Determined to Obey

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Authors: Cj Roberts

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Determined to Obey

 

 

 

CJ Roberts

 

 

Copyright © 2014 Neurotica Books LLC. CJ Roberts

All rights reserved.

 

Table of Contents

1-10

11-20

21-30

31-40

41-50

51-60

61-62

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 short story takes place in Mexico and follows Kid after he and his girlfriend, Nancy, after they 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…

1. Kid

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.

 

“Don’t cry.”

2. Celia

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 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.

3. Kid

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.

4. Felipe

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 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?”

5. Kid

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 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.

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