The Flesh Cartel, #10: False Gods

couldn’t ponder it too closely, wade too deep; he’d drown again, drown except he wouldn’t die, just lie there and suffocate and suffer , and the thought scared him so badly he choked on it.
    He could hear himself crying now. Felt that he’d wet himself, too. That was new. For a while, the pain had wiped out all his other senses, sight, sound, taste, touch, smell, all of it subsumed by pain , which was the real sixth sense, fuck that bull about clairvoyance.
    God, he stank like piss. Almost hurt too much to care. Heard a whimper he was pretty sure he hadn’t made, turned his head toward the sound, and this time the whimper was definitely him, sand or iron filings or maybe broken glass grinding in the vertebrae of his neck.
    When he could open his eyes again, Mat filled his vision. Sweaty and blotchy and tear-streaked, so still and pale with exhaustion and pain he looked dead.
    Maybe I’d be better off that way.
    He was too tired and wrung out to feel guilty about or disgusted by that thought, and anyway, the next moment Mat clenched his teeth on his gag, eyebrows tightening, and let out a low grunt. Definitely not dead. Dougie’s own nervous system flared in symphony, or maybe sympathy, and he grunted too.
    This is his fault. He brought this on us both.
    Good. Use that. Grip it tight and never let it go. His fault. His fault. His fault. Hate him for it. Push him away. He’s standing between you and Nikolai. Let him, and you’ll just end up suffering like this again.
    No. God no. He couldn’t. He’d die. He’d make sure of it before he let this happen to him again.
    He needed Nikolai. Needed Nikolai to come in and call him his good boy and his precious little pet and rationalize away all of Dougie’s hurt and betrayal until he understood down to his bones why he had to be in so much pain and how much better that pain was going to make him. Nikolai would make sense, so much sense, too much sense, and then it would all be okay. He’d be happy again. Loved again. And he’d love back, and he wouldn’t hurt anymore, and this whole horrible night would fade from his mind, just as surely as the pain would fade from his muscles and bones.
    He’d be cleansed.
    Yes .
    The tide of pain washed back. Drew away. Dougie closed his eyes and slept.
    Woke again almost free of pain, body heavy and exhausted and desperately thirsty but only hurting from overtaxed muscles and the uncomfortable bed he was strapped to and the bruises from the straps themselves. But none of that bone-deep grinding or sharp sparks of burning under the skin.
    And oh God thank you Nikolai was here. A silhouette in the doorway, broad shoulders, stiff posture. Dougie wished his arms were free so he could hold them up, beg to be carried and held like a child. But instead he just lay back and waited, waited for Nikolai to come to his side.
    Mat was gone, he realized. The bed beside him emptied and scrubbed meticulously clean while he’d slept. He started to wonder what was happening to Mat, whether this was the end of his punishment or just the beginning, but then reminded himself that he didn’t give a fuck. Mat had brought this on himself and Nikolai was here, Nikolai was here , and he was all that mattered to Dougie. Had to be all that mattered if he didn’t want to end up here again, strapped down in a dungeon and begging to die to stop the pain.
    But then Nikolai stepped forward and the shadows fell from his face and he wasn’t Nikolai at all. He was . . . someone else, a man Dougie had never seen before, middle-aged and handsome but wearing an expression crueler than even Jeremy’s at his most bitter.
    So this was how it was going to be, then? Of course he hadn’t earned Nikolai’s forgiveness. After all, he hadn’t really done anything. Enduring pain was impressive, but passive. Of course Nikolai would expect Dougie to act, rather than simply be acted upon, in order to be forgiven. It was foolish of him to expect anything less.
    But Dougie would earn that forgiveness. He would . He had to.
    He lay still, trying not to let his fear or hurt show. Whoever this man was, Dougie would obey and serve him as if he were Nikolai himself. Yes, that had to be the best course of action now. Prove that even in his absence, Nikolai’s training had truly made an impression on Dougie.
    He just wished he could reclaim the feelings of contentment and rightness that had, until so recently, accompanied his obedience. But, if he were honest with