The Flesh Cartel - Episode 3: Choices by Rachel Haimowitz; Heidi Belleau

Author:Rachel Haimowitz; Heidi Belleau [Belleau, Rachel Haimowitz; Heidi]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi, pdf
Publisher: Riptide Publishing
Published: 2012-12-21T05:00:00+00:00

Roger had parked the RV in the garage and left it there, empty except for its one hidden occupant. The boy wasn’t to be touched or talked to by anyone but Nikolai, a little like a baby bird fallen from its nest. Now that Mathias was settled, it was time for Nikolai to make that crucial first connection. He stopped in the kitchen to collect two bottles of water, and then he headed alone for the garage.

The RV was disgusting inside. Oh, it was tidy enough, but it smelled like cum and fear. Absolutely vile. He’d have Roger clean it top to bottom once he was done here, and he hoped he could be done very, very soon.

He went to the false wall of cupboards, feeling along the edges and crannies until he found the switch to open the door to the secret room. Inhale. Exude confidence and kindness. To any other man it would be unsettling, switching from torturer to savior in a breath. Exhale.

He opened the door.

A bar of light fell on the floor of the room, widening and widening as the door opened, until a foot, and then an ankle and calf, came into view. A knee. A hip. Arms wrapped around a lean, naked torso. A face. Soft jaw and lush, chapped lips molded around a ball gag. Eyes scrunched shut against the light. Peeking open hesitantly as they adjusted.

Nikolai crouched, not yet revealing the water. “Hello, sweetheart,” he murmured, extending a hand as he would to a beaten dog. “Come here, love. I won’t hurt you.”

No recognition yet. No understanding. The boy was half feral, three-quarters dead of dehydration, probably not yet fully aware of the fact that Nikolai wasn’t a hallucination.

“Shhh, it’s all right. I’m real. I’m here to help you.” He put the water down just outside the door, took the key to the gag’s lock from his pocket, crawled into the tight space and reached around behind Douglas’s head to remove the foul thing. Douglas cringed from him, whimpered, the sound little more than a sandpaper rasp in his dry throat.

“Shhh,” Nikolai said again. He unlocked and unbuckled the gag by feel, peeled it gently away. He’d not missed the scabbing on Douglas’s scalp beneath the buckle, the sores at the corners of his mouth, the bloody cracks in his lips.

When the ball slipped free, Douglas poked a dry tongue out and tried to soothe his aching mouth. He had trouble closing it after so long held open, whimpered brokenly at the pain of trying. Nikolai stroked his cheek, cupped his chin, and helped him. Reached for a bottle of water and screwed the cap off.

Douglas’s eyes finally focused on that, huge and hungry and desperate. His lips moved, and a soft whuff of air pushed past them. No sound, but Nikolai knew what he was trying to say: Please.

“It’s all right, I’ll help you.” He cradled the back of Douglas’s head in one hand, brought the bottle to his lips with the other.

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