Read Online The Flesh Cartel #2: Auction by Rachel Haimowitz - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Rachel Haimowitz
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leather strap. A studded paddle. A metal . . . plug, maybe, that looked like a fucking pear of anguish, right out of a medieval torture chamber. A battery hooked up to alligator clamps.
Madame massaged his shoulder as he took it all in. “Do you understand why I’m showing you this, boy?” she asked at full volume, obviously for the crowd’s enjoyment. “Can you tell our guests in the back what you’re looking at?” Dougie gulped. “They’re . . . they’re th-things . . . things you use to hurt people.”
56
From the corner of his eye, he saw Mat’s head turn sluggishly toward the cart, jaw set, eyes shuttered. Madame’s hand squeezed Dougie’s shoulder. “Very good, dear. Who are they for?”
“Him.” Dougie swallowed hard and gestured to Mat with his chin. He wasn’t sure if he should say Mat’s name.
Wasn’t sure if he could stand to. He didn’t deserve to. “Yes, him. Why?” “Because . . .” He knew what she wanted to hear. Knew what he was supposed to say. Be a good pet. Let them all know what a well-behaved little hole you are. Maybe he
could still redeem them both. Fulfill his promise. “Because he deserves to be punished, Madame.”
“ Very good. Now choose one to punish him with.” Murmurs from the crowd, so strange behind those unmoving masks. Dougie practically sagged with relief— choose one , she’d said; they wouldn’t use them all. Except . . . which one? Surely this was another test. In the dead quiet of his indecision, Madame leaned in,
whispered low, private, just for him. “Remember your promise, little hole. Do you want to see him ever again?” Dougie quaked beneath her hand, her breath caressing his ear. “Choose wisely, boy.”
The battery, then. It looked like the worst of them by far. Dougie lifted a shaking hand, started to point to it— Pulled his hand back. He couldn’t do that to Mat.
Couldn’t . And what if he didn’t need to? What if the cane was enough? Or the strap? Or . . . fuck, he had no idea how to rate these on a scale of bad to worse. The battery seemed like the only obvious standout. The expanding plug, maybe? It might not hurt as much as the other things, but surely the humiliation factor had to count for something.
57 And from the looks of it, it’d expand out easily as wide as a fist, probably two. Dougie had enough experience in that
department by now to know exactly how much just two cocks could hurt, and a fist was so much bigger.
Mat couldn’t take any more electricity. What if the battery killed him? And he was already so bruised. Dougie stuck out a hand before he could change his mind. Pointed. The plug. I’m sorry, Mat. Please forgive me.
The crowd practically crowed. Even Madame flashed a rare smile. She picked the plug up off the tray. Turned to Dougie. “If you think you’re man enough to choose his punishment, then you must be man enough to mete it out.
That’s the responsibility of a master.” She pressed the plug into his hands.
He dropped it. Hadn’t meant to. Couldn’t have helped it for all the world.
Horrified, babbling apologies, he fell to his knees and picked it up again.
Heavy. Cold steel. As thick across as the fattest of the guards’ cocks while still screwed tightly closed. Shaped like a spade on a playing card, with a turnkey at the bottom. Madame produced a little tube of lube from somewhere and handed it to him. “We wouldn’t want to damage the merchandise,” she said, and Dougie almost dropped the damn thing again. His hands were shaking so badly he couldn’t flip the cap off the lube. He couldn’t do this.
Yes, you can. To stay together. In the face of that, what’s a little object rape among brothers?
Dougie barked out a single, strangled laugh. Jesus fuck, he was going insane. The Dougie who’d dropped the 58 nightstick in defiance of Madame their first day here might as well have never existed.
He slicked the plug until lube dripped over his hand and onto the stage. Set the tube
Madame massaged his shoulder as he took it all in. “Do you understand why I’m showing you this, boy?” she asked at full volume, obviously for the crowd’s enjoyment. “Can you tell our guests in the back what you’re looking at?” Dougie gulped. “They’re . . . they’re th-things . . . things you use to hurt people.”
56
From the corner of his eye, he saw Mat’s head turn sluggishly toward the cart, jaw set, eyes shuttered. Madame’s hand squeezed Dougie’s shoulder. “Very good, dear. Who are they for?”
“Him.” Dougie swallowed hard and gestured to Mat with his chin. He wasn’t sure if he should say Mat’s name.
Wasn’t sure if he could stand to. He didn’t deserve to. “Yes, him. Why?” “Because . . .” He knew what she wanted to hear. Knew what he was supposed to say. Be a good pet. Let them all know what a well-behaved little hole you are. Maybe he
could still redeem them both. Fulfill his promise. “Because he deserves to be punished, Madame.”
“ Very good. Now choose one to punish him with.” Murmurs from the crowd, so strange behind those unmoving masks. Dougie practically sagged with relief— choose one , she’d said; they wouldn’t use them all. Except . . . which one? Surely this was another test. In the dead quiet of his indecision, Madame leaned in,
whispered low, private, just for him. “Remember your promise, little hole. Do you want to see him ever again?” Dougie quaked beneath her hand, her breath caressing his ear. “Choose wisely, boy.”
The battery, then. It looked like the worst of them by far. Dougie lifted a shaking hand, started to point to it— Pulled his hand back. He couldn’t do that to Mat.
Couldn’t . And what if he didn’t need to? What if the cane was enough? Or the strap? Or . . . fuck, he had no idea how to rate these on a scale of bad to worse. The battery seemed like the only obvious standout. The expanding plug, maybe? It might not hurt as much as the other things, but surely the humiliation factor had to count for something.
57 And from the looks of it, it’d expand out easily as wide as a fist, probably two. Dougie had enough experience in that
department by now to know exactly how much just two cocks could hurt, and a fist was so much bigger.
Mat couldn’t take any more electricity. What if the battery killed him? And he was already so bruised. Dougie stuck out a hand before he could change his mind. Pointed. The plug. I’m sorry, Mat. Please forgive me.
The crowd practically crowed. Even Madame flashed a rare smile. She picked the plug up off the tray. Turned to Dougie. “If you think you’re man enough to choose his punishment, then you must be man enough to mete it out.
That’s the responsibility of a master.” She pressed the plug into his hands.
He dropped it. Hadn’t meant to. Couldn’t have helped it for all the world.
Horrified, babbling apologies, he fell to his knees and picked it up again.
Heavy. Cold steel. As thick across as the fattest of the guards’ cocks while still screwed tightly closed. Shaped like a spade on a playing card, with a turnkey at the bottom. Madame produced a little tube of lube from somewhere and handed it to him. “We wouldn’t want to damage the merchandise,” she said, and Dougie almost dropped the damn thing again. His hands were shaking so badly he couldn’t flip the cap off the lube. He couldn’t do this.
Yes, you can. To stay together. In the face of that, what’s a little object rape among brothers?
Dougie barked out a single, strangled laugh. Jesus fuck, he was going insane. The Dougie who’d dropped the 58 nightstick in defiance of Madame their first day here might as well have never existed.
He slicked the plug until lube dripped over his hand and onto the stage. Set the tube
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