The Flesh Cartel - Episode #4: Consequences

from the bathroom, which he then put in a hamper and not in
    Dougie’s mouth.
    Dougie didn’t move. Didn’t dare. Just stayed kneeling at the foot of that chair, watching Nikolai
    come and go, silently waiting for whatever abuse was next. Nikolai had said the training could be
    done painlessly if he cooperated, but Dougie had a hard time believing the man, and a harder time
    accepting that the pathetic excuse for a blowjob he’d given was even remotely close to meeting
    Nikolai’s standards.
    It was the punishment he was afraid of. That was why he cared so much about the piss-poor
    blowjob. Why he was so angry at himself now. Not out of any genuine need to please Nikolai. He
    didn’t want to give good blowjobs—he just didn’t want to suffer the consequences of giving bad
    ones.
    We’ll practice every day , Nikolai had said. To comfort him? Threaten? Dougie didn’t know.
    Didn’t know what was intent, what was perception, what was paranoia. He was all messed up. He
    wished Mat were here. To talk to, if nothing else.
    Who the fuck was he kidding. He could never tell Mat any of this. It was too humiliating and
    shameful to ever share, even with the one person who was going through the same thing. Mat wouldn’t
    have begged Nikolai to tell him how to avoid pain. Not even for pretend.
    And what if it’s not pretend? What if you’re just a coward ?
    A coward, yes. Afraid of pain, afraid of punishment. That’s why he was so eager to do as he was
    told. To satisfy this strange, inscrutable man. Cowardice. Much more palatable than the possibility
    that Madame’s brutes had broken something in him already, something fundamental and critical and
    irreparable, something that might make Nikolai’s mock-kindness inspire . . . what? Loyalty in him?
    Obedience?
    No. None of that. He was just fucking terrified . But he’d be okay. He was still him . And he damn well meant to stay that way, whatever it took.
    “On your feet now, little pet. It’s time to show you your new home.”
    Please don’t be a dog cage.
    He was standing before he’d finished that thought. Afraid. Just afraid . Besides, maybe wherever Nikolai was taking him, Mat would be there.
    How long would he keep thinking that and winding up disappointed before he finally gave up?
    Never. I can’t ever give up on Mat, or I’ve already lost.
    If that happened, he might as well start talking in third person and crawling on all fours
    permanently. Cut off his own balls. God, if someone had asked him a month ago how best to debase
    him, he’d probably have said, “Call me short.” Look how creative he was now.
    He followed Nikolai down a hallway, through a sitting room. The house was beautiful, looked
    comfortably lived in for all its impeccable neatness. No time to study it, though; Nikolai moved
    quickly, never looking back, as if one hundred percent confident that Dougie was following behind.
    Obeying. Good dog. Heel.
    It made Dougie sick.
    Or maybe that was just how hungry and thirsty he still was.
    Nikolai unlocked a door and led him down a long flight of stairs. Into the basement—how fitting.
    It still felt like a house , though—not that cold, industrial sterility of Madame’s facility, like a hospital or a prison or some sick mix of both. Hardwood floors. Richly colored, tastefully painted walls.
    Artwork, even. No blood. No screaming.
    Locks on all the doors, though. Nikolai opened one for him and led him into . . . a bedroom suite?
    There was a double bed made up immaculately. A dresser. A little table and two chairs. Tastefully
    appointed. Nice, actually. Like a fancy hotel.
    Well, except for the straps on the bed. And the dog kennel in one corner. And the total absence of
    windows. Okay, a fancy hotel for weird perverts.
    No sign of Mat.
    “Normally,” Nikolai said, and the sound of his voice startled Dougie into falling to his knees, “I
    would take this first meal with my pet. But normally, my attentions aren’t stretched so thin as they are with you and your brother. And I’ve left your brother unattended for long enough, I’d say. So I’d like
    you to wait here for now. Someone will be by with food and drink for you. In the meanwhile,
    please”—a sweeping gesture that encompassed the large bedroom, the two closed doors Dougie
    assumed were to a closet and bathroom—“this is your space. Everything in here is for your use. For
    you to groom yourself to the highest standard in service to your master. For you to stay fit