Diego took him at his word and literally let his meager bundle of clothing fall to the floor before joining the master by the side of the bed. The man had already yanked the bed covers down, exposing the crisp sheets beneath. He now casually pulled his own T-shirt over his head and tossed it to the floor. The valet part of Diego cringed at the mess they both made and wanted to snatch up everything. He didn’t dare make such a move, though. The master might think it a rebuke of his behavior, and Diego didn’t want to risk a beating so early in the game.
He couldn’t help, however, noticing how fit and toned his new master was. His torso held the same sun-kissed color of his face. Obviously the guy spent a lot of time outdoors. There wasn’t a spare ounce of fat on him, but unlike Diego, the master had impressive muscle layered beneath his skin. The man’s six-pack abs grabbed Diego’s attention so much he almost missed him bending over to unlace his boots.
Diego crouched down on a rush. “Please, Master. Let me.”
“Oh, okay.” That amused tone washed over Diego’s head. Apparently the new master wasn’t going to dive into the world of slave ownership quite as enthusiastically as the old one had.
Those damn fingers returned, once more, this time carding through Diego’s hair and pulling out the elastic holding the strands back. As with before, the touch was gentle, which for some reason unnerved Diego. He was used to abuse and pain. He should be more at ease with kindness, yet wasn’t. He didn’t trust it. He focused on untying the worn laces of his master’s boots and tried to ignore the petting of his hair.
The fingers pulled away. “Maybe we should both get a trim.”
Diego glanced up at the comment in time to see his master loosen his own hair. It fell in wavy lengths a little past his shoulders. Diego thought it lovely. It was on the tip of his tongue to argue against such a plan before sanity intervened. He quickly looked down again and finished his job of freeing his master’s feet from the boots. He stripped the socks next without prompting and would have gone after the master’s pants if the guy hadn’t beat him to the punch. And, the master had, so that as Diego stood up, his eyes became level with the master’s impressive cock. Diego almost lost his balance taking in the sight.
The master chuckled as he kicked the jeans off. “Yeah, I go commando like you.”
Swallowing hard, Diego looked away. His cheeks heated up at the comment. Per the order of the old master, he didn’t have underwear. He didn’t exactly like free-balling it and marveled at how the master did so by choice.
The master yawned again. “Okay, into bed. Time for a nap. I feel like a two-year-old, but I’ve gone through like three different time zones in two days and my head feels like it’s going to fall off.”
Diego realized the man waited for Diego to slide between the sheets first. He did so quickly and lay face-down on the far side. Not knowing whether the master intended to fuck him or not, or even in what position, he went for his own comfort. He liked lying on his stomach and preferred being fucked that way, too. Face-to-face was too intimate and required him to school his expression to one of at least neutrality if not enthusiasm. He was terrible at pretending and had received enough smacks to prove it.
The master crawled in beside him, lying on his back. He heaved a loud sigh. “Oh, fuck, is this comfortable.” He rolled onto his side and grinned at Diego. “I’ve been sleeping in a yurt for most of the last month, and not one of those fancy ones that they set up for tourist. This was the real deal, cold hard ground covered in smelly yak hide.”
As his eyelids drooped, the master reached out and sent those fingers dancing along Diego’s jawline. “You’re so beautiful. I can’t wait to draw you.”
The hand fell away, and the master’s eyes closed fully. Within seconds, it seemed, the man had drifted off. Because the handler had used Diego pretty much non-stop the night before as kind of a last hurrah, he supposed, Diego felt sleepy, too. It took no effort to follow his master.
****
When next Diego opened his eyes, he faced the windows. By the muted light shining through the sheers, he figured he’d slept away the afternoon. Not since early childhood had he been allowed the luxury of a nap. Fuzzy headed, he blinked a few times and waited for his mind to clear. A quick scratching sound caught his attention, reminding him that he didn’t lie alone in that big bed. Slowly, he turned his face and saw his master leaning up against the headboard. He held a large pad of paper and worked a pencil across it with quick, sure strokes.
The master glanced at Diego. “Good, you’re awake. Now I can sketch that beautiful face of yours.”
The man kept using that word—beautiful. Diego had heard himself being described that way for years. He knew nature had given him the best chance as a slave to have an easy and happy life. Beautiful and clever boys were trained to serve wealthy women. He’d been destined to wear lovely clothes, lounge around drawing rooms, ballrooms and well-appointed bedrooms. He’d eat pussy and fuck it, too, when commanded. Not that he enjoyed that part of his training. He much preferred the secret games he and the other boys played when they could get away with it. Still, serving his old mistress had made for a happy life until her illness had worsened and she’d died. Now, he’d become a toy for men, and while that should have made him happier because he actually liked dick, it had turned his dream into a nightmare.
“Not that this view doesn’t have its charms,” the master added. He tilted the pad toward Diego.
The master had sketched as much of Diego has he could see while Diego slept. It was amazingly good for all its brevity. Tousled hair curved down to meet a long and slender back. The swell of a small, pert ass was barely visible before folds of sheet took over. Seeing it, Diego realized the master had pushed the sheet down, likely when he’d gotten up to grab his art supplies. Diego marveled at how he’d slept through that. With the old master, he’d developed great sensitivity to the man’s every move. It hadn’t paid to be caught unaware. He could see, too, that the master lay completely uncovered, the pad resting on his lap a little north of an almost full hard-on.
The master tracked Diego’s gaze. The cock swelled, and the master shot Diego a grin that looked shy. “Now, that I’m all rested up, my body has figured out that I’m in bed with a hot guy.”
Diego waited for the command he knew was coming. Waited. And, waited some more. Instead of ordering him to get sucking, the master looked down at him. He had kind of this sheepish look on his face. Diego knew that look, understood it. Had been trained to respond to it. Some women, he’d been taught, would not be willing to make the first move. They’d expect Diego to take control of the situation without being told to. He supposed some men were like that, as well. So, licking his lips to slick the way, he slid down and placed his mouth along the hard ridge offered silently up to him.
The first touch of the boy, while expected, still caused Jason to jerk. He’d been wrestling with himself for those few seconds as the slave eyed Jason’s dick. On the one hand, he knew he owned this boy, could command him to suck him off or get on his hands and knees while Jason fucked him. On the other, it made him uncomfortable to think he owned people and had total control over their lives. Slavery was a fact of life. Hardly anyone outside of some far left circles argued against it. Yet, it had been purely an academic issue for a working class boy turned poverty-stricken artist. Until his loathsome Uncle Vince had first struck it rich, then popped off, leaving Jason a staggering amount of wealth, Jason had never truly expected to own slaves.
Now one had taken Jason’s hard dick into his mouth without even being told. Did Jason really need to have a philosophical debate with himself?
“Oh, fuck,” he breathed as sparks of pleasure shot straight to his balls. Dropping the pad and pencil onto the nightstand, he slid down until his head rested against the downy pillows.
Diego moved between Jason’s legs the moment he widened them without conscious thought. Closing his eyes, Jason focused on every sensation. Wet heat engulfed his cock, grasping
it in a tight embrace while a clever tongue swirled around the shaft. Nimble fingers plucked at his balls, rolling them around and gently squeezing them. The side of one finger pressed against his perineum, goosing his prostate without actually sticking the finger in Jason’s hole. He gasped and bucked, sending his dick sliding farther down Diego’s throat. He pulled back almost immediately, worried that he’d choke the boy. But Diego followed his movement and sucked. Then the slave worked his throat muscles, swallowing over and over in undulating waves that massaged Jason’s rod.
With an unbridled cry, Jason came so hard that he jackknifed up in bed. He fisted the million-thread count sheet with white-knuckled fists, twisting as he thrust and writhed. Diego stayed with him, riding the storm of Jason’s orgasm without breaking his position between his legs. The boy’s mouth and tongue continued their assault on Jason’s pulsing flesh until the touch drove his overly sensitive skin crazy.
“Stop,” he gasped and grabbing a handful of the slave’s thick hair, he pulled him off. Those amazing lips never lost their hold until they passed the head of Jason’s cock with an audible pop.
Jason flopped back down, panting. He kept his hand in Diego’s hair, although he loosened his grip. He carded his fingers lightly through the strands. They were silky smooth, and he enjoyed the feel of it. Diego kept his head lying on Jason’s thigh. Puffs of warm breath tickled Jason’s still sensitive and wet cock. Jason had been blessed with a much larger piece of equipment than the average man. Now that his mind was clearing, he could really appreciate how amazing it was that Diego had taken him almost all the way down. The slave’s gag reflex must be non-existent. How that had come to occur, he didn’t want to think about.
With his most basic need met, Jason’s stomach demanded attention. It rumbled faintly, reminding him that he hadn’t eaten since early morning, and even that had been meager airline food. He picked up his phone and saw that it was almost five. They’d slept the day away. Not surprising for him given his jet lag, but he wondered why his body slave had been so tired. Then he remember the handler and decided that was also something he didn’t want to think too much about. He couldn’t change the past. He could only choose how to behave going forward.
His stomach rumbled again and he patted it. “When’s dinner?”
Diego turned his face up slightly, although not staring directly at Jason. “Ginger is used to serving it at seven, Master, but of course, she’ll ready it for whenever you say.”
“No, that’s okay. I don’t want to upset her routine. I could do with something to tide me over, though. Think she can whip up a snack?”
“Certainly, Master. Shall I go get you something?”
With a quick pat, Jason let go of the slave’s hair. “Yeah, sure, that would be great.”
Diego lifted himself off both Jason and the bed with an impressive grace. “What would you like, Master?” he asked standing by the bed.
Jason shrugged, a gesture lost on the boy because he kept his gaze firmly on the ground. Jason supposed that was the proper thing for a slave to do, yet it made him uncomfortable. He probably wasn’t cut out for slave ownership.
“Some crackers and cheese, I guess. Fruit. That sort of thing.”
Diego nodded. “Yes, Master. Right away.” He turned to leave, giving Jason a view of that fantastically high, tight ass.
Jason frowned. Even though the boy had a lovely slender body with a perfect and slender cock to go with it, he really was too skinny. Jason would have to make sure the slave ate more. And, he didn’t miss the fact that the slave wasn’t hard in the least. The amazing blowjob hadn’t affected Diego, making him wonder for the first time whether the boy was straight. Which led to the question of did slaves even have the luxury of a sexual orientation? Probably not.
Just as Diego reached for the doorknob, Jason realized something else. “Hey!” Diego froze. “Aren’t you forgetting something?” he asked with a chuckle.
Diego turned. “I’m sorry, Master?” There was a faint tremor in his voice as if he were afraid he’d made some terrible mistake that would lead to punishment. Poor kid. Jason hadn’t meant to scare him.
Sitting up, Jason pointed to the pile of clothes by the side of the bed. “Aren’t you going to get dressed? Or, do you usually walk around buck naked in the house?” He kept his tone light so that the slave would understand he wasn’t in trouble.
The look on Diego’s face as he released his hold on the doorknob and walked back to the bed conveyed a wealth of information. Part embarrassment, part hope, it somehow made it clear to Jason that walking around naked was exactly what the boy was used to doing. The idea pissed Jason off. Why would his uncle do such a thing? What was more humiliating to a human being than being stripped of clothes and therefore, dignity? Hadn’t it been enough to have the right to use the boy’s body however he wanted? Obviously not. Christ, his estimation of his late uncle sank even more.
Jason watched Diego pick up his jeans and slither into them. They really were way too snug, and while he could admire how the denim covered the slave’s body like a second skin, he couldn’t ignore how the boy needed both more weight and looser pants.
“Leave the snap undone.” That would help, he figured, with the fit. The slave did as told, naturally. When he hesitated to put on his T-shirt, Jason clarified. “Go ahead and put the shirt on, too. I want you to be comfortable.”
“Thank you, Master.” The boy finished dressing and left the room on quiet feet.
As soon as he was alone again, Jason flopped back down. He stared up at the ceiling, admiring the plaster molding around the edges and wondering how he was going to adapt to this weird new life. Eventually, he turned to the one thing that never failed to soothe him. He picked up the pad and pencil and sketched a quick portrait of Diego by memory. When he was done, he stared at what his subconscious mind had picked up so clearly.
His body slave had the saddest eyes he’d ever seen.
Chapter Two
The snack had proved just filling enough so that by the time Jason sat down for dinner, he still had an appetite, but wasn’t starving. Things might have been different if he’d eaten everything that Diego had brought back up to the bedroom. Instead, he’d shared with the slave even though it had all been set up as service for one. He’d gotten a kick out of handing bits of cracker and cheese and grapes and strawberries to the boy, forcing him to open up and eat like a baby bird. The boy had kneeled by the side of the bed, intending to serve his master that way. The poor kid had seemed flummoxed by the turn of events, but naturally he’d chewed and swallowed on command. They’d shared the one glass of iced tea, as well.
The sight of Diego’s pouty lips curled around the edge of the glass had made Jason go hard again, although he’d tossed on his shorts, so the effect wasn’t obvious. He had no doubt, that if Jason’s cock had risen up between them, Diego would have taken it into his mouth again. And, while Jason would have loved another blowjob, he didn’t want to fill his slave with only cum before dinner. The boy needed and deserved some better calories than that. Besides, some self-restraint would make it all the better when he fucked Diego later. He would, too. Whatever his conscience might say about it, he knew he couldn’t resist using his slave as intended. Jason wasn’t the asshole his uncle had been, but he was no saint, either.
Diego had given him a brief tour of the rest of the house until dinner time. It was a monument to excess as far as Jason was concerned. He wasn’t sure he even wanted to keep the thing. If he did, though, redecorating was definitely in order. He wasn’t surprised that Diego led him eventually into the formal dining room to eat. It was something out of Downton Abbey, and the lone place-setting at one end of the table looked ridiculous. When Diego held his chair out for him, Jason felt like an idiot taking it. He didn’t want to upset the slaves’ routine, however. Not right away. He’d figure out what made sense for him going forward and make gradual changes.
Once seated he frowned at the sight of Diego going to his kn
ees by Jason’s right side. “Do you intend to kneel there while I eat?” The slave opened his mouth, a look of fear crossing his face. Shit, Jason really had to stop asking the boy questions instead of giving him orders. He was upsetting the kid. “Never mind. I want you to sit here.” He gestured toward the chair to his right.
The slave popped to his feet in another graceful move and did as told. He looked stiff and uncomfortable, not yet understanding his master’s intent. One of the maids, Peggy he thought, came in with a plate of wonderful-smelling food. She hesitated a moment when she saw Diego, then placed the food in front of Jason. Steak, roasted potatoes, and asparagus. It looked amazing. He’d eaten lots of interesting food on his journey, yet nothing compared to home-cooked American food.
“What may I get you to drink, Master?” Peggy asked in a low voice.
“Iced tea would be great thanks.” He gave her a reassuring smile. He really didn’t want his slaves to be afraid of him. The maid nodded and turned to do his bidding. “Oh, wait. Please bring a plate of food for Diego. He’s going to eat with me every meal from now on.”
With another brief hesitation, the maid nodded and hurried off. She returned in a flash with a large glass of iced tea for Jason, as well as a place setting and plate of rabbit food that she arranged in front of Diego.
Jason gestured toward it. “What’s that? Why doesn’t he have what I’m having?”
The maid seem flustered by that question, as did Diego. “I’m so sorry, Master,” Peggy flushed as she spoke. “There’s only enough food for one.”
“Oh.” Yeah, well what did he expect? No way Vince had fed his slaves the same food he ate. “Okay, so what are the rest of you eating, that?” He gestured toward Diego’s pathetic food.
“Oh, no, Master.” The maid’s face turned a bright red, and she hung her head. “We’re having hamburgers and French fries, if it pleases you, Master.”
Heir to a Slave Page 2