The Flesh Cartel - Episode #7: Homecoming

his legs out wide behind him. Nikolai lubed up the little plug and teased Douglas with it, stroking up and down his crack, pressing gently at his hole, rocking and thrusting in tiny increments until at last it breached him, slipped inside an inch at a time. Douglas gasped and wiggled, just a little, breath coming a touch faster, fingers curling in the sheet. Nikolai fucked him with the plug for a moment, just long enough to make the boy’s hanging cock twitch, then seated the plug inside him fully, watching Douglas’s hole clench around the narrow neck, pulling the base in tight.
    “See?” he said when he was done. “Tell me how that felt.”
    “N-nice, sir,” Douglas said, voice taut, as if the admission had been ripped from his throat. “Scary at first, but then nice.”
    “That’s right. The plug has no inherent meaning or value. I’m sorry I had to build a negative association in you at all, but now is the time to correct it. It’s just a tool, Douglas. A tool to teach you an important and painful lesson, and now a tool to teach you a pleasant and reassuring one. Because for now, no man but me will fuck you, and when I choose to fuck you, your hole will be hungry and ready for me.” He grabbed Douglas by the hip and pulled him upright, then back, until he was nearly off balance. Pressed his lips to the curve of the boy’s lower back. “For me and only me,” he whispered huskily against Douglas’s skin. “And lest you get too worked up before I’m ready for you . . .”
    He stood, returned to the chest of drawers, and retrieved the little silicone cock cage he’d locked the boy in for so long before. This time upon seeing what Nikolai had in hand, Douglas actually did take a step back. But he caught himself, stammered an apology, and returned to where Nikolai had put him. “A-also ‘just a tool,’ sir?” he asked, and he looked like he was trying so hard to soothe himself that Nikolai didn’t have the heart to chastise him for speaking out of turn.
    “Indeed.” He squatted down again, locked Douglas into the cage. Not as easy as he’d have liked, given the boy’s half-formed erection. “Do you remember what happened the last time you came without my permission?”
    Douglas’s full-body shudder was answer enough.
    “Then I’ve no doubt you’ll be grateful that I’ve thought to protect you from making such an error again.”
    Understanding lit the boy’s eyes, and he nodded. Nikolai had seen enough boys by now to know it wasn’t because he thought Nikolai expected him to, but because he really was grateful. To be protected from his own weakness. To be guided so kindly to the correct behavior.
    Nikolai met those big blue eyes and said, “I promise I’ll not leave you locked away if you don’t give me cause. Be a good boy for me today.”
    Douglas nodded again, but there was no missing the flicker of . . . something in the boy’s eyes. Some darkness, some worry, some fear.
    “What is it, Douglas? It’s all right, you can tell me.”
    Douglas held his gaze a moment longer, then looked away with a mumbled, “Nothing, sir.” But that was all right—that was all the time Nikolai needed to figure it out. He didn’t want to be Nikolai’s good boy. Oh, he wanted to want it, but he didn’t feel it yet.
    Nikolai clapped his shoulder and squeezed reassuringly. “Give it time, Douglas,” he said. “Give it time.” The boy nodded. “And get dressed. The day is wasting.”
    Douglas nodded again. After all the fuss he’d made about the panties, he pulled them on like they were any old pair of briefs, barely giving them a look or a second thought. Nikolai gave them a look, though: a long one, lingering over the way the frills of lace made his perky ass look even rounder and more lovely. And in the front? The sight of his caged cock and taut little balls stuffed into the tight satiny crotch—gods, it took all of Nikolai’s self-control not to bend him over and fuck him right then. Rip the panties to shreds.
    The jeans next, riding low on slim hips, then the sweater—ah, Nikolai had done well there; Douglas stroked and stroked at the fabric, as if surprised by how nice it felt—then the socks and shoes.
    When at last Douglas straightened up, he looked stiff and vaguely miserable, like he’d forgotten how to wear clothes, or no longer felt at home in them. Nikolai had seen this reaction countless times, and it never failed to warm his heart. Such progress the boy had made in