The Flesh Cartel #6: Brotherhood

school had been an awkward, fumbling disaster; he’d had no idea what to do or that women were so complicated and he’d come in like four seconds and couldn’t even bear to look at her again. And he’d only ever had one girlfriend in college, and frankly he hadn’t felt very good at the whole beinga-boyfriend thing, and they’d slept together exactly twice before she’d kissed him on the cheek and called him sweet, for fuck’s sake, and wished him luck and left him. Maybe he should have just been a passive gay guy from the get-go. Let himself be pursued and petted and bent over furniture and posed just so.
God, this was so much fucking easier.
“I know,” Nikolai replied. Had Dougie seriously spoken aloud again? How much? All of it? Serena Chang? Had he said her name?
But at least he was hard now, although it was more than a little troubling that he couldn’t remember if it was Serena Chang’s tits or the thought of being posed and petted that had made the difference. Or maybe just the simple absence of pain. It’d been so long . . . so long he scarcely remembered a time before it, a time when life hadn’t been all misery and humiliation and suffering.
Nikolai stroked the worry away with deft fingers, and Dougie moaned. No artifice there, though he’d have faked it for Nikolai if it hadn’t come naturally. After God knew how many days of relentless stimulation, terrible hunger never quite quelled by the pain of his cock trying to swell in a tiny plastic cage, being free and being touched and being hard felt so damn good. Like he was human again. Like all the agony and humiliation and terror of the past weeks had never even happened, like he mattered to someone who wanted to make him feel good. Like being with a lover, almost, so natural and easy and right and he needed this, needed it desperately, threw his head back and splayed his legs and fisted the sheets and let words tumble from his lips as they may, to hell with what he was saying or who he was saying it to or where he was or what he was doing or—
The hand stopped. Two hands, he realized now—one curled loose around his throbbing cock, and two or three fingers of the other nestled in his ass, filling that strange aching emptiness left by the absence of the plug. After days of suffering such abject misery with the plugs, it amazed him now to want anything inside him, to realize how fantastic those fingers felt. And though it shamed him, he squirmed a little, tried to get them to move again, to press where he needed them.
Nikolai tsked. “You’re becoming complacent, Douglas. I enjoy the sight of your pleasure and knowing I control it, but you mustn’t bask too deeply. Pleasure is a gift from your master to be enjoyed, but your job is always to remember that he is to be the center of your universe, even at those times he lets you believe you’re at the center of his.”
Please don’t be mad please don’t be mad I can’t go back to that plug and that cage and the milking I can’t . . . “Yes sir, I’m sorry sir,” Dougie stuttered. Yet despite the worry and the fear, he couldn’t fight the rolling of his hips, trying to urge Nikolai’s fingers deeper. “Please, tell me how . . . What do I . . . to make you . . .?”
“Remind me of my power, Douglas. Beg me. Ask me for my gifts. Be specific. For example: would you like me to touch your prostate now?” He did, just a little brush, but God, it filled Dougie’s head with fireworks. And then it was gone again, fingers still inside him but no longer pressing where he needed them. “Or would you like me to touch your nipples? Your balls? Would you like me to suck you?”
Oh. God, Dougie would never have thought—
“Would you, sir? Would you suck me?” God, a second ago he’d been so afraid Nikolai would punish him again; how could he have been so wrong? “I thought because . . . well, I thought since I’m a . . . since I’m . . .” Say it. Say it for him, he wants to hear it. Make him happy. Give in. “Since I’m your slave, sir, I thought I’d only be sucking you.”
“And most of the time, you’d be right. But some masters enjoy pleasuring their slaves. Some masters derive their own pleasure from sucking cock or eating ass or being penetrated. For you, these acts are subservient. For me, they are just one more way for me to take my pleasure from my property, just one more way for your body to be mine.”
Amazing how little those words hurt, amazing how little they