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130 pages, Kindle Edition
First published July 29, 2013

Sublime service, made to order.Some books require a stern warning for the unsuspecting reader:
The Flesh Cartel: an international, multi-billion-dollar black market that trades in lost souls. Or more specifically, their bodies.
Highly Organized and frighteningly efficient, the Flesh Cartel could teach even the KGB a thing or two about breaking a human mind. Fortunately for their ultra-rich clients, they're just as skilled at putting people back together again - as perfect pets, well-trained and eager to please.As JaHy told me, this series isn't just dark, it's pitch black...
No matter what your secret tastes or dark desires, the Flesh Cartel - for the right price, of course - will hand-design the plaything of your dreams.Brothers.
He almost whimpered Don't hurt me again, but managed to bite it back. Like it'd mattered worth a damn anyway. Hadn't yet. They actually seemed to like it when he begged.

Worn down by days of unrelenting fear and abuse, Mat and Dougie are packaged with the same ruthless efficiency as any consumer product: Dougie the pretty boy twink, Mat the rabid pit bull. They are led to the auction block as the showpiece of the house's collection.Trapped in adjacent cells awaiting their fate, the brothers are achingly close - close enough to hear the other's tortured moans - yet unable to see or comfort one another.
Mat would rather be beaten to death than play the role of obedient slave for sale, but Dougie, desperate not to be separated from his brother, strikes a deal with the pitiless Madame who runs the auction house and controls both their fates. It might just be enough to keep them together - slaves, but together - assuming Mat even wants to be after Dougie fulfills his end of his with the devil.


“He desires the appearance of danger, but not danger itself. He wishes you to fight, but he must also be assured that he can win those fights if he so chooses. A good slave learns to love service.
All he could see of Dougie was his legs, spread wide and pointing to the sky, ankles swallowed up by huge, grasping hands. Blocking him off was a man in all black, grunting and thrusting. Another stood farther away from Mat, and though Mat couldn’t see him, there was only one explanation for that angle: he was standing by Dougie’s turned head, fucking his face with deep, punishing strokes. The guard was still walking Mat forward, slowly, leash pulled taut. Mat was still playing along, at least for now. But as they got closer to the scene at the center of the stage, Mat realized that although Dougie was horizontal, he wasn’t lying on the couch. He was lying on top of a third man, Dougie’s back to the man’s chest. The man’s hands were wandering up and down Dougie’s chest, pinching his nipples, rubbing and tugging his balls and cock. Two cocks inside his ass. No wonder he was crying. “Tell the nice people how it feels, hole,” one of the men growled. The reply was a muffled howl. Sucking sounds. Mat stared, horrified and frozen, as the cock popped out of Dougie’s mouth. “Say it.” “It hurts, sir!” Dougie wailed. The man laughed—laughed—and squeezed Dougie’s balls until he screamed.