Page 70 of Gambler's Fallacy

Havoc’s body shakes with silent laughter. “That really gets you off, huh?”

“Seven is lucky I have the self control not to spread his legs right this second,” Caleb answers.

I’m not sure if I’m lucky or not. I want both. I want him inside of me, and I want him hurting me, and I want to know that uttering that single word can bring him so much pleasure.

I squirm, my ass higher as I silently beg for more.

“All right.” Caleb brings the crop down again, and the small break means this strike feels fresher, sharper.

“Eleven,” Havoc says.

I glance up in confusion. “I should?—”

He pets my head. “I’ll handle counting, Seven. You can enjoy and turn your brain off.”

I bite my bottom lip, unsure of what to think about that. Then I slowly lower my head again, letting him take over the counting as I drop into that space that only they can make me go.

Each subsequent stroke is harder, heavier, and I inhale sharply asthey land. The pain burrows its way beneath my skin, until it’s unignorable.

I deserve this, I remind myself.

I squeeze my eyes shut and brace myself for the next strike, the one that will bring me over the edge of pleasurable and straight into agony.

Stop crying, baby. We aren’t done yet.

The crop taps my ass softly.

“Do you want more, Seven?” Caleb asks.

No.

I can’t say that, can I? If I do… Won’t he be disappointed in me?

Won’t he hate me?

I stay silent, struggling to come up with the right words to say that won’t make him upset with me, hoping he’ll make the decision for me.

He doesn’t.

Enough time ticks by to where I realize he’s not going to, and I finally whisper, “I want… I want you to fuck me. I want Havoc to hurt me, to choke me. I want…” I wish Vortex was here, too, but I don’t deserve that. “I want to cry for you, Master,” I say instead. “Please.”

“Good job, pet,” Caleb says. He sets the crop down and trails his hand down my back. “How many did he take, Havoc?”

“Sixteen.” Havoc squeezes my hand. “You really got into it, Seven.”

I nod, feeling dizzy — confused, even, because it was so few strokes but I don’t feel like I need more, somehow. “I feel all floaty,” I tell him, the haze making it hard to continue, but I push on, “But I need you in me.Please,” I say again.

“I had every intention of it,” Caleb says. He reaches for the lube, and I know I should spread my legs for him and give him easy access, but my limbs feel so heavy, in a good way. Caleb directs my legs to splay wider and begins fingering me. There’s no familiar cold shock of lube, even—he’d warmed it up inhis hand first.

“I don’t think he can get on all fours,” Havoc says, but not in a mean way. He isn’t mad. If anything, he sounds awed by it.

I let out a sound that’s half-whimper, half-whine. No, I don’t think I could manage to stay up like they’d need me to, but I’m willing to try. I struggle halfway up, but Caleb firmly pushes me back down onto the bed until I’m sagging down against the covers again. I want them, both of them, but it feels next to impossible.

Caleb’s fingers penetrate deep, pushing insistently against my prostate, and I moan wantonly.

I’m glad they aren’t like the men who’d wanted me to stay quiet.

I’m glad they want me to feel good.

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