The Flesh Cartel #9: Trials and Errors

fucking bastard. Did you get off on beating poor Roger, too? Do you get off on hurting my brother this way?
    Don’t think about it. Don’t think about how Dougie is suffering right now, just focus on seeing him soon. That’s all that matters.
    He sank an inch or two down the plug, which got hugely wide way too fucking fast, until the burn made him hiss and he had to stop for a second to breathe through it.
    “Keep going,” Nikolai ordered.
    Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you, you bastard. Even in his head, his inner voice seemed to be panting with exertion. Or maybe that was just his brain shorting out. He sat back a little further, his weight driving the plug in a little more, splitting him open wider until he just couldn’t anymore, too much resistance from shrieking muscles and he’d fucking tear if he went any faster, and somehow he didn’t think Nikolai would appreciate that.
    Or, fuck, maybe Nikolai wouldn’t care. The memory of a baseball bat ripping up his insides came back so fresh and visceral he actually panicked for a second. Hard to push it aside when the plug didn’t feel all that different and he was pretty sure it wasn’t even halfway in yet.
    “Oh, just sit on it,” Nikolai snapped. “No more dawdling. Hands off the floor.”
    “I’ll bleed, sir,” Mat choked, blinking sweat from his eyes.
    Nikolai shrugged. “You might.”
    God, when had he become such a fucking pussy? Since when had he gotten so afraid of a little blood? A little pain? This was Dougie at stake here. Suck it the fuck up, Carmichael.
    He picked his hands up, curled them into fists on his thighs. Let his muscles relax. Sat. Screamed a little, maybe, as the plug drove in deeper, ripping him open, and he was suddenly sweating so hard he had no idea if it was blood or just perspiration he felt dripping down his taint and to his balls. The pressure and burn were fucking unbearable , and he growled through it, eyes clenched shut and teeth gritted, just waiting for the moment the widest part would pop through and he could close around the neck of the plug.
    But it kept. Not. Fucking. Happening.
    He was going to fucking pass out and Nikolai had barely even begun.
    Dizzy, he pried his eyes open just in time to see the fucker folding his arms across his chest, raising a smug eyebrow—and yes , there was such a thing as a smug eyebrow—and saying, “Stuck?”
    Would it ruin things if he told Nikolai where to shove it?
    “If you need help, Mathias, all you need to do is ask.” Nikolai took a single step forward, shrugged with one shoulder. “Well, your brother need only ask. You would have to beg, a little, perhaps. Convince me you mean it.”
    Mat gritted his teeth. Glared, blinking back the sweat that kept falling in his eyes. Shoved down on the plug again.
    Nothing. Well, no movement, but plenty of screaming pain.
    He gasped and panted and clutched at his stomach because it was the next best thing to pulling off the plug entirely and holding his ass like a spanked child. He was just too fucking weak to muscle anything anywhere right now, let alone a plug that big into a very small space.
    Nikolai unfolded his arms and glanced pointedly at his watch. “If that plug isn’t nestled flare-deep inside you in two minutes, I’m going to go spend some time with your brother, and you can forget about seeing him at all.”
    “Help me then, damn it.” Added when Nikolai didn’t move, “Fuck, what do you want ?” His voice was as hoarse as if he’d been screaming. Maybe he had been.
    “I want you to show me the respect I’m due. I want you to show me how well you understand that I owe you nothing, that you are nothing. I want to know that you’d be undyingly grateful should I deign to offer you assistance.”
    Do it for Dougie, Mat. Swallow your pride and just do it.
    “Please, sir,” he whimpered, and told himself it was all for show and nothing to do with how much he hurt. “I know I’m just a slave and I don’t deserve your attention, but please, help me to make you happy.”
    Nikolai closed the case on the table, put it on a chair instead, and then came over to stand beside Mat. He was so slippery with sweat that when Nikolai grabbed his arm to haul him upright, the man nearly dropped him. Nikolai adjusted his grip, the plug mercifully sliding free as Mat was dragged to his feet and shoved face-first onto the little table, ass up, feet barely touching the floor. Short reprieve, though; Nikolai’s hands left him,