The Flesh Cartel - Episode #7: Homecoming

wouldn’t happen again so easily. “N-no, sir,” he said, eyes dropping to the carpet, knees following a moment after. “I’m sorry, sir, I forgot . . .” He ducked his chin, raised his arms, held the bag out in both hands like presenting a knight his sword.
    “That’s all right, Douglas.” An uncommon kindness, true—normally he would’ve punished the boy—but not during this crucial, trust-building time. He took the bag and drew out the wrapped gift box with its big red ribbon. He set it in Douglas’s outstretched hands.
    “Wow, it’s actually a present,” Douglas said, mouth falling open into a sweet little O. “Thank you, sir.”
    Nikolai smiled. “Go on, open it.”
    Douglas tore into the wrapping like a child, although his characteristic neatness didn’t allow him to scatter the paper. Instead, he carefully balled it up and stuffed it back into the shopping bag before pulling the lid off the gift box.
    He looked up, clearly confused, yet cautiously hopeful, as if he understood what the gift might mean. “Sneakers, sir?” He reached into the box, cautious as if a snake might be hidden under the shoes, coiled and waiting to strike. Still expecting punishment, the poor thing, but this little show of generosity should help set him to rights.
    “And more,” Nikolai said, gesturing for Douglas to keep exploring his gifts, feeling strangely vulnerable at the idea that the boy might not like them. He had never seen Douglas dressed in anything beyond a collar, so he had no idea about the boy’s tastes. He’d simply gone to a high-end shop for young men and asked the saleswoman to pick out everything he needed. Cradled now in Douglas’s hands were shiny black leather sneakers with clean, bright white soles and a small alligator embroidery. Still in the box, a pair of slim-cut gray-blue jeans, and under those, a bright blue cashmere sweater, the color chosen to bring out Douglas’s eyes and the fabric so soft to the touch that Nikolai would have a hard time keeping his hands off the boy.
    “Clothes, sir.” Douglas’s voice was soft, shaky, touched , and Nikolai felt both gratified and relieved at the boy’s obvious pleasure. Douglas couldn’t look him in the eye. He was just . . . staring at the box and the treasures within. What was going through his mind now? Did he think Nikolai was giving him his freedom? He couldn’t possibly be so naïve. Not after Nikolai had instructed him in the nuances of his service just a minute earlier.
    Oh well, he’d understand that for himself soon enough. “Yes. There’s just one more thing.” Nikolai reached back into the shopping bag and pulled out a smaller box, just as beautifully wrapped as the first one.
    Dougie tore away the paper. Pulled off the lid. Recoiled from it as if the snake he’d been afraid of before had finally struck. “I . . .” He put the box down on the floor, a little too quickly to be polite. And then, to cover up his ingratitude, said, “I think maybe the store mixed up your box, sir.”
    Nikolai crossed his arms and leaned back slightly. “What makes you say that, Douglas?”
    Douglas didn’t miss the disapproval in Nikolai’s voice and body language. “I—sir . . .”
    “Don’t you think I double-checked my purchases?”
    “But sir . . .”
    “Consequences, Douglas. You’re starting to make me cross, now.”
    Douglas fell forward, kissing Nikolai’s knees and thighs in desperate apology. “I’m sorry, sir,” he babbled between kisses. “I’ll . . . I’m yours, sir, I know I’m yours, what I want doesn’t matter, so if you want me to—” A hitch in his voice, another kiss to Nikolai’s thigh. “Um, to . . . to put those on? If it would please you, sir?” He dared a glance up at Nikolai, the panic fading from his eyes at the continued lack of recrimination, but the confusion, the worry, the anxiety were all still there. “Is that right, sir? Is that what you want?”
    Nikolai gifted the boy a caress, stroking his palm across Douglas’s hair and letting it rest at the nape of his neck. “It is. The clothes are a gift to show you I trust you enough to give you new freedoms. The . . . other gift is to remind you of your place, even fully dressed. And to signal to you that it’s time to resume your training in earnest. I’d be a terrible master if I didn’t help a boy of your beauty become accustomed to such things.” When Dougie grimaced, Nikolai added, “But there’s no need to rush. Let’s