Next to his chair, Caleb noticed Kitten was also transfixed by Celia. He stroked her hair, silently content when she inclined toward him and rest her head against his knee. He did not neglect to notice she kept her hands dutifully in her lap.
There was a slight commotion as two men escorted the boy Caleb knew as Kid, through the same door a few seconds later. Kid was obviously a man, no younger than eighteen, no older than twenty-three, but his face lent itself to a certain boyish quality that had obviously led to his nickname. Caleb had to agree it had been well chosen.
Kid entered the room blindfolded, bound and gagged, but otherwise naked. A cursory evaluation showed he’d been beaten, but it wasn’t as bad as Caleb would have thought. Almost as if someone had intervened on his behalf before the boy ended up like his girlfriend. Caleb shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Something about the boy was off-putting to Caleb.
“He looks like you a bit,” said Rafiq.
“Fuck you,” Caleb said in English. Kitten’s head snapped up, but came back down to Caleb’s knee when he gently pressed.
Rafiq laughed, but offered no further comment.
Celia spoke her words with authority, “Put him on his knees and lock his wrists to his ankles.” As the men did as she asked, Felipe translated and the crowd clapped softly.
Kid noticeably trembled, but surprisingly, he did not struggle against the two men. Caleb wondered if he was naturally submissive, or if he’d been brutally reminded of the punishment for disobedience. He hoped it was the former. If the boy had anything to do with Kitten’s condition, Caleb would see to it he suffered: compliant or not.
“Take the gag out of his mouth,” Celia ordered. She sauntered over to Kid and ran her fingers through the boy’s shoulder length hair, easing him into a false sense of security before she fisted the gold strands and snapped his head back.
“Fuck!” the boy yelled. He tried to pull out of Celia’s grasp, but she held him easily in her tight little fist. Caleb was impressed.
“Does it hurt, Slave?” She crooned. Laughter could be heard in the room.
The boy was silent. Behind his back his fists clenched and his arms strained against the restraints he wore. Celia pulled harder, wrenching his head back in such a way his throat was completely exposed. “Yes…Celia,” he finally whispered.
Slowly, the soft music that had been playing began to fade until the room was stark in its silence. It drew the moment into sharper focus, each sound lending itself to an action. The room itself seemed to become a living thing, breathing, vibrating, and hungry. Even Caleb was not immune to the charm of one petite girl mastering someone twice her size.
“Very good, Slave.” Felipe’s voice was scarcely above a whisper when he translated Celia’s words. Caleb did not require the translation, but he could appreciate the way Felipe’s voice, low, but full of authority, drew the others in as they strained to hear every word.
Celia released Kid’s hair and he audibly sighed in relief. She stroked the gold strands for a few seconds. Her audience sighed in approval as they listened to Kid’s ragged breaths.
Caleb had always marveled at the way a person’s inability to see lowered their inhibitions sharply. Surely, Kid would be humiliated to know the sounds he was making were being heard and interpreted by a room full of people who lived for such things. Caleb was almost embarrassed for him, or perhaps he was only uncomfortable watching.
Slowly, seductively, Celia caressed the boy’s face, his neck, and his shoulders. She let herself take the time to coax him into desiring her. Kid could probably smell her perfume; nearly feel her nipple make contact with his face as she stood in front of him, touching him like a lover in a room full of strangers. When Celia pulled away, the boy nearly fell on his face chasing after the smell of her.
“She’s very good,” Rafiq suddenly whispered in a hushed tone. Caleb nodded in assent.
Celia quietly circled the room, finally coming upon a squat, round man, wearing a cowboy hat and a bolero tie. She inclined her body toward him, rubbing her pert ni**les across his chest sinuously. The man chuckled and leaned forward in an attempt to kiss Celia, but at the last second, she reached for the flogger in the man’s hand and sharply turned on her heel, slapping the man in the face with her hair.
The room erupted in laughter. “Damn it, Felipe,” said the man in a thick Texas drawl, “You are a lucky bastard. Go on honey, you teach that boy a lesson.”
Celia smiled for the crowd and cheekily waved her flogger. “Put your face on the ground and lift your ass in the air,” she said.
Kid flinched and didn’t move to obey, even after Felipe translated. The crowd hissed in disapproval.
“No?” said Celia.
“Please,” Kid said, with a whimper. And it was most definitely, a whimper. “I’ve had enough. No more.”
Caleb shifted in his seat. He stroked Kitten’s hair again and abruptly she shifted to sit between Caleb’s knees, her head landed on his upper thigh and she pressed his hand to her ear.
“She’s quite bold, Caleb. I’m surprised you let her get away with things like that.” Rafiq quietly scolded.
“I told you Rafiq, she is not herself. Stop acting as though you’ve never been lenient. I’ve seen you train. Even you, have your moments.” With that, the subject was momentarily dropped.
“Enough? I’ve barely started,” simpered Celia. “And of course…,” she said as she raised the flogger. She waited a moment, letting her audience share in Kid’s anticipation, before she brought the flogger down across his chest, “You forgot to say, ‘please, Celia’.”
Kid groaned, biting hard on his lip as he attempted to rub his chest against his knees by doubling over.
Celia swished the flogger in the air and brought it back down across Kid’s back and this time his groan was loud and open-mouthed. “Will you obey me?”
“Yes, Celia,” the boy said through gritted teeth. The crowd applauded.
Caleb chuckled to himself. Yes, it was good to be surrounded by his peers. The debilitating guilt he had been feeling lately was practically non-existent. It had evaporated and was replaced with a more familiar sentiment: lust.
Kitten’s head, resting on his thigh was so close to his dick he could almost feel her breath on it. He was tempted to take it out and make her suck it. He had yet to demand that particular act from her, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to resist forever. He’d f**ked her ass, why not her mouth?
“Prove it, Slave, and lift that sexy ass in the air,” Celia purred.
Caleb heard the catch in the boy’s throat as he struggled to lower his head to the floor. He teetered on his knees before he finally managed the head-down-ass-up position Celia demanded. The crowd murmured; their excitement palpable.
Celia dragged the long, leather strands across the bare expanse of Kid’s flesh. Naked and tightly bound, Kid had no control over what was about to happen to him. His breathing was quick and ragged and each breath moved his entire body. Celia gently flicked the tips of the flogger against Kid’s balls which could be seen by those standing or sitting behind him. He hissed, writhing against the carpet as much as he could.
“Do you like that, Slave?”
“No, Celia.”
Another tap, “That’s not nice. Shall I hit you harder? Like a man?” The audience was positively giddy over that idea.
“No! No, Celia. I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” Kid pleaded.
Celia raised the flogger and whipped the boy harder, until he lost all control and sobbed into the carpet. “How was that, Slave? Hard enough?”
Kid could hardly breathe, let alone speak, but he struggled to get the words out anyway, “Yes…Celia.”
Caleb didn’t believe he was g*y, or even bisexual. It was a subject he spent time exploring after he left his life as a whore behind, but he had to admit Kid’s submission was compelling. Celia also, was impressive in her approach.
“You’re doing so well, Slave. Just a little more and I’ll reward you,” Celia crooned.
Caleb listened, as did everyone else in the room, to Kid’s sobs catching in his chest. What Caleb didn’t expect, was the answering sob coming from Kitten in his lap. “What’s wrong, Pet?” Caleb whispered. He traced the delicate shell of Kitten’s ear with his finger; she shivered.
“All of these people….” She trailed off.
The sound of the flogger slapping against naked flesh echoed through the room and was punctuated by Kid’s pained growl. Again and again the flogger fell against Kid’s increasingly warming skin. With each stroke, he lost more and more of his bearing, until at last his muscles stopped bracing for the blows and he ceased to temper the sounds pouring out of him.
Caleb should abhor the spectacle. Somewhere in his mind he knew that watching someone essentially getting whipped should disgust him, but nothing could be further from the truth. Whippings excited him in a way not much else could. His mind replayed the evening he had whipped Kitten. She had struggled, cursed at him, lashed out at him physically, but in the end she had come apart at his hands. He hadn’t worried about her feelings then and he felt he shouldn’t worry about her feelings now.