The Flesh Cartel #2: Auction

really pretty small, two fingers wide at the most. The assistant placed the plug on a cart in the corner, piled high with towels and soaps and God knew what else, and held out a wet wipe. Dougie’s mind blanked; bizarrely, he couldn’t figure what he was supposed to do with it.
    “You want to soak in your own shit and lube, or do you want to wipe yourself clean?”
    Oh. Dougie sighed, relieved, and wiped his ass. Knew he should feel embarrassed about cleaning himself in front of someone else, but he just didn’t have that in him anymore.
    Didn’t even hesitate. 24
    Something sparked in the assistant’s lethargic gaze as he watched Dougie. What? Dougie wanted to say, but didn’t. “Wish I’d made it to your wing this week,” the assistant said. Of course . Why should he be any different from any of the other monsters in this horrible place? The assistant eyed him again, then checked his watch, so casual, as if deciding whether or not he had time to rape Dougie was no more momentous than picking between the tuna and the egg salad at lunch.
    “Ah, well,” the guy sighed. “In the tub with you, then.” The water was way too hot. Absolutely scalding, and
    Dougie wanted to yelp and recoil the minute his toes touched the surface, but he was too scared of attracting the attention of his absent guard. And who knew, maybe if the assistant had an excuse for running behind— little hole put up a fight —he would take it as a chance to rape Dougie, after all.
    So he forced his entire foot in with a hiss, then the other foot, and then sat down hard before his body had time to really register the heat. He didn’t dare ask the assistant to run a bit more cold water into the tub.
    The assistant didn’t give him any time to acclimate, either, before squeezing some fruity-smelling gel onto a sea sponge and scrubbing at the closest handy limb. Not gentle, but not particularly rough, either. Clinical, mostly, if a little impatient. He didn’t seem to be interested in Dougie’s assistance, so Dougie just closed his eyes and leaned his head back, let himself relax. Tried to enjoy it. There were so few pleasures here, after all. The heat was starting to feel good—
    no , great —soaking deep into sore muscles and weary bones, chasing away the chill he’d suffered since the moment he’d 25
    arrived here. However long ago that’d been. Long enough that most of the cuts and scratches on his skin had healed.
    The sponge was only a little rough. Now, if only the guy would stop scrubbing so hard over his bruises. The assistant finished Dougie’s arms and legs, then swiped the sponge across his chest. One of the morning guards liked to twist Dougie’s nipples way too hard, and he was so sensitive now that the touch of the sponge made him gasp, jump, splash water out of the tub.
    He flinched in expectation, but the assistant didn’t strike him, just cupped his closest pec, bent a little, and gently sucked the nipple into his mouth, flicking it with the very tip of his tongue.
Dougie didn’t dare move, despite the fact that what the guy was doing was riding some horrible undiscovered line between arousal and full-body-shudder disgust and violation.
“Those brutes abuse you,” the assistant rumbled against
    his nipple, gave it a little nip and oh God stop please stop I don’t want this. “I’m not like them.” He lifted the sponge, squeezed it over Dougie’s head. The cascade of hot soapy water made him shut his eyes. Before he could open them again, the assistant’s mouth was on his, kissing him sensually, like this was a romantic movie or something instead of whatever the fuck it really was. Still kissing him, the hand with the sponge wandered lower, down to oh fuck no no no oh God—
    Dougie’s eyes flew open as his traitorous cock began to rise, but he forced himself not to struggle. The man cleaned him gently, drifting across his shaft in a dreamy, patient way.
“Please,” Dougie managed when the guy pulled his tongue from his mouth to breathe, because he wasn’t above 26 begging, not anymore. Then he added, lest the guy thought Dougie was asking for more, “ Stop. Please don’t do this, I don’t want—”
    The sponge mashed down hard against his nuts, nausea shooting straight into his belly. “You think you’re better than me, is that it? You think because you’ve got an expensive ass, I’m not allowed to fuck it the same as anybody else?” The man thrust his hand down between Dougie’s legs,