Page 7 of Owed to the Billionaire

“Vincent.” I reminded him.

“I haven’t done anything!” He pleaded.

“No, you haven’t, but I told your brother I’d punish you for his actions.” I got up and helped him do the same. He was so shaky and scared, he barely resisted. “Bend over the bed, Michael.”

“Vincent…., please…,” he tried persuading me with tears rolling down his pale cheeks. “He won’t know.”

“But I would and so would you. Now, do as I say before I double your punishment.” I tried sounding harsh, as he looked at me, seeming so helpless and lost that my heart shrank in my chest and my dick swelled in my pants. Damn, I’m a sick bastard.

The boy moved slowly, as if he was walking straight to the slaughterhouse, bending over the bed with that sweet ass just begging to be fucked. Get a hold of yourself, Vincent. I rolled up my sleeves, getting a good grip on the crop. Today is business.

“Take a deep breath, Michael, and count the strikes. Can you do that?”

The boy did as told, shaking uncontrollably and closing his eyes in anticipation.

As I landed the first blow, he cried out in pain, panting heavily, more scared than hurt. His soft, delicate skin marked so beautifully I just wanted to get down and kiss it. Instead, I slapped it hard with my hand. Michael jumped, startled. “Did you forget something?”

“One…. I’m sorry.” He struggled.

The second blow struck harder, followed by a third and a fourth. “Two…., Three…, Four….!” Michael whimpered, holding on to the covers. Good boy…. You’re doing so well….

When I landed the fifth over an already sore area, his skin broke slightly, bringing tears to his eyes. “Five!”

Number six came harder than the one before, and so did the following two strikes.

His reddened bottom took a shade of blue as thick welts spread from his lower back to his thighs. By the ninth blow, Michael was silently crying, and my cock was as swollen as his arse.

“Ten….” he trembled, slipping to the ground.

Dropping the crop, I scooped him up from the floor and onto the bed. I knew he could perfectly do it himself, but I craved touching him, kissing his damped forehead….

I expected him to reject me but, instead, he laid his head on my chest and…., what the fuck? Did he just wrap his arm around me? My boner disappeared instantly and, in its place, I felt the urge to comfort him.

Chapter 6

Michael.

I lay uncomfortably on my side, weighed down by fear and grief. In less than 24 hours, I had been taken from my home, sexually assaulted, locked in a gilded cage, and beaten by the one man who could also protect me from his own men. It was all so confusing. I wanted to hate Salvatore, but we owed him a fortune—money some people would kill for. He had every right to demand it back from us. From us? From Ryan!

Ryan… this is all your fault. Why did you have to get into so much trouble? I could’ve just taken a job!

Yes, I could’ve taken a job, but I didn’t. I let him handle everything, despite knowing his poor decision-making skills. This was all my fault. Burying my head in my hands, I closed my eyes in regret as tears ran down my face again. I was crying a lot lately.

It’s all my fault.

The door opened, ripping me out of my thoughts with a halt. Vincent walked in once more, looking sharp but slightly more relaxed than before. That immediately put me at ease.

“I brought you some food,” he said, offering me a sandwich from his duffle bag. “There are some clothes here, too.”

His calm, soft tone made me feel grateful, and his kind smile seemed genuine enough to spark something I could not yet decipher. “Thank you, Vincent.” I took the food and covered myself with the blanket.

I ate my food in the uncomfortable silence of his presence. He watched me closely, but there was something different in his gaze—less menace, more curiosity. Maybe even concern.

“You don’t have to stay,” I said between bites, trying to sound indifferent.

Vincent shrugged, offering me the water. “I figured you might want some company. Being locked up in this room can be... lonely.”

His words hung in the air, and for a moment, I sensed a hint of vulnerability in his tone. “I guess,” I replied, unsure how to navigate this strange new dynamic. “It’s not like I have a choice, though.”

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