“Yes,” she chuckles, “you are good boy.” Her small hand cups the back of his bowed head, and with the other, she hooks her thumb into his mouth beneath her cock. She strokes his tongue and pulls him closer.
Kid can’t help but imagine what everyone else can see—a weeping boy with genderless features sucking a cock attached to a girl half his size. There is laughter every time he gags and Kid sobs around the cock in his mouth, but he is almost sure he’s weeping for the wrong reasons. He’s enjoying this—taking pleasure in his own suffering. How did it happen? Why is he fucking loving it, and hating it, and needing it?
By the time Celia gives the order to set him loose so he can fuck her, Kid doesn’t give two goddamns about doing it on the carpet in front of a room full of strangers. Blindly, he reaches for her and tosses her to the ground with brutish force. He revels in her abandoned cries, in the way she spreads her legs and opens her arms to invite him close. She makes no attempts at all to stop or guide him. She gives him everything. Everything! And she’s right—Kid is greedy. His hips tilt back, gauging. He thrusts forward into Celia’s pussy. They both whimper as he pistons in and out of her slippery heat. He thrusts, and he thrusts, and he thrusts until his balls feel heavy and tight.
“Ah…ah…fuck…oh…mmm…gonna come…yeah, oh yeah…God!” He comes hard and long with his face buried in Celia’s neck and his body holding her immobile in his desperation to fill her with his seed. Celia offers him words of encouragement that set his soul on fire. “Yeah,” he pants wetly. “Immagoodboy…mmmgood…I’m…feel high.”
Celia kisses his damp head and shields him as adequately possible.
20. Felipe
“You did very well tonight, boy.” Felipe’s thick fingers brush along Kid’s lips. The boy snatches his head away and Felipe chuckles. “You don’t like that, do you? I imagine such a pretty mouth has many admirers?”
“Fuck you,” Kid replies hastily. The boy is blindfolded and shackled spread-eagle against the cold tile of Felipe’s black playroom shower; his pale skin is stark in contrast.
Felipe wants this boy in every way imaginable. He finds himself charmed by his childlike petulance; he reminds him of Celia—without the cunning. “Language,” Felipe tuts silkily, “such filth shouldn’t come out of such a pretty mouth.” Again, his fingers cannot resist skimming over the tremulous pout of Kid’s sinful mouth. The boy sniffles and turns his face away. “Still don’t like it, I see,” Felipe rumbles. “Celia is correct; you reek of corruptible innocence. It is…tempting.” He leans closer to Kid’s shackled body, presses his nose into the soft flesh at the center of Kid’s ribcage, and inhales slowly. “Or perhaps I only smell my Celia on you. If I go lower, I suspect I’ll smell her womanly juices on your little boy cock.” He revels in the mingled scent of feminine arousal and the boy’s own acrid semen scent. His mouth is watering.
Kid’s muscles tremble beneath Felipe. The boy whimpers and presses himself against the wall at his back as though it might give way. He has to recognize the futility of his attempts at modesty, but Felipe appreciates his new lover’s beguiling efforts. A predator prefers his prey to run. Felipe’s tongue darts out to gather a taste of skin. He groans low and fierce. Ambrosia.
“F-F-Felipe?” His beautiful boy pleads, “Please…stop. I don’t want this.”
Felipe’s tone is pure amusement. “You don’t want this?” He stands with his hands on the younger man’s hips. Kid is an inch or two taller; he can likely feel Felipe’s breath just under his chin. “You agreed to belong to me.”
“To Celia,” Kid whispers. Felipe’s fingers dig into his hips.
“And to whom does she belong?” There is a thinly veiled threat in the words. He presses bruises into the tender skin over the bones of Kid’s youthful pelvis. It doesn’t take Felipe long to hear the answer he is looking for and he relents. “That’s right, you ungrateful boy, she belongs to me, and so do you—if—I desire it.” And oh! He does. “Or, if you prefer, I can always return you to Caleb; his girl isn’t much use at the moment.”
“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.