Free The Flesh Cartel - Episode #4: Consequences by Rachel Haimowitz, Heidi Belleau Page A

Writhed beneath Nikolai, but he couldn’t escape. “ Please ,”
    he finally managed between desperate, panting breaths. “Please . . . s-stop, God , stop!”
    Nikolai responded by slamming balls deep over and over into that thrashing body. The boy’s
    cock was withered in his hand, but he stroked it mercilessly, gripping hard enough to have hurt even if Douglas weren’t post-orgasm oversensitive. “Be quiet, boy. This is why you ask permission. How
    dare you take your pleasure before your master’s? And then compound your offense by asking me to stop ?”
    “I’m sorry!” Douglas cried, hands pushing at Nikolai’s shoulders—no doubt subconsciously.
    Nikolai would let it slide for now, especially given the way Douglas’s hole was clenching so
    delightfully around his cock. “I’m sorry! Please! Please stop please please please please . . .”
    “Not until you’re hard again. Not until you come—or not—on my terms, with my permission.”
    Douglas was full-on crying now, not merely tears but big sobs, ugly sniffles, gaping mouth
    twisted like the tragedy masks Madame favored. Hands curled into limp fists, he pounded the heels of
    his palms against Nikolai’s body. Completely out of control. Still not hard.
    “Stop that,” Nikolai barked, and took his hand from the boy’s throat just long enough to slap him,
    hard, forward and then back across both cheeks. “Hit me again, for any reason, and I’ll teach you real pain, do you understand, boy?”
    Douglas nodded brokenly and buried his face in both hands. When Nikolai barked, “No, never
    hide yourself from me,” Douglas gripped at the sheets instead. Lay there tossing his head as Nikolai
    fucked and stroked and fucked him some more.
    The boy had better get hard again soon. Nikolai wouldn’t last forever, no matter how disciplined
    he was. He supposed he could always bring out a fucking machine, but he really wanted to keep this
    personal if he could.
    He changed angles, aiming straight for the boy’s prostate. Gentled his hand a little, sliding the
    foreskin over the shaft but staying away from the crown. At last, a twitch. A slight filling. Hardening.
    “That’s it,” he praised. “Nice and hard for your master again.”
    Douglas shook in place, eyes rolling back in his head. Nikolai slowed his thrusts lest he come
    too soon, sped up his stroking to compensate. Took his hand from around the boy’s throat—no need to
    pin him down anymore—and went for his nipples again. Nothing too rough—the boy clearly didn’t
    get off on pain. Just stroking and flicking and rolling. Tempting. Teasing.
    And ah, there it was, a soft pleasured moan, humiliated, burning with shame, but genuine.
    “Isn’t it so much better when you give in? You crave this, Douglas. Now that you’ve had it, you
    always will.” Douglas shook his head, but even with his mouth clamped shut, another moan escaped.
    Exquisite. “Tonight you’ll dream of me inside you.” He drew himself out until the boy’s muscles
    squeezed only the head of his cock, then thrust back in, allowing his own moan to escape. “You’ll lie
    awake unable to touch yourself, and when I come to you tomorrow, you’ll be on your knees waiting to
    beg me to fuck you again. You’re mine now, whether you know it yet or not. Say it.”
    “Yours. I’m yours. Sir. Please, please let it be over.”
    Why did he have to ruin it that way? “It’s over when I say it’s over.” Now he really was
    considering bringing out a fucking machine. And a penis pump. Strapping the boy into both all night,
    watching him moan and writhe and beg and come and come and come . Gods , just the thought of that drew his balls up, tightened his belly. Yes. A fine lesson. “Look me in the eyes when I come.” He
    grabbed Douglas by the chin, hard enough that he’d probably bruised that beautiful pale skin. Kept
    Douglas’s face in position. Stared deep down into his frightened, horrified eyes.
    You will be mine. Your body.