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.