The Flesh Cartel - Episode #7: Homecoming

forward, and he’d kill himself before he let himself move back again. So where did that leave him?
    God help him, where did that leave him?
    Nikolai will know. Nikolai will help you. Just be honest with him. Tell him. He wants to help you.
    But no. No. He was too afraid. Too many consequences . And he wasn’t so sure he believed anymore, either. If Nikolai really could help him, why hadn’t he already? He’d been here forever already. And if Nikolai really was as good as he claimed to be, why was he still kissing Dougie like a proud teacher, murmuring praise into Dougie’s ears as he pulled out from Dougie’s ass, reaching down to shove the plug back in to stopper his cum? Couldn’t he see ? Didn’t he know ? How was it that this master trainer of men couldn’t read the turmoil, the fear, the despair screeching through Dougie’s head?
    Well, maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing, after all. There’d be no consequences if Nikolai didn’t realize something was wrong. Lest Dougie give himself away, he slunk down to his knees—the action completely calculated this time, as rehearsed as dance choreography—and gently nuzzled against Nikolai’s musky groin. Lapped the taste of his own (thank God, clean) ass off of Nikolai’s cum-sloppy, half-hard cock.
    The position made him think back to that first day he’d met Roger, when Roger had laid his head in Nikolai’s lap and told Dougie how happy he was, how in love and fulfilled. Had that all been a lie? Was Roger screaming inside like Dougie was now? Was that all he had to look forward to for the rest of his life—pain and suffering and fear and degradation and a perfect mask to hide it all behind, as placid and flawless as the one Nikolai had worn in the audience at Madame’s?
    God, all of this hinged on the fact that if only Nikolai helped him, then one day Dougie would be happy . Would live every single day steeped in that sweet, simple joy of service he’d tasted, just for a moment, this afternoon. Share that look Roger had worn on his face as he’d sucked Nikolai’s cock, that feeling Dougie had felt when he’d climbed into Nikolai’s lap and kissed him.
    But what if it was all a lie?
    Roger would never say. Dougie couldn’t blame him; he wouldn’t tell either. Couldn’t bring himself to say anything even now, alone with Nikolai, even after Nikolai had shown him so much patience and kindness, had urged him repeatedly to open up, be honest, share his weaknesses and fears so that Nikolai could help him conquer them. Who would open themselves up to a relative stranger with unseeable motives when they couldn’t even talk to Nikolai?
    There was no way to know. No way at all. The years here would pass, and either Dougie would become the happy pet Nikolai had promised him he would be, or he would become an empty shell, hating himself and smiling all the while.
    And the worst part was, he wasn’t sure he had any say in the matter. Maybe nothing he tried or didn’t try, did or didn’t do, mattered. Maybe the one man—the one self-proclaimed master of men—who thought he could save Dougie was as delusional as Dougie had been to believe he could ever be saved.

Nikolai combed half-numb fingers through Douglas’s silky hair. The repetitive motion, combined with the soft lapping of Douglas’s tongue on his balls, nearly lulled him to sleep. He could sleep, if he liked. He was the master, after all, and it was his right to use his boy’s ass to his satisfaction and then leave him wanting.
    But no.
    Douglas did need to learn that lesson, needed to learn the hard way that his pleasure could be an inconsequential thing to his master, but today was not the day for that. Today they’d shared such affection and joy and sweetness and had fucked like the happy lovers they were, and Nikolai wanted to carry that lesson and that glorious feeling through to the end of the day.
    Not here, though. He pushed Douglas off him, noting the glassy look in Douglas’s eyes, the flush on his face and the dazed droop of his lip, and stood. Tucked himself back into his trousers—a little bit of lube stained the fabric; he’d show Douglas how to hand-wash the spot tomorrow—and patted Douglas’s head. “Come along now, boy.”
    He strode out of the kitchen, not needing to confirm that Douglas was following, and headed for the staircase that led up to his private rooms. Not down, not tonight. His well-fed little pet had truly earned his right to the warmth and comfort