Heir to a Slave

by Samantha Cayto

  Heir to a Slave

  Copyright 2016 Samantha Cayto

  Published by Samantha Cayto

  Copyright 2016 Cover Art by Syneca Featherstone

  All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the author.

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Diego didn’t think he’d survive his master’s brutal treatment for long. But when the man suddenly dies, his heir gives the slave boy renewed hope. His new master is everything Diego ever yearned for—handsome as sin, sexy and best of all, kind. Suddenly, being a trained pleasure slave turns from being a nightmare to a dream come true.

  Jason McGill has lived a carefree and optimistic life with the one ambition of creating his art. He certainly never expected to inherit his uncle’s newly-acquired wealth, including a house full of slaves. The pretty boy who is there to warm his bed, however, is easy to accept. He never expected to own a slave, but he cannot resist the lure of the hauntingly beautiful slave boy with the deeply sad eyes. Jason makes it his mission to chase that look away and replace it with a happy one.

  Their tentative relationship is put to the test when Jason’s free boyfriend, Kurt, arrives. Jason thinks the three of them can form a loving bond, but Kurt has other plans. To him, Diego is just a living toy, something to play with however he wants. To stay with Jason, Diego will endure anything. As tensions mount, he can only hope Jason will take off his rose-colored glasses and see the world as it really is.

  Chapter One

  Kneeling on tile hurt like a son-of-a-bitch, yet Diego knew better than to show his pain. He kept himself utterly still, gaze downward, and hands clasped behind his back. He, along with the rest of the household slaves, waited for their new master to arrive. Their late master’s stern lawyer had lined them up in the front entryway and had put them on their knees with a strong rebuke to hold their positions or else. The or else had gone unstated, but everyone understood it meant an epic beating. The handler the lawyer had installed in the house since the old master’s death stood nearby with a thick strap on his belt. That man hadn’t flinched from using it for the last couple of weeks.

  He hadn’t flinched from using Diego, either. No surprise there. All the slaves had continued to perform their intended functions for the free man until their new master arrived. The cook still cooked, the maids still cleaned, the chauffeur still drove, and the fuck toy still fucked. Or, rather got fucked when he wasn’t sucking cock or giving the guy a massage, or doing any other personal and menial task typical for a body slave. The handler was obviously from a private security firm and had no real experience as a slave owner. He probably couldn’t afford one, yet like the old master, he’d taken to the role when the opportunity had presented itself and had gone whole hog. Diego hadn’t been this sore since his early days in the McGill household.

  But, he’d been allowed to wear clothes, and that was an improvement over the old master. Nor had his diet been restricted. For the first time since entering the house, Diego didn’t feel deprived. He’d even put on a few pounds, which worried him. His jeans bit into his waist, and he worried the new master would notice and put him back on a diet intended to keep him naturally skinny. Although he’d always been on the thin side, since becoming the McGill pleasure slave, he’d become almost skeletal. He suspected it was to make him look even younger than he was. The idea turned his stomach, and he hoped the new master would feel differently. Still, there was nothing to be done about it. No good ever came from worrying about things before they happened, anyway. All he could really hope for at the moment was that the new master would hurry up and arrive so Diego could get off his aching knees.

  “He’s here.”

  This information came from the handler and was delivered to the lawyer, who lounged in a decorative chair by the wall. The thing had groaned under the weight of the large man, and Diego had half-expected it to give way. Just about everything in the house was like that. The old master had hired a decorator to create the perfect show place. Only the master’s bedroom and private study held big, comfortable furniture. Not that Diego had ever been allowed to sit on any of it. At least those other rooms had thick carpets, not hard floors like the one he currently kneeled on.

  The lawyer heaved himself up. “Excellent. Look sharp, everyone,” he added with a snap of his fingers, as if the slaves had been slouching.

  From under his lashes, Diego tracked the lawyer’s movements as he walked over to the front door and opened it up. A pair of scuffed up hiking boots came into view, topped by a long line of worn jeans. Diego’s heartbeat increased at the first, albeit limited, sight of his new master. Not that he could tell much, but this would be the person in control of Diego’s life from here on out, and he couldn’t help but be both curious and afraid. If the old master’s heir was anything like him, Diego’s misery would continue. God, he hoped this man would be kinder.

  “Mr. McGill, welcome home.” The lawyer’s tone had never been so affable.

  “Thank you, and it’s Jason, please. I’m not yet thirty, so I’d say the mister part is premature.” The new master’s tone held a hint of amusement, and that was the first sign he would be a different kind of man. The old master had held himself in very high regard.

  “Jason, then.” The lawyer chuckled. “I’m Stan Martin.” There was the usual handshaking between free men. “I’m sorry to have to meet under such trying circumstances.”

  “Um, yeah. It’s ah, still hard to believe Uncle Vince just up and died. I mean he always seemed kind of larger than life, you know?”

  “Indeed, yes. And to pass so soon after achieving such incredible success.” The lawyer heaved a sigh. “Well, it’s a real tragedy.”

  “Yeah, the timing sucks. I’m sorry it took so long for you to get a hold of me. Going off the grid while traveling is something I’ve done regularly. I never expected to get this kind of news.”

  “I understand, but Vince’s will was very specific about his funeral arrangements. So, I had no choice about going ahead without you.” He paused, and Diego could well imagine the man’s fake expression of contrition. He’d seen it a bunch of times, especially when the old master had given Diego over for use. The lawyer would always give Diego that look right before trying to choke him with his puny cock.

  “No, it’s fine. I get it. No worries.” Those grubby boots came closer. “So, this is Uncle Vince’s new house? I’ve never been here before. It’s, ah, really something, huh?”

  The lawyer’s polished black oxfords stepped up next to the master. “Yes, it’s magnificent. I’ve had Mr. Washington here living as a caretaker and handler.”

  “Handler?”

  “For the slaves.”

  One of those boots lifted up to scratch at the calf of the other leg. “Oh, right, slaves. Wow, I own people now, huh?”

  Shit, this new master sounded like more of a rube than the old one had. Any hope Diego might at least serve in the way he’d been originally trained as a drawing room companion died. The old master hadn’t cared that Diego could converse on a variety of topics or knew how to play the piano or had an appreciation for art. He’d only cared that Diego had two holes to use.

  “Yes, you own these six slaves, although frankly with the wealth you’ve inherited, you could afford more.”

  The master chuckled, a low, mellow sound. “Six seems plenty. You appear to be well-equipped to keep them in line, huh, Mr. Washington? A strap, a baton, and is that a Taser?”

  Diego suppressed a sh
udder. He’d been on the receiving end of all three weapons despite his best efforts to the contrary. The baton in particular had made him hurt, and on the inside, where it wasn’t intended to be used. Washington, the fucker, had been a real sadist. The old master would have loved him. The question was whether the new one would keep the man on.

  “I have to be prepared for any problems, sir,” came the stony reply. “These slaves are pretty well-behaved, but you can’t be too cautious. Unlike you and I, slaves are lazy by nature and unpredictably violent.” Diego grit his teeth at the remarks. Lots of people thought like that. Nothing to get worked up about. “I’ll be happy to remain for a few days until you’re settled in.”

  Diego held his breath, waiting for the response.

  “Thanks, but I don’t think that will be necessary,” the master replied, in a breezy tone that was nevertheless firm.

  Thank God.

  “So, Stan. How about you introduce me to my, um, slaves.”

  “Of course, although you know you’re free to change their names.”

  The master chuckled again. “That’s what the lady at the pound told me when I got a dog for my tenth birthday. It sounded like a silly idea then and sounds even sillier now, honestly.”

  The lawyer humphed, clearly unhappy with that response. He wisely said nothing, though. As a free man, the guy had to make a living. No sense pissing off a would-be client. “This is Ginger the cook, Alphonse is the chauffeur, Nina and Peggy are the housemaids, Bing is the groundskeeper.”

  The lawyer and the master had walked down the length of the kneeling slaves as the lawyer had named each one. Now, they stood in front of Diego, whom the lawyer had deliberately put at the end of the line, although whether because he thought Diego was the best of the lot or the worse, who knew?

  “And, this is Diego.” The lawyer paused and put a hint of innuendo in his voice. “He’s your body slave.”

  “Body slave?”

  “Valet, masseur, and pleasure slave all rolled into one.”

  “Oh.”

  The master didn’t say anything more for a few seconds. His scuffed-up boots and long, long legs were all that Diego could see of him. Then slender fingers appeared within Diego’s vision. They slowly cupped Diego’s chin and lifted his head up. Diego kept his gaze firmly fixed on the floor, suppressing the urge to look directly into the eyes of the man who now owned him.

  “How exquisite.” The master’s voice was hushed and held hints of awe. “I know painters who would kill for a chance to put this face on canvas. Yet, I get to be the one to do it.”

  Stunned by the words, Diego risked a peek. He glanced up briefly and was equally stunned by what he saw. If his master thought him beautiful, well, Diego thought the same of his master. The face looking down at him radiated with golden-tanned skin and bright green eyes. Wavy dirty blond hair was pulled back into either a ponytail or man ban. Diego couldn’t tell from the couple of seconds he’d dared to spend meeting his master’s gaze. But, he thought he’d seen kindness in that face, too, and hoped it wasn’t more wishful thinking. His master pulled his fingers away, and Diego let his chin drop again in a submissive pose. Those few seconds of touch, however, had sent his heart racing.

  “Yes, your uncle got him through an estate sale some months ago. He had to train him because the boy hadn’t been intended for a male master. Vince did a great job, I have to say,” the man added with a chuckle. “I can personally attest to that.”

  “I see.” The master’s voice had gone flat and cool. He clapped once, making Diego jump. “I think it’s time everyone gets off their knees and return to whatever work you normally do. Thanks,” he added, and that one word made him different than other masters. Who thanked their slaves?

  “Oh, and Alphonse, if you would please go get my duffle bags from the rental car out front and bring them in here.” He phrased it almost like a question, as if Alphonse could say no. Of course, the chauffeur gave him a quick “yes, Master” and bolted out the door.

  It took a second more for the master’s words to sink in with the others. Once they did, every one of the slaves jumped to their feet and hurried away. Everyone except Diego. His job was always to stick by his master’s side. He stood awkwardly, working the circulation of blood through his stiff legs.

  “A word of advice, Jason?”

  “Sure, Stan.”

  “Be firm with these slaves. I know neither you nor Vince were raised with them. What Mr. Washington said about them earlier is true. They will try to take advantage of you.”

  The master scratched at the back of his neck. “You know, Stan, that’s what the pound lady said, too. My dog was the best. I treated her right, and she was as sweet and loyal as could be.” He paused and sighed. “Maybe I’ll get another one now that I seem to have a permanent home.” The master graced the lawyer with a wide smile, although Diego detected a hint of censure.

  The lawyer must have as well. Frowning, he said, “I’ll leave you to it, then. I expect your body slave can give you a tour around the place so you can settle in.”

  The master reached out and ran his hand in a quick pat down the back of Diego’s head. “I’m sure you’re right. Oh, hey, Alphonse, why don’t you take those bags right up to my room.”

  Again, the order came out more like a request, and the oddity of it made Diego a little uneasy. Either their new master was what he seemed—a nice guy who would treat them well. Or, he was a complete nutcase who would turn on them in an instant.

  Alphonse hustled up the stairs with two big duffle bags that were even grungier than the master’s boots, while the master ushered the lawyer and the handler out the front door.

  “Thanks again, guys,” the master said cheerfully.

  The lawyer paused on his way out. “When you’ve had a chance to settle in, we still need to go over some details about the estate, especially your uncle’s company.”

  “Sure thing, Stan. Boring stuff, but I get it that you have to dot the Is and cross the Ts. Given that it’s Friday, I’m assuming Monday is soon enough?”

  “Of course. Have your body slave call my secretary on Monday morning to make an appointment.

  “Will do.” The master all but shut the door on the lawyer’s ass.

  And, yes, that was a man bun he sported. Diego wanted to roll his eyes, yet knew better than to try any shit like that. Free people had a way of always seeing things even when they weren’t looking. Besides, with his own shaggy hair pulled back in a stubby tail, Diego was hardly on firm mocking ground.

  “Wow.” The master blew out a long breath and sauntered back to Diego. “So, I bet you’re glad to see the back of Mr. Washington, huh?”

  Surprised by the question, Diego was caught in a trap from which there was no escape he could see that didn’t lead him into more trouble. Speak the truth and risk getting punished for complaining. Lie? Same outcome. Shit, this new master had the same sadistic streak as the old one.

  “You know what? I withdraw the question. That wasn’t fair of me.”

  Or, not?

  “Anyway, this jet lag is getting to me. I need a nap. How about you take me up to my room.”

  Again with the order framed as a question. Diego supposed he better get used to his new master’s style instead of constantly being surprised by it.

  Diego nodded. “This way, Master.” He waved his hand toward the stairs and waited for his master to move past him. When that didn’t happen, he realized his master expected him to go first, so that he could follow. Okay, things were going to be different. A good slave adapted and did so quickly. Diego started up the long winding staircase leading to the second floor.

  Everything in the master’s home was lavishly appointed with deep, rich woods and fabrics. The runner up the stairs had a pile so thick, Diego’s and the master’s footsteps hardly made a sound. Assuming the new master would sleep in the old master’s bedroom, Diego led the way down the hall to the last door on the left. He passed it by and stopped just beyond. Onc
e more, he waved his master along, and this time, the guy actually did as expected.

  He stopped a few feet into the room. “Oh, wow.” Those two words seemed to be favorites of the master’s. “Uncle Vince really liked to live large.” He walked over to the bed and fingered the heavy, blue bed curtains tied to one of the posters. “I’m going to feel like Ebenezer Scrooge sleeping here.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Don’t be shy, Diego. Come in and shut the door.”

  Diego did as told and took a surreptitiously deep breath as he turned to face his master. No doubt he wanted to try out his new body slave before taking a nap. When the man crooked his fingers for Diego to come closer, he did, keeping his gaze firmly on the carpet. He stopped within a foot of his master and waited for further orders. The same fingers that had so gently cupped his chin, clasped him by one hip. They slid slowly under the hem of his T-shirt and across his waistband. They tried to sneak under it, but with his recent weight gain, there was no real room between skin and fabric.

  “Hmm. These jeans are awfully tight.” An apology had already formed on Diego’s lips about eating too much, when the master finished his thought in an unexpected way. “We need to get you new ones.”

  Diego hadn’t yet fully processed that observation before those fingers pulled back. “Take off your clothes.”

  That was an order Diego understood well enough. Because he wore only the T-shirt and jeans, stripping was a quick affair. He folded his clothing and held them bunched in one hand while he stood for his master’s inspection. God, he’d never gotten used to being scrutinized naked, even though he’d spent most of his life wearing little or nothing. He felt the heated gaze of the master sweep him from head to toe as surely as if those curious fingers touched him still.

  “You need a bit of fattening up, too.” There was a hint of amusement in the tone. No rebuke.

  Diego breathed a quick, silent sigh of relief and dared to flash the man a shy smile. “Yes, Master.”

  The man yawned loudly. “Drop those clothes and come to bed.”