by CJ Roberts
“No! Please, no. I belong to you. Do whatever the hell you want, but please keep that goddamn psycho away from me!” Kid thrashes in his restraints. “He killed Tiny! He! He…”
“Shhh, shhhh.” Felipe moves quickly, surprised by Kid’s genuine panic; he aligns himself along Kid’s splayed body and closes the distance between them to keep the younger man sandwiched tightly between him and the shower wall. “Of course you belong to me, boy, of course.” His words are mawkish, but effective. Kid’s breathing slows, his muscles relax, and after a few minutes, he surreptitiously nods his head.
“Just do it already.” Kid shudders. “I won’t fight; I can’t.” His breath catches several times before he says the words that both shock Felipe and make his cock leap painfully in his trousers. “But…just…don’t be a dick about it. I’ve never…” He can’t even say it without bursting into tears. Kid’s penis remains flaccid between their lower bellies.
Felipe’s voice, once he’s capable of speech, is dangerously deep and lustily rough. “Language, boy, last warning.” The older man grinds his erection against Kid’s cleanly shaven genitals. “And just what is it you’ve never done that has you flushing so beautifully for me?” He breathes in through his nose. “You smell delicious, like Celia’s unappeasable pussy.” He whispers in Kid’s ear, “I wonder if your pussy will be as good as hers.”
“I don’t have a pussy,” Kid whines.
“No?” Felipe coos. “Then what’s this?” He circles the tight pucker of Kid’s anus with one spit-slick finger. His boy’s pussy is small.
“It’s my asshole,” he sobs. “You know it’s my asshole. Stop it!” He devolves into wails of despair. “I didn’t do anything! Please…I didn’t do it.”
Felipe decides to remove the blindfold, unsurprised when the boy asks him not to—it’s his only shield against his own debasement. Kid keeps his eyes determinedly closed. “Open your eyes, pretty boy; let me see.” A moment later: “Right now.” When Kid remains disobedient: “Do it, or I’ll open you without lubrication.” Felipe’s finger continues its gentle twirl around Kid’s rim.
Seemingly calling upon every scrap of self-preservation, Kid timidly opens his eyes. Felipe gives him time to adjust to the bright light in the room reflecting off the onyx tile. The boy doesn’t dare to acknowledge Felipe, just keeps his eyes on the drain in the floor.
Felipe’s arousal reaches new heights when confronted by the younger man’s timid responses to having his tight little asshole gently worked. The boy’s warm breath puffs across Felipe’s cheek with every muted gasp and subsequent exhale. Felipe gently prods his rim and Kid shuts his eyes tight and whimpers. Felipe’s head falls forward so he can whisper things in a litany of Spanglish against his young lover’s neck. “Open your eyes. I know, sweet boy…so tight…Celia…clever girl…we’re going to have so much fun with you.” Felipe is starting to sweat and his finger gets bolder with every pass over the boy’s hairless pucker.
“Lube!” Kid bellows. “You promised.” Fat, salty tears and watery snot trickle toward his quivering mouth. He keeps his eyes to the left of Felipe and focused on the floor; they close briefly as Felipe’s palm cups his moist cheek and turns his head to face him. Felipe stares into vibrant blue eyes.
“Let me set your mind at ease, beautiful boy. One day soon, you’ll beg me to come inside you.” He taps his finger on Kid’s hole. “Until then, you’ll appease me with your submission or I’ll rid myself of the nuisance you present. Am I understood?” Kid’s affirmative reply is softly spoken between them. “Good. Now…what is this?”
Kid’s face is a study in misery. He shatters like glass and his voice sounds just as broken. “My pussy.”
“And whom does this pussy belong to, boy?”
“To you,” Kid submits.
“All together, boy. I like to hear it.” He slides his finger over Kid’s perineum and around his hole in a never-ending circuit.
“Please,” Kid begins before the look on Felipe’s face gives him pause and he gives himself over fully. “My pussy belongs to you, Felipe.”
“And are you going to let me fuck your pussy one day, boy?” His question is met with silence, and then…
“Yes.” It’s barely audible.
“Say it.”
“I’m going to let you fuck my pussy.” Kid appears surprised by his own words.
“Yes,” Felipe whispers with a hint of triumph, “we understand each other now.” He unzips his pants with his free hand while the other carries on its previous attentions. Laughter rumbles out of him as the younger man startles and his boy pussy instinctively shrinks away from his formerly—and deliciously subconscious—accepted touch. “There’s just one more thing left to do, and then you may have a reward.”
“What are you gonna do?” Kid mewls. He is every bit his nineteen years—all man on the outside, still a boy in his heart.
Felipe is struck by the young man’s innocence. He was satisfied before, but for the first time has no doubts he had nothing to do with the attempted rape or beating of Caleb’s slave. Kid may have been associated with a group of drug-running outlaws, but the boy is no man of action. Not like Felipe, or Rafiq, or Caleb—if they are wolves, Kid is a wounded lamb. A delicate feeling takes up residence in his chest and quickly travels south. He will show mercy, he decides. “Celia has marked you. I will as well.” He can’t resist rubbing his hard cock against Kid’s flaccid one. The younger man’s gasps and whimpers are sure to become an aural fixation. “Be a good boy and keep your eyes open. I like looking at you. Don’t be so sad.” Felipe pants. “You’re mine now, my prize, and I’ll take care of you.” All of this foreplay has him in quite a state. Celia is magnificent with the boy. She plays both the simpering imp and the predatory succubus with sublime elegance. Seeing them together was an exercise in restraint. “We will cherish you as the lovely boy you truly are. Celia will act as your new mother, I will be your new father, and you shall be the obedient son we can never have.”
21. Kid
“You’re sick!” Kid sniffles. The older man is masturbating on him—circling his asshole—and he has the audacity to implicate himself as Kid’s father? “My dad never!” Kid is tempted to tell Felipe to go fuck himself, but he doesn’t. There is no purpose in tempting Felipe toward doing more with his finger than teasing. He can do this. He can get through this ordeal and… And what? I have nowhere to go and I’m too scared to die. I’m a coward, a fucking pussy. He opens his eyes again and lets Felipe take his fill of his despair.
22. Felipe
Felipe chuckles. “Of course not. There’s nothing incestuous about what we’ll do with you, boy. I’m simply offering what you clearly lack—a mother figure to hold you, and a father to guide you—approval they can no longer give you—discipline you never learned.”
“You’re…crazy! You can’t just treat me like some kid; I’m grown.” Kid is a weeping mess, but he’s careful not to curse.
“Not to me!” Felipe groans and plants his face in the crook of Kid’s neck as he comes in thick spurts over the boys genitals. He smells Celia. Pressed along the younger man’s displayed body, he indulges in the mingled scents of semen, vagina, and Kid’s fear-tinged sweat. He moans, and much to the relief of his new bedmate, slides his finger away from the boy’s pussy. He leans away to look at his new ward; he’s exquisite. Celia knows his preferences remarkably well. Kid is flushed all over with embarrassment. His sobs echo around the room. Still, the boy keeps his eyes on Felipe. Belatedly, he gathers up some of his fluids from Kid’s stomach and brings them up to the boy’s mouth. “Show me what a good boy you’re going to be for me.”
Kid recoils with a violated shudder. “Come on, man.” He outright screams when the force of Felipe’s open palm sends his face to one side.
“That is not how a good boy replies!” Felipe reprimands, even as he uses the same hand to soothe the red mark on Kid’s cheek. “Don’t you want to be my good boy?” he asks more softly and sighs when the o
nly response is an elongated cry. He’s not made of stone. “You’re going to be a willful little boy, I can already tell.” Felipe infuses as much tenderness as he can manage toward Kid into his words. He strokes the boy’s hair until he has his breathing under better control. “There,” he croons, “there’s my boy. He’s so good. So brave. Deep breaths…that’s it. Be brave for me now. Be the good boy I know you are.” A wave of haughty satisfaction crashes over him and he laments his inability to get hard again so soon as the boy slows his breaths and lets his eyes gently glaze over. He scoops up more come.
23. Kid
Kid doesn’t know why he opens his mouth to Felipe’s fingers; the act seems natural. The taste faintly registers. He hears only praise and feels only comfort. Kid wants more gentle touches, more worshipful words spoken softly into his ear…more…more…more. I can be brave. I can be good. Don’t leave me. I’ll be good. I’ll be good. I’ll be good. The older man has him enthralled.
24. Felipe
“Such a sweet boy.” Felipe kisses the boy’s sweaty head and runs his come-coated fingers though his mussed strands. He is completely unsurprised by the way Kid leans into the possessive touches. It’s obvious what the younger man has been missing and Felipe intends to give it to him. And if Felipe takes what he craves from him in return, well, he supposes it’s only as it should be. “You were perfect, Kid. I couldn’t have asked for a better boy.” Kid whimpers. “Would you like your reward?”
“Yes, Felipe,” Kid says in monotone.
“Very well, after I bathe you, I will take you to Celia and you may sleep with her in her bed. I know she’s eager to apologize for thrashing you in front of our guests…but it was the only way to convince Caleb and Rafiq to place your punishment in our hands. Forgive her, won’t you?”
Kid sniffles, “Yes, Felipe.” He adds, “Thank you,” unexpectedly.
“You’re very welcome.”
25. Celia
“Celia,” Kid whispers in the dark. “I know you don’t speak English so good, but do you understand it?” He curls himself, nude and still damp from his shower, closer to Celia.
“Little bit,” she replies gently. “I grasp more than Felipe suspects, but less than he would like. Do you understand me?”
Kid huffs sarcastically, “All I got was ‘Felipe suspects’ and ‘do you understand me’. Is that close?”
“Little bit,” she replies. She grins into the boy’s hair and keeps stroking him. Her young lover suffers so superbly. Just the thought of cracking him open and forcing him to spill all his pain into her waiting lap has her achingly wet. Felipe is such a good master. He gives her only the best offerings…and she only accepts the ones of benefit to her master in equal measure.
26. Kid
Celia rolls her hips and Kid shudders. Sex is the last thing he wants and the only thing he can think about. He’s been rescued, molested, beaten, and maybe raped—he’s not sure if a dildo in his mouth counts. It’s been a hell of a fucking day, and all he wants is for this striking, cruel goddess to hold him like a fucking baby and rock him to sleep. “I’m scared,” he says lowly. “I know men aren’t s’pose to say stuff like that, but…every time I close my eyes, I see blood.” He’s fairly certain Celia doesn’t follow what he’s saying, though, the way her arms pull him closer so she can kiss his temple suggests she recognizes what he needs. “My whole life is over, like I never existed. I’m gonna die here and no one is even gonna care.”
27. Celia
The boy is sobbing again, and no matter how sadistic Celia can be, she cannot abide him thinking he’s worthless. She and Felipe will humiliate the boy in every conceivable fashion, but they will never let him think he is unwanted or unworthy. He is precious. “We care,” she says fervidly and tips the boy’s chin back so she can stare into those pleading blue eyes. “Felipe and me, we are good to you. You our good boy.” She bites his lips playfully. “So pretty.”
He tries to resist it, but he smiles, if a bit warily. He speaks, but his words are indecipherable to Celia. “We are wordist people you meet? What is wordist?” Celia’s nose is wrinkled as though the word tastes bad in her mouth.
Kid genuinely laughs; the sound of it pleases Celia. “Weirdest…it means strange. You and Felipe…you’re…strange.”
She grins. “I’ll delight in showing you how peculiar your new bed partners are.”
“I heard monster? Cowboy, and bed.”
Celia laughs throatily. “We tich eashother how to spek. Felipe will help us in the beginning. He would never pass up the opportunity to play out his student-teacher fantasies.”
“Yeah, okay, that sounds good. What’d you say about Felipe?”
The young man in Celia’s bed is refreshing. Things had been stale lately, but the past few days have brought much-needed excitement to her and Felipe’s tiny world of two. Between Kid, Caleb, and Kitten, her master never wants for entertainment, and she knows he is watching her and this boy from his secret room. She drags her bewildered pet on top of her and wraps her limbs around him; her eyes are directed toward Felipe’s ‘hidden’ camera. “Come here, sweet boy, let me make you feel better.” She cups Kid’s rounded behind and smiles when she discovers tiny hairs standing on end and gooseflesh.
Kid holds himself perfectly still until he is firmly gripped and pulled forward by his flank. He braces his body, unwilling to crush her with his weight; Celia takes advantage of the opportunity to guide Kid’s shy erection into her. Kid groans.
“Good boy,” Celia says affectionately. “You are not scared.” She kicks the sheet down to the foot of the bed with her legs, exposing the scene. She urges Kid to thrust with her hands and feet on his ass. She feels the exact moment of his acquiescence; he melts into her with a whimper and makes short, slow, and ardent thrusts into her.
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.
