The Flesh Cartel, #10: False Gods

well—even in the throes of ecstasy, he kept working the cock in his mouth, the hand up Maria’s dress. The man down his throat came just moments after he did—the vibrations of Douglas’s moans had no doubt tipped him over. When the man pulled free, Douglas used his free hand to wipe the cum off his belly, then licked his fingers clean. To think, the boy had once retched and gagged at the sensation of cum—especially his own—in his mouth. Now he reveled in it. Completely debauched.
    When nobody moved to claim his mouth or free hand anew, the boy grew daring and reached for Maria’s hip, pulled her closer, closer, until she took the hint and straddled his face. Nikolai hadn’t taught him how to please a woman, but it seemed he’d learned a trick or two on his own. Or perhaps the skills Nikolai had taught him simply more or less transferred. Certainly the oral fixation and the desire to please did.
    Roberto, not wanting to be left out, took Douglas’s soft cock in his mouth as Douglas moaned into his wife’s pussy. Douglas went momentarily rigid at that, free hand curling into a fist, but then he sank back into his task, into the sensation, ignoring the oversensitivity. Good. It was important for his guests to see that he could. Some slaves whimpered and cried nonstop when touched so soon after orgasm, even if they’d learned to endure it. Douglas took it all in stride. An exemplary slave.
    Still, his guests’ interest began to wane after that—everyone who’d wanted a turn had already had one, and Nikolai’s buybacks, pin-neat and beautiful in their tuxedos, were pacing the room with trays of Jeremy’s finest hors d’oeuvres and Nikolai’s finest liquors. The lull was to be expected; his guests had more appetites than just the one, after all. They’d be ready for round two once their bellies were full.
    Once even Roberto and Maria had finished this first course, Nikolai signaled Luke to have Jeremy call them into the dining room for dinner. Then Nikolai went to Douglas, who was panting and glazed with cum, half-seated on the sofa, his hair a mess.
    Nikolai spared him a kiss, grimacing at the taste of all the cock and pussy on his mouth, and pulled away. “You’re doing so well, pet. I’ll have Roger come clean and prepare you for the next stage. For now, rest and catch your breath, knowing you’ve made your master so, so happy.”

    I made him happy .
    Douglas tried to hold on to that, tried to use it to beat back the fear that kept creeping into him. He didn’t want to go with any of these people, least of all Allen, who hadn’t even been tempted by the chance to use his body. He wasn’t sure what he could do to fix that, either. He knew how much it meant to Nikolai, how important it was for Douglas to make Allen want him. But he didn’t dare be forward with the man—he’d barely managed the nerve to be so forward with the woman, even when she’d so clearly wanted him—and he’d very much wanted her, the soft sweetness and beauty of something he hadn’t seen, let alone touched, in God knew how long. He sat on the sofa awhile, head in his hands, trying to breathe, until finally Roger’s hands closed around his shoulders.
    Roger helped him stand, pulled him into a hug without a word. “Okay?” he asked into Douglas’s hair.
    Heart pounding. Throat dry and battered sore. Ass aching. Cock still tingling with torturous pleasure. “Yeah. Just tired.” He let himself draw strength from Roger’s embrace a while longer, and then it was back into the drawing room, where Roger wiped him down with warm washcloths, combed his hair again, gave him mouthwash to rinse with.
    “Master wants us to fuck for them while they have dinner. They’ll just be finishing the soup course now, so we have a few more minutes before I take you in. Do you want me to prepare you here, or do you want me to do it in front of them?”
    Douglas wasn’t sure how to answer that. “What do you think?”
    Roger tilted his head back and forth, as if physically weighing his options on his ears. “I think they may want to see you in a little bit of pain. Or Allen, anyway, and he’s the one to impress tonight. So maybe we lube you up here so there’s no fumbling around with bottles, but I finger you in front of them and then take you a little prematurely? You can exaggerate the pain a little, too.”
    He what? “Really? I mean, isn’t that . . . I don’t know, like, lying?”
    Roger shrugged. “I can hurt you