The Flesh Cartel Read Online Free PDF Page B

you can tell me.”
    Douglas held his gaze a moment longer, then looked away with a mumbled, “Nothing, sir.” But that was all right—that was all the time Nikolai needed to figure it out. He didn’t want to be Nikolai’s good boy. Oh, he wanted to want it, but he didn’t feel it yet.
    Nikolai clapped his shoulder and squeezed reassuringly. “Give it time, Douglas,” he said. “Give it time.” The boy nodded. “And get dressed. The day is wasting.”
    Douglas nodded again. After all the fuss he’d made about the panties, he pulled them on like they were any old pair of briefs, barely giving them a look or a second thought. Nikolai gave them a look, though: a long one, lingering over the way the frills of lace made his perky ass look even rounder and more lovely. And in the front? The sight of his caged cock and taut little balls stuffed into the tight satiny crotch—gods, it took all of Nikolai’s self-control not to bend him over and fuck him right then. Rip the panties to shreds.
    The jeans next, riding low on slim hips, then the sweater—ah, Nikolai had done well there; Douglas stroked and stroked at the fabric, as if surprised by how nice it felt—then the socks and shoes.
    When at last Douglas straightened up, he looked stiff and vaguely miserable, like he’d forgotten how to wear clothes, or no longer felt at home in them. Nikolai had seen this reaction countless times, and it never failed to warm his heart. Such progress the boy had made in their short time together.
    “How do you feel, Douglas?” Nikolai asked, mostly just to drive the point home.
    “It’s a little strange. But thank you, sir. Really. Thank you.” He came forward, then, and at Nikolai’s inviting nod and opened arms, straddled Nikolai’s lap. Leaned in close, and when Nikolai simply waited, expression gentle and open, kissed him chastely on the mouth. Half real gratitude, half fake-it-’til-you-make-it. Nikolai, pleased as punch with both halves, ruffled the boy’s hair and kissed him back on the tip of the nose.
    “These clothes are yours to keep, my gift to you, but you must only wear them with my permission. Now, I bet you’d like some sunshine, fresh air, and exercise, yes?”
    Douglas’s smile of gratitude practically exploded into a grin of hope and excitement, lighting up his whole face. He bounced off Nikolai’s lap, onto the balls of his feet. “Outside, you mean?”
    How utterly adorable. Nikolai couldn’t help his chuckle. “Everyone in this house may orbit around me, but I cannot help you make vitamin D. Yes, outside. Now come.”

Dougie wasn’t sure how long it had been since he’d last seen the world beyond his own bedroom door. He followed Nikolai now, quick and quiet down the narrow, sumptuous hall in shoes that felt strangely too heavy for his feet.
    All of the clothes felt off. They fit him perfectly—of course they did, they’d taken his measurements at Madame’s—but it was like his body was seeking to find fault with them. The sleeves of his sweater were too long. The fabric of his socks bunched. His jeans were too tight around his thighs. The lace of the panties scratched his sensitive, freshly waxed skin.
    Really, the only things that felt normal and familiar were the plug and cage, a fact that initially filled him with disgust in himself and anger at the world, and then, conversely, hope. Hope that it meant he was truly changing into the pet Nikolai wanted him to be. The slave he needed to be to survive, to have any kind of hope of a life worth living.
    Except that’s not a life worth living, some part of him said. That voice he’d slammed the door on before, locked away in some dark closet. He pushed it back again. It was quieter now. Weaker. He could ignore it. He could .
    Nikolai led him up a staircase, into a richly appointed foyer, pausing only to unlock and relock the doors at the bottom and top of the stairs. So many doors. So many locks. Dougie might as well have been living in