15. Kid
Kid forces himself to obey as much as he’s able. With his head craned back and his eyes half-open, he stares up into the faces of his new captors. He’d been expecting…well, he wasn’t sure who he’d been expecting, but not the two looming over him. Felipe looks to be in his late thirties or early forties. Kid raises a brow, soaking in the fact Felipe is wearing a flamingo-pink suit. He’s going to get f*cked by an old guy in a pink suit. f*cked by a man with dark, salt-and-pepper hair and a five o’clock shadow that would take Kid a month to grow. f*cked. By a man! The floor is suddenly very interesting.
Felipe laughs. “Don’t worry. I’m not offended. I’m a lot more handsome if you like men. You obviously do not.” He smiles when the younger man meets his stare and gently shakes his head. “Yes, I know, but let us not forget about Celia.”
Celia is…well…Kid’s embarrassed he couldn’t get hard for her…and that he cried. A lot. She’s wearing nothing but a tiny pink tube dress, and raven hair is pinned away from her face to reveal dark eyes rimmed with darker lashes, a delicately pointed nose, and full red lips. Kid unwittingly calls to mind the kiss they shared and her possessive touch upon his flesh. Shame is swift on the heels of the unwanted pleasure that trills though him. The humiliation lasts long enough for him to remember she’s the kind of sick bitch to jerk a guy off against his will. Kid surmises she’s older than him by five to seven years. He gauges her height at a measly five feet. Felipe was smart not to let her come alone; Kid could easily overpower her, even in his weakened state, and is just panicked enough to have tried.
“Like what you see?” Felipe tilts his head toward Celia.
Kid averts his eyes. “I guess,” he murmurs. He isn’t going to admit to another man, a lunatic, that he thinks his girlfriend—or slave—is ridiculously hot.
Felipe pats Kid on the head, chuckling. “Smart boy.” Both men focus on a simpering Celia. Felipe tsks; it’s meant to be an admonishment, but only fond amusem*nt shines through. “Celia doesn’t like your answer. If I were you, I’d answer her properly.” Felipe clarifies, “Yes, Celia, or no, Celia.” He winks before he stands.
Celia wastes no time in pulling her slight pink dress down toward her waist to expose her small breasts and raspberry-colored nipples. She tugs on the modest peaks until they tighten. “You like me?” she asks.
Kid can neither deny his desire nor abandon his instincts. The nicer the carrot, the more brutal the stick—and Celia is one hell of a carrot. He licks his lips, wishing they weren’t so dry. He looks at Felipe before he answers, cautious. “Yes, Celia?” He relaxes some when they smile.
“Good boy,” Celia says, as though mimicking Felipe. She moves to take a step forward. Felipe puts his arm out to stop her.
Felipe addresses Kid with a deadly seriousness. “Hurt her, and I will take my time gutting you.” Kid shuts his eyes. There’s the stick. Instinct bids him to gather his body closer, hide his soft parts, and play dead, but he knows it won’t do any good. He only has two options: Obey or die. Instead, he forces himself to breathe slowly and nod. He is meek as a scolded child under Felipe’s scrutiny.
“Felipe!” Celia reprimands. Mischief twists one side of her mouth into a half-smile before she straddles Kid’s hips and sits in the cradle of his spread knees. Her bare puss* rests against Kid’s barely thickening co*ck. “Please?”
Felipe kisses her upturned lips. “I know, my dear. I promised.”
16. Celia
Celia thanks Felipe in Spanish before she refocuses her attention on Kid. The boy beneath her is terrified, but pliant, willing to do anything if Celia will set him free from his suffering. She rocks her hips back and forth, tiny thrusts that rub her cl*t against his co*ck. She ignores his aggrieved whimpers as her slight weight reignites his pain. She only cares his co*ck is finally getting hard. Still, she keeps her tempo steady and predictable so Kid can brace slightly when she pushes back against his balls.
At length, Kid finally catches Celia’s rhythm. His whimpers drift toward reluctant moans and his hips timidly thrust. Beneath his moist lashes and swollen lids, Celia can see dilated pupils. No doubt dehydrated, hungry, and delirious, Kid is finally getting some relief from his suffering.
“Mmmph,” he cries. His timid thrusts get a little more pronounced. He’s doing it. He’s spreading like a whor* for his kidnappers. Celia groans filthy and low in his ear. She owns him.
“She likes that, boy,” Felipe whispers intimately. “She likes your little boy co*ck getting hard for her. “Verdad que sí, Celia?”
