The Flesh Cartel - Episode #4: Consequences

had put the fear
    of God into him for sure. Nikolai gave half odds his new pet would pick up the bowls to drink from
    them, but in the end, he fell on the side of caution and fear and did what he assumed Nikolai would
    expect: chose of his own accord the most humiliating, debasing, difficult approach.
    Oh, yes, this one would be easy. And a pleasure, too. The irritation Nikolai had felt at having to
    pay so much for him to procure his brother was already starting to fade.
    Speaking of the brother . . . He’d be less easy. Much less of a pleasure. For both of them. Nikolai
    checked his watch—a little over five hours since the last injection. Eleven hours now spent in the
    worst kind of hell even Nikolai knew. If that didn’t make him malleable . . . Well, then Nikolai would
    simply have to try harder.
    He unlocked Mathias’s door, and opened it to find the man exactly as he’d left him: torso and one
    leg on the floor, the other leg still strapped to the foot of the bed, toes pointing to the ceiling. Mathias curled onto his side with a groan as he caught sight of Nikolai, putting his back to the bed. The effort clearly cost him, pale and sweaty and shaky as he was, but he didn’t stop there. He started to inch
    away. Until the chain caught and he could go no further. Then he just curled up tight.
    Interesting.
    Nikolai crouched down beside him, and Mathias flinched, tucked into himself as best he could
    with one leg dragged out. Blinked, slow and heavy, eyes wet with tears. His cheeks were stained with
    them too—and the vestiges of Nikolai’s cum they hadn’t washed away—face red and puffy. He
    looked as if he’d been crying for hours. Then again, most men did under the influence of the serum.
    Perhaps Mathias was finally ready to have a civilized conversation. Best to settle in for that.
    Nikolai turned around, put his back to the bed and sat. Stretched his legs out and crossed them at the
    ankles. Slid his hands in his pockets.
    Mathias cringed. “ Please. ” A rasp, barely audible, tumbling past cracked lips. “Not again.
    Please.”
    Even more interesting. What had set him off?
    Oh, yes. Hands in pockets. He pulled them out, and Mathias cringed harder, tears leaking from
    squeezed-shut eyes as he rasped, “I’ll do anything , please . . .”
    Pushed too hard, then—the man had broken. Oh, he wouldn’t stay that way for long, but this
    wouldn’t do. Nikolai couldn’t risk it. He’d have to avoid the serum for a good long while, reserve it
    for attempted harm against his person and perhaps a rare special occasion.
    “It’s all right, Mathias. My hands are empty. No more serum today.” A kindness, something to
    draw the man out before he got trapped in his terror. Moving carefully, Nikolai reached across the
    bed to the strap that held Mathias’s ankle in place. Freed it. “Would you like some water?”
    Mathias cracked one eye open and slowly, distrustfully, allowed his muscles to relax a fraction.
    He had to be beyond exhausted; perhaps this was merely need taking over. “Wh—” He had so little
    voice left Nikolai needed to lean in and place his ear to Mathias’s lips. “What do I have to do for it?”
    Mathias huffed a laugh. “Nothing, little mastiff. I can see you’ve learned your lesson today. We
    can move on to the next; no anger, no hard feelings.”
    “Please,” Mathias grunted out. “No more lessons today.” He swallowed hard, as if trying to
    work moisture into his mouth. Squeezed his eyes shut again—the serum clearly hadn’t worn off yet,
    by the lines bracketing his eyes and mouth and his shallow panting. “I just . . . can I just sleep?”
    “I’m afraid not. But food and water, I can do. And a trip to the toilet, maybe?” He cupped
    Mathias’s head in one hand, ran a thumb across his eyebrow, the neat little row of black stitches
    bisecting it at a rakish angle. Mathias squeezed the one eye tight, but didn’t pull away. “And it’s time to take these out, I’d say. I’d imagine you’d like them gone.”
    Mathias nodded, his momentary urge toward protest obviously gone. Swallowed by pain and the
    fear of pain. That wouldn’t do at all. Nikolai needed his fighter back.
    “Very good. You’ll be glad to hear that I haven’t had need to take these sorts of measures with
    your brother.” Brief thankful relief, like in that singular instant Mathias could just sit up and kiss him.
    Now to drop the other shoe. “On account of the fact that he was,