Chapter 1 #9
Celia opens for her lover, folds her knees, and bends nearly in half to allow him to lick the inside of her mouth and stay buried to the hilt.
His desperation is her aphrodisiac; she clenches her muscles.
“He feels so good inside me,” she mewls.
The boy’s rhythm falters and picks up speed.
“He…mmm…thinks the deeper he can…yes, baby boy, right there…bury himself…the longer he can hide.”
28. Kid
Kid isn’t listening to a word Celia is saying.
He likes the way she sounds in his ear though—pliant, encouraging, and aching for it.
Hours ago, she was raping his mouth with a rubber dick, and now she’s wet, flushed, and open beneath him.
Touch. Connection. Comfort. Celia is all of them.
Kid lifts her torso so he can hook his arms under her and grip her shoulders.
He wants them pressed together like they were never meant to be apart.
They’re all gone. I’m all alone. He thrusts as slowly as he can, unwilling to let his fear enter.
“Celia,” he pants and searches for her mouth.
He comes before he’s willing and stays inside until he slips out wetly.
29. Celia
Celia’s tummy flutters. She takes every drop her precious boy has to give, swallowing him deep into her barren womb.
She runs her fingernails lightly over Kid to feel him shiver.
She smiles morosely into the camera. “I didn’t come.
Tomorrow we’ll have to teach him manners. ” She sighs. “Goodnight, master.”
30. Kid
The first several days are jarring.
Every morning, Kid wakes to the realization he is not in his bed.
Soon after, he recalls he’s being held in a house full of people who want to either murder or molest him.
His heart always races afterward, and he tries to go back to sleep, only to find all he can see is his uncle’s disembodied head and his empty eyes staring at him.
From the moment he is awake, he knows the day is going to test him.
He invariably huddles closer to Celia, who speaks soft, unintelligible words to him.
They give him hope in spite of his inability to translate them.
He has no family, no friends, and no say over his fate, but he clings to the hope he is somehow not alone in the world. He matters. To someone. He has to.
His afternoons are a torturous affair. Kid never knows what devious thing Felipe or Celia have planned, but he knows one or both of them has something to contribute to his ‘training’.
Once or twice, Kid has made the mistake of thinking Celia is the lesser evil between the two, only to learn they are interchangeable in all the ways that matter.
Felipe uses skilled intimidation to bend Kid toward his will; Celia uses expert seduction to bring him to his knees—they both know how to break him.
Every afternoon, he abandons his pride and surrenders his body, and little by little, he can feel himself giving up something far more important.
Evening heralds the worst part of Kid’s day—when Felipe insists on bathing Kid before bed.
It’s always just the two of them—and Felipe’s stern-looking watchdog Reynaldo—in the vast but intimate space of Celia’s bathroom.
Felipe praises him for his obedience throughout the day and gently criticizes his hesitancies.
The ritual of forced familiarity between them causes Kid great distress for a variety of reasons.
He experiences twinges of guilt for his supposed failures, made more poignant after Felipe’s fervent praise.
Kid shouldn’t want to please Felipe, or Celia for that matter, and he doesn’t…
it’s just…he hates displeasing them so much more.
He turns his head to the side when Felipe starts to rub off on him.
He grows increasingly worried over the few times his own penis has stirred; it happens most when Felipe’s warm seed spatters over Kid’s cock.
The younger man accepts Felipe’s presented fingers, because he knows he is expected to do so without question.
He is both glad and wary of the fact Felipe’s taste is becoming less abhorrent with each offering.
Bedtime is his favorite time of day, because he gets to lie down next to Celia and be normal.
She calls him Kid and he calls her Celia.
He fucks her and she lets him do it however he wants—he opts for missionary with lots of kissing.
No mistress. No slave. Nothing kinky. Kid has good reason to be angry with Celia and to avoid her; she is no different from her master.
She is equally twisted in her desires, loves to see him cry and beg and come all over himself as Felipe plays voyeur, but Kid can’t bring himself to resist her sinister allure.
There is the illusion of safety inherent in her femininity; he feels less threatened and insecure.
Kid rolls onto his back, sweaty and sated, knowing that another trial waits in the morning. He shuts his eyes to avoid it.
***
There is something happening, some plot, or betrayal—Kid isn’t stupid—he knows.
Felipe’s had a lot of visitors lately; mean looking guys who like to talk in hushed tones.
Kid is usually sent away soon after the conversations begin, but a few times he’s been ignored and allowed to stay. He sort of wishes he hadn’t been.
Kid doesn’t want to consider the possibility more violence is on its way.
He’s just started to believe he might be…
okay, not happy, or perfect, or not metaphorically shitting his pants every now and again…
but—things are…okay. Kid has never been so well-fed in his life.
A week ago, he tried something called creamy pappardelle; it had bacon in it, and these crunchy things called leeks. Delicious.
Celia is teaching him Spanish. Kid is teaching her English in return, but she isn’t as good a student. Kid believes it’s because he doesn’t get to spank her every time she gets the alphabet sounds wrong. He learns shockingly fast by comparison; his ass is more ruddy than red lately.
True, Felipe and Celia run him ragged on a daily basis, and they’re always asking him to do embarrassing crap like dress up in ridiculous costumes—two weeks ago, Celia outfitted him as a pony and rode him around the mansion dressed as a Lady.
Kid had been relieved to know only the skeleton house staff and Celia’s security detail could witness his shame, as Caleb and Kitten were rarely seen outside the typical guest areas and Felipe was out on an errand for a few days.
But then, while still in costume, Celia commanded him to mount her ‘like a stallion’ on Felipe’s sixteen person dining table and Kid suddenly lost his distaste for wearing ears and a tail. He came fast and hard.
And yes, Kid and Felipe still have their nightly ritual, and Kid still resists the older man’s advances.
Although, he’s given up on trying not to get hard when Felipe starts rubbing his pants against his bare cock and circling the rim of his asshole so gently Kid wants to scream; the worst nights are after he’s been kept on edge all day.
So things aren’t ideal—they’re better than they’ve been in a long time.
Kid is worried it’s all about to change again.
He hears the name Rafiq a lot. Rafiq needs to show more respect.
Rafiq cannot hold the shipments. If Rafiq wants more product he has to buy it from us, not Caesar and his idiot brother.
Something will have to be done about Rafiq.
The Night Devils are—were—small time, only a step or two above the street dealers. Felipe works on a global scale. He’s most likely supplied Kid the weed for every joint he’s ever rolled. Men like Felipe tend to die bloody. If Felipe is in danger, they all are.
31. Celia
Her boy is fitful. Celia can feel him tossing and turning, huffing and puffing; she can practically hear him thinking.
“Celia,” he finally speaks into the darkness, “are you awake?”
“No. Sleeping,” she mumbles. “You sleep too.” She half-heartedly emphasizes her request with a kick to Kid’s shin. She doesn’t bother to stifle her giggle as Kid hisses in pain.
“Punk-ass, can’t believe you kicked me,” he says without heat. Celia turns and they share a look before saying in unison, “Language, boy!” in a parody of Felipe’s scandalized tone.
Celia sighs. “I wish he come home. I don’t like when he’s away. If he meet another woman and she steal his heart?” She doesn’t typically entertain those types of thoughts, but every now and again, she wonders if she’s still enough for her master—considering.
Kid scrunches his face. “What? Trust me, that would never happen. Felipe worships the ground you walk on. No way he’d give you up.”
She smirks. It’s nice to share these moments with someone. Kid is very sweet. “You sound certain of whatever it is you’re saying.”
“You didn’t get that?”
“Enough.” She switches to English and continues, “Felipe is complicated man. He say he is happy, but…he always want more. He is…how do you say? Oportunista.”
“An opportunist.”
“Yes. He would not…leave us, but he maybe…” Celia’s eyes mist with tears. “It’s possible that one day he will find someone to give him what neither of us ever can.”
“What are you talking about? You give him everything. I have no idea why he keeps me around, other than to have someone to tease.”
Celia laughs softly. She reaches into the sheets and tugs her young lover closer by his hand.
His skin was much rougher a month ago; though, he still has grease stains beneath his fingernails.
One day she will beg Felipe to let her go for a motorcycle ride with Kid.
She cannot remember a time she’s gone anywhere without an armed detail.
Her father was an overbearing asshole, and Felipe worries too much.
Kid worries too much too. “He like you, protect you, keep you. Do not worry.”
32. Kid