The Flesh Cartel - Episode #4: Consequences

heart. Your mind. You will. Soon. So soon.
    Deep inside him. Deep enough to unmake him. Transform him into something glorious and new.
    His best possible self. The boy’s cock jerked and filled beneath Nikolai’s hand—so close, so close
    to coming again. But not this time. Not unless he begged . Nikolai pinched him off, relishing the boy’s involuntary whimper as he sped his own thrusts, chased his own pleasure as single-mindedly as any
    master would. As any master had the right to.
    He kissed his boy as he came, emptying himself into that tight spasming ass, and when a nervous
    tongue darted into his mouth, sweet and questioning, he let Douglas come too as a reward, as one
    final gift.
    A gift swiftly rejected when the boy tore his mouth away from Nikolai’s and sobbed. When
    Nikolai pulled free, cum dribbling in his wake, Douglas curled up tight on his side, hands covering
    his head, shoulders shaking.
    Nikolai allowed it, but only for a moment. “There now,” he said, stroking a hand down
    Douglas’s flank. The muscle twitched beneath his fingertips, as if trying to get away. “It’s all right. I know it hurts now, Douglas, but letting go of the past always hurts. Moving forward can be a very frightening thing. The world is so big and scary and intimidating sometimes.”
    Douglas said nothing, just kept on crying.
    “Come now. Sit up and tend me. Weep if you must, but never neglect to clean your master after
    you’ve serviced him.”
    Still weeping, Douglas pushed himself into a sitting position, plucked three tissues from the box
    on the nightstand with a trembling hand, and went to wipe the cum from Nikolai’s groin.
    Nikolai stopped him with a gentle touch. “Use those to blow your nose and wipe your tears, but
    do not use them on me. You clean your master with your tongue .”
    A fresh, loud sob, but the boy nodded. Wiped his streaming eyes. Blew his nose. Pointless, as
    hard as he was crying, but Nikolai applauded the effort and would never dream to deny him these
    cleansing tears. The boy was mourning; Nikolai understood that. Soon would come acceptance. He
    was on the cusp of his transformation, and then the tears would be over.
    “Focus, now,” he warned as the boy balled the tissues over and over again in his fist. “Never
    keep your master waiting.”
    “S-sorry, sir,” Douglas sobbed, voice hitching. But he obediently fell to his hands and knees,
    nuzzled his head between Nikolai’s spread thighs and took Nikolai’s soft cock into his mouth. Sucked
    very, very gently as he swiped, equally gently, with his tongue. Clearly, someone at Madame’s had
    already taught him this particular skill.
    “Yes,” Nikolai sighed as the boy’s tongue snaked down to his balls, lapped softly there. Nikolai
    laid a hand on Douglas’s head, stroked through his hair. “That’s very good, Douglas. Very good. I see you need no further instruction in this at all.” Douglas made a snuffling sound, but said nothing. Kept at his cleaning until Nikolai nudged him away. “I think that’s enough. Now go into the bathroom and
    take care of yourself. Your master may not always let you wash—and a time will come when you may
    find you don’t want to wash—but you must always be clean and ready for him unless told otherwise.”
    Douglas stood on shaky legs, nodded. “And while you’re in there, wash your face. Your blotchiness
    offends.”
    Douglas pulled himself together just long enough to manage, “Yes, sir, I-I’m sorry, sir.”
    While Douglas was tending to his hygiene, Nikolai went to the room’s armoire, opening it up to
    shelves and shelves of implements. Dildos. Plugs. Vibrators. Gags. Restraints. Everything he needed
    to enhance his training. At last, he found what he was looking for: a small, vibrating prostate
    stimulator on a locking belt, and a clear silicone chastity cage with holes for air flow, washing, and
    urinating. Not as punishing as some of the others he often used—not punishing at all, really; the boy
    could wear it for months without the slightest harm—but exactly what he needed for his current
    purposes.

    Douglas was standing behind him when he turned with them in his hands. He looked much better
    already, his face scrubbed fresh and only the slightest trembling left in his limbs. “Sir?” he asked,
    clearly unsure of what he was looking at, but smart enough by now to be wary of it.
    “I said I’d teach you the true value of my kindness,” Nikolai explained. “I