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.
Possessive fingers take up residence between Kid’s thighs. The first sensation he can process is a ripple of relaxation as his mind signals his body to focus on a caress along the freshly-shaved skin of his sac; he had been anticipating an attack. His hips loosen and the muscled globes of his ass return to their resting position. His balls descend from their hiding place; his shoulders drop as well. He draws in hiccupped breaths and shivers as he exhales. “Ohhh,” he groans, in agony, in acute ecstasy. The second sensation is uninhibited pleasure. His body throbs and he rolls his hips to be that much closer to Celia as she envelops him. “Yeah,” he sighs into the skin above her breasts. “Right here…stay right here…please, Celia,” he whimpers, trying to move even closer. His body innately sways, part exhaustion, part comfort mechanism; he hums; he murmurs. “I’m so sorry…”
“Good boy,” Celia says lowly. The words are meant only for Kid and they affect him all the more for it. He groans deep and low—a debauched and wanton plea. At last, he registers his yearning.
Desire rips through him voraciously. Celia smells decadent, like syrupy fruit and musky arousal. His tongue darts out experimentally and savors a hint of salt that only whets his appetite. Visions of his lips latched onto one of her little nipples as he fingers her pussy lash him with want! He rattles his restraints. “Please,” he growls. His cosseted body thrusts in time to a litany of accented, lyrical praise: Beautiful boy…so good…all for me. There is something depraved happening; his cock is engorged in equal proportion to his childlike elation at Celia’s words. Kid marvels at the way his pain simmers as his pleasure mounts. Sensations, both painful and forcefully pleasurable, radiate outward through his body. Celia’s gentle hands and tenderly spoken whispers are his entire world, a world where his mind is both separate from his body and completely attuned to its needs. He wants to stay forever. Forward and back, his hips work to keep his rigid flesh in Celia’s hands.
“Greedy slave,” Celia whispers into his ear. She brushes her nipples against Kid’s chest. “Would you like to suck me?”
Kid nods. Yes! Anythinganythinganything. “Yes, Celia.” Celia removes her hands from his cock to tease his mouth with a pebbled nipple and a cruelly spoken order to suck. Kid opens his mouth. He moans, loud and unabashed. His cock jerks in midair. His pain forgotten, he latches on and suckles Celia in long, ravenous pulls that have her gasping and pulling his mouth closer.
“Yes!” Celia cries, “Suck harder.”
Kid obliges, drunk on sensations he can’t name. He only pulls his mouth away to breathe or switch breasts. There is a loud pop as Celia pulls away. “No…wait.” Kid stumbles and is caught and steadied on his knees by Felipe’s surreptitious henchmen.
Celia returns before he descends into panic and places a hand on Kid’s head to hold him steady. “Now, suck this.”
Something not Celia nudges Kid’s lips and taps his teeth. He rears back like a spooked horse, shaking his head in the universal sign for ‘What the fuck are you doing?’ and ‘Stop it’. Celia doesn’t bother to take his body language into account. She raises the flogger and strikes him across the chest with so much force there is a collective wince in the room.
“Suck it!” Celia repeats. Kid opens his mouth on a frustrated sob. There are entire years he has forgotten and there are days he knows he’ll never forget; half of them have occurred in the last few days. The second he acknowledges he is on his knees in front of a room full of people, sucking a huge rubber cock, sporting a diamond-hard erection, and making little noises that sound somewhere between ‘Please fuck my mouth harder’ and ‘Please, God, no more’—Kid’s cock throbs and leaks a generous surge of slick.