The Flesh Cartel, #10: False Gods

leaning into him like a spoiled cat.
    “Like night and day, these two, wouldn’t you say? Now here’s the fun part. They’re brothers. They came to Madame together by happy accident after that one”—the bruiser yanked hard on Mat’s collar, and Mat, too distracted by Dougie to respond, fell choking and spluttering to his knees—“interfered with his brother’s procurement. Noble fool. I’m sure he regrets it now. Look at me, Mathias.”
    Mat debated ignoring him. The client wanted a tamed beast, after all, and if Mat behaved badly tonight, maybe the client would reject him. But then where would that leave him? Nobody else wanted an animal, which meant Nikolai would either have to kill him or break him. Neither thought appealed; he couldn’t escape if he was dead or . . . or like Dougie.
    So he turned his glare on Nikolai and spat, “Yes, master?” with all the bitter resentment he could muster. Which was quite a fucking lot.
    “My man is going to unclip you from the pole and free your hands. When he does, you will crawl to that chair”—he pointed to a straight-backed, armless metal chair at the end of the room, in full view of every seat at the table but closest, unsurprisingly, to the short old fuck who planned to buy Mat—“and sit yourself down in it. Do you understand?”
    What to say? Yes, sir , or Untie me and I’ll kill you all ? He wished he knew the right answer here, how much fight was right for his master-to-be. The man had seemed downright gleeful at Mathias’s wildcat routine on the way into the room, so maybe option two was the wiser choice. But then he’d have to follow through, or prove himself all bark and no bite. And follow-through meant pain: being tackled, tied down, punished. Probably a hell of a lot more pain than was necessary tonight if he behaved.
    He’d pondered too long; the bruiser torqued the pole to one side and pulled, slamming Mat’s back to the floor. The crowd murmured excitedly, vultures scenting blood. Nikolai took the opportunity to come over and step on his nuts.
    Mat roared and made a halfhearted attempt to throw him off—a wholehearted attempt would’ve ended with Nikolai’s own balls popping out his fucking throat, hands tied or no. Mat knew better than that, though. The threat still hung over Dougie’s life.
    “I said,” Nikolai repeated, clipped and cold, but Mat could see the sparkle in his eyes that told him he was doing right, “do you understand?”
    “Yes, master,” he gasped through the choking collar.
    “That’s what I thought.” Nikolai slowly lifted his toe, relieving the pressure on Mat’s balls by inches. The collar came off after that, and then Mat sat up so that his wrists could be released as well.
    From this vantage point, chest heaving with anger and pain, rubbing at his abused throat, Mat could see his buyer, drink emptied. Practically salivating. One day, he’d be sucking the guy’s dick.
    One day, he’d have his hands around the guy’s throat, crushing every last drop of life out of him.
    Just a matter of time.
    “Crawl,” Nikolai reminded him.
    Fine. Whatever. Just keep your buggy eyes off my brother.
    The crowd ooh ed and aah ed again when he obeyed. Like they’d thought he wouldn’t. Like maybe they’d thought he’d turn on them all. But instead of frightening them, that little edge of danger just titillated them more. Fuck them. He wished he could launch himself onto the table and start busting heads, take out as many of them as he could before Nikolai’s bruisers came at him with Tasers.
    But instead he just crawled to the chair, then sat. He wasn’t meek about it, though; he was glaring the fuck at everyone. Promising violence with his gaze. Even though he knew they had him by the throat as surely as if he were still strapped to that pole.
    He lowered his chin. Took a deep breath, nostrils flaring. And waited. Someone had better tie him up. Because whatever they planned to do to him, the anger was way too fucking close to the surface right now for him to find enough control to sit through it otherwise.
    The pervert party gasped as one as hands closed around Mat’s wrists, yanking them back behind the chair. Mat grunted at the rough handling, but didn’t struggle. Would he be hooked up to something electric next? A gag? His ass was protected by the seat of the chair, which meant his buyer wasn’t planning on fucking him. Not that there weren’t a million other ways to abuse and humiliate him.