Heir to a Slave

by Samantha Cayto

  Diego appeared to like it, as well, melting into Jason’s body with a boneless relaxation that if feigned was completely believable. Jason wrapped his arms around the narrow waist, resting one hand against the small of Diego’s back. He couldn’t resist sliding his fingers up the slave’s T-shirt and caressing the soft, smooth skin. Diego didn’t flinch at the intimate touch. If anything, he curled more into the embrace. Jason smiled and rubbed his cheek against the top of Diego’s head in a silent gesture of affection. He could feel the nipple piercings rubbing through his own shirt, and it made his skin pebble. He did like how his boy looked sporting the body jewelry, and notwithstanding his reservations, he also looked forward to experiencing the effects of that tongue piercing. Just the thought of it made his erection kick up a notch. The ride was suddenly getting rather painful.

  Fortunately, with Kurt driving, it didn’t take long to get to Stan’s office. The man’s admin ushered them all into the office. Stan greeted Jason and Kurt warmly and waved them into his visitor chairs. Diego knelt by Jason’s side, of course, so Jason took advantage and placed his hand on the boy’s head. He really found running his fingers through all that thick, wavy hair very soothing. Not that the meeting was going to be a tense one. It was merely a matter of signing a few things and accepting the receipt of funds wired into his account. In a few minutes, he’d be fully divested of his inherited interest in Vince’s company.

  Stan brought the papers around to put them in front of Jason on a clipboard. “Please sign both copies so that you and the company can get originals.”

  With only a moment’s hesitation, Jason did as asked, making him a truly wealthy man with liquid funds. He handed everything back to Stan. “Here you go.”

  Stan beamed at him, clearly happy with Jason’s decision, leaving Jason to wonder who the man really worked for. Obviously he wanted Jason to sell out, which probably meant the man was in the pocket of the company’s board. Returning to his chair, Stan tapped away at his keyboard then sat back with a big smile on his face.

  “I’ve authorized the wiring of the funds from the firm’s escrow account. Congratulations.”

  Jason gave the man a tight smile even as Kurt slapped Jason’s arm in celebration. “Thanks, I guess.” He carded Diego’s hair for a few seconds. “I’ve decided to also sell the house and everything in it.”

  Kurt gasped beside him. “Seriously, babe? You haven’t said anything about making up your mind on that.”

  Jason grimaced inwardly. Something about Kurt using the endearment in front of a relative stranger made him uncomfortable. He glanced over at his lover. “Yeah, well, it’s been on my mind and I just made it up, actually.”

  Stan gave him a big smile. “I think that’s a fine idea. Such a big, elaborate place. It probably doesn’t suit a young man such as yourself. I’d be happy to recommend an agent to help you sell all of it.”

  “Thanks, I was hoping you could.” Jason’s fingers still wandered through Diego’s hair, which is why he could tell the slave had gone extra still, tense. Of course, the idea of moving probably unnerved him a bit.

  Picking up his phone, Stan started punching at the keys awkwardly with one finger. “I’m sending you the contact info right now.” He looked up as he tossed his phone back down. “Are you intending to sell the slaves, too?”

  Jason could practically feel the tension thrumming through Diego, now. Mentally slapping his forehead, Jason said, “No. No, not at all.” He patted Diego in what he hoped was a comforting move. “I’m going to keep all of them. I simply want to house them in something that as you say, suits my tastes better.”

  Diego relaxed within Jason’s grip and even leaned a bit against his thigh.

  “I expect you’d prefer to live in the city.”

  Kurt sat forward in his chair. “We’re planning a trip to New York soon. I hope to convince Jason to move there.”

  This time, Jason let his frown show. “I haven’t made up my mind yet about New York, and I don’t think I’d want to live there in any event.” Jesus, this was not the kind of conversation to have in front of Stan, of all people.

  Kurt turned and gave him the kind of lazy, sexy smile that always sent blood rushing to Jason’s cock. “I bet I can convince you.”

  Stan chuckled and stood up. “Well, again congratulations, Jason. Please let me know if there’s anything more I can help you with.”

  The dismissal was obvious and fine with Jason. He suddenly couldn’t wait to get out of the stuffy office. After a quick round of handshaking, Jason took off with a happy Kurt and a quiet Diego flanking him. Once outside, he stood with hands jammed inside his front pockets and waiting for the valet to bring their car around. The thought of cramming into the vibrating box of metal to head back to a house he’d already decided he didn’t want to live in didn’t sit well. His nerves jangled as if they wanted to break out of his skin. He needed to move, not sit. The park across the street called to him.

  He turned to Kurt. “How about we leave the car and take a walk?”

  Kurt furrowed his brows. “Where?”

  Jutting his chin in the right direction, he said, “There.”

  Now Kurt frowned. “That’s one of those over-manicured outdoor spaces we usually avoid. It’s not hiking. Let’s go home and head out to the Blue Hills for the rest of the day.” He flashed a smile, but this time, the look only irritated Jason. It was as if his boyfriend couldn’t read his moods at all.

  “No, I want to take a simple walk. My legs need stretching or something. I’m antsy,” he added with a shrug.

  “Aw, babe.” Kurt wrapped his arm around Jason’s neck. “You’re freaked out over all that money you have now. Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it.” He punctuated his assurance with a wet kiss on Jason’s cheek.

  Wiggling out of the embrace, Jason swiped the saliva away. “Maybe. I still want to head over to that park. Are you coming?” Even as he asked the question, he realized he kind of hoped the answer would be no. He needed time to think.

  The valet pulled up with the car at that moment. Kurt started for the driver’s side. He slipped the man a tip and looked at Jason over the top of the car. “You go on. I feel like a swim and a nap. How about I send Alphonse down here to wait for you?”

  “Yeah, sure. That’s a good idea.”

  “I’ll take the boy with me.”

  Although Diego stood a couple of feet away, Jason was sure he felt the slave tense up. Jason moved closer to him. “That’s okay. I’ll keep him.”

  A look of displeasure passed across Kurt’s face. “Are you sure? You don’t even have his leash.”

  Jason didn’t try to hide his irritation. “So, I’ll make sure not to go anywhere that requires one. Honestly, he’s not a rabid dog or anything.”

  Kurt put his hands up in surrender. “No worries, babe.”

  Jesus, why was that endearment getting old? Jason used to love being called that by Kurt. Now it came across as condescending. Instead of saying anything, though, and risk sounding like an overly sensitive jerk, he simply smiled and nodded at his boyfriend and watched him drive off. As soon as it was only him and Diego, his nerves started to quiet down.

  “Come on, let’s go,” he said to the boy with a smile.

  The park really was a pretty place with a perfectly green lawn broken up by smooth paved paths. In the middle stood an artificial pond with mallard ducks lazily swimming along. Too early for a lunch crowd on a week day, it was mostly empty. The occasional jogger, dog walker, or nanny pushing a stroller crossed their paths, but it was mostly Jason and Diego wandering slowly around. The weather was as close to perfect as it could be with a mild wind caressing his face in a soothing manner. It helped to chase the jittery feeling away. By the time they reached the pond, Jason felt far more relaxed.

  Diego kept pace with him, quiet in a way that made him unobtrusive yet totally accessible should Jason want him for something. How slaves mastered that technique, Jason would never fathom. Maybe he didn’t
want to know. Training of slaves couldn’t be kind. He made his mind let those stray thoughts go in order to enjoy his peaceful surroundings. Picking up a piece of gravel from the crushed stone border along the pond, he lobbed it into the water. If he’d hoped to make the thing skip, it didn’t. The plop was still nice, so he did it again. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his slave standing nearby, watching, waiting, and moving his lips as if something bothered him.

  Of course, the piercing. Jason flung another rock with the same force as if he were throwing the opening pitch of game one of the World Series. If he had any sense of compassion, he’d march the boy back to the tattoo parlor and have them take that thing out. Except Diego said he wanted it, and what the hell did Jason know? The slave could be telling the truth, in which case, Jason would be lording it over the kid, not helping out.

  Shit, this whole master thing really sucked. At first, he’d liked the idea of having a pretty boy at his beck and call, especially in bed. He certainly hadn’t shied away from using Diego’s body. In the back of his mind, he’d always harbored the belief that slaves were bred for use and that so long as he was kind, he did no harm. That rationalization wasn’t sitting with him so well anymore. Not since he’d done the “right” thing and beaten another human being. Never in his life had Jason ever hit a lover. The very idea of domestic violence turned his stomach. Yet, he’d hit Diego, repeatedly, and yeah, it hadn’t been a punch to the face, nor had it left any scars. Still, he felt horrible about it and the rational part of his mind, as well as the emotional part of it, couldn’t really parse why hitting a slave was okay when hitting a free person was not.

  He couldn’t shake the need to talk about the reason why the beating had been meted out, either. It seemed so out of character, what he knew of it, for Diego to have done such a thing. Only an overwhelmingly strong feeling could have driven the impulse to mar the painting. Jason couldn’t shake the worry that he’d pushed the slave right from the beginning by drawing him incessantly. He certainly didn’t want to elicit that kind of response again.

  He bent down and scoured the ground for a good skipping stone. “You can tell me if it bothers you when I use you as an art subject. I mean, if you find posing difficult or just—shit, I don’t know—stupid and irritating.”

  He picked up a flat rock, turned it over in his hand, and discarded it. A better one lay closer to Diego. Jason scooped it up, and when he stood again, he faced his slave.

  Diego’s mouth opened and closed on soundless words before he found his voice. “It doesn’t bother me, Master.” His gaze flitted up to look Jason in the eye. “Truly. Posing is easy, and I’m honored to be your subject.”

  The boy seemed to be sincere, and yet… “Then, why did you destroy the painting?”

  Diego shook his head, again his lips moving with no sound. “I’m sorry, Master. I have no excuse.”

  Jason whirled away and sent the stone flying across the water. Still no skip. Damn, he couldn’t blame the stone. It was his handling of it that was all wrong. He paced away. Stopped, and reached out to grab Diego’s hand. The boy seemed startled when Jason continued on his way without letting go. He liked the feel of the warm palm in his. The beautiful day and setting was made for lovers, not masters with slaves trailing behind.

  “What do you think of the idea of moving to New York?”

  Diego didn’t answer right away. “Um, I don’t know, Master.”

  Jason strived for patience. Slaves likely weren’t used to being asked for their opinion on anything. “Do you think you’d like living there?”

  “I honestly don’t know, Master. I’ve only ever known the training center and this town. As long as I’m with you, it really doesn’t matter to me where we live.”

  Exasperated, Jason pulled them up short and turned to face the slave. “You don’t have to say things like that!”

  The boy looked up at him through those lush, dark lashes of his, but there wasn’t a hint of coyness in the gesture. Only shyness. “Even if I mean it?” he asked in nearly a whisper.

  Huffing out a breath, Jason pulled the boy in for a hug. “You’re not worried I’m going to sell you, are you?”

  The head pressed against Jason’s chest, shook in the negative. “No, Master. I trust you when you say you won’t sell any of the slaves.”

  “Good.” Jason decided to drop the matter. Placing a kiss on Diego’s head, he started walking again. He would have liked to hold his slave close like a lover, yet worried he’d make the boy uncomfortable, so settled instead with simply holding hands.

  They spent a quiet hour walking around the pond, stopping to get a hot dog for lunch from a vendor, then ice cream, before Jason called up Alphonse and met the chauffeur by the entrance to the park. It was as close to a blissful peace as he’d experienced in a long time, and as he sat in the car with Diego pressed against him, Jason realized his jitters were gone for good. So what if he was a wealthy man with hard decisions to make? The whole world should be so lucky.

  ****

  Diego let his fingers fly over the keys, happy to have the chance to play the piano again. It had been months since he’d done so. His old mistress had needed quiet in her home toward the end, and the old master hadn’t cared about his slave’s ability to do anything other than suck and fuck. When his master had asked him to play after dinner, Diego hadn’t been able to hide his excitement. He wanted so badly to make the man happy, and if that meant doing something that also made him happy, then what could be better?

  Ignoring the weird feeling of the metal in his mouth, he pressed his lips together in concentration. He didn’t want to make any mistakes. The master had left the choice of pieces up to him, so Diego had picked an eclectic assortment of bright and lively tunes that didn’t tax his rusty skills. His fingers seemed to hold the memory of the keys well, though, and he beamed his way through each piece, secure that he did a good job. It felt wonderful to slide the tips over the smooth, cool ivory, calling forth perfect tones. The old master may not have appreciated hearing Diego play, but the man had certainly spent money on a quality instrument and had kept it in tune the same way the music room had been meticulously cleaned despite no one having used it for months. Or, ever, really.

  Diego could feel his master’s eyes on him even though Kurt the Fucker had insisted on the free man lounging on a sofa at the far end of the room. The free men lay with their bodies entwined, and Diego could hear the occasional smacking kiss. It didn’t matter. Diego could still feel his master’s hand clasping his while they meandered around the park. That hour or so had been the best of Diego’s life. He’d never forget how precious he’d felt by such attention. To want to touch a slave in such a companionable way, to keep him close even without the overt pleasure of sex, was the most intimate experience Diego could imagine. The only bad part had been the question about the painting. Diego had wanted so badly to blurt out the truth. He didn’t dare, not with the master still enthralled by his boyfriend. Someday, there’d be a chance. He had to believe that.

  He finished his latest piece with a confident flourish then looked over at his master for an indication of whether he should continue or stop for the evening. He told himself that he really was looking for orders, not praise. But when the master disengaged himself from his boyfriend’s embrace in order to clap, Diego blushed with pride and pleasure and dropped his gaze.

  “Thank you, Master. Should I continue?”

  “No, come over here.”

  Disappointed that the impromptu concert had come to an end, yet eager to feel his master’s touch, Diego did as told. He walked the few feet necessary and dropped to his knees by the master’s leg. A hand descended down on his head and ruffled his hair, the way Diego liked. Another hand, though, joined the first one, and this one tugged at the strands painfully enough to make Diego wince.

  “Come here, boy. I want to try out that new piercing.” That hand tried to drag Diego over the master’s leg to Kurt the Fucker, and yeah, thinking of the man
like that could definitely lead to a slip up. Diego’d be damned if he would give the man any kind of respect inside his own head.

  “Wait.” The master halted Diego’s movement and freed him from the harsh grasp. “We’re not going to do that here. Let’s take it up to the bedroom.”

  “Ah, babe, you’re no fun.” Although the tone was a teasing one, Diego wondered if the master could hear the underlying anger in it.

  The master stood up, gallantly helping Diego to his feet at the same time. Like in the park, he held Diego’s hand. “I just don’t want to risk getting cum on the Aubusson rug, babe.”

  Apparently, the master had heard the tone, and knowing that gave Diego hope.

  They made an awkward trio climbing up the stairs. As long as the master kept his hold on Diego, he didn’t mind and even let go of his own accord to strip down once they arrived in the bedroom. He didn’t hesitate, either, when Kurt yanked him over to the bed and forced Diego to kneel between Kurt’s outstretched legs. The man’s cock stood up hard and leaking with the anticipation of getting sucked by a pierced tongue. Leaning forward, Diego prepared to give good service. He told himself that it was for the master’s benefit and no other.

  “Wait.” Once again, the master intervened. He cupped Diego’s chin and gently turned his head. “Are you okay doing this so soon? I mean, how does your tongue feel?”

  They both ignored Kurt’s exasperated sigh. Lying was about the worse thing a slave could do. Yet, Diego raised his eyes to his master and did just that. It was for the greater good. Diego didn’t want to start a fight between his master and Kurt, nor did he want to give the odious man any reason to make more trouble for Diego. This little fib would only hurt Diego and to a far lesser degree than anything the free man could think up.