Read The Flesh Cartel - Episode #7: Homecoming for Free Online

the middle of an underground maze, waiting to get eaten by the Minotaur.
    Nikolai didn’t give Dougie any extra time to look around, though his scenery-starved eyes took it all in with ravenous abandon: the marble tiles, the paneled walls, the rich leather and hardwood furniture. Such a beautiful place. So different from his room downstairs. Maybe, if he was very, very good, Nikolai would let him come back here. Spend time here. He refused to let it bother him, how easily he could picture himself curled at Nikolai’s feet, anticipating his every need as he read on the couch or watched TV or did paperwork at his desk. So many opportunities to please. So many opportunities to prove himself. So many opportunities to get lost in the simple, fear-free, pain-free mindlessness of obedience.
    The thought was almost . . . tempting. Soothing. Only a little panicky.
    Nikolai paused, and Dougie realized they’d come to the front door. “Would you like me to cuff you, Douglas? Leash you to me?”
    That felt like an honest question, not a test. Dougie wasn’t sure how to answer.
    “You’re about to venture outside for the first time in weeks, Douglas. No guards. No gates. No locks. Just you and me. So I’m giving you the choice to ask for my help, if you think there’s any risk of you doing something . . . impulsive.”
    Impulsive, like trying to run. And when Nikolai put it that way . . .
    “I . . .” He glanced down at his warm clothes, his sneakered feet. They’d take him far. Far enough? Maybe not, but far. He glanced back to Nikolai—his captor, his torturer, his rapist. How easy it seemed these days, locked down in that basement bedroom, to forget those things. To forget what Nikolai had done, was doing. How he was changing Dougie. Breaking Dougie. But in the light of day, in the fresh air of the wide-open outdoors, well dressed and well fed and well aware of just how fast a runner he could be, of where he might go, of what he might be able to get away from, what he might be able to go back to . . .
    No. Surely they were in the middle of nowhere. Surely Nikolai wouldn’t take him out if he thought there was any chance an escape attempt might succeed. But now that the seed had been planted and would soon be getting sunlight, he couldn’t let it go. And he knew, with sick certainty, how much it would cost him. How far he’d backslide. How angry Nikolai would be when he inevitably dragged Dougie back. How he’d have to start all over again, the fear and the pain and the torture and the rape, because it’d only take one single taste of his old life to sour and spoil the fragility of the new one.
    He glanced at Nikolai again, who was watching him, silent, patient, and said, voice trembling, “Please cuff me, sir.” He didn’t want a collar and leash, never wanted to be dragged around like on the stage at Madame’s again. But cuffs, those would be okay. He’d almost never had his hands bound since he’d been taken. Maybe that sensation would still be safe.
    Nikolai smiled, not angry at all at the unspoken admission that Dougie needed the cuffs because he couldn’t be obedient without them. “Thank you for your honesty, Douglas.” He kissed Dougie on the temple and went to a side table near the door, which had a drawer that in the normal world might contain gloves or sunglasses or mail. From this one, though, Nikolai withdrew two leather cuffs, linked together by bright metal rings.
    When he returned to Dougie’s side, Dougie put his hands behind his back without being asked.
    “I could cuff you in the front, if you like.”
    Dougie shook his head. “No, sir.” If he had his hands, he’d have his balance. He’d be faster than Nikolai. He’d be able to catch himself if he stumbled. Too dangerous, too dangerous. With his hands behind him, he’d never forget for one second . . . A potent reminder, like the pink lace panties.
    Nikolai nodded like he understood every last bit of Dougie’s logic. He probably