Free The Flesh Cartel #5: Wins and Losses by Heidi Belleau

if you would. On your knees, hands behind your back nice and neat. Quickly, quickly.”
God, what now? Dog food? Dougie collapsed to the floor, landing hard on his knees, but quickly assuming the position he’d been directed to take.
“Very lovely. I’d say debasing you is a chore, but that’d be a lie, I’m afraid. As against my usual tastes as it is, it’s very enjoyable. Keep up with this ingratitude, and I may make this treatment permanent.” Nikolai crouched beside him, touching his face, his neck, his shoulder, down to his sensation-dead nipples and then right past them, down to hold his caged cock and aching balls. Down again, skimming over his thighs until a palm rested on the sole of his foot. “Brand you here, maybe? Keep the wounds irritated so you never walk again? Would you like to spend the rest of your life on your knees, Douglas?”
“N-no, sir.”
“One day, you’ll gladly accept whatever treatment I deign to give you, whether you’re a pampered pet under my bedcovers or a dog in the shed to be used by my staff. Best choose your fate now, then, while you still know the difference.”
“Yes, sir. I don’t want to be a dog, sir.”
“You don’t know what it means to be a dog. That’s your problem. For a start, dogs will eat anything their master hands them.” He dropped the bowl of Dougie’s cum on the floor, where it clattered around in circles on its base a moment before settling a few feet in front of Dougie’s knees. The perfect distance to— “Now bend over and eat. No hands. No complaints. Now.”
Dougie must’ve spent too much time gagging, because suddenly Nikolai’s hand was on the nape of his neck, pushing him forward and down, down until his face was smashed right in the bowl. Cum in his nose. He spluttered and gagged again.
“Lick it up until it’s clean.”
Dougie did. God fucking help him, he did. He didn’t want to know how much worse this punishment could get. The taste was vile, bitter and salty, the texture as nasty as every other time he’d been forced to eat cum in the last few weeks or months or however fucking long this torture had been going on. But knowing it was his own, having to lick it up with the flat of his tongue, coat every single taste bud rather than quickly gulp it down . . . it was a whole other level of fucking disgusting.
“The next time I have you sent an omelet, or a stew, or a nice bowl of risotto, I want you to think on this, and remember that this could be your entire life. You can’t subsist on semen alone, but I could certainly have it mixed into whatever gruel you can subsist on. Your own semen. Mine. Roger’s. Your brother’s. Maybe our piss too.” The sick fuck was definitely getting into the fantasy now, his grip on Dougie’s neck massaging a little. “Are you finished? Have you done as you were told?”
Dougie licked around the bowl one last time to be sure, then mumbled, “Yes, sir,” into its metallic confines.
Nikolai let him sit up again, picked up the little dish and inspected it closely. “Indeed. Now I do believe you have something to say to me?”
Didn’t even have to think about this one. “Thank you, sir,” he said, and he fucking meant it, because oh God it could’ve been so much worse, he understood that now, really truly understood that.
For once, it was exactly the right thing to say. Nikolai’s whole demeanor softened. He smiled. Reached out and petted Dougie’s hair again. “You’re welcome,” he said, and, “There’s my good boy again.”
Dougie tried not to think too hard about how comforting that was, how much of a relief, how good it made him feel to know he’d pleased this man. Just fear, he told himself. It’s just fear I just need to please him so he won’t hurt me again that’s all that’s all it is nothing else nothing else nothing else.
Nikolai’s grin turned knowing, like he’d read Dougie’s thoughts and found them quaint, cute, stubbornly foolish. That was okay, though; Nikolai