The Flesh Cartel #3: Choices

fluttering briefly closed as Mat sucked hard and swiped his tongue around the crown, hoping to end this faster, “that this stings much worse.”
Mat didn’t even have to look up to know that Nikolai was holding another auto-injector. His aching stomach surged, nausea threatening. The urge to plead, beg , was instant and powerful. He couldn’t go through that again, not yet. Couldn’t .
He sucked harder, swallowed Nikolai all the way down his throat, moaned out his desperation. Please. I’m good. I’m so good. I’ll swallow your cum. But Nikolai just pulled free, jaw set. Determined. Resolved. Unbeholden to his pleasure.
“Don’t ever try to harm me again,” he said, raising his arm. “Don’t ever try to harm any of your betters again. And while we’re at it, do not make a mockery of my important work with your cheek.”
His arm came down, and the injector with it. Mat only had time to shout “Wait, no !” before it slammed into his hip and lit a horrible new fire under his skin. Every capillary burned . The agony spread like water through a sponge, unimpeded, inexorable, excruciating.
As he writhed on the floor, Nikolai took hold of his spit-slick cock in one hand and Mat’s chin in the other, and jerked himself to completion over Mat’s grimacing face. Cum—slow moving, sticky— dripped into one nostril. Mat couldn’t muster the will to wipe it away, no matter how pervasive the stink of his rapist’s spunk. Moving hurt so much, everything hurt so much, he just couldn’t .
“I’m going to go check on your brother, now. You and I shall try again when I get back, shall we?”
Nikolai stood, patted Mat’s cum-smeared cheek. Fuck you, Mat wanted to say, and Water , and Please kill me , but all that came out was a pitiful wheeze, a high-pitched moan. The glass shards and acid had spread to his toes, his shoulders, the backs of his eyeballs, even his scalp. He wanted to tear it off with his bare hands.
“I do hope your brother will be more cooperative,” Nikolai called from the doorway. When had he gotten over there? “See you in six hours.”
Mat never heard the door close. Just looked up to find Nikolai gone and himself locked in this hellish prison again. Whether he meant the room or his body, he couldn’t have said.

    Dougie woke sprawled out in a huge, luxurious bed. And immediately wished he could go back to sleep again, except he was so hungry . And thirsty, too. And had no idea where he was, if he was safe, how he’d gotten here, if Mat was here too. He sat up. Realized he was still naked.
And not alone.
There was a man across the room from him, sitting in a chair facing the foot of the bed, a glass of water dangling from the fingers of one hand. Watching.
Water.
He . . . knew the man’s face from somewhere, the sensation more like déjà vu than actual memory. Wherever it came from, whatever it was, it whispered trust this man , so Dougie clambered out of the bed and went to him. Stumbled. Tried to catch himself on the arm of the man’s chair, but still fell to his knees at the man’s feet.
“W-water,” he said, his voice scratchy and sore. He tried to lick his lips, but his tongue was just as dry and sticky as they were.
The man held out the glass with a soft, patient smile. Dougie almost reached up to take it from him, but somewhere in his head, another voice, he didn’t know whose: You must never touch your betters. He stretched his neck, chin up, and waited for the man to place the glass to his lips. Which the man did, and didn’t hesitate to tip it back and let him drink, cool water quenching his parched throat and dribbling down his chin and naked chest.
He’s good. He’s kind.
Dougie drank and drank, his body shuddering with mingled desire and satisfaction.
And then again, as his thirst was slaked, with realization. Revulsion.
He lurched away, crabbed back until he hit the bed. Couldn’t quite bring himself to look the man in the eye, but stared fiercely at his nose and demanded, “Where am I?” It wasn’t quite, Did you buy me? but he couldn’t bring himself to say that yet.
The man sighed, disappointed. “I suppose this particular mood couldn’t have lasted forever. It never does.”
The man stood, and though his face was kind, Dougie couldn’t help but cringe. But the man just walked around him, away from him. He heard a tap running, and then the man came back, glass refilled with water. He took a long, leisurely drink of it as Dougie watched, eyes