Page 53 of Mafia Daddy

I’m completely exposed, vulnerable, and utterly at his mercy.

“I don’t know anything about a plot against you!” I cry out, voice shaking. “I swear, Maxim! I’m not lying!”

But Maxim circles me slowly, like a predator examining prey. His eyes are dark, unreadable. “You’re a Lentini,” he says flatly. “You will have information I need. And you’re going to give it to me. One way or another.”

He selects a thick wooden paddle from the cabinet. The first crack against my ass makes me yelp, the sting sharp and immediate. He doesn’t hold back. Another swat, then another, painting my already-tender cheeks with fresh fire. I dance again on my toes, whimpering, tears pricking my eyes.

Between swats he attaches heavy nipple clamps. The bite is exquisite agony, sending jolts straight to my dick. I moan despite myself, shame flooding my face as I feel myself growing harder and harder by the second.

Maxim steps behind me again and presses a lubed, buzzing vibrator against my ass hole. The sudden intense vibration makes my knees buckle. I cry out, bucking backward, chasing the pleasure even as the paddle comes down again.

“Please… I don’t know anything… I swear…”

Maxim pushes the vibrator dee inside my ass and leaves it there, buzzing away. He then proceeds to edge me mercilessly. Every time I get close—thighs trembling, moans turning into desperate sobs—he pulls the vibrator out for just about long enough for the moment to pass before driving it back inside.

The paddle lands.

The clamps are tugged.

The vibrator goes again.

I’m a mess of pain and need, tears streaming down my face, my cock leaking onto the floor.

Finally, I break.

“Okay! Okay, please… I overheard something!” I moan. “But it was before I was handed over… I heard my mother talking to Paolo. They said the truce was leverage. That they could use it to get a better deal with the cartel. That’s all I know, I swear! I didn’t tell you because I was scared and honestly I hadn’t put two and two together.”

Maxim is silent for a long moment. Then he steps close, his body heat surrounding me.

“Thank you for telling the truth,” Maxim murmurs, voice softer now. He removes the clamps, making me cry out as blood rushes back into my aching nipples. Then he presses the vibrator firmly inside me again, right onto my G-spot, this time without pulling away.

“Cum for me, malysh. Let it all out.”

The orgasm crashes over me like a tidal wave. I scream, body convulsing as I shoot my seed, covering the floor beneath me. Wave after wave rips through me until I’m shaking, moaning like an animal, barely able to stand.

Maxim catches me as the rope is released, lowering me gently into his arms. He carries me to the padded bench and holds me close, stroking my hair as I come down.

“Good boy,” he whispers. “My good boy.”

I cling to him, exhausted, relieved, and still trembling. The interrogation is over.

For now.

Later that evening, I’m curled up on the thick rug in the living area, Nintendo controller in hand, lost in the gentle world of Animal Crossing.

The soft music and cheerful villagers help quiet the storm still swirling inside my chest after everything that happened in the playroom.

My body feels pleasantly sore in all the right places, and there’s a deep, satisfied calm settled over me like a warm blanket. I take a slow sip from my mug of warm milk with chocolate sprinkles—Maxim made it for me earlier without me even asking—and let the sweetness soothe the last of my nerves.

The apartment is quiet except for the gentle hum of the game and the occasional rustle of pages as Maxim works on his laptop nearby. For the first time in what feels like forever, I feel… serene.

Safe.

Like maybe I can just exist here without constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop.

But when Maxim closes his laptop and walks over to me, my stomach tightens with instinctive fear. I pause the game and look up at him, heart racing.

After the interrogation, the edging, the intense orgasm that left me squirting and sobbing in his arms… I’m still raw. Part of me is still waiting for the next wave of suspicion or punishment.