⚠️ Warning: This Chapter contains graphic violence and abuse!

Salvatore let out a short, dry chuckle. He leaned back and crossed his legs. "Well, then. Good night."

Milo felt the heat in his face. He felt like a coward. He had been given a door to freedom, and he had slammed it shut himself. He wanted to cry. How stupid he was!

Milo, why?!!!

He stood up.

Nero spoke a little more before finally walking out.

Milo followed Nero without looking back.

The car ride was silent. Sean was driving; Nero was sitting next to Milo, keeping the young man still.

Milo stared out the window, watching the Portello estate disappear into the darkness.

Nero grabbed Milo’s chin and forced him to look at him. "What is that? So sad to leave?"

Milo shook his head vigorously. "No!"

Nero smiled. "Did you spend a lot of time with him?"

Milo nodded slowly. He answered carefully. "Y-yes. As you ordered."

"And? What did you see? Is he going to die soon?"

"No," Milo whispered. "I didn’t see anything. He won’t die in thirty days."

Nero nodded, satisfied. But then his eyes moved over Milo’s face. He noticed the way Milo’s lip was trembling. He leaned forward, making Milo hold his breath.

Nero noticed how clean Milo smelled. He must have had a good time there. A spark of jealousy lit up in Nero’s chest.

"Why are you so quiet? Hm?" Nero asked. His voice was soft and dangerous. He stroked Milo’s cheek with his thumb. "Scared? Or do you want to go back?"

Milo swallowed. "Ah... no. I’m sorry... I’m just... tired."

"Tired?" Nero’s hand moved down to Milo’s neck. He squeezed lightly. "Did you fuck him all day and night? Is that why you’re tired?"

Milo gasped for air. "No... I..."

He didn’t know what to say. There was no way he could tell him he’d spent the whole day helping the servants.

Nero reached for the buttons on Milo’s shirt.

"Take them off," Nero ordered.

Milo looked at Nero pleadingly. He looked at the back of Sean’s head. But he knew he couldn’t say no.

Milo trembled as he unbuttoned his shirt and pushed it off his shoulders. He felt the cold air from the car’s AC on his bruised skin. He then pushed his trousers down to his knees.

He sat there, naked and exposed on the leather seat, feeling the hum of the engine beneath him.

Nero didn’t look at Milo’s face. He looked at Milo’s body. He was looking for marks. He was looking for signs that someone else had touched his prize. He reached out and grabbed Milo’s manhood, squeezing it firmly.

"Tell me the truth, Milo," Nero whispered, his face inches from Milo’s. "Did he touch you? Did he put himself inside you?"

It was a trap question. Whatever he said, Nero would use it to punish him.

"Nero..." Milo cried out, his voice shaking. He wasn’t ready for this game.

Nero’s eyes darkened. He moved his hand to grab Milo’s leg and pull it over the seat. He used his fingers to pull Milo’s buttocks apart, inspecting the entrance.

He saw the redness there. He didn’t know if it was old irritation from his own use or if Salvatore had been there.

Nero growled. The thought of another man in his territory made him move with toxic rage. He thrust his fingers inside without lubricant.

Milo bit his lip to keep from screaming. He felt the familiar pain.

Nero moved his fingers inside him with a violent, jealous rhythm. He didn’t care about Milo’s screams. He only cared about possession. He marked Milo’s neck with his teeth, leaving deep bruises that would take days to heal.

"You are mine," Nero gasped, his breath hot against Milo’s skin. "Never forget that. You are the only one who can see my end, and I will be the only one who sees yours. Understand?"

Milo nodded quickly, holding himself still, trying not to cry.

_Hartley’s Mansion_

The bedroom door slammed shut, the sound echoing through the hallway. Nero didn’t let go of Milo’s arm. He dragged him across the room, his grip like a vice. Milo’s bare feet struggled to keep up, his body tense, feeling the chill of his nakedness, but he didn’t dare make a sound.

Nero shoved him onto the large, silk-covered bed.

Milo groaned softly, his body beginning to tremble, knowing what the man wanted.

"N-Nero..." Before Milo could even say a word, Nero was on top of him.

"What is it, Milo? Didn’t you miss me?" Nero smiled, making Milo hold his breath as the man kissed his neck.

"Shit, I hate smelling another man’s soap on your body," Nero said.

Milo closed his eyes. "P-please, Nero, I didn’t do anything more than what you ordered me to do." His voice was shaking.

"Who knows, you might enjoy it. Just the thought of it makes me sick."

Milo fell silent. He cursed the man. If he hated his body being touched by another man so much, why did he send him to Salvatore? Was he out of his mind?

But Milo knew Nero wasn’t in his right mind. And he had to endure the man’s madness.

Nero reached into the drawer of the nightstand by the bed and pulled out leather restraints.

Milo watched helplessly.

Nero smirked at the young man’s reaction beneath him.

"I know you love it," Nero said, smirking.

The headboard was custom-designed for Nero’s pleasure. He tied Milo’s hands above him with the restraints. Then he grabbed Milo’s ankles, pulling them up toward the headboard as well.

He worked quickly, clicking the leather restraints into place. Milo’s legs were pulled wide apart. His lower body was completely exposed, held open for anyone to see.

Nero crawled between Milo’s legs, hovering over him. He leaned down, pressing his face into Milo’s neck, then moved lower.

Milo tensed. He could feel Nero’s hardness pressing against his balls.

Nero licked Milo’s neck, then grabbed his arm, lifting it to open him wider. He sniffed it, licked the skin there, then bit down hard enough to leave a mark.

Milo groaned.

"Damn, you’re so clean," Nero whispered against his skin. "I’m sure you hated it, didn’t you?"

Milo’s breath was shallow. The position was already making his hips ache. He looked up at the ceiling, trying to ignore the way Nero was breathing over him. "I... I did."

He lied.

Nero moved back up to look Milo in the eyes. "Nobody will ever do the same things I do for you, Milo. Nobody will care for you like this. Salvatore didn’t even want to see you, did he? He just fucked you. He saw you as trash. But I don’t. I love you. You should be grateful you have me. You’re the only one who can touch me like this. Do you get how much I care about you?" 𝕗𝐫𝐞𝕖𝕨𝐞𝗯𝚗𝕠𝘃𝐞𝚕.𝐜𝗼𝚖

Milo hesitated. He didn’t respond right away. His hips felt like they were being pulled out of their sockets.

Nero saw it. His expression changed instantly. The fake warmth vanished. He reached out and grabbed a handful of Milo’s hair, yanking his head back.

Milo gasped.

"What is it? Do you disagree?" Nero hissed.

Milo held his breath, his eyes watering from the sharp pain in his scalp. "N-no! I’m sorry... I’m... I’m grateful. Thank you... Nero. Thank you for caring for me."

He was getting used to this pattern; he cursed himself.

Nero didn’t let go. He stared at Milo for a long time, looking for any sign of a lie. He hated that Milo had spent even a few hours out of his sight.

He looked down at Milo’s lower half. Because Nero was obsessed with cleanliness, he kept Milo perfectly hairless. Every part of him was smooth, pale, and marked with Nero’s previous bruises.

"I don’t like the idea of you being used," Nero said, his voice turning cold. "I need to make sure you’re clean. I don’t want any of his filth left inside you."

Nero reached into the bedside drawer. He pulled out a large, clear bag of warm water and a long silicone tube. Milo’s heart sank. He knew what was coming.

Nero spent the next few minutes preparing the enema. He inserted the tip roughly, ignoring Milo’s flinch, and let the warm liquid fill him.

Once the bag was empty, Nero grabbed a heavy, vibrating butt plug. He coated it in a thick lubricant and pushed it inside Milo with one hard thrust.

"Aargh!" Milo screamed.

"Hold it," Nero commanded. "Don’t you dare make a mess on my bed."

He sat back on his heels, watching Milo’s stomach bloat from the water.

An hour passed. To Milo, it felt like a year. The water inside him was heavy and causing cramps. Every time the plug vibrated, a sharp wave of pain shot through his gut.

His hands were clenched into fists, his knuckles white as he tried to keep the liquid from leaking out. Sweat poured down his face, soaking into the silk sheets.

"Please," Milo groaned, his voice shaking. "Nero, please. I-I can’t hold it anymore. It hurts. It hurts so much!"

Nero ignored him. He was scrolling through his phone, looking at a jewelry catalog.

"I’m never giving in to people again," Nero said, as if they were discussing the weather. "I hated every second of it. So, I’ve decided to make it clear that you belong to me. Permanently."

He leaned forward and pinched Milo’s nipple hard. Milo let out a choked cry, his body jerking against the restraints.

"Tomorrow, I’m calling Victor. We’re going to put rings on your nipples," Nero said. He moved his hand to Milo’s throat. "Then, a permanent collar. Something heavy and visible. Something everyone can see that you’re taken."

Milo couldn’t focus on the words. His lower body felt like it was going to explode. "Y-yes... whatever you want. But please, I can’t hold it..."

"And then, the next day, we’ll start the tattoos," Nero continued. He traced a line down Milo’s neck. "I want my name right here. And on your inner thighs. Maybe even right above your hole, so whoever looks at you knows exactly who owns you."

Nero looked at Milo with a sick, proud smile. "Do you love the idea, Milo? Tell me you love it."

Milo nodded frantically. He would say anything to make Nero stop. "I-I love it... I want your name on me. Anywhere you desire... please, just let me go."

Nero seemed satisfied. He leaned down and kissed Milo deeply, tasting the salt from his tears.

"Good boy," Nero whispered. He unlocked the restraints. "Go. Clean yourself. I want you back in ten minutes."

Milo tumbled off the bed. His legs were so numb and cramped that he fell to the floor first. He scrambled into the bathroom on his hands and knees. He spent the next several minutes in a blur of pain and shame.

When he finished, he stood in front of the sink. He looked at himself in the mirror. He saw the marks on his neck and the way his body was trembling. He looked like a mess.

That’s what you get when you’re too stupid and cowardly, Milo.

Milo felt his hands shaking. He stared at his body. He thought of the tattoos and piercings Nero had planned. Then the collar.

Shit...