by CJ Roberts
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
Kid rolls his eyes but leaves it at that, because Celia’s words make him want to squirm in a way that feels less and less like disgust, and more like…butterflies in his stomach, or some girly crap like that. He’d be lying if he didn’t admit to growing more curious about what his life could be like if he gave himself over to the life Celia and Felipe are offering.
“How did you, with Felipe, end up?” Kid stumbles through his Spanish. He can understand it much better than he can speak it, but his fluency is on the rise, much to his master and mistress’ delight.
33. Celia
Celia’s smile takes on a devilish quality. “He took me as a trophy after he destroyed my father. It put fear into the hearts of anyone who would dare oppose him. Fuck with Felipe Villanueva and he will murder you in your home and steal your daughter for his concubine. Quite effective.”
“Why does that make you smile? He killed your father! He took you prisoner!” Kid says caustically and full of reproach. Celia finds his anger ignorant and incendiary. She won’t tolerate it.
“You are prisoner too!” Celia snaps in English. “Felipe takes what he believes he is owed and nothing more. For years I begged him to kill my bastard of a father. I offered myself to him as payment; he refused. But little did I know he would deliver me vengeance one day and demand I make good on my promise.
“He had my father’s empire, but it wasn’t enough and I’ve been with him ever since. Do not presume to know our master. He has his own honor and we are lucky to have inspired his affections.” She glares at Kid, the insolent little brat.
Kid’s indignation wilts under the heat of Celia’s death stare. “I didn’t really get all that, but I get that Felipe sort of did you a favor. My bad; I don’t know the guy that well, except for the fact he’s always trying to fuck me.”
Celia laughs. “He is not.”
Kid balks. “Uh, yeah, he fucking is. He’s always talking about…well, you’re there—cheering him on.” The boy sneers. “You always take his side—always—and it’s not fair. I never have a say.”
Kid pouts and Celia’s stomach can’t help but flutter. He’s utterly naïve; it makes her long for her own long-lost innocence. Felipe is devout and steadfast in his seduction, and she knows in her heart that one day she will surrender to his will. He will own her, body, mind, and soul. She will keep fighting against it, but one day… “Felipe save your life. He feel he own it. But your spirit, you have to give him. He wants you to give to him. He’ll seduce your body until it craves him. He’ll worship you until you feel the intense desire to be worthy of such devotion. You can only think of his happiness and the way it shines on you, makes you feel weak and invincible all at once.” She wistfully looks toward the hidden camera in her room. She knows Felipe will watch the playback. He always does.
“Yeah,” Kid says, “I get it. If he was going to do it, he would’ve by now. That right?” His face tells Celia he isn’t finished speaking; he seems exasperated. “I just…why’s he gotta try and make me ask for it. It’s bullshit. I’m the prisoner. Why doesn’t he just take what he obviously wants and lemme be?”
Celia knows wel
l the turmoil Kid suffers; she’s felt it in one way or another for several years. It is her deepest hope that one day she and Felipe will move on from the hardships of the past toward a fulfilling future. Felipe’s intentions in gifting her with Kid as a companion are either a stepping stone toward that future, or a white flag.
“Would you like to hear a secret?” Celia adjusts herself onto her back so she can stare toward the camera.
“I’m not gonna get my ass kicked for knowing, am I? ‘Cause if so, I’d rather you didn’t tell me.”
Celia is charmed by Kid on a consistent basis. “You are silly.” She takes a deep breath. Her smile slowly drops. “Felipe and me…we don’t make sex.”
Kid props himself up on one elbow; his shock and incredulity is painted all over his face. “That’s bullshit. You had sex on top of me the first time I met you!” He apologizes quietly when Celia angrily clucks her tongue and shakes her head.
“Don’t interrupt. I meant to say we don’t…do it the natural way.” She places a hand between her legs for emphasis.
“You don’t let him fuck your pussy?” Kid looks doubtful and sputters on, “But that’s crazy! You’re his bitch.” He hisses a breath and rubs at the sting across his cheek.
Celia pops her knuckles by making a fist and then shakes out her hand. “Language, slave, or I will tell master on you. I am not a bitch!” She crosses her arms under her breasts.
“No, Celia, not like that.” Kid lowers himself to the mattress, holding his reddened cheek. “You’re not a bitch. A bitch is a girl—I mean—I—we—used to call girls that when they belonged to one of the guys. I’m sorry.” Kid stares up at her, contrite. “Please…don’t tell Felipe.”
“Okay,” Celia huffs, “but you don’t say anymore. I am a slave, but no one own me. I am not a bitch.” She turns her back on Kid and stares into the darkness of the room. It’s not often she allows her emotions to get the better of her, but Kid and his crass sincerity can be too much sometimes.
A single tentative finger touches Celia’s back. “Celia?” When she doesn’t rebuke him, Kid shifts closer, his palm delicately pressed against her spine. “Please, don’t be mad at me. I didn’t mean it like that.”
Truthfully, Celia is not angry. She fears the pinprick behind her eyes that signal the onset of tears—real tears—the ones she no longer allows. She has often questioned her relationship with Felipe, the love she has for him…the lingering spite. She has been keeping a close watch on Kitten and her master Caleb since they arrived, and the similarities between their relationship and her own consume her as the weeks pass. She can see the seed of love sprouting, growing, and it makes her ache; that, coupled with her new slave’s open heart, conspire to undo years of practiced contempt.
“My father was a powerful man.” Her voice is firm, steady, and devoid of emotion. She cannot feel this anymore, to allow it would mean her father still lived. “There was nothing he could not do and no one he could not have. His power was absolute. He took my mother from her family when she was only fourteen. She died giving birth to me.” Celia keeps her eyes firmly on the wall at the other side of the room, but she allows her young lover to nestle in close behind her. Kid craves affection like she once craved freedom. She does not deny him if she can help it, and right at this moment, their needs coincide.
“He kept me instead of sending me to the orphanage. I think he even loved me in his own way; he doted on me. I had the best tutors, wore the finest dresses; I had my own servants. But my father’s attentions came at a steep price.
“I grew up beautiful…like my mother, he said, the first time he took me. I was twelve, and he was not gentle with me.”
“Celia…” Kid pulls her into his body with a despondent sound. “No,” he says, like he can erase the past by simply willing it. “I’m so sorry,” he whispers.
An old pain ripples through Celia. Her lover is genuine and kind…sincere. He is nothing like her and Felipe, who trust no one and place their pride above even each other. She swallows thickly, and moments later, goes numb. “No sorry. It was long time ago. Do not pity me—it’s for the weak. I’m only telling you so you understand your place.”
“Yes, Celia,” Kid replies carefully.
“Felipe worked for my father back then; first as my bodyguard, and then many other things as the years passed. Felipe saw how things were. He was not blind to my suffering at the hands of my father. He helped me get rid of the evidence of my first abortion, and the second. He watched over me during the weeks after I turned sixteen and learned I could never have children.
“He watched as I grew up cruel. I liked to whip my servants. I slept with my father’s friends and his enemies just to provoke my father into killing them. They saw. They all saw and they did nothing. Felipe saw too, and I hated him most of all, because I knew he pitied me, but also that he desired me. It made me sick.
“I tried to seduce him many times over the years. Felipe never touched me. He used to say it would be like kissing a venomous snake. I had my father beat him bloody for saying such things to me. Afterward, I insisted he kiss me and beg my forgiveness. He smiled at me—the insolent man—smiled at me! He barely escaped with his life.
“Two years later, on the evening of my 20th birthday celebration, Felipe raided my father’s villa. His men executed my father’s security team, his guests, even the few servants who had come to our aid.” She chuckles. “He saved my father and me for last. I thought he would simply kill us. Instead, he asked how I would like my father murdered. I thought it was so romantic; I suppose I still do.”
Kid shivers. “You’re really scary sometimes, Celia. I don’t like it when you say things like that. You’re not like them, not a killer, no matter how tough you try to be. You’ve got a good heart; I can tell.” He speaks the words softly.
“You are a very sweet boy, Kid. Do you like being our slave?” She touches her index finger to his lips in a predatory fashion, satisfied with Kid’s angry blush. Imagine—a blond baby chick making friends with a sly fox; the boy should be embarrassed.
“Whatever,” he grouses. “So what happened? He killed your pops and the two of you rode off into the sunset together?”
Celia’s amused smile slides into something hard. “No, sweet boy, nothing so simple. You see, by the time I was twenty I was formidable, and thirsty for my father’s blood. I cut off his manhood and fed it to him as he bled out. Felipe knew he couldn’t have me as an enemy. I offered Felipe information he needed to take over as the head of my father’s organization in exchange for my freedom. However, Felipe did not need my help and he had his own aims for my future. He was convinced there was a strategic advantage to keeping his former rival’s daughter; who would go up against such a madman?
“Felipe’s first order of business was to repay me for my treatment of him over the years. I won’t go into the specifics, but he beat me, forced me to act as a servant to the staff that had served me all my life, and yes, he forced himself on me. I hated him most for that.
“But years passed, and Felipe…changed. He wanted more from me. He wanted my love and devotion, and he set about getting it. But…you see…he and I are the same. We do not forget those who wrong us, nor do we forgive. Felipe has sworn to never again force himself on me and I hold him to his promise. I sleep with other people, let them have me in any way I’m willing to allow, but not Felipe. Felipe is denied entrance to the center of me. It is his punishment, my way of letting him know my love can only be given, never taken. It’s been nearly five years and he’s never tried.” Celia feels a lump in her throat and pushes against it with her fingertips to smooth it away.
“There are days I feel myself surrendering in the face of Felipe’s steadfast devotion. To my knowledge, he has never taken another female lover, never felt her warm, wet, womanly flesh wrapped around him. He accepts only what I offer and the occasional young men who catch his eye. On the surface, he does it all for me, but I know it for the battle of wills it is. I want him to
beg me. I want him on his knees! But some days…I just want him. He’s winning, Kid. He very nearly has what no man has ever had…my soul.
“He knows it too. That’s why you’re here—your youth, your innocence, your capacity for forgiveness—you’re everything we’ve lost and all we hope to regain. I was never young, never innocent, but you remind me it exists; you remind us both. Through you, we have a chance to nurture and love, an opportunity for Felipe to treat his lover as he should have treated me in the beginning, and for me to have someone to care for without feeling weak.” She kisses Kid’s soft lips, charmed by the slight scrape of patchy stubble on his upper lip and chin.
“So,” he says and clears his throat, “is that why he’s so obsessed with my boy pussy?” He grins cheekily until Celia returns it.
“You have no idea what I’m saying, do you?” She laughs heartily and kisses Kid all over his ridiculous face.
“I got most of it,” he chuckles. “I’m just saying…maybe if you gave it up, he wouldn’t keep trying to stick it in me. Couldn’t you like…help a guy out?”
They laugh for several minutes before Kid’s laughter begins to die. He rests his head on Celia’s chest with a sigh and places her hand in his hair. He isn’t sly at all with his demands; she strokes him the way he likes.
“You guys are fucked up.” He sounds sad. “Seriously.”
Celia kisses his head. “No one hurt you. You our good boy.”
“Yeah,” Kid says. His breaths are slow, but Celia can feel the force of his heartbeat along her side. “Okay.”
