, rushing over and through me, suffusing me with heady warmth. Every inch of my body pulsed with it, with pure pleasure.
But I was still so empty.
My temples throbbed with the force of my blood. If he left me here much longer it’d start to hurt. I certainly couldn’t move a muscle; they’d all turned to jelly.
Enzo’s hand on my waist flexed, fingers releasing their grip a bit. Gods, I’d have bruises there. They wouldn’t equal the soreness on my ass, though. It’d be flaming red, even though Enzo had left my trousers on.
I blinked at the floor, which spun blurrily in my vision.
A shimmering drop splashed onto the wood. Tears. Right. Those would make everything blurry, wouldn’t they?
Both of Enzo’s hands were sliding around me now, lifting me off of his lap at last. Thank the gods, because the pressure in my head had reached the point of pain, but I still moaned as he moved me and set me down, the blood running the other way and making me almost black out for a moment, disoriented,needinghim…
“Anything to say?” Enzo asked in a low, soothing rumble—but with the faintest edge of danger in it. He smoothed a hand over my ass and then gave it a firm, stinging squeeze. I tensed and whined, the sound thin and pathetic in the silence. “Maybe you want to tell me how inadequate I am in bed again? At greater length? Or complain about something else? Sow discord among my men? Dance naked on the battlements for an encore?”
I did actually want to do most of that, particularly the complaining part—especially about the heavy, clenching knot behind my balls, deep inside me, and how he hadn’t done anything to soothe it. My half-open eyes couldn’t quite focus. I panted in time with my heart’s frantic, skittering beat.
And my magic seethed, bubbling beneath my skin like an itch no fingers could reach.
Enzo could reach if he put his fingers or his cock inside me.
The surface under me dipped slightly, Enzo’s knee pressing up against my calf. I ran my hand over…a cushion. He’d put me on a sofa, or a chaise longue, perhaps. Flat enough and large enough to let me sprawl across it with only my feet hanging off, anyway. That seemed like an oddly luxurious piece of furniture for Enzo to keep in his dread lair, but he might be a secret sybarite.
Or he might simply need something conveniently sized for spanking and molesting his captives.
Thank the gods he’d at last begun the molestation part of the program, one hand busy with my trouser buttons and the other rubbing firmly in the crease of my ass, massaging me, probably enjoying the way I tightened and released over and over again.
“You’re already wet in front.” He slipped his big hand into the front of my loosened trousers and wrapped it around my spent cock and balls where they nestled in the come-soaked linen of my drawers. He worked me in his fingers, sending unbearable waves of too-sensitive shocks up my spine, and I curled in and moaned, knees digging into the chaise, my damp and parted lips catching on the fabric my face had been mashed against. “You’re going to be wetter when I’m done with you, front and back. Slick yourself up, Lord Cyril. Use that magic of yours.”
Oh, thank gods. I didn’t even have to try. The moment I gave my magic permission to do as it pleased, it arrowed straight down, suffusing my hole and the emptiness inside me, leaving me clean and slick all at once.
I squeezed my inner muscles. It made a faint squishing sound, and it felt like I was drenched.
My magic had possibly been overenthusiastic.
Enzo paused, his fingers still shoved between the clothed cheeks of my ass.
“It’s soaking through,” he said. “Fuck.”
Damn it. But at least I was wearing the same washed-but-stained trousers that’d been all muddy two days ago—and then Enzo let go of me, front and back, grasped the waist of my trousers and drawers on either side, and yanked them down with force. The damp linen rubbed roughly over my cock and balls, and it stung and made me cry out.
Even worse, I heard a seam rip even though the buttons were all undone.
He pulled my cheeks apart firmly, sending a shock all the way up my body. I shoved up on my elbows and yelped, squirming, the sensation of his callused fingers on my hot, tender skin nearly unbearable.
But he had me immobilized, with his weight between my legs and his big hands holding my torso in place. Trying to move only made my knees slip on the threadbare fabric beneath me and threaten to tip me right back down onto my face again. My head hung down, but at least I could get a breath and not feel quite so much like a bitch begging to be mounted.
“You have no idea how you look right now,” he said, low and intent. “Like I could slide right in balls deep without a hitch.”
