“Are you frightened?” she asks. Taking up the jar of flavored oil, she sets about her task of preparing Kid.
Kid expels the air in his lungs slowly. “I dunno. A little. I guess. I just…” He tugs at the front of his loin cloth several times before he accepts it isn’t going to get any longer. “That girl and me have history. What if she doesn’t wanna do stuff with me, and Caleb forces her? I’m not like that. And what if she does want to and Caleb gets pissed? I know what he’s capable of, Celia. You didn’t see what he did!” He shuts his eyes tight to ward off the vision of Caleb holding Tiny’s head. He’s trembling.
Celia wraps her arms around Kid. He bends his body to rest his head on top of hers. “The past is powerful, I know, but do not let it dictate your future. Caleb has, and it’s brought him nothing but suffering. He’ll suffer unspeakably by the time our night is through, but you…you will never have anything to fear again.”
Several minutes pass before Kid is emotionally stable enough to stand tall. Felipe and Celia have asked him to do this, and for whatever reason, he doesn’t want to let them down. He nods slowly, and as Celia resumes her ministrations, he speculates on his choices and how they’ve led him here. After his parents died, he’d made a slew of self-destructive choices. Hell, even before then, if he were honest. He’d been willful toward his parents and the weight of that guilt rested heavy on his shoulders after they passed.
Unable to please his parents, Kid tried his best to be an obedient son to his uncle, a man who had never wanted children. The guilt Kid suffered at the time, coupled with his crushing loneliness, had made it easy to drop out of school at fifteen, learn to ride a Harley, and follow Tiny. Shortly after, Kid discovered soft drugs, something Tiny encouraged, going so far as to push him toward dealing for easy cash. From there, Kid’s decision to join the Night Devil’s on their monthly runs into Mexico had been a foregone conclusion.
Kid supposes he has always tried to please someone: his parents, his uncle, and now Celia and Felipe. His parents loved him unconditionally, but it is a love he’s lost. His uncle had felt responsible for him, but Kid had understood his uncle’s love was reserved for his lifestyle. If Kid had been too young to ride a motorcycle, Tiny would have dumped him with his grandparents—complete strangers who never approved of his father. With Celia and Felipe, Kid knows he is wanted, if for no other reason than they won’t let him leave. Somehow, they’ve given him the structure and affection he’s been missing in his life and Kid knows exactly how to please them, because they never leave him to wonder. His world has become simple: obey or be punished. Kid decides simplicity offers its own peace.
Pulled abruptly from his thoughts, Kid grunts as Celia rubs oil over his cock and balls. He is sore from a tryst they had earlier, but he continues to eagerly anticipate release. Which, of course, has been Celia’s intention all along. Little bitch. Kid smirks. At least he can still mouth off in his head.
Yes, there are times when Kid feels like a traitor for not holding on to his anger, but he always lets it go. Felipe can behave like a civilized man and Kid has come to think of him fondly, but he also knows Felipe can turn. Kid can never overlook the fact he’s been brought to Felipe’s home as a prisoner. The dungeon is his. Celia is his. The rules are his. There is no point in being angry, when the only person to suffer is him. For all the crappy choices Kid has made, letting his anger go feels right.
Celia reaches between Kid’s thighs to playfully pluck the strap to his thong. Kid hates the outfit, but doesn’t protest further. Just as he doesn’t struggle against the clamps adorning his nipples. After all, Celia is wearing something similar.
Celia stands and circles Kid until she looks up at him. She smiles. “So beautiful.” She traces Kid’s bottom lip with her fingertip and he licks it.
“It tastes like honey,” he says.
Celia’s smile broadens. “I want you to taste sweet.”
Kid chuckles and it sounds exactly like he feels—bewitched. “Yes, Celia.”
Celia’s smile falters. “Tonight will be hard.” She runs her hands along Kid’s arms.
“It always is, Celia.” Kid tries his best to be comforting. It’s the least he can do.
She pulls on his arm until he goes down to his knees before she wraps him in a hug. “No one will hurt you,” Celia says softly. “I promise.” Celia’s English has improved significantly since Kid arrived. He feels grateful to Felipe for suggesting Celia and Kid practice English and Spanish together. Kid is damn near fluent—getting spanked by a ruler is one hell of a motivator.