Impossible decision. He needed them both gone, could maybe give something to Nikolai to convince him . . .
“Come now, it’s not exactly Sophie’s Choice, Douglas.” He brushed one hand across a clamp, cupped Dougie’s caged cock with the other. Everything whited out for a second, pain and need and overload. “Or would you charm me into removing both?”
Beg him to pinch your nipples—he’d have to take the clamps off for that. To touch your cock while he fucks you. To let him pleasure you. That’s what he wants.
But . . . no. He couldn’t say that. Couldn’t ask for that, not even to make all this end. Not yet, anyway. He wasn’t broken yet.
“The clamps, sir,” he said instead, because he hurt too much to come, and he knew he’d never get to come anyway without begging for things he wasn’t ready to beg for. And if he could come without any of that, any “catches” or “deals” or “trades” or “compromises,” he’d fucking hate himself for it.
“Ah well. I don’t think you’ve learned the value of your master pleasuring you yet, anyway, not if your current behavior is anything to go by. I think very soon, though, I’ll be able to suck your cock and have you weep with joy.” Dougie shuddered at the thought, but obviously Nikolai was on a roll and wasn’t about to interrupt himself with a little thing like punishing disrespect. “Did you know some slaves in your position never come? Never masturbate, never get an erection, never experience pleasure at all. Are simply endlessly used.”
But then, maybe the roll was his punishment. “But you’re not like that, sir,” Dougie said.
“Oh no?”
“You’re . . . you’re better than other masters, sir. Kinder. I’d rather be with you.”
“What did I tell you about lying, Douglas? Pandering to my ego won’t serve you. I know what you think of me. I know you don’t understand the nuances of my work. You think I’m no different from those animals at Madame’s. Well, if that’s the case, if I’m to be a monster either way, then let me show you what happens to a slave like you with a master who isn’t so generous.”
No, no, no, whatever you’re doing, no.
Nikolai walked away, Dougie’s tuned senses following the path of his steps, the weight of his footfalls, the length of his strides. Was he in a rush? Was he angry? Where was he going? Definitely walking with purpose. What was he coming back with?
“You see, it’s considered by some to be potentially unhealthy or dangerous for a man not to come for the rest of his life.” Why did he say it like he was so certain Dougie would be a slave for the rest of his life? Because I will be. I’m going to die a slave. A week from now, twenty years from now, whatever. I’m going to die here. Like this. Naked. Debased. Alone. “But there are ways to release that pressure without granting so much as a moment’s pleasure. Ways that, on top of not being pleasurable, are actively painful for a slave, if only because of the humiliation.”
Nikolai took Dougie by the hips—he’s wearing latex gloves why the fuck is he wearing latex gloves?—and lifted his ass, positioning him like a mannequin. He slid something cold—a metal bowl?—into the space he’d created beneath Dougie’s cock.
“This is not a sex act, Douglas. You’ll receive no affection from me, no warmth or touch or kindness. It’s a medical procedure, about as uncomfortable as getting a tooth pulled, but infinitely more shameful. The cage and plug and pure denial clearly haven’t taught you the value of my tenderness toward you, so maybe this will. In fact, maybe we’ll make this a regular part of your routine.”
Dougie was too scared to appreciate when Nikolai unlocked and unbuckled the belt holding the plug in, perfunctorily letting the straps fall. He didn’t stroke Dougie or touch him or spank him or spread him to admire his handiwork. There was no play or teasing when it came to the plug’s removal, either; Nikolai gripped it by the base and yanked it out.
His only reaction to Dougie’s loud, involuntary moan was a sharp, “Be quiet.”
Dougie clamped his lips shut. With pleasure, you creepy pervert. Sadist. Mad fucking scientist.
A drizzle of ice cold lubricant ran down his ass crack, what felt like an entire tube of it. Messy. Disgusting. Two gloved fingers slid easily into his hole, accompanied by a vile squelch of lube.
Nikolai was true to his word. There was no commentary, no stroking touches, no playful wiggling of his fingers. They honed in straight onto Dougie’s prostate, finding it in one thrust, and began to rub it in hard, merciless little circles.
God fucking damn. Dougie’s hands curled into fists, tugging on the sheets in a pathetic attempt to keep the rest of his body from moving. He pressed his face to the mattress and hummed, because it was either that or scream. Having his prostate touched before had been a contradiction—shame and fear and dazzling pleasure—but it was nothing compared to this pain and searing want and overwhelming self-hatred.
“Do you see now, Douglas? Do you see how terrible this is? How much I want to give you more? Care for you? Respect you? Pleasure and love you?”
Dougie moaned. Couldn’t have found words if he’d tried. The terrible pressure/pain was slowly easing, but the sensitivity was still there, tainting whatever pleasure there might’ve been. Nikolai pushed just so, and for one awful second he felt sure he’d piss himself, wet the bed, and then he did—or rather, wet whatever Nikolai had shoved underneath him—but not with urine, with . . . was that cum? Was he coming in the middle of all this pain and misery? It didn’t feel like coming, not in the way that coming gave him a breathless sense of relief and satisfaction, even here—for a second or two, anyway. Not that sweet blankness of the mind before the shame kicked in.
This was . . . was . . . He moaned at another hard press from Nikolai, ten parts hypersensitive agony to one part pleasure. More fluid dribbled from his cock. He was being wrung out. Drained. Emptied. One more push, and he’d be nothing but dried pulp, like a juiced orange. But God, at least the pressure was easing. He might almost be able to think again. Not that he really wanted to.
“Still so ungrateful,” Nikolai mused, easing up on the pressure a little, right as Dougie was actually starting to feel a glimmer of something good, starting to try to get hard in his cage.
Nikolai didn’t sound angry, but Dougie could tell by the emptiness of the silence that followed that he was waiting for a reply.
“U-ungrateful, sir? I . . . I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be, but . . .” But what the fuck exactly am I supposed to be thanking you for right now? Making me squirm? Humiliating me? Hurting me?
“But you still don’t get it, yes? I could’ve left you in misery, you know. I could’ve left you full of unspent seminal fluid, building up and swelling inside you like a tumor.” He pressed especially hard then, sharp pain and sweet relief, and more fluid dribbled from Dougie’s cock. Another rub, and another, and suddenly he gasped, all pain, no pleasure at all, and he really had been wrung dry, no more dribbles, no more feeling like he had to piss, just that awful post-orgasm sensitivity except without the orgasm.
At last, Nikolai pulled his fingers from Dougie’s ass. Rolled him over with a nudge to his hip. Picked up the little steel dish he’d used to collect Dougie’s semen and peered at it closely. There were lines stamped on the inside of it, like a test tube or a beaker.
“Hmm. Just shy of fifteen milliliters. Impressive, but then, you’re young and there was quite a buildup.” He was fucking measuring it? “I think our goal from now on will be a little more conservative. Ten milliliters every day, by my hand or Roger’s if I’m too busy. Ten milliliters milked from you every day until such time as I’ve decided you’ve learned the lesson I intend to teach you. Or perhaps indefinitely, if it turns out that’s the best course of action. It’s not a science, what I’m doing, you understand. More an art. Sometimes I really do have to play it by ear.”
Every day? This humiliating clinical act, this feeling of being squeezed dry, treated like a fucking dog—every day?
“Please, no, sir.” Ugh, begging. The perfec
t cap to this miserable experience. “Tell me what I have to do to make this stop and I will. I will. I’ll be good, sir. I won’t lie anymore. I’ll suck you off. You can fuck me.” I’ll even pretend to enjoy it.
Pretend to enjoy it? Let’s be honest, Dougie. You’d enjoy it for real. A big cock plugging up your hole properly, and maybe his hand on your cock, letting you come . . .
“Shhh.” The latex gloves snapped, and Nikolai petted Dougie’s head with a bare hand. It seemed all the clinical mirror-world doctor’s office stuff was over. Nikolai was Nikolai again, the man. Dougie hated himself for finding that thought comforting. “That’s enough, Douglas. If I’m lenient with you now, you won’t learn your lesson at all. Maybe tomorrow you can try again.”
Somehow, Dougie couldn’t rouse the energy to beg or panic about that. The fear was dulled along with the pain and the desire. His pride had slunk off into some dark corner to die. He really was a husk of a person now. Waiting for Nikolai to remake him again. Please just do it and get it over with. Maybe then I won’t feel this way anymore. I don’t want to feel anything anymore. If it means letting you win, or even dying, so be it.
Nikolai took him by the arm and pulled him upright, until he was sitting on the edge of the bed. Smearing lube all over everything. Disgusting. Wouldn’t that make Nikolai angry?
But Nikolai wasn’t paying any mind to the blanket. He was looking over his shoulder, at the tray on the floor, nothing touched but the orange juice Dougie had spilled. Nikolai turned back, brow furrowed. Frowning.
“You need to eat, Douglas.”
Dougie nodded. He knew that, he did, but . . . “I tried, sir. I’m sorry, I just, I feel so awful and I—”
“No excuses, Douglas. Not here. What we have here is another gratitude problem. I offer you fresh fruit, finely cooked food, and not only do you not thank me for it, you don’t eat it? Perhaps I should do as Madame does and feed you the same bland nutritious slop, meal after meal, day after day, month after month, if you can’t find it in yourself to appreciate my gesture of kindness.”
“No, sir, I . . .” Dougie’s breath hitched, and he felt his throat tighten, his bottom lip begin to tremble. Jesus, crying? Really? All because a man he hated was scolding him for ingratitude? Since when had Nikolai’s opinion mattered worth a fuck to him, anyway? “I’m sorry,” he said, and it came out on a fucking sob, and not at all because he feared the prospect of Nikolai’s threat but because whatever thin sliver of affection Nikolai had shown him this morning was gone now. And that was so fucked up and horrible and wrong that it made him cry harder, and he hated hated hated himself for feeling better when Nikolai tsked and There, there’d and put an arm around his shoulders and pressed him close.
“It’s all right, Douglas,” Nikolai soothed, petting his head. “It’s not too late to show me I’ve misread you.”
Dougie nodded, face still pressed to Nikolai’s stomach. Yes, he’d pick up the tray right now. He’d eat every last bite and then lick his plate and thank Nikolai again and again.
“You need to eat for me, Douglas. Will you do that?”
Dougie sniffed and nodded. “Yes, sir. Thank you for the second chance, sir.”
“Oh, I’m afraid I don’t give second chances, Douglas. No, I think we’ll treat the food the same way we’re treating the cage on your cock. Which is to say, tomorrow you can have your usual breakfast and prove to me you’re ready to eat it, just as tomorrow you can have another opportunity to prove you’re ready for me to give you pleasure. Today, I think we’ll continue treating you like the lowest sort of slave.”
“Wh—”
“On the floor, 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 could think what he wanted as long as he wasn’t mad. Dougie hunched his shoulders, tried to make himself smaller, humble, invisible. Hoped Nikolai was done with him, but no, of course he wasn’t. He gestured Dougie back to the bed. Dougie was no fool; he crawled. Didn’t have to think about that, either. It felt frighteningly natural. Easy. Even if the weight of the chain hanging down between his nipples as he moved made them scream again.
Nikolai had him lie on his back. “I’ll take these clamps off, and then you can go clean yourself up.”
More relief, huge and heady. “Yes, sir,” Dougie managed, and, “Thank you, sir,” because he really was grateful at the thought that this pain would end, that Nikolai would see it ended, so grateful he hardly knew how to contain it and didn’t want to anyway, wanted Nikolai to understand he was sincere, to not be mad at him again, to not punish him, to smile at him and tell him he’d been good because he couldn’t fucking handle any more consequences or he’d shatter like a glass dropped off a fucking roof and then cut himself to ribbons on the pieces.
“Now I don’t know if you’ve ever worn something like these before, though I’m assuming not. This will hurt, Douglas. Terribly.” No, no more pain no more hurt I made you happy didn’t I? I was grateful, I was grateful! “Shhh, it’s all right, it’s not a punishment, Douglas.” Nikolai laid a hand on his chest, gentle, soothing. “But circulation is going to return to some already sensitive and tender tissue, and that isn’t a good feeling. In fact, I’d liken it to torture. But it’s a necessary pain to avoid more serious consequences, and when it’s over, you’ll feel much better. I promise.”
He smiled, the expression kind of half-cocked and weirdly charming and oh fucking God help him, was he starting to rationalize ways that Nikolai was attractive?
“A little like my work with you here, actually. What an apt metaphor for this entire process!” Another smile, more inward this time, as if he were as pleased with himself as he was with Dougie. “Now, I’m a bit concerned that since you’re quite unaccustomed to pain, you may . . . flail a bit at the sensation, and in doing so make things worse for yourself. Since this really isn’t a punishment, I’d rather that didn’t happen. Do you understand?”
Dougie nodded, swelling with that same strange gratitude and relief. Not a punishment doesn’t mean to hurt me isn’t mad at me isn’t mad.
“So in light of that, and at risk of scaring you more by asking . . . would you like me to strap you down?”
No, no, he didn’t want to be restrained again, not ever again, no more ropes or chains or straps or— “You, sir. Please, I . . .” I’m afraid. I’m scared and I’m more alone than I’ve ever been and I’m tired of hurting and I need someone, a drop of kindness, of gentleness, I need—
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