“Fuck!” the man bellowed as he let go and craned his neck up. He slammed against Diego and swore again.
Then it was over, like a summer storm howling in and rolling out just as fast. The master collapsed with a laugh and rolled over, taking Diego with him. With their bodies still joined, they lay on their sides, panting, with slick skin cooling in the air conditioning that still hummed through the house in the waning days of summer. The master’s hands couldn’t keep still. They roamed all over Diego’s arms, back, and even his ass. The master also flung his leg over Diego’s hip and drew him in closer. He kissed first Diego’s forehead, then his cheek and eventually went back to his mouth. This time, the man’s tongue took a languid tour, leaving no nook or cranny unexplored. It left Diego just as breathless when their lips finally parted.
“You liked it, didn’t you?” the master asked in a hushed tone.
“Yes, Master. I truly did.” He put every bit of sincerity he could into his answer because it was the truth. He would have lied if he hadn’t really liked the fucking. That’s what slaves did, and he would have been convincing, too. But, he did mean it. Being fucked by this man had been wonderful, and he couldn’t wait to do it again. After so many disappointments in his short slave life, he hoped he’d finally lucked out.
“Good.” The master kissed his forehead again and gently disengaged their bodies.
Diego almost whimpered in disappointment. He needn’t have worried. After turning to shut off the nightstand lamp, the master returned and gathered Diego up in his arms.
“Sleep now.”
Diego happily obeyed.
Chapter Three
The master had woken up early the next morning. He hadn’t disturbed Diego, though, so when Diego’s eyes finally popped open, he once more saw his master sketching him. At some point during the night, they’d separated, and Diego had landed on his stomach. He lay lazily contented watching the master create his art. He realized he’d never considered what the man did for a living. He knew the old master, and therefore, this one, hadn’t come from money. Could it really be that he made his living as an artist?
From what Diego could see and from what he’d learned in training, the master had talent. Lots of it. The big sketch pad contained a variety of drawings, all surprisingly, and a bit embarrassingly, of Diego. The master’s quick, sure strokes were putting in the last lines of Diego’s face in profile. Other sketches were of a three-quarter view, the back of his head, even his full face while he’d been lying on his back. He barely recognized himself. This wasn’t the boy he saw routinely in the mirror, a cowed slave, often in pain, always anxious that he would get into trouble and earn a beating that would bring tears to his eyes and begging to his lips.
The boy in these drawings looked relaxed and sexy, even. A bit wanton, especially when his arm was flung over his head and his cock peeped out from the top of the sheet.
“Do you like them?”
Diego had been so engrossed in looking at the sketches, he’d missed the master noticing that he’d awoken. “Yes, sir. Except, I think you’re too kind to me.”
Flustered at his own boldness, he glanced up to gage the master’s response. The old one didn’t like to hear any independent thoughts from his slave even if he were the one to initiate the conversation. This one merely smiled down before ruffling Diego’s hair with the hand holding the pencil. Diego hadn’t been able to hold back the wince when he’d seen the hand coming, expecting a different sort of touch. The casual show of affection both surprised him and made him blush.
“You’re obviously a poor judge of your own beauty.” The master’s tone was light and teasing. “I can’t wait to paint you. I might even try doing you in clay, although I’m not much of a sculptor.” He turned the pad so that Diego got a full look at all of the sketches. “My internal clock is still screwed up. Drawing you is a great way for me to spend the early morning time, even though the light from the window’s been so pale I could barely see what I was doing.”
Diego lifted his head to rest on his palm in order to get a better look. Then his master’s words filtered through, and surprise derailed his concentration. If the man hadn’t wanted to draw in the poor light, why hadn’t he turned on the nightstand lamp? It couldn’t be that he’d been concerned about waking his slave up. What free man cared about his slave that much? None that he knew of, and certainly not the old master, who’d often mounted Diego while he slept. Waking up from a cock jamming into his ass had been the norm.
And, the fact that it was indeed morning, reminded Diego of his duties. Sitting up, he asked, “May I get you breakfast, Master?”
The master arched an eyebrow. “Oh, is that a thing, breakfast in bed?”
“If it pleases you, Master.”
“Who wouldn’t like that?”
Diego took the response as an affirmative, so he quickly slid off his side of the bed. “What can I get you, sir?”
“What are my options?”
As he rounded the bed, heading for the door, Diego paused and gave his master a shy smile. “Anything you’d like, Master. Anything at all.” God, the guy really was naïve about being wealthy and a slave owner.
The master yawned loudly and put aside his pad. “Well, coffee is a given, light cream, no sugar, please. Beyond that?” He shrugged. “Eggs, toast, whatever. I’m not picky. Cook’s choice, I guess. And remember it’s for two.”
Diego blushed a little again at the reminder that he was to eat with the master from now on and the same food, too. “Yes, sir.” He’d let Ginger figure it out. He reached for the doorknob, paused when the master called him by name, and looked back.
The master pointed to the pile of clothes. “Get dressed first.”
Diego shot the man a quick smile. He had forgotten. No more parading around nude all day. He snatched his pants up and wiggled into them, jamming his semi-hard cock inside the tight material. Damn, his full bladder made itself known, yet he dared not pause to use the bathroom until he’d spoken with Ginger. “Is this enough, Master?”
“Sure. If you’re comfortable shirtless, I’m not going to complain.” He winked.
Flustered at the gesture, both confused and delighted at the master’s casual and pleasant manner, Diego fumbled for the door and left the bedroom.
He flew down the backstairs to the kitchen, and came in as the other slaves were finishing their breakfast. Ginger stood up from the small, round table as soon as she saw him.
“Master’s up, I take it?”
“Yes, and wanting coffee and breakfast.”
The cook wasted no time heading for the refrigerator. “What’s he want?”
“He said it’s up to you.”
Ginger tsked. “An omelet, then.” She took out the carton of eggs and brought it to the stove. “For two, right?”
He stood awkwardly, rubbing the top of one bare foot with the other. “Yes.”
The cook rummaged around for a bowl, whisk, and pan, then returned to the fridge and pulled out cheese, spinach, and mushrooms.
His mouth watered just looking at everything. “Maybe English muffins, too, and fruit?” He dropped his gaze when Ginger eyed him. Yeah, now he was simply listing things he really wanted to eat.
“Go ahead and get them. This will go faster if you help.”
“Yes, ‘um.” Ginger might be a slave, but she was twice Diego’s age and had quickly become like a surrogate mother to him.
In fact, in the middle of frying up the spinach and mushrooms, she grabbed him as he walked by and looked him in the eye. “Are you all right?”
He understood what she was asking. She’d patched up his hurts on any number of occasions. He gave her a reassuring smile. “I’m fine. He’s not like the old master. He’s been kind to me.”
Ginger nodded once, let him go and returned to her stove. “Good. That’s good. I thought maybe he would be from what I could see. You just never know. Not that there would be a damn thing I could do about it if he weren’t.”
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Ginger was a practical girl, never a slave to bemoan her fate or rail against that which couldn’t be changed. Her concern for him warmed his heart anyway. Dropping what he held on the counter, he took a moment to go over and hug her. She patted his arm briefly, never taking her eyes off the sauce pan. A second later, he let her go, took a quick bathroom break, then returned to the task of browning the muffins. Within no time, they had a nice tray set up with omelets, muffins, fruit, a carafe of coffee, cream, and all of the necessary silverware and napkins. The thing weighed a ton, but Diego had been toting trays of food upstairs since his first sale. The only added weight was his own part of the feast. He didn’t mind carrying that at all.
With practiced ease, he balanced the tray while opening the bedroom door. The master immediately sat up straighter as soon as he saw Diego enter and smoothed the sheet over his lap. Diego shot him a brief smile before settling the tray on him. Then he kneeled on the floor in order to pour a cup of coffee.
“Is this enough cream, Master?”
“That’s great, thanks.” The master snatched the cup up the moment Diego finished stirring and gulped some down. He gasped. “Oh, man, I needed that.” He drank some more and perused the rest of the tray. “This all looks wonderful, and I see that there’s enough for you, too.”
He smiled down, sending a surprising warmth spreading through Diego. Pleasing this man already mattered in a way that he’d never experienced before as a slave. “Thanks for lugging it all the way up here, but I don’t see a second cup for you to have coffee.”
Diego swallowed hard, instinct, training and experience making him nervous about answering despite how well his new master had been treating him. “If it please you, Master, I don’t like coffee. I was hoping to get a bottle of water out of the mini-fridge.”
“Oh, sure,” the man replied, a forkful of omelet already in his mouth. “Mmm, God, this is so good.”
Diego hopped up and fetched his bottle. When he tried to return to the floor, however, the master waved him over.
“Come sit on the bed. You don’t have to kneel to eat.” Once Diego had complied, the master actually handed him over a plate, fork and napkin.
Uncomfortable with the gesture, Diego hastily took the offering. “Thank you, Master.”
He stuffed some food in his own mouth to avoid further awkwardness. The master was right, the food was awesome, and he still couldn’t quite believe he was going to be allowed to eat a normal amount of food, never mind the same as his master.
The master took a bite of his muffin and chewed thoughtfully. “I suppose my uncle made you kneel a lot, huh?”
Diego swallowed and washed egg down with water before answering. “Yes, Master. He liked me to be easily reachable.”
The master grunted at that response, yet mercifully didn’t ask any more questions. They ate in companionable silence, working through the entire tray in no time. Once the last scrap and drop were gone, the master stretched his arms wide, and lifted the tray off his lap before Diego could think of taking on the task himself. Down it went onto the floor by the bed with a graceful bend of the master’s body. As soon as he straitened, he tackled Diego and had him on his back in a blink of an eye. Startled into breathlessness and not a little afraid, Diego gazed wide-eyed up at the man.
The master’s lips turned up with a mischievous look before he slowly lowered his face down to Diego’s. The kiss was gentle, exploring, a slanting of lips back and forth until the tip of the master’s tongue pressed against the seam of Diego’s mouth. On a sigh, Diego opened up and surrendered. He tasted the coffee the master had drunk and didn’t mind the bitterness. To be dominated in this simple way was all so new to him. He’d never expected it, wasn’t sure what to make of it, yet knew that if this was the path his life had turned on for good, he would adapt to it with pleasure.
The master moaned into Diego’s mouth. “Hmm.” Pulling back, he nipped at Diego’s lower lip, nothing painful, only playful. “You taste as good as breakfast.”
The master’s hard cock ground against Diego’s burgeoning erection in a slow circle. The speed with which Diego’s body had become accustomed to arousal both surprised and delighted him. He’d assumed his dick would remain unused and dormant maybe forever. He hadn’t even had a chance to use his training on his previous mistress. She’d been sick when she’d purchased him and hadn’t recovered. Not that he’d minded at the time. Pleasing women had been beaten into him, even though he’d felt no real interest. The old master, though, had killed any interest he’d had in men, too. He’d quickly learned that as a slave, his wants and needs meant less than nothing.
Except that this man seemed to actually want Diego to enjoy their coupling. Even with their stomach’s recently filled, the man clearly wanted to fuck, and while he could simply flip Diego over and mount him, he didn’t seem inclined to do that. Instead, he rubbed his naked cock against Diego’s jeans, moaning and biting his own lip with obvious pleasure. Diego dared to tilt his hips up to meet the bump and grind and was rewarded with a deeper moan from his master.
“Fuck. I’m going to rub myself raw at this rate.”
Diego tried to wiggle his hands between them to undo his pants. The master stilled his actions by pushing Diego’s hand away and replaced it with his own. He slid the zipper down and freed Diego’s hard rod. Taking it in his hand, the master pressed it against his own dick and started a slow pump of both. Diego’s dick became trapped between the heat of the Master’s palm and the heat of his cock. The sensation was so new and overwhelming, Diego automatically shrunk away, yet he got nowhere. The master simply followed him so that his body molded against Diego’s with only the fisted cocks keeping them apart.
The master lowered his face to recapture Diego’s mouth, thrusting his tongue in time to the bucking of his hips. His hand worked in tandem with that rhythm, as well, so that he fucked his own fist even as it jerked him, and bringing Diego along for the ride. Every movement was slow and deliberate, a gradual building of pleasure instead of the quick fuck Diego had become accustomed to. Not that any man had ever included him in this way. Always before, he’d been only a vehicle for a man’s need, a vessel to fill with no feelings or wants of his own. This new attention both excited and terrified him. It couldn’t possibly last. Surely this man, who was new to having a slave to fuck, merely amused himself or did so out of a misguided sense of guilt. It would stop eventually and Diego would return to his normal status of being a fuck toy and nothing more.
The master groaned and picked up the pace. He panted and quivered with the strain of keeping himself levered up with one forearm pressed against the mattress. Diego felt helpless and useless, his hands clutching the sheet below him because he was too skittish to try to hold onto his master.
He longed to do so, however. The warm, smooth skin brushing up against his enticed him as no one else’s body ever had. He so wanted to touch and stroke and cling. He thought perhaps this master would like that, but hard-learned lessons stayed his hand. While only a few inches taller than Diego, the master had a lean musculature that spoke of quiet power. The man currently used his strength to brace himself above Diego to wring pleasure from both of their bodies, but it could easily end up hurting if the master were so inclined.
With a loud gasp and a shudder, the master came. His hot cum spilled out and over both the man’s fist and Diego’s cock. The feel of it, so wantonly unfamiliar, spiked Diego’s arousal and he also came in a violent rush that sent him writhing within the master’s loose embrace. Yet one more new experience—not just coming, but coming with another. The twin climaxes rocked them both until they lay panting into each other’s mouths with sticky cum mingling and coating both their stomachs.
The master pulled back, breaking the kiss. Diego started to follow him in protest before coming to his senses and slumping back onto the bed. He opened his eyelids to narrow slits just to sneak a peek at the man’s expression. He saw a face flushed with exertion and bright green eyes
staring down at him. Diego felt his own cheeks heat up before he dropped his gaze to stare at the master’s sensuous lips. They looked a little swollen, and he felt a measure of pride knowing he’d done that.
With a low chuckle that made Diego’s belly curl, the master let go of the twin dicks and brought his hand up. His tongue darted out and lapped up the residue left on his fingers. “Mmm, delicious.”
Diego barely had time to register the wanton act before his master once more bent down to kiss him. Now things had become truly weird. Diego had tasted lots of men’s cum in the last several months, the old master having given Diego’s mouth to many friends. Tasting himself was new to him, though. Mixed as it was with his new master’s cum, his own spending wasn’t really distinguishable. All he knew was that he liked the intimacy of it and hoped it would happen again.
The master broke the kiss, dipped down for another quick peck, then brushed Diego’s hair back with that same sticky set of fingers. “You liked that didn’t you?” His expression was light, yet his tone was serious.
Although as a slave, Diego knew there was only one acceptable answer, he liked that it was also true. “Yes, Master,” he replied with a smile. A genuine one, not one of those fake ones he’d learned to give that were intended to look like a real one.
The master returned the look. “Good. That’s important to me.” He rolled over to his side, bringing Diego with him so that they lay face-to-face. “I mean, I know that I can do anything I like with you, but I really want you to enjoy yourself, too.”
“I did, Master. Truly.” He felt himself blush. “It’s kind of you to care.”
The master traced a line down Diego’s torso, from breastbone to a spot above where his spent cock flopped over his thigh. “Not kindness. Selfishness. It’s better for me when you’re into it.”
Diego didn’t know how to respond to that remark, and in another instant, it didn’t matter. Dropping his hand away, the master rolled off the bed. “Come on, we need to shower. We have some errands to run.”
Heir to a Slave Page 4