The Flesh Cartel #6: Brotherhood

stayed.
And likewise, the master who wore his finely tailored clothes as yet another sign of his superiority . . . was naked. Or nearly so, anyway. Dougie felt smooth fabric against his ass— silk briefs, maybe—but everywhere else it was skin to skin, horribly intimate, and he wanted away so badly he felt sick with it, but was afraid to move, afraid to wake him—
I could kill him. I could roll over and strangle him in his sleep and by the time he wakes up it’ll be too late to stop me and I’ll take his keys and find Mat and we’ll run away . . .
Nikolai’s arms tightened around him again. “Going somewhere, Douglas?”
Dougie started guiltily and tried to pretend he was sleeping.
“I could feel that tension in you from across the room, pet. You must never feign sleep when your master asks something of you. We’ve shared a lovely night, Douglas; please don’t give me reason to be cross with you.”
Shared a lovely night? What the fuck was he talking about? Why couldn’t Dougie remember? He remembered pain—so much of it, too much of it—and hunger and arousal and misery and being bent over the bed and milked. Plugs and a cock cage and begging like a starving dog and . . .
Begging. He’d begged. Not to be set free, not to see Mat, nothing normal or healthy or respectable to beg for.
He’d begged to have his cock sucked. Begged to come. Begged . . . oh God. Begged for Nikolai to fuck him. Be specific, he remembered Nikolai saying. Begged for Nikolai to fuck him in the ass, please sir.
“Douglas?”
He was going to be sick.
“I don’t like to repeat myself, Douglas.”
“Get off me.” Dougie shoved at Nikolai, kicked out of bed. Stumbled to his feet and rushed for the bathroom. Dropped to his knees in front of the toilet.
Nothing came out. He’d barely eaten in days.
Just cum.
Nikolai had made him eat his own cum. Every single day. And finally he’d broken, begged—
He retched. Started to cry.
“Oh dear,” Nikolai said. Dougie whirled around, found him standing in the doorway. Hadn’t even heard him coming. “I don’t suppose you simply ate something that didn’t agree with you?”
“Yeah, you,” Dougie growled, then instantly cringed away, hand flying to his mouth. What the fuck was he thinking, saying shit like that to Nikolai?
Consequences. Consequences. He couldn’t handle any more fucking consequences. He’d break again. He knew it. “I’m sorry,” he said, breathless, retching again. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”
Nikolai tsked, shook his head sadly. “No, you’re not.”
“I am. Oh God, sir, I am. I am. I am.” He fell forward, prostrating himself. Crawled up to Nikolai’s bare feet.
“This isn’t remorse, Douglas, it’s fear. I promise I won’t hurt you now if you just tell me the truth.” Nikolai squatted down, cupped Dougie’s chin in his hand and forced him to meet his eyes. “I want to help you, Douglas, remember?”
Dougie shook his head, blinked back tears.
“Do you remember, last night, what you said to me? You said, ‘I want to be who you want me to be. Please, sir, tell me how. Help me.’”
“No,” Dougie moaned, shaking his head, chin stubble rasping against Nikolai’s palm. “No, I didn’t, I can’t have . . .”
“I have a very good memory, Douglas. Perhaps not eidetic, but very, very good.”
Has he ever lied?
Would I even know?
Dougie pulled back, just enough to see if Nikolai would try to hold on to him. He didn’t. Dougie sat back on his heels, hunched his shoulders, folded his arms across his chest. Dougie knew the posture screamed defensive but couldn’t seem to stop himself. Or his fucking tears, either. “You pushed me,” he said, throat tight, words accusing. “You hurt me. You hurt me. What did you think I’d say?”
“Exactly what you needed to say. The right thing to say. You want to please me and make your pain end. You want to accept this. Even now, you’re wishing you could have just stayed in bed in my arms. You’re angry at yourself that you couldn’t. You’re not angry at me. You’re simply placing that anger on me because I’m the only person you have to shift those feelings onto.”
Dougie’s tears dried up with every hateful word Nikolai said. “No,” he growled, and he felt stronger now, surer, because this was wrong, Nikolai was wrong and he knew it. Well, wrong about part of it, anyway. “No. I’m mad at you because you did this to me. Because you’ll keep doing this to me until I’m not mad at