Determined to Obey (4 page)

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.

***

18. Celia

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.

19. Kid

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.