The Flesh Cartel #5: Wins and Losses

nipple—“beg to have them removed.”
Clamps. They’re nipple clamps, like in that porn mag you found in Mike’s closet.
Can I beg now?
“Hold still. The more you squirm, the tighter I’ll fasten them.”
He was squirming, wasn’t he? Just looking at them made him hurt. No wait, that was Nikolai, his fingers twisting his nipple again, getting it hard. Nikolai pulled it away from his chest until it was taut and latched the clamp around it. Tightened the clamp. Stopped right before the point of true pain, and God damn him for that anyway because now Dougie was stuck halfenjoying it, or his body was, anyway, his poor neglected cock as interested in the signals coming from his nipples now as it was in the signals coming from the awful fucking vibrating plug up his ass. Half pleasure, half pain from both directions.
Wholly fucking unbearable. He caught his hands reaching to pull the clamps off and forced his fists back to his sides, and he’d only been wearing them for seconds.
“Be a good little pet now and leave those on. No one touches them but me, do you understand?”
“Y—” His voice cracked. Shattered. Like my fucking mind. He swallowed hard, spent a good five seconds working enough saliva into his mouth to speak. “Yes, sir.” Even those two simple words sounded breathless, needy, desperate. He was trying so hard not to scream, so hard not to cry. So hard not to throw himself at Nikolai’s feet and beg.
If Nikolai didn’t leave soon, he’d end up doing all three.
But Nikolai didn’t leave. He just smiled, and gave the chain between the clamps a gentle tug—Dougie almost relished it; the pain momentarily chased his arousal away—and reached out to stroke a lock of Dougie’s hair between thumb and forefinger. “Enjoy your day, Douglas,” he said, still smiling softly. “And your night. I hope both bear fruitful thoughts.”
Nikolai turned and left then, and Dougie fell to his knees the instant he was out the door, the plug shifting inside him, drilling against his prostate like a fucking jackhammer. Then he started to cry.
But at least he hadn’t begged. Well . . . hadn’t begged to suck Nikolai’s cock, anyway. That counted for something, right?
It had to. It was all he had left.
chapter three
    T
    he hinges were on the wrong side of the door, but that hadn’t stopped Mat from trying to figure out how he might break the damn thing down. He’d made the mistake of kicking it, just once, and was frankly lucky he hadn’t broken something. Steel core, definitely. Same with the door frame. The locks were serious business, and there was no keyhole on the doorknob on his side. Nikolai carried a key, but no way could Mat try taking it from him. Too much risk to Dougie to snatch it by force. And what if Mat escaped but then couldn’t find Dougie? God knew he hadn’t heard so much as a peep from him since he’d been here, so Dougie could be anywhere, and Mat didn’t doubt for a second that Nikolai’s men would . . . carry out his demands in the event harm came to him.
    Mat couldn’t risk trying to sneak the key away from Nikolai, either. Nikolai would notice it missing the second he left the room and tried to lock the door behind him. And Mat had no doubt he wouldn’t like the consequences of that at all.
    Still, there had to be a way to sneak out of here. No windows, only the one door, and cameras watching his every move, but . . .
    He ran his fingers along the wall beside the door. Felt like drywall. If it was anything like construction everywhere else in America—assuming they were even still in America, though the woods he’d seen on the way here certainly looked like the southern Appalachians—there’d be wood or steel studs every eighteen inches, and in between those, nothing blocking his way into the hall but some foam insulation and another sheet of drywall on the other side. He could kick or punch right through that. Avoid the studs by sound. He rapped his knuckles lightly on the wall, listening for where it was hollow.
    It wasn’t. Anywhere.
Fuck. More steel reinforcement? Or just some sheets of plywood? Only one way to find out, but what would happen if Nikolai found out he was looking? If it was steel and he couldn’t escape when the fucker came for him? He bent his leg at the knee, flexed his toes back, prepared to strike . . .
And couldn’t do it.
He crossed the room in three angry strides and drove his heel into the heavy bag with so much force he sent it nearly