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| Determined to Obey
 eBook Edition License Notes
| | What is a dream worth?
No one ever reads these things, but I wish they would. These books took years to write and you’ll
never know how many hours I spent crafting these sentences until my mind was mush and my fingers
literally hurt. I have put life on hold to write these books—time with my kids, my husband, and my
friends. I finished Seduced in the Dark on the 4th of July while my family laughed, played, and
celebrated without me. I have made sacrifices to teach my children the value of following their
dreams, that through hard work and determination it is possible for a person to: 1) Do something they
love. 2) Be successful while doing it. Piracy hurts.
If you paid for this book, thank you. Thank you for contributing to my dream and the dreams of my
children. Thank you for showing me what I do is valuable to you.
If you didn’t pay for this book, please consider doing so from a reputable seller.
If you’re pirating this book, there isn’t much I can do about it. But I think you’re cruel for taking
something from me and giving nothing back.
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be resold or given
away to others unless a separate copy has been purchased. Thank you for respecting the hard work of
this author.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s
imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual
events, locales, organizations, or persons living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
| | Copyright © 2014 Neurotica Books LLC., CJ Roberts
www.aboutcjroberts.com
| | All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner, including
translation, whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in
critical articles and reviews.
| | Photo credit: Mike Wolforth (mikewolforth@mac.com)
Modeling talent provided by: Fierce Modeling
Cover design: Amanda Simpson, Pixel Mischief Design (amanda@pixelmischiefdesign.com)
Formatting: Polgarus Studio (http://www.polgarusstudio.com)
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 Table of Contents
| | 1-10
11-20
21-30
31-40
41-50
51-60
61-62
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| Preface
PLEASE READ
A note from the Author
| | This story was originally written for inclusion in the anthology Pink Shades of Words. All of the
proceeds went to breast cancer research. My gratitude goes out to all of you who purchased a copy and
contributed to this wonderful cause.
This story has been edited to allow for prior knowledge of the Dark Duet plot and all of its
characters; I had to avoid spoilers in the anthology as much as possible. Whether you’re reading this
story for the first time or not, I hope you’ll enjoy what I’ve done with it.
I love all of my characters, but some of them really speak to me, and I’ve always had a little bit of
a soft spot for “Kid”, the nineteen-year-old biker with a tender heart. In fact, I had originally written a
small love triangle involving Kid, Livvie, and Caleb. Kid was meant to be a character Livvie could
relate to, someone her age who’d lost someone he loved and had been taken captive. It sure as hell
didn’t hurt that he and Caleb share so many physical attributes. However, in the end, I just couldn’t
justify another hundred pages to an already enormous second volume.
That said, having a beautiful boy held captive in a house with a hedonist couple like Felipe and
Celia was simply too much temptation to resist. FAIR WARNING – ALL SEXUAL PAIRINGS
APPEAR IN THE TEXT.
| | The character “Kid” appears in both Captive in the Dark and Seduced in the Dark.
This novella takes place in Mexico and follows Kid after he and his girlfriend, Nancy, are taken
hostage by a group of men led by Caleb. Unbeknownst to Kid or Nancy, they are taken to the mansion
of Felipe Villanueva, an eccentric crime boss with a taste for the taboo.
Wrongfully accused by Nancy of the attempted rape and subsequent assault of Caleb’s escaped
captive, “Kitten”, Kid is tortured by his captors.
We join Kid in the dungeon, where he is about to meet Felipe and his companion Celia for the first
time…
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| He’s alone, absolutely alone…lost! He’s never been lost. He’s never wondered if he’ll ever see his
family again. Kid is eight years old; he’s terrified for the first time in his life. His eyes look
everywhere at once, but he can’t see her. She should be there—on the bench—waiting. He wasn’t gone
very long, he thinks, but can’t be sure. How big is the park? Where is she? Where is his mama? His
tongue darts out across his upper lip: Salt. Dust. Desperation. He cries out, sudden and fierce,
“Mama!”
No answer.
An old man turns to look at him, and every warning he’s ever been given about strangers—strange
men especially—sings through his blood. Kid has been told how beautiful he is, warned he’s a
temptation, and been given the talk about people who like to touch underwear parts. So when the old
man takes a step toward him, Kid runs.
He runs, but has no idea where he wants to go. He just has to keep moving, searching, calling
out—whatever it takes to find her. If he stops moving, he’ll fall down and start crying. His dad says
there’s never been a problem solved by crying.
He thinks about going back to the skate ramp to see if the boys he met left, but he knows they did.
He only came back because they were leaving. He can’t remember where his mom parked the car.
What if it’s gone? He brushes the thought away—his mother would never leave him.
“Kid!” his mother yells. He knows it’s her without having to lay eyes on her. Relief slams into him
so fast he isn’t ready. His knees buckle and land on the soft grass at the same time his butt hits his
ankles, and he cries. He cries loud and hard until his throat burns and his stomach cramps.
His mother lands on her knees in front of him. He screams as his narrow arms are crushed within
his mother’s grip—she’s never hurt him before. She gasps apologetically and rubs his arms. Her
hands inspect him, checking and rechecking imagined wounds. She’s out of breath—she’s crying too.
“Oh, Kid…oh, God, thank God! I thought I’d lost you,” she says between sobs and messy kisses.
Satisfied he isn’t hurt, she runs her fingers through his sweaty, blond hair, and then presses her nose
to his scalp and inhales. She wipes tears from his crystal blue eyes and stares into them in the way
only a mother can—like he’s the only thing that has ever mattered—like she’d die for him—like she’d
kill.
Kid soaks in his mother’s love like a flower absorbs light, by turning toward it. He allows himself
to cry within the cocoon of her embrace, because there are indeed some problems that can be solved
by crying. He knows there will be consequences for running off, and yet it seems unimportant. His
mother loves him, keeps him safe, and that’s all that matters.
“Don’t cry, baby,” she sings into his ear and rocks him.
| | The boy won’t cease whimpering. It breaks her heart a little. She drags her fingers gently through his
hair and holds him. “Don’t cry,” she whispers in his ear. Her English isn’t very good, but she knows
enough to get by. She’ll have to become fluent if she plans on keeping her new pet.
“I’m sorry,” the boy replies, and leans into her touch. He’s delirious with thirst and quaking with
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| fear. “I was all alone.” He licks a dry path across his upper lip. His nose wrinkles in distaste—
presumably at the flavor of his own dry blood. “I love you, Mama.”
Celia’s chest pangs. There have been many nights she has longed to be called Mother, but it is
something she will never be. It’s a pity this boy can never go home again. He must love his mother
very much; it’s a sentiment she only vaguely empathizes with, never having known her own mother.
“Shhh, pobresito.”
| | Kid knows that word. It means ‘poor baby’ or something like that. He frowns; his mama doesn’t speak
Spanish. A prickle of awareness penetrates the thick soup of his consciousness—he’s dreaming. It’s
very important he not wake. He burrows deeper into the eleven-year-old memory of his mother’s
arms, of the last time he was lost and then found. She’s found him again. She’ll take him home. Home
is the road. No…that’s not right. Home is…
His home is gone.
“Don’t leave me,” Kid whispers. His chest hurts. Vaguely, he comprehends there’s more hurt yet to
be catalogued, knows he’s been hurting for a while. He shakes his head; a whine escapes him. Don’t
open your eyes.
A man speaks. Kid begins shivering, because only bad things happen when he hears male voices.
Realization creeps over him like quicksand sucking him down into his body and into the present.
He is no longer eight years old.
His parents are long dead.
The last of his family was murdered in front of him.
He and Nancy have been taken as hostages.
They were beaten.
Nancy betrayed him.
| | At first, Felipe wanted nothing to do with Rafiq’s mess. He’s never met Rafiq’s apprentice Caleb, and
has not once felt inclined. But things change. Powerful men get older and rest on their laurels. Felipe
has always been patient in waiting for these moments. Moments like this one.
He can use this young man to get information on Caleb. There’s plenty Felipe already knows, but
one can never know too much about their allies or enemies—especially as one can often become the
other, the enemy of my enemy and all that.
So when Rafiq asked—quite imposingly—if Caleb could make use of Felipe’s plantation, he
acquiesced. Had he known Caleb was going to allow his kidnapped slave to escape and cause her
captor to slaughter three men, start a fire, take two hostages, and bring them to Felipe’s house in
Tuxtepec—his home—he may have been less gracious. It’s been two days and Caleb has yet to arrive
with Kitten. The men Caleb sent ahead of himself have been occupying themselves with the hostages.
It will be their undoing.
It was assumed the boy and his companion were part of the plot to hold Caleb’s slave for ransom
and attempted rape, but they have since learned the boy is apparently innocent—of the rape, at least.
It’s fortuitous for the young man. His female companion, on the other hand…she isn’t faring so well.
Celia abhors rapists with a fervent passion, and she has no sympathy for women who turn a blind eye
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| to the cruel lusts of men. And yet…she wants to subjugate this boy. Celia is a complex woman.
Regardless, he won’t deny the young man is… alluring. “Do you know why you’re here?”
| | Kid can’t suppress his dry sobs. “I don’t know anything!” he yells. The words are barely audible. He’s
screamed himself hoarse over the last however many…hours? Days? He thinks he’s been here at least
a day or two. Time gets away from him between beatings.
They’re going to kill him soon. He really doesn’t know anything. He’s less than useless—a burden.
His kidnappers won’t let him live, not after they’ve already killed so many others. Abe. Joker. His
mind shies away from the last name, but his heart throbs with loss anyway. Uncle Tiny.
The man in the room is still speaking, but Kid is too lost in the maze of his frantic thoughts to
behave with any bravery. He offers whimpers in place of words. Please don’t let me die like that. At
first he’d thought Caleb’s absence a good thing, but Kid quickly learned the men they’d been left with
were just as vile. Despite his fear, he attempts to open his eyes only to discover he can’t.
He knows he’s dead already. Isn’t a man allowed to beg for mercy in his final moments? After all,
there’s no one left to be ashamed of him.
| | “Jair. Knife.”
Kid can’t even scream. He’s trying. Every sound he attempts is trapped inside him. There’s a gun
in his back and a fist in his hair holding him on his knees. His uncle Tiny is only two or three steps
away, sprawled face-down on the shitty carpet, blood dripping from his broken nose.
The words register the moment Caleb straddles Tiny’s back and yanks his head back to expose his
tense neck. “Jair. Knife.”
Uncle Tiny struggles. It’s over before Kid can scream.
“I warned you, you motherfucker!” Caleb sneers. He’s full of rage and he proves it.
Blood sprays across Caleb’s chest, neck, and face, but the psychopath has enough sense to close
his mouth and turn away—but only for the first arch. As he turns back and keeps stabbing, ripping,
and separating head from shoulders, Caleb’s eyes never leave their mark—as though he knows the
blood will only continue to slow.
Kid still can’t scream. Warmth runs down his left thigh as he watches his uncle’s blood spread out
across the floor like living black ooze. You pissed yourself, his mind supplies. He’s surprisingly calm
about the whole thing. He’s staring at his uncle’s head and it’s not on his shoulders. That’s so weird.
He has a thought about horror movies. All the severed heads he’s seen are suddenly unrealistic. Then
he wonders what those thick white pieces holding part of his uncle’s head on are called. Sinew?
Where’ve I heard that before? Health class? Is someone screaming? It’s them; it’s all of them: Kid,
Abe, Nancy, and even Joker, they’re all screaming.
Caleb smells like hot copper and raw meat. The tip of his knife is suddenly poised beneath Kid’s
chin. “Stop screaming or I’ll cut your tongue out.” Kid sucks his lips into his mouth and bites down to
muffle himself. He’s dizzy with panic and lack of oxygen. “Now,” Caleb smears Tiny’s blood across
Kid’s cheek with the flat side of the blade, “tell me again what happened.”
Kid knows the moment he opens his mouth all he’ll be able to do is scream. Distantly, he
acknowledges the rest of his friends are attempting silence as well. The attention is on him alone. His
bladder clenches, but he’s already wearing his piss. He cries instead. His uncle is dead and he can’t
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| spare him a thought. He’s too afraid of what comes next.
It isn’t until Caleb takes hold of his hair and tilts his head that Kid’s survival instincts finally kick
in. “I helped her! P-p-p-please,” he sputters. He pulls in gulps of air. It’s not enough. His world is
dark around the edges. “I swear. I—”
“—helped her. Right. You helped her after your buddies raped her, after they beat her and broke
her bones!” He presses the knife under Kid’s chin hard enough to produce a trickle of hot blood.
This is it, Kid thinks. He closes his eyes to wait for the pain. “I swear,” he whispers. “No rape. I
helped her.” Abruptly, he’s caressed from one corner of his eye to the other. The gentle touch is a
shock; something sinister lies beneath. The caress is followed by another; he can taste his own tears
and his uncle’s blood across his bottom lip.
“You swear,” Caleb says. He snorts derisively. “Kid, I’m going to take you and that little bitch
over there with me, and when Kitten wakes up, she’s going to tell me what happened. Understand?”
The younger man opens his eyes just in time to see the back of Caleb’s hand approaching. His cheek
lands in a blood-soaked patch of carpet.
“Jair,” Caleb’s voice is cold, “take this little pussy and the girl alive. Kill the rest and burn the
house down.” Caleb drops the knife and doesn’t look back as he makes his way toward the bathroom.
Kid is numb. His uncle is dead. Abe is bleeding out. Joker is going to burn. Kid doesn’t want to
think about his and Nancy’s fate. As Caleb walks past with the girl cradled against his chest, Kid can
see a familiar pain. They’re both about to lose everything.
Caleb kisses her forehead softly, tenderly, as though he isn’t the same man who just decapitated
someone with a knife. "Don’t worry, Kitten. I promise I’m going to make it better.”
| | Despite her new pet’s distress, he continues to shift closer to Celia. He’s a needy little thing; though
honestly, he’s not little at all. He has to be over one and a half meters tall…taller than Felipe. The
thought makes her smile inwardly.
The boy’s body is wracked. He sobs incessantly and with good reason as his bruises will attest.
Rafiq’s men are complete brutes, but neither Celia nor Felipe had a way of knowing whether or not the
young man was dangerous or a rapist until earlier that day, so they were not predisposed to offer aid.
Poor boy, she thinks, so terrified. Celia feels a tiny bit guilty for the ember of arousal taking shape in
her belly. She can’t get enough of his naked vulnerability; Felipe would never be as open. She coos in
the boy’s ear, soothing him with softly spoken words and gentle touches.
“Felipe,” she says in their native tongue and fixes her master and lover with an admonishing glare,
“you’re scaring him.” What had he been doing with such vile people? His companion, the blond
woman, is retched, and Celia took great satisfaction in hearing her scream. Imagine! A woman holding
another woman down while others attempt to take her virginity—Celia is furious every time she
thinks on it. Perhaps some time with men of similar predispositions will teach her a valuable lesson
about loyalty. Not only did she deny her involvement, she implicated the rest of the boy’s motorcycle
club, effectively marking them for death. Rafiq does not allow for loose ends.
Celia will not allow the young man in her arms to become another tied end, and neither will Felipe.
The boy is valuable for more than one reason.
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| Felipe smirks; Celia is smitten. “What is your name?” he asks the boy. He attempts to keep his tone
free of judgment or disdain, not quite sure how he feels about Celia’s fascination with the other man,
whom, Felipe admits, is quite beautiful and suited to both their predilections. However, there is a fine
line between pet and partner, and Felipe won’t let anyone divide Celia’s heart.
“Kid,” the young man says, mostly mouthing the word. “Water? Please?”
“Did you rape the girl?”
“No.” Kid clenches his jaw. Felipe knows he’s been asked the question ad nauseum, and it amuses
him that the younger man continues to deny the allegations despite everything. “No,” Kid pleads. “I
keep…I keep telling you. Please. Where am I?” He sobs, too dehydrated to produce tears.
“You’re still in Mexico. I have many homes, but this is my favorite. I’m a little disappointed they
brought you here, to be honest. Torture is often necessary, but I prefer not to sully my home. Are you
certain you’re not a rapist?” His words are spoken with all the gentleness of a hammer striking a nail.
“Felipe,” Celia snaps, “stop toying with him! You’ll only make it more difficult.”
Felipe laughs. “My Celia has taken a liking to you, boy. What do you think of that?”
“Water,” Kid barks and subsequently flinches. “Mmmsorry,” he slurs, “thirsty. Needsomewater.”
His tongue snakes out to lick his dry lips repeatedly until Felipe takes pity and goes to retrieve a bottle
of water from the small Frigidaire he keeps nearby. The boy makes pleading noises at the sound of the
cap being removed and groans lustily when Felipe holds the bottle to his lips. Felipe watches the long
line of the younger man’s throat as he swallows with renewed energy and clear desperation. “More!
More please,” he begs after the water is pulled away from his mouth.
“It will make you sick,” says Felipe.
“I don’t care,” Kid gripes.
“I care.” Felipe’s tone has gone from amused to authoritative.
Kid shuts his mouth and nods. He lets his head fall against the wooden beam at his back in defeat.
“I’m sorry. Thank you.” He sounds better already.
“Kid,” says Felipe, “what is it you want most?” He presses a finger to Kid’s lips before he can
speak. “Out of life, I mean.”
| | Kid’s adrenaline spikes. Whenever anyone speaks to him about living, it’s a prelude to threatening to
kill him. He’s always loved the club’s rides into Mexico. The food is incredible, the women eager, and
bouncers never card him. Every month for the last two years, he and the rest of the Night Devils have
come into Mexico to hang for a week, pick up their drugs, and head back across the border. Not this
time. This time, Tiny fucked with the plan and it cost them everything.
“You gonna kill me now?” He tries to sound unafraid. Death has to be better than the torture, he
tells himself. He fears the knife though, is terrified of the fucking knife, and he hopes they’ll just
shoot him in the head before he knows what’s happening. Quick and painless—that’s how he wants to
die. Well, he wanted to die an old man on his bike, going ninety-miles-an-hour down a dark stretch of
road, but a bullet will have to do. He tries to bury himself in the memory of his mother’s embrace
—home—he wants that to be the last thing he thinks about.
Abruptly, feminine lips press gently against Kid’s own. He pulls away in shock. Felipe’s laugh
filters through his ears as an amused rumble. “I can kill you if you wish it. Though, I was going to
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| suggest the opposite. Would you like to live instead? Would you like to get out of this room?”
Kid licks his dry lips. He’s exhausted. He’s hurting. And he has no reason to lie—especially when
he has no cause to believe he’ll be set free. “I want to go home.”
| | Celia presses against Kid’s side. “Where is home?” she says in English. Her voice seems to soothe Kid
somewhat. She lifts the bottle of water to his parched lips, allowing him one large sip and nothing
more.
“With my parents,” Kid whines. He shifts in his bonds, craning his neck to tuck his head in Celia’s
neck. She can’t resist nuzzling his sweat-damp hair with her cheek as she cords her fingers through his
tangled hair. “They’re dead,” he whispers.
Celia whispers her condolences while continuing to stroke Kid’s hair and quietly asks how they
died. She never knew her mother and has always rejoiced in the death of her father, but she can still
empathize with Kid’s heartache insofar as she understands love itself.
“Car accident,” he replies in monotone. “Five years ago.” His lips brush Celia’s neck as he speaks;
it makes her shiver. “I should’ve gotten a clue when I had to use my key to get in the house. Mama
was usually home. She used to make me a sandwich, ask about my day, shit like that.” His stomach
growls. “She wasn’t there. I remember the house felt weird. Empty. Turned out Dad had come home
early to take her to lunch. They never came back.”
The room is silent in the wake of the young man’s grief. Celia looks up at Felipe, asking him with
her eyes if he’ll release the boy so she can hold him properly. She isn’t surprised when her master
shakes his head. Felipe is much too cautious about Celia’s safety. What could this boy do to her
really? She rolls her eyes, but her lips betray how charmed she is by her enigmatic lover. She’s come
to respect his logic over the years; he’s a hell of a chess player.
“Celia, give the boy more water,” Felipe voices gently.
Kid drinks the few sips offered to him and barely manages to keep himself from begging for more.
“Why are you being nice to me?”
| | Kid finds Celia’s presence oddly comforting, considering she’s made no move to free him. His mother
had been a loving woman, always hugging and kissing him. He’d loved it as a boy, hated it as a teen,
and aches for it as a young man. He shifts closer to Celia.
His uncle Tiny had never been one for heart-to-heart talks, even if it was his own brother, Kid’s
father, who’d died.
Felipe laughs. “I’m not being nice, boy. I’m deciding what to do with you. The men who brought
you have gone for a while. Your female companion has been found responsible, and her fate is out of
my hands. That leaves me with you.”
Kid shakes within Celia’s arms. “If you already know I didn’t do it, why did you ask me?”
“I had to know if they’d broken you.”
“Is Nancy dead?” He doesn’t want her to be dead. No matter what Nancy has done, she’s paid.
They’ve all fucking paid.
“She’s alive. Though, like you, she probably wishes for death. The two of you have angered very
dangerous men.”
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| “Caleb, you mean.” Kid’s stomach cramps a little more. He hasn’t seen or heard Caleb since being
taken hostage. He has no interest in a reunion. He recalls with too much clarity their introduction.
Felipe sighs. “Yes, Caleb is a dangerous man. Unfortunately, he is not the only man upset by this
situation. Tell me—because I sense something else is in play—why do you suspect Caleb reacted so…
passionately? Could it be he has affection for his captive? I’m curious.”
Kid recoils sharply away from Felipe’s stroking thumb. The affection is unwarranted and reminds
Kid of the taste of his own tears and Tiny’s blood. Caleb and Felipe are obviously cast from the same
mold, perverts who like touching his mouth.
Felipe chuckles and pats Kid’s bruised cheek, not ungently. “I’m an extraordinarily curious
man…Kid.”
“She ran away from him,” Kid manages to say. “Tiny said we were helping her escape.”
“For a price,” Felipe accuses.
| | Tiny walks to the door and makes sure it’s locked before he addresses the club. “I hope you assholes
are ready to make some serious money. That girl is worth a hundred grand once we get her to
Chihuahua.”
Hog is the first to speak. “What the fuck, Tiny? You go out for a beer last night and come back with
some girl? Who the hell is she?” he asks the last in an angry whisper.
Kid keeps his mouth shut, as usual, while the other guys murmur in agreement with Hog. Kid is just
as curious as everyone else, but Tiny is his only real family, so he tries not to piss the man off. Maybe
the girl just needs a ride and is willing to pay a lot to get there. Kid shakes off his stupidity. No one
pays a hundred grand for a damn ride.
“What are you?” Tiny admonishes. “You a bunch of pussies now? I took a ride over to the bar after
I hooked up last night, and the bartender let me drink. So, he’s bringing in crates and I’m sitting there,
having a beer and minding my own damn business, when this half-naked girl runs in screaming for us
to lock the door.” Tiny instantly commands attention. “Her and the bartender are shouting back and
forth. Apparently, the girl’s being chased by some guy named Caleb, who’s been keeping her locked up
for weeks. Dude! She didn’t even know she was in Mexico! How fucked is that?!”
Hog sits up straight and lifts his hand. “Wait, wait, wait. You’re telling me that girl has people
looking for her? And you want to take her with us to pick up our shit? Are you crazy, man? Have you
lost your goddamn mind?!”
“I’m not done!” Tiny shouts and Hog falls silent. “The bartender freaks and leaves me there with
this girl. She won’t stop crying and asking me to take her to the cops, which is stupid, because the guy
who took her could easily bribe the cops. I’m in the middle of telling her this, when the fucking guy
starts pounding on the door. Girl hides under the bar and I cover her with the crates the bartender
brought in. Then, bang! The door gets busted in.”
“Fuck!” exclaims Joker. “Man! I wish I’da been there!”
“Right?” Tiny laughs. He starts pacing, engrossed in his story. “So in walks this pretty-boy —no
offense, Kid.”
“Fuck you.” Kid rolls his eyes and pretends—like always—not to be offended. The guys frequently
like to remind him of his ‘cock-sucking lips’ and ‘bitch-looking’ face. It’s been old for a long time.
Tiny laughs and keeps talking. “He’s already blown through the door, so I know the damn shotgun
he’s carrying is loaded. I play it cool and pour myself a beer.” He grins. “Right away, he asks about
the girl, and I tell him I ain’t seen her. We go through this whole thing, sizing up each other’s peckers,
and then I pull my gun out. This fucking guy…he doesn’t even flinch. He tells me he’s willing to pay if
|
| I bring him the girl—he’s staying in that old plantation. And then he leaves, just like that. He even
shows me his back, like he didn’t give a shit if I shot him.”
“Man! What? Serious?” Joker is enjoying himself immensely. “What are we waitin’ on? Let’s just
give her back, let him pay us off. I ain’t ready to head out yet.”
Tiny scoffs. “Yeah right, that guy would just as soon kill us after we gave up the girl. Witnesses,
stupid. Besides, I already made us a deal. Her friend’s willing to meet us in Chihuahua and pay. I told
her no cops or we’d kill her. All we have to do is get there.” Tiny opens his arms wide and beams. “A
hundred thousand fuckin’ dollars, guys. That’s double our usual take.”
“We ain’t in the kidnapping business, Tiny!” Hog stands abruptly, nose-to-nose with Tiny. “Cut
that fucking girl loose and let’s get out of here before anyone comes lookin’.”
| | “I didn’t care about the money,” Kid sobs. “Uncle Mike…Tiny.” The boy appears at a loss for words
and Felipe supposes he can’t really blame him. The young man has been through quite an ordeal the
past couple days. “I couldn’t leave Tiny. He’s…he was my family,” Kid continues solemnly. “We
were just supposed to do what we always do: run a few kilos of cocaine and pot across the border.
Once a month, like clockwork. No one ever gets hurt. No one ever…no one…and then…”
“Hmm,” is all Felipe plans to say on the subject, but then he adds, “You didn’t know with whom
you were dealing.”
Kid shakes his head. He still doesn’t know. “Please, just tell me…are you going to kill us? Me?
Nancy?” He’s completely despondent. Felipe finds it…rather adorable—not the young man’s
suffering so much, but that he has no guile. He must have been a terrible criminal.
“You haven’t answered my question yet. What is it you want most? Death? Revenge? Your
freedom?” Felipe’s tone is much too jovial for what he’s asking. It earns him a baleful look from
Celia. He shrugs.
The young man considers Felipe’s question for a long while before he takes several deep breaths
and shudders out a reply. “I can’t have what I want most,” he whispers, still unable to open his eyes.
“There’s no one left to love me.” When Celia shifts him, he readily takes comfort in her awkward
embrace.
“Devoted and sentimental,” Felipe muses. “There may be hope for you yet.” Felipe paces; his
shoes make shuffling sounds along the concrete floor.
“He’s perfect for us, Felipe. Don’t you think?” Celia continues to place butterfly kisses on the
boy’s head. Felipe enjoys seeing her this way. Saliva gathers in his mouth as he gives her an
infinitesimal nod.
“You’re quite handsome under all those bruises, aren’t you, boy?”
| | Kid hasn’t thought much about his nudity, but he does after Felipe’s comment. It’s hardly the first
time someone has mentioned Kid’s appearance. As far back as he can remember, he’s been
complimented on his near-platinum blond hair and striking blue eyes. Kid has his father’s strong
|
| build, but he’s looked like his mama from day one. The girls have always gone crazy for him—and a
few men too. He remembers his dad poking fun at him over his pouty lips and inability to grow more
than sparse facial hair.
Kid also remembers his father’s warnings about men who would take advantage. More than a few
times, some asshole has tried to grab his dick in a men’s room and had to be reminded what the word
no means. Regardless, he’s never thought of his looks as a bad thing, not until he found himself
helpless. He forces himself to remain languid in Celia’s embrace as he begins to cry, in the hopes it
will solve his problems—no matter what his dad taught him.
| | “The way I see it,” Felipe begins, “your options are limited. I can’t let you go, but I have no use for a
hostage.” Kid sucks in a breath and huddles closer to Celia as Felipe continues. “You’ve trifled with
some serious people, boy. They’re the kind who buy and sell fine-looking creatures…like Kitten,
whom your friends have ruined, and occasionally, blond-haired and blue-eyed boys…like you.”
“Please,” Kid pleads, “just—”
“However! Let me finish, boy. Occasionally, masters find it difficult to part with their slaves.”
Felipe cannot resist a pointed look toward Celia. “So difficult, in fact, they keep them for themselves
and spoil them rotten.” Celia’s tinkling laughter brings a broad smile to Felipe’s lips.
“Am I spoiled, Master? Perhaps you should take me in hand and teach me humility?” Celia bites
her bottom lip and drags her gaze possessively over Felipe’s form.
Minx! Felipe is just about to respond in kind, when Kid interjects.
“What does that mean?” Kid asks. “I don’t understand what you’re saying!”
“It means…Celia has asked me to consider you,” Felipe snaps. “Don’t interrupt. I have no time in
my life for insolent pets. No matter how attractive they are. Comprendes?”
Kid nods.
“Good. Your options are these: find it within yourself to submit to Celia and to me…or I’ll leave
you to Caleb and his sadistic master. They’ll most likely kill you…or worse.” He kneels beside Kid,
purposely crowding him against Celia and the beam at his back. “You see? I am not a nice man, boy,
but I can be fair. I’ll spare your life, and in return, you’ll surrender it to me as Celia did many years
ago.” He pulls away and stands.
| | Celia is aware she shouldn’t like this as much as she does, but there are some pleasures she simply
won’t deny herself. The young man in her arms is quaking, muscles locked up tight. She reaches for
his exposed penis and cups him firmly.
“What are you doing?” Kid rears away from Celia’s neck. “Not there!” He presses his knees
together and struggles in his bonds. It’s useless, and all he’s done is trap Celia’s hand between his
legs. Her fingers continue to stroke him, slowly, gently, and as enticingly as she is capable, which—in
her estimation—is guaranteed to rouse this beautiful boy in her arms.
“Shhh, no llores pobrecito. Don’t cry.” She drops her voice to a husky whisper and nuzzles the
boy’s ear with the tip of her nose. “There’s no need to be afraid. I have you now. Give yourself to me,
sweet boy. Let me take care of you.” Kid’s muscles gently relax as he is lulled by her tender words, but
his passion remains uninspired, even after several minutes.
|
| “You’re not doing what Celia wants,” Felipe teases. “Is she treating you too kindly?” On silent cue,
Celia applies greater pressure.
“Stop!” Kid hisses. “Please…I can’t.” He thrashes, and Celia immediately reassures Felipe of her
safety. Her master is not easily convinced, but neither is he easily deterred.
“Celia, the boy would rather take his chances with the others.” Felipe speaks as though he hasn’t a
care in the world save for his own amusement. Celia knows his ploy.
She resumes her previous less abrasive touches, and presses her lips to Kid’s ear. “Come with me.
Come for me.” She’s mildly irritated by her limited English. It forces her to use clipped phrases that
undermine her intelligence.
“I can’t,” he says lowly, but his head finds its way back onto Celia’s shoulder. “Hurts…they hurt
me.”
“Focus on the pleasure and the pain goes away,” Felipe suggests. “Celia, I think he may need more
encouragement than your tender affections can achieve. Perhaps it would be best to simply move
things along? He’s going to acquiesce; he has no choice. It’s cruel to keep him in suspense, don’t you
think?” He smiles and Celia will swear she can see the devil in his eyes.
“By all means, Master, school me in the ways of seducing shy young men.” She mirrors his
Cheshire grin, eyes locked on his as he crouches in front of their quarry.
Kid yelps when Felipe’s strong, masculine hands pull his knees up and apart. “What are you—”
Celia’s arm curves around his head to cover his mouth. Kid heeds the warning and cuts himself off
from further protest.
“Do not be escared,” she says in her accented English. She knows the idea of being fucked petrifies
the boy, perhaps disgusts him, but she is convinced he only fears and abhors what he has never
allowed himself to experience. Felipe is a skilled lover. She can attest to his prowess.
Celia grins as Kid buries his nose in her neck and deposits a series of pleading kisses against her
sensitive flesh. She rewards him with encouraging sighs and light touches for several minutes before
she extricates herself to stand. “Open your eyes,” she says firmly; she and Felipe are in this together.
| | Kid forces himself to obey as much as he’s able. With his head craned back and his eyes half-open, he
stares up into the faces of his new captors. He’d been expecting…well, he wasn’t sure who he’d been
expecting, but not the two looming over him. Felipe looks to be in his late thirties or early forties. Kid
raises a brow, soaking in the fact Felipe is wearing a flamingo-pink suit. He’s going to get fucked by
an old guy in a pink suit. Fucked by a man with dark, salt-and-pepper hair and a five o’clock shadow
that would take Kid a month to grow. Fucked. By a man! The floor is suddenly very interesting.
Felipe laughs. “Don’t worry. I’m not offended. I’m a lot more handsome if you like men. You
obviously do not.” He smiles when the younger man meets his stare and gently shakes his head. “Yes,
I know, but let us not forget about Celia.”
Celia is…well…Kid’s embarrassed he couldn’t get hard for her…and that he cried. A lot. She’s
wearing nothing but a tiny pink tube dress, and raven hair is pinned away from her face to reveal dark
eyes rimmed with darker lashes, a delicately pointed nose, and full red lips. Kid unwittingly calls to
mind the kiss they shared and her possessive touch upon his flesh. Shame is swift on the heels of the
unwanted pleasure that trills though him. The humiliation lasts long enough for him to remember
she’s the kind of sick bitch to jerk a guy off against his will. Kid surmises she’s older than him by five
to seven years. He gauges her height at a measly five feet. Felipe was smart not to let her come alone;
Kid could easily overpower her, even in his weakened state, and is just panicked enough to have tried.
|
| “Like what you see?” Felipe tilts his head toward Celia.
Kid averts his eyes. “I guess,” he murmurs. He isn’t going to admit to another man, a lunatic, that
he thinks his girlfriend—or slave—is ridiculously hot.
Felipe pats Kid on the head, chuckling. “Smart boy.” Both men focus on a simpering Celia. Felipe
tsks; it’s meant to be an admonishment, but only fond amusement shines through. “Celia doesn’t like
your answer. If I were you, I’d answer her properly.” Felipe clarifies, “Yes, Celia, or no, Celia.” He
winks before he stands.
Celia wastes no time in pulling her slight pink dress down toward her waist to expose her small
breasts and raspberry-colored nipples. She tugs on the modest peaks until they tighten. “You like me?”
she asks.
Kid can neither deny his desire nor abandon his instincts. The nicer the carrot, the more brutal the
stick—and Celia is one hell of a carrot. He licks his lips, wishing they weren’t so dry. He looks at
Felipe before he answers, cautious. “Yes, Celia?” He relaxes some when they smile.
“Good boy,” Celia says, as though mimicking Felipe. She moves to take a step forward. Felipe puts
his arm out to stop her.
Felipe addresses Kid with a deadly seriousness. “Hurt her, and I will take my time gutting you.”
Kid shuts his eyes. There’s the stick. Instinct bids him to gather his body closer, hide his soft parts,
and play dead, but he knows it won’t do any good. He only has two options: Obey or die. Instead, he
forces himself to breathe slowly and nod. He is meek as a scolded child under Felipe’s scrutiny.
“Felipe!” Celia reprimands. Mischief twists one side of her mouth into a half-smile before she
straddles Kid’s hips and sits in the cradle of his spread knees. Her bare pussy rests against Kid’s
barely thickening cock. “Please?”
Felipe kisses her upturned lips. “I know, my dear. I promised.”
| | Celia thanks Felipe in Spanish before she refocuses her attention on Kid. The boy beneath her is
terrified, but pliant, willing to do anything if Celia will set him free from his suffering. She rocks her
hips back and forth, tiny thrusts that rub her clit against his cock. She ignores his aggrieved whimpers
as her slight weight reignites his pain. She only cares his cock is finally getting hard. Still, she keeps
her tempo steady and predictable so Kid can brace slightly when she pushes back against his balls.
At length, Kid finally catches Celia’s rhythm. His whimpers drift toward reluctant moans and his
hips timidly thrust. Beneath his moist lashes and swollen lids, Celia can see dilated pupils. No doubt
dehydrated, hungry, and delirious, Kid is finally getting some relief from his suffering.
“Mmmph,” he cries. His timid thrusts get a little more pronounced. He’s doing it. He’s spreading
like a whore for his kidnappers. Celia groans filthy and low in his ear. She owns him.
“She likes that, boy,” Felipe whispers intimately. “She likes your little boy cock getting hard for
her. “Verdad que sí, Celia?”
“Sí, Felipe,” Celia hisses and grinds down on Kid’s cock. All he does is moan.
Felipe’s low, throaty words continue. “Fuck a little harder, boy. Show her how hard your rosy little
cock can get. It is not often she gets to play with such pretty toys.
Is he handsome, Celia?”
“Yes, Felipe,” she whimpers. “Pretty boy.”
|
| Kid is being used, molested, but his body only appreciates the way he’s floating above his pain. Yes,
his cock is hot and pulsing, but it’s the rush of mind-numbing pleasure he gets with every thrust that
rules him. He can’t help himself; he’s a living, breathing mass of pure need. His cock surrenders
precum in spite of his dehydration. Maybe they’ll give him water. He thrusts more confidently. Maybe
they’ll feed him. He whimpers, pushes his cock through the slickness gushing from Celia’s sopping
pussy. Maybe she’ll let him sleep in her bed. Maybe she’ll slide his dick inside and let him come. His
balls tighten at the thought and another series of whines escapes him.
Celia leans forward. Her breath quickens and her chest is slightly tacky with burgeoning sweat as it
makes contact with the side of Kid’s face. Her hard nipples drag against his neck. Kid is too far gone
to contemplate sucking on Celia’s tits. He is too out of his mind to acknowledge she is sucking
Felipe’s dick as he stands to the right and behind his shoulder. If there’s drool dribbling on him as
Celia gags on Felipe’s cock, he ignores it. He feels no pain.
Celia says things Kid doesn’t comprehend or take notice of until a masculine hand lands in his
hair. “She wants to know if you like this.” Felipe grins and tugs Celia’s face toward his cock.
Kid shouldn’t have looked up. Felipe’s cock is big, bigger than Kid’s for sure, and there’s just no
way it won’t hurt. He’s not going to take it well, probably cry like a little bitch the whole time. “Oh,
God,” he cries. “Please stop.”
Celia whines around Felipe’s thick, uncircumcised flesh. “Shh,” Felipe comforts. He strokes both
their heads. “Don’t be scared, boy. I wouldn’t defile your pussy in such squalor. I can wait. Apologize
to Celia.”
“I’m sorry, Celia,” Kid says without hesitation. He’s not going to say anything about his ‘pussy’;
his scarlet blush is comment enough. With the threat of rape removed for the time being, he’s too
relieved to fight. He’s close to the end, and oblivion waits if he can just get there. He keeps his hooded
gaze on Celia sucking Felipe’s cock like a porn star, unable to resist thrusting his own hips as Felipe
tells him again what a good boy he is for making Celia happy.
All the praise is screwing with his head. Kid can barely hold himself together. The urge to come is
overwhelming. Thoughts of his own cooperation humiliate him, excite him, destroy and remake him.
Felipe tilts his face up and Kid stares up into calculating green eyes. He doesn’t look away, even after
Felipe removes his hand from the younger man’s head.
“So good,” Felipe groans, eyes fixed on Kid. Abruptly, he pulls away from Celia’s mouth and
moves behind her. He pushes Celia forward until she and Kid are resting one another’s heads on each
other’s shoulders. He reclaims his hold in Kid’s hair, pushes into Celia, and comes.
Shock assails Kid, lust quick on its heels. Above him, Celia cries out as Felipe thrusts into her ass.
She rolls her hips rough and fast, milking Felipe’s cock. Seconds later, semen trickles onto Kid’s
throbbing erection and his sore balls tighten sharply. Pain, not pleasure, ripples through him with
every shot of come pushed onto his own stomach.
Kid passes out before shame can find him.
| | Celia watches Reynaldo’s back intently as he carries Kid’s limp, unconscious body up the stairs. The
young man’s long limbs dangle and sway with each step, but their head of security is careful not to let
|
| any part of the boy bang against a wall.
She’s deeply pleased by the latest events. Behind her, Felipe runs a hand up and down her leg as
they walk up. “Well? What do you think of him? I think he’s wonderful—beautiful, open, achingly
sweet, and did you notice how your orgasm affected him—it was his trigger.”
She can hear the smile in Felipe’s voice when he replies, “I noticed. I also took note of your
reaction to him—you’re smitten. Admit it.”
Celia giggles. “Perhaps a little, but no more than you. You’re not the only one with eyes.” She
looks over her shoulder to deliver a cheeky wink before returning her attention to Kid’s bouncing feet
and shapely legs. A smirk tugs at the corner of her mouth.
“You recognize my preferences better than anyone, my dear. How can I resist?
It works in our favor Rafiq is occupied with the woman. Our only obstacle to keeping him will be
Caleb, and I’m fairly certain his imposition in our lives will provide me the leverage needed to
convince him the boy should remain with us. He will want the boy punished though; you know that.”
Celia’s brows furrow and her mouth twists in disgust. “Yes, we’ll make it a spectacle of
humiliation. Though, if Caleb is anything akin to Rafiq, I’m not sure I’ll be able to stomach his
presence. That poor girl he’s kidnapped…I cannot wait for the day we are no longer beholden to men
like them; they disgust me.” She halts her steps and turns when she no longer hears her master walking
up behind her.
Felipe is serious. “Do I still disgust you, Celia? I’m no different than they are.”
Celia sighs wistfully. She takes two steps down to her master and wraps her arms about his neck.
“Please don’t say such things. They hurt me.”
“I will ask the same of you.” Felipe speaks tenderly.
“Yes, master.” She kisses her lover’s strong, firm, and domineering lips—so different from the
boy’s. She is a slave to these lips.
They walk the rest of the way to Celia’s room in companionable silence, fingers interlaced.
| | Fear is a constant emotion in the wake of Kid’s capture. Released from the dungeon and dragged
upstairs into a lavish mansion complete with chandeliers and Persian rugs, Kid has no illusions about
an end to his torture. Every moment is tense. Every touch, nefarious.
He isn’t allowed to wash himself; Celia scrubs him down and shaves him from nose to balls while
Felipe watches menacingly. The older man smirks when Celia demands Kid spread his ass cheeks for
her to remove the sparse blond hair around his asshole. Kid doesn’t dare to breathe as he complies. He
fights back tears as Felipe compliments his ‘shy, pink hole’ and ‘virgin pussy’.
Kid is tempted to grab Celia and hold her under water until Felipe agrees to let him go, but he
knows he’d never get away, and truthfully…Celia is kind of nice—still a perverted cunt—but
genuinely concerned with Kid’s well-being. She’s very gentle with him, careful not to nick or cut,
always sure to show him what she’s going to do next. She cleans his scrapes, kisses his bruises, and
offers reassuring words in a language Kid only ambiguously understands.
Afterward, he is wrapped in a black silk robe that smells faintly of cologne and fed a familiar meal
of seasoned steak—precut—rice, and beans. Kid chews slowly, the way Felipe asks, because he
doesn’t want stomach cramps. He’s rewarded with more praise and three Vicodin. He even manages a
mumbled ‘thank you’ to his gracious captor.
Washed, fed, and medicated, Kid is in no condition to refuse an invitation to lie in a frilly and
enormous bed. He can hear Felipe speaking to him—Kid’s body is made for pleasure—he must obey
|
| —continue to be a good boy and show off his pretty parts—he belongs to Felipe and Celia—obey—
obey—or suffer. Kid allows his mind to descend into his nightmares, more comforted by them than
his reality.
| | Celia speaks. Felipe translates: “Put him on his knees and lock his wrists to his ankles.” There’s
applause.
Kid digs his heels into the floor. He’s blindfolded, gagged, and surrounded by strangers. He panics,
struggles against the men forcing him to submit, incensed by the laughter of his sadistic audience. A
low warning is whispered into his ear, “The master said to remind you what can happen if you’re not a
good boy.”
Hesitant knees find their mark and Kid allows himself to be bound. Whatever’s going to play out
in the next few minutes, Kid would rather believe it can’t be as horrible as the alternative. Please,
God, don’t let them pass me around like a party favor. Pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease.
Delicate fingers tuck his hair behind his ears. The faint scent of apples enters the intimate space
between their two bodies. “Shh, pobrecito. I’m good to you.” Kid barely has time to digest the
situation before Celia fists his overgrown hair and snaps his head back.
“Fuck!” Kid lets out a muffled bark. He wasn’t expecting pain, not from Celia. His shock makes
him realize how naïve he truly is and he chides himself. No one here is his friend.
“Does it hurt, slave?” she mocks. Soft laughter ripples through the room.
Kid is silent. Behind his back, his fists clench and his arms strain against his restraints. Celia pulls
harder, wrenching his head back in such a way to completely expose his throat. “Yes…Celia,” he
manages around the gag. All at once, he wants to die, he wants to murder everyone in the room, and he
wants to weep in Celia’s arms. The only thing Kid can hear is his own heartbeat and frightened
breathing. He can’t see Celia, but he can feel her in the empty space between his vulnerable body and
her comforting softness. He’s desperate to close the gap and escape their avid spectators.
“Very good, slave.” Felipe’s voice is scarcely above a whisper when he translates Celia’s words.
She releases Kid’s hair and he audibly sighs in relief. She strokes his gold strands for a few seconds
before she unbuckles Kid’s gag. Her audience sighs approvingly as they listen to Kid pull in ragged,
humid breaths. Celia wipes away the drool on his lips.
Kid feels unhurried, seductive fingers caress his face, neck, and shoulders. Her touch is quickly
becoming familiar. He appreciates the way she coaxes him toward genuine desire; he feels less
violated when he wants it at least a little. His pride stings, but he prefers this method of torture to the
others. Celia’s scent blooms over a wave of aroused heat Kid swears he can feel against his naked
chest. He inhales swiftly before he can prevent himself. An image of her tight, raspberry-colored
nipples perched on small breasts invades his pitch black sight. If he leans closer, he can take one in his
mouth. She pulls away. He narrowly avoids falling on his face leaning after.
Kid is distressed without Celia to keep him engaged. He listens intently to every sound. There are
whispers and stifled giggles. He startles when the room erupts in laughter. “Damn it, Felipe,” says a
man in a thick Texas drawl. “You are a lucky bastard. Go on, honey—you teach that boy a lesson.”
Kid licks sweat off his upper lip. He whispers his plea just as he feels her presence. “Celia…” Help
me. Her hand briefly cups his cheek and he is immediately distressed by the combination of her gentle
touch and harsh tone.
He hears Felipe translate: “Put your face on the ground and lift your ass in the air.” Kid doesn’t
move to obey. He’s paralyzed. The crowd hisses in disapproval.
“No?” inquires Celia.
|
| “Please,” Kid says. He hardly recognizes the sound of his suddenly prepubescent voice. If he ever
thought he was a badass, it was a fantasy. If he is anything, it’s cursed. “I’ve had enough. No more.”
“Enough? I’ve barely started,” simpers Celia. “And of course…” Kid waits with bated breath.
“You forgot to say: Please, Celia.” Kid feels a blow across his chest before Felipe can finish
translating. It stings like fire! He groans and bites hard into his lip as he attempts to rub his chest
against his knees by doubling over.
Kid is struck across the back before he can pull himself back up. His only warning before the next
blow is the keen swish that signals Celia’s arm coming down. He lowers himself. He braces. His groan
is loud and open-mouthed. “Will you obey me?” she asks insistently.
“Yes, Celia,” Kid spits through gritted teeth. The crowd applauds.
“Prove it,” Celia purrs. “Lift your ass.”
Kid would swear he has ice in his lungs. It was one thing to fall apart in the basement, another to
offer up his body to Celia and her twisted boyfriend, who would gut him if he said no…but this? One
of his buttocks is prodded pointedly and he teeters on his knees before finally achieving the position
Celia demands. Kid lacks the will or presence of mind to disobey. Since his parents’ death, he’s been
follower, a relaxed, agreeable person. He has relied upon his malleable nature to gain friendship, love,
and companionship. He relies upon it now to gain his next breath.
Celia drags long leather strands across the bare expanse of Kid’s flesh. Naked and tightly bound,
he has no choice but to accept what is about to happen to him. His breathing hastens, sounds ragged,
and each breath moves his entire body. The tips of the flogger kiss his balls. He hisses, writhing
against the carpet. “Do you like that, slave?”
“No, Celia.”
Another tap. “That’s not polite. Shall I hit you harder? Like a man?” Hushed squeals of delight and
muted chuckles erupt around them.
“No! No, Celia. I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” Kid pleads. He sobs into the carpet after a series of fierce
blows strike him across his ass. He counts them, unexpectedly convinced they are his penance.
One: I’m sorry I didn’t try to save you, Uncle Tiny.
Two: I was scared and
Three: I don’t want to die.
Four: Please help me.
Five: I’m sorry.
“How was that, slave? Hard enough?
“Yes, Celia,” he mumbles brokenly. He wipes his face on the carpet, slowly and repeatedly. The
gesture is less to remove tears, spit, and snot from his face, and more to appease some baser need. A
distressed sound bubbles out of him when gentle fingers drift along his reddened skin.
“You’re doing so well, slave. Just a little more and I’ll reward you,” Celia croons.
“Th—thank you, Celia.” Kid can hardly breathe, let alone speak, but he struggles to get the words
out anyway. His humiliation is momentarily usurped by his keen need to keep Celia happy, if for no
other reason than his distaste for pain. Though, the strange desire to return to Celia’s room and her bed
also exists. He wants to be held again. He keeps the thought close once his penance resumes.
Six: This is my life now.
Seven: It’s just as well.
Eight: I wasn’t ever gonna—
Nine: do much of anything.
Ten: Dad knew it.
Eleven: Tiny knew it.
Twelve: Maybe Mama knew it too.
|
DON’T EVER THINK LIKE THAT!
Thirteen?
Fourteen?
Abruptly, Celia stops.
Kid is jostled into a different position. As blood rushes away from his head, he feels his
consciousness fade in and out until he has to be held in place by heavy hands. Celia’s breath tickles his
ear before she speaks. “Open for me.” Leather brushes the inside of one thigh and then the other, and
Kid parts his knees as wide as he can with his wrists and ankles shackled behind him. He doesn’t have
the opportunity to think on his obedience before he is distracted by the serpentine quality of Celia’s
voice as she whispers hungrily into the shell of his ear.
“Can you feel him watching us? So jealous of your youth…and yet willing to let me taste you.”
Celia trails the flogger leisurely across Kid’s bare cock and balls in long, slippery strokes. Little by
little, Kid’s cock begins to fill, growing hard despite the resurgence of his shame. Despite an audience.
Despite his fear. He doesn’t understand Celia’s words so much as his body responds to their evident
intent.
Possessive fingers take up residence between Kid’s thighs. The first sensation he can process is a
ripple of relaxation as his mind signals his body to focus on a caress along the freshly-shaved skin of
his sac; he had been anticipating an attack. His hips loosen and the muscled globes of his ass return to
their resting position. His balls descend from their hiding place; his shoulders drop as well. He draws
in hiccupped breaths and shivers as he exhales. “Ohhh,” he groans, in agony, in acute ecstasy. The
second sensation is uninhibited pleasure. His body throbs and he rolls his hips to be that much closer
to Celia as she envelops him. “Yeah,” he sighs into the skin above her breasts. “Right here…stay right
here…please, Celia,” he whimpers, trying to move even closer. His body innately sways, part
exhaustion, part comfort mechanism; he hums; he murmurs. “I’m so sorry…”
“Good boy,” Celia says lowly. The words are meant only for Kid and they affect him all the more
for it. He groans deep and low—a debauched and wanton plea. At last, he registers his yearning.
Desire rips through him voraciously. Celia smells decadent, like syrupy fruit and musky arousal.
His tongue darts out experimentally and savors a hint of salt that only whets his appetite. Visions of
his lips latched onto one of her little nipples as he fingers her pussy lash him with want! He rattles his
restraints. “Please,” he growls. His cosseted body thrusts in time to a litany of accented, lyrical praise:
Beautiful boy…so good…all for me. There is something depraved happening; his cock is engorged in
equal proportion to his childlike elation at Celia’s words. Kid marvels at the way his pain simmers as
his pleasure mounts. Sensations, both painful and forcefully pleasurable, radiate outward through his
body. Celia’s gentle hands and tenderly spoken whispers are his entire world, a world where his mind
is both separate from his body and completely attuned to its needs. He wants to stay forever. Forward
and back, his hips work to keep his rigid flesh in Celia’s hands.
“Greedy slave,” Celia whispers into his ear. She brushes her nipples against Kid’s chest. “Would
you like to suck me?”
Kid nods. Yes! Anythinganythinganything. “Yes, Celia.” Celia removes her hands from his cock to
tease his mouth with a pebbled nipple and a cruelly spoken order to suck. Kid opens his mouth. He
moans, loud and unabashed. His cock jerks in midair. His pain forgotten, he latches on and suckles
Celia in long, ravenous pulls that have her gasping and pulling his mouth closer.
“Yes!” Celia cries, “Suck harder.”
Kid obliges, drunk on sensations he can’t name. He on
Date: 2015-02-28; view: 743
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