Determined to ObeyC. J. Roberts
Determined to Obey
Copyright (c) 2014 Neurotica Books LLC. CJ Roberts
All rights reserved.
Table of Contents
A note from the Author
This story was originally written for inclusion in the anthology Pink Shades of Words. All of the proceeds went to breast cancer research. My gratitude goes out to all of you who purchased a copy and contributed to this wonderful cause.
This story has been edited to allow for prior knowledge of the Dark Duet plot and all of its characters; I had to avoid spoilers in the anthology as much as possible. Whether you're reading this story for the first time or not, I hope you'll enjoy what I've done with it.
I love all of my characters, but some of them really speak to me, and I've always had a little bit of a soft spot for "Kid", the nineteen-year-old biker with a tender heart. In fact, I had originally written a small love triangle involving Kid, Livvie, and Caleb. Kid was meant to be a character Livvie could relate to, someone her age who'd lost someone he loved and had been taken captive. It sure as hell didn't hurt that he and Caleb share so many physical attributes. However, in the end, I just couldn't justify another hundred pages to an already enormous second volume.
That said, having a beautiful boy held captive in a house with a hedonist couple like Felipe and Celia was simply too much temptation to resist. FAIR WARNING - ALL SEXUAL PAIRINGS APPEAR IN THE TEXT.
The character "Kid" appears in both Captive in the Dark and Seduced in the Dark.
This short story takes place in Mexico and follows Kid after he and his girlfriend, Nancy, after they are taken hostage by a group of men led by Caleb. Unbeknownst to Kid or Nancy, they are taken to the mansion of Felipe Villanueva, an eccentric crime boss with a taste for the taboo.
Wrongfully accused by Nancy of the attempted rape and subsequent assault of Caleb's escaped captive, "Kitten", Kid is tortured by his captors.
We join Kid in the dungeon, where he is about to meet Felipe and his companion Celia for the first time...
He's alone, absolutely alone...lost! He's never been lost. He's never wondered if he'll ever see his family again. Kid is eight years old; he's terrified for the first time in his life. His eyes look everywhere at once, but he can't see her. She should be there--on the bench--waiting. He wasn't gone very long, he thinks, but can't be sure. How big is the park? Where is she? Where is his mama? His tongue darts out across his upper lip: Salt. Dust. Desperation. He cries out, sudden and fierce, "Mama!"
An old man turns to look at him, and every warning he's ever been given about strangers--strange men especially--sings through his blood. Kid has been told how beautiful he is, warned he's a temptation, and been given the talk about people who like to touch underwear parts. So when the old man takes a step toward him, Kid runs.
He runs, but has no idea where he wants to go. He just has to keep moving, searching, calling out--whatever it takes to find her. If he stops moving, he'll fall down and start crying. His dad says there's never been a problem solved by crying.
He thinks about going back to the skate ramp to see if the boys he met left, but he knows they did. He only came back because they were leaving. He can't remember where his mom parked the car. What if it's gone? He brushes the thought away--his mother would never leave him.
"Kid!" his mother yells. He knows it's her without having to lay eyes on her. Relief slams into him so fast he isn't ready. His knees buckle and land on the soft grass at the same time his butt hits his ankles, and he cries. He cries loud and hard until his throat burns and his stomach cramps.
His mother lands on her knees in front of him. He screams as his narrow arms are crushed within his mother's grip--she's never hurt him before. She gasps apologetically and rubs his arms. Her hands inspect him, checking and rechecking imagined wounds. She's out of breath--she's crying too.
"Oh, Kid...oh, God, thank God! I thought I'd lost you," she says between sobs and messy kisses. Satisfied he isn't hurt, she runs her fingers through his sweaty, blond hair, and then presses her nose to his scalp and inhales. She wipes tears from his crystal blue eyes and stares into them in the way only a mother can--like he's the only thing that has ever mattered--like she'd die for him--like she'd kill.
Kid soaks in his mother's love like a flower absorbs light, by turning toward it. He allows himself to cry within the cocoon of her embrace, because there are indeed some problems that can be solved by crying. He knows there will be consequences for running off, and yet it seems unimportant. His mother loves him, keeps him safe, and that's all that matters.
"Don't cry, baby," she sings into his ear and rocks him.
The boy won't cease whimpering. It breaks her heart a little. She drags her fingers gently through his hair and holds him. "Don't cry," she whispers in his ear. Her English isn't very good, but she knows enough to get by. She'll have to become fluent if she plans on keeping her new pet.
"I'm sorry," the boy replies, and leans into her touch. He's delirious with thirst and quaking with fear. "I was all alone." He licks a dry path across his upper lip. His nose wrinkles in distaste--presumably at the flavor of his own dry blood. "I love you, Mama."
Celia's chest pangs. There have been many nights she has longed to be called Mother, but it is something she will never be. It's a pity this boy can never go home again. He must love his mother very much; it's a sentiment she only vaguely empathizes with, never having known her own mother. "Shhh, pobresito."
Kid knows that word. It means 'poor baby' or something like that. He frowns; his mama doesn't speak Spanish. A prickle of awareness penetrates the thick soup of his consciousness--he's dreaming. It's very important he not wake. He burrows deeper into the eleven-year-old memory of his mother's arms, of the last time he was lost and then found. She's found him again. She'll take him home. Home is the road. No...that's not right. Home is...
His home is gone.
"Don't leave me," Kid whispers. His chest hurts. Vaguely, he comprehends there's more hurt yet to be catalogued, knows he's been hurting for a while. He shakes his head; a whine escapes him. Don't open your eyes.
A man speaks. Kid begins shivering, because only bad things happen when he hears male voices. Realization creeps over him like quicksand sucking him down into his body and into the present.
He is no longer eight years old.
His parents are long dead.
The last of his family was murdered in front of him.
He and Nancy have been taken as hostages.
They were beaten.
Nancy betrayed him.
At first, Felipe wanted nothing to do with Rafiq's mess. He's never met Rafiq's apprentice Caleb, and has not once felt inclined. But things change. Powerful men get older and rest on their laurels. Felipe has always been patient in waiting for these moments. Moments like this one.
He can use this young man to get information on Caleb. There's plenty Felipe already knows, but one can never know too much about their allies or enemies--especially as one can often become the other, the enemy of my enemy and all that.
So when Rafiq asked--quite imposingly--if Caleb could make use of Felipe's plantation, he acquiesced. Had he known Caleb was going to allow his kidnapped slave to escape and cause her captor to slaughter three men, start a fire, take two hostages, and bring them to Felipe's house in Tuxtepec--
his home--he may have been less gracious. It's been two days and Caleb has yet to arrive with Kitten. The men Caleb sent ahead of himself have been occupying themselves with the hostages. It will be their undoing.
It was assumed the boy and his companion were part of the plot to hold Caleb's slave for ransom and attempted rape, but they have since learned the boy is apparently innocent--of the rape, at least. It's fortuitous for the young man. His female companion, on the other hand...she isn't faring so well. Celia abhors rapists with a fervent passion, and she has no sympathy for women who turn a blind eye to the cruel lusts of men. And yet...she wants to subjugate this boy. Celia is a complex woman. Regardless, he won't deny the young man is... alluring. "Do you know why you're here?"
Kid can't suppress his dry sobs. "I don't know anything!" he yells. The words are barely audible. He's screamed himself hoarse over the last however many...hours? Days? He thinks he's been here at least a day or two. Time gets away from him between beatings.
They're going to kill him soon. He really doesn't know anything. He's less than useless--a burden. His kidnappers won't let him live, not after they've already killed so many others. Abe. Joker. His mind shies away from the last name, but his heart throbs with loss anyway. Uncle Tiny.
The man in the room is still speaking, but Kid is too lost in the maze of his frantic thoughts to behave with any bravery. He offers whimpers in place of words. Please don't let me die like that. At first he'd thought Caleb's absence a good thing, but Kid quickly learned the men they'd been left with were just as vile. Despite his fear, he attempts to open his eyes only to discover he can't.
He knows he's dead already. Isn't a man allowed to beg for mercy in his final moments? After all, there's no one left to be ashamed of him.
Kid can't even scream. He's trying. Every sound he attempts is trapped inside him. There's a gun in his back and a fist in his hair holding him on his knees. His uncle Tiny is only two or three steps away, sprawled face-down on the shitty carpet, blood dripping from his broken nose.
The words register the moment Caleb straddles Tiny's back and yanks his head back to expose his tense neck. "Jair. Knife."
Uncle Tiny struggles. It's over before Kid can scream.
"I warned you, you motherfucker!" Caleb sneers. He's full of rage and he proves it.
Blood sprays across Caleb's chest, neck, and face, but the psychopath has enough sense to close his mouth and turn away--but only for the first arch. As he turns back and keeps stabbing, ripping, and separating head from shoulders, Caleb's eyes never leave their mark--as though he knows the blood will only continue to slow.
Kid still can't scream. Warmth runs down his left thigh as he watches his uncle's blood spread out across the floor like living black ooze. You pissed yourself, his mind supplies. He's surprisingly calm about the whole thing. He's staring at his uncle's head and it's not on his shoulders. That's so weird. He has a thought about horror movies. All the severed heads he's seen are suddenly unrealistic. Then he wonders what those thick white pieces holding part of his uncle's head on are called. Sinew? Where've I heard that before? Health class? Is someone screaming? It's them; it's all of them: Kid, Abe, Nancy, and even Joker, they're all screaming.
Caleb smells like hot copper and raw meat. The tip of his knife is suddenly poised beneath Kid's chin. "Stop screaming or I'll cut your tongue out." Kid sucks his lips into his mouth and bites down to muffle himself. He's dizzy with panic and lack of oxygen. "Now," Caleb smears Tiny's blood across Kid's cheek with the flat side of the blade, "tell me again what happened."
Kid knows the moment he opens his mouth all he'll be able to do is scream. Distantly, he acknowledges the rest of his friends are attempting silence as well. The attention is on him alone. His bladder clenches, but he's already wearing his piss. He cries instead. His uncle is dead and he can't spare him a thought. He's too afraid of what comes next.
It isn't until Caleb takes hold of his hair and tilts his head that Kid's survival instincts finally kick in. "I helped her! P-p-p-please," he sputters. He pulls in gulps of air. It's not enough. His world is dark around the edges. "I swear. I--"
"--helped her. Right. You helped her after your buddies raped her, after they beat her and broke her bones!" He presses the knife under Kid's chin hard enough to produce a trickle of hot blood.
This is it, Kid thinks. He closes his eyes to wait for the pain. "I swear," he whispers. "No rape. I helped her." Abruptly, he's caressed from one corner of his eye to the other. The gentle touch is a shock; something sinister lies beneath. The caress is followed by another; he can taste his own tears and his uncle's blood across his bottom lip.
"You swear," Caleb says. He snorts derisively. "Kid, I'm going to take you and that little bitch over there with me, and when Kitten wakes up, she's going to tell me what happened. Understand?" The younger man opens his eyes just in time to see the back of Caleb's hand approaching. His cheek lands in a blood-soaked patch of carpet.
"Jair," Caleb's voice is cold, "take this little pussy and the girl alive. Kill the rest and burn the house down." Caleb drops the knife and doesn't look back as he makes his way toward the bathroom.
Kid is numb. His uncle is dead. Abe is bleeding out. Joker is going to burn. Kid doesn't want to think about his and Nancy's fate. As Caleb walks past with the girl cradled against his chest, Kid can see a familiar pain. They're both about to lose everything.
Caleb kisses her forehead softly, tenderly, as though he isn't the same man who just decapitated someone with a knife. "Don't worry, Kitten. I promise I'm going to make it better."
Despite her new pet's distress, he continues to shift closer to Celia. He's a needy little thing; though honestly, he's not little at all. He has to be over one and a half meters tall...taller than Felipe. The thought makes her smile inwardly.
The boy's body is wracked. He sobs incessantly and with good reason as his bruises will attest. Rafiq's men are complete brutes, but neither Celia nor Felipe had a way of knowing whether or not the young man was dangerous or a rapist until earlier that day, so they were not predisposed to offer aid. Poor boy, she thinks, so terrified. Celia feels a tiny bit guilty for the ember of arousal taking shape in her belly. She can't get enough of his naked vulnerability; Felipe would never be as open. She coos in the boy's ear, soothing him with softly spoken words and gentle touches.
"Felipe," she says in their native tongue and fixes her master and lover with an admonishing glare, "you're scaring him." What had he been doing with such vile people? His companion, the blond woman, is retched, and Celia took great satisfaction in hearing her scream. Imagine! A woman holding another woman down while others attempt to take her virginity--Celia is furious every time she thinks on it. Perhaps some time with men of similar predispositions will teach her a valuable lesson about loyalty. Not only did she deny her involvement, she implicated the rest of the boy's motorcycle club, effectively marking them for death. Rafiq does not allow for loose ends.
Celia will not allow the young man in her arms to become another tied end, and neither will Felipe. The boy is valuable for more than one reason.
Felipe smirks; Celia is smitten. "What is your name?" he asks the boy. He attempts to keep his tone free of judgment or disdain, not quite sure how he feels about Celia's fascination with the other man, whom, Felipe admits, is quite beautiful and suited to both their predilections. However, there is a fine line between pet and partner, and Felipe won't let anyone divide Celia's heart.
"Kid," the young man says, mostly mouthing the word. "Water? Please?"
"Did you rape the girl?"
"No." Kid clenches his jaw. Felipe knows he's been asked the question ad nauseum, and it amuses him that the younger man continues to deny the allegations despite everything. "No," Kid pleads. "I keep...I keep telling you. Please. Where am I?" He sobs, too dehydrated to produce t
"You're still in Mexico. I have many homes, but this is my favorite. I'm a little disappointed they brought you here, to be honest. Torture is often necessary, but I prefer not to sully my home. Are you certain you're not a rapist?" His words are spoken with all the gentleness of a hammer striking a nail.
"Felipe," Celia snaps, "stop toying with him! You'll only make it more difficult."
Felipe laughs. "My Celia has taken a liking to you, boy. What do you think of that?"
"Water," Kid barks and subsequently flinches. "Mmmsorry," he slurs, "thirsty. Needsomewater." His tongue snakes out to lick his dry lips repeatedly until Felipe takes pity and goes to retrieve a bottle of water from the small Frigidaire he keeps nearby. The boy makes pleading noises at the sound of the cap being removed and groans lustily when Felipe holds the bottle to his lips. Felipe watches the long line of the younger man's throat as he swallows with renewed energy and clear desperation. "More! More please," he begs after the water is pulled away from his mouth.
"It will make you sick," says Felipe.
"I don't care," Kid gripes.
"I care." Felipe's tone has gone from amused to authoritative.
Kid shuts his mouth and nods. He lets his head fall against the wooden beam at his back in defeat. "I'm sorry. Thank you." He sounds better already.
"Kid," says Felipe, "what is it you want most?" He presses a finger to Kid's lips before he can speak. "Out of life, I mean."
Kid's adrenaline spikes. Whenever anyone speaks to him about living, it's a prelude to threatening to kill him. He's always loved the club's rides into Mexico. The food is incredible, the women eager, and bouncers never card him. Every month for the last two years, he and the rest of the Night Devils have come into Mexico to hang for a week, pick up their drugs, and head back across the border. Not this time. This time, Tiny fucked with the plan and it cost them everything.