Ben caught the slave’s wrists with his own hands and held him back. Startled, the boy looked up at him and for a second stared Ben right in the eye. Fear lurked in that look, clear as day, before he dropped his gaze again. Ah, shit, the last thing he’d meant to do was frighten the poor bastard.
“Sorry,” Ben said in a rush. “I didn’t meant to....”—scare the crap out of you—“Startle you, but I didn’t bring you in here for that.”
He let go of Oliver’s wrists and watched him slowly move his hands to hold them behind his back. There was a slight tremor running through the slave’s body and Ben felt even worse, so he hurried to explain. “I just thought you could use a break, that’s all. I used the whole blow job thing as a cover.” Shy blue eyes peeked out at him from under long, thick lashes. Ben smiled. “We’ll just stay here for a little while. No one has to know what we’re doing, or you know, what we’re not doing.”
The eyes went back to looking at a point on the floor. His “Thank you, Master,” was said in a hushed tone.
“Please, don’t call me that.”
“Sir,” the boy amended.
Ben blew out a breath. “I don’t like that much better. Call me Ben, at least when we’re alone.”
White teeth now worried a bit of lower lip. There was an almost audible swallow. “Thank you, sir, but if I do that, I’d be afraid of accidentally saying it in front of others. The master wouldn’t like that and I don’t want to be punished.”
Irritation, if not anger, rose in Ben. He knew just what the slave worried about. He’d seen the punishment room and knew that his father used it more often than Ben could imagine the slaves’ behavior warranted. Certainly a slave like Joe, so diligent and earnest, didn’t deserve a beating. And yet, hadn’t the man stiffened in obvious pain when Ben had given him a hug at the airport? So he didn’t push the name issue with Oliver.
“I understand,” he said. Then a thought struck him. He stood abruptly and when Oliver scooted out of his way, he walked over to the minibar. Sometimes it seemed like his father had one in every room in the house.
“Can I get you something, sir?” Oliver asked.
“No, thanks.” Ben opened up the small refrigerator and grabbed a cola. He popped the top and took a long swig on his way back to the couch. He sat down and held the can out to the slave. “Here, have some. I bet you’re thirsty.” And probably want to wash the taste of cum out of your mouth, he thought but didn’t say.
After a few seconds hesitation, the slave accepted the drink and took a small sip. When he tried to give it back, Ben shook his head. “No, have some more.”
A somewhat larger pull of the soda passed the guy’s lips before he again tried to hand it back. “Thank you, sir, but if I drink too much, I’ll have to pee. The master may not want me to leave to go to the bathroom.”
Ben frowned. “But there’s a bathroom right there you can use now if you want,” he said pointing to the half bath off his father’s den.
“I’m not allowed to use that one, sir.”
Having no easy answer to that, Ben accepted the can back. Of course, the talk of peeing also made him glance down at the lovely cock trapped in the metal cage. “Does he ever take it off you?” he heard himself ask.
Oliver’s eyes followed Ben’s gaze and nodded. “Yes, sir, every few days or so. It makes it easier to wash it and the master likes me clean.”
Yeah, Ben just bet he did. His father had always been a fastidious man. Ben thought it grotesque to keep the slave’s dick in lock-down for days at a time. Poor guy probably never got a chance to get hard or come. Not that he should be thinking of any of that, because, again, eew. Any coming would be with his father.
To take his mind off sex and who was having it with whom, Ben sat back and patted the couch cushion next to him. “Come sit up here.”
Oliver fidgeted, but otherwise didn’t get up. “I’m sorry, sir,” he finally said. “I’m not allowed on the furniture in the family’s rooms.”
Except my parents’ bed. Fuck, he really needed to stop thinking about that. “At least sit your butt down. There’s no need for you to kneel.”
Again, it took the slave a moment before he did as told, as if always weighing the need to obey and the worry of doing something wrong. Eventually, he gracefully sat cross-legged by Ben’s feet. When the guy wiggled almost imperceptibly, Ben wondered if it was just as uncomfortable to have to sit his entire ass down as opposed to just his knees. How could he know, given that no one had ever made him do either with no clothes on?
“Is that better?” He’d become practically desperate to give the boy some kind of respite and feared he was making everything worse in his earnestness.
Oliver’s gaze flicked up for a second. “I’m quite comfortable, thank you, sir.” Ben heard a faint, yet discernible, seriously? in his tone.
God, Ben felt like a complete idiot. “Sure you are,” he replied, not even trying to hide his skepticism.
“I truly am, sir. This is a really soft carpet.” He traced his fingers across the pile by his thigh. “And thick.”
Okay, so maybe Oliver’s disbelief at Ben’s inane questions had more to do with how good Oliver thought he had it and not how bad. Ben took another swig of cola and studied the slave while he continued to run his fingers over the carpet. From his higher angle, Ben could see that the collar his father had placed around the slave’s neck was pretty tight. Without thinking it through, he leaned over to touch it. Oliver started at the unexpected contact, but didn’t pull away. The skin along his collarbone felt smooth and soft. The slave stayed absolutely still as Ben stroked along the bottom of the metal links.
With effort, Ben made himself sit back. Touching the slave was too tempting. “The collar’s too tight,” he said in a gruff voice that masked his growing interest. “You should tell my father so that he can loosen it.”
Again, Oliver’s gaze flew up to look him in the eye before dropping again. “Yes, sir, I’ll do that.”
But in that moment of time when their eyes met, Ben had seen the truth. The slave would never speak of it with his master. It wasn’t fear, either, that had shone through. It had been resignation, telling Ben that Oliver believed the collar was deliberately tight. Sadly, Ben wasn’t in a position to assure him otherwise. Damn, his father had always been strict with the slaves. Had he always had a mean streak in him, too?
Before Ben could fill the next awkward silence, a perfunctory knock on the door invaded the silence. Vince popped his head in. “All done?”
Ben jumped up and rearranged his crotch as if he’d just zipped up his pants. He plastered another fake smile on his face. “Yup.”
Vince strolled in with a matching smile that seemed far more genuine and enthusiastic. “Great, I’m tired of losing my money to your father, so I thought I’d have another go at the kid. He’s got some mouth on him, doesn’t he?”
Ben couldn’t bring himself to look down at Oliver as he replied, “He sure does.” Walking toward the door, he passed his father’s friend and accepted the locker-room-style slap on the back.
He hadn’t intended to look back, but like Lot’s wife, he proved to be too weak to resist. When he turned to shut the door behind him, he watched Vince plop down right where he had been. Oliver had already risen back to his knees and uttered no word of protest when the older man grabbed a fistful of hair and pulled the slave’s face into position. The man’s dick, already out and waiting for Oliver’s mouth, disappeared in a single swallow. Ben’s cock twitched at the flashing idea that Oliver’s lips could be wrapped around it instead.
Disgusted by his own thoughts, Ben closed the door and walked away.
****
Oliver caught the drop of sweat from his brow before it had a chance to fall on the master’s back. The day was hot, too hot to be giving a massage outside. For the first time, he appreciated having no clothes on. The master’s skin was slick also from the heat and from his body’s effort to expel all of the alcohol he had consumed the night before
. Oliver had found out quickly that a hungover master meant a cranky one. Fortunately the man lay on his stomach, quietly surrendering to his slave’s careful ministrations. This massage served to soothe only, so it took little effort. With the master’s eyes off of him, it also gave Oliver a chance to watch the show going on in the pool without worrying about being punished.
Ben swam laps, his strong, lean body cutting through the water with seemingly effortless strokes. It was mesmerizing, and with no one to catch him at it, Oliver stared at the sight even as his fingers mechanically did their job. God, the young master was beautiful. He had come outside wearing nothing more than tight swimming briefs, and had given Oliver a quick wave before diving into the water. A frisson of desire had snaked up Oliver’s body with just that small acknowledgment from the man. His mind played over and over the few fantastic minutes he had spent in Ben’s company the night before.
He thought of the man as Ben, too, just as he’d been given permission to. As long as he only said the name in his mind and was very, very careful never to say it out loud, it would be okay. It seemed impossible that the man had shown such kindness to him. When had any free person in his life ever been concerned about his feelings?
Ben had given him some time to rest and had shared his own drink to soothe a throat already sore from all of the face-fucking. Even as it had happened, Oliver kept waiting for Ben to grab him and use him the way the others had. He had been both disappointed and excited in equal measure when Ben first asked to use him and then when they sat alone in the den. He hadn’t wanted Ben to act like the others, and yet the idea of taking Ben’s cock in his mouth aroused him. Even the small contact of Ben’s hands circling his wrists had made him tremble.
He hoped Ben thought he’d shaken from fear. He cringed with embarrassment at the idea that his infatuation was obvious. Obviously Ben didn’t feel the same attraction. Otherwise, he would have used Oliver when he’d had the chance. Wouldn’t he? There was no reason for a freeman to forego something he wanted. No law that stopped it other than the command of an owner, and the master had sanctioned the use. Nope, no way the young master had any interest in him, which made Oliver’s obsessive ogling pathetic as well as pointless.
With a long groan, the master turned over, forcing Oliver’s attention away from the pool and the man in it. Thank God the master had made Oliver drape a towel over the man’s middle for the massage because it had had the usual effect of arousing him. When the master relaxed onto his back, his hard length tented the cloth. Oliver knew what to do, of course. He slid one hand underneath to grasp the cock. His master let out a low moan.
“Be discreet, boy,” he muttered.
“Yes, Master.”
Given the man’s less-than-vigorous state, it took longer than usual for Oliver’s nimble fingers to bring him to climax. While it was all furtive and quiet, it seemed impossible that Ben would not know what was going on if he chose to look. He didn’t, thank God. Oliver had the mess cleaned up and a new cover over his master’s loins before his son finished his laps and hopped out of the pool. He glanced briefly at Oliver before drying off.
The master’s phone broke the quiet of the day. Reaching over to the nearby table, Oliver grabbed the thing and handed it to him. “What?” the man barked. “Jesus fucking Christ,” he added, sitting up and swinging his legs over the side of the massage table.
Oliver just managed to jump out of the way and busied himself with chugging down half the bottle of water he’d been allowed to bring with him. With one ear, he listened to the master berate some employee of his, while he casually stared off across the pool. He was most definitely not watching Ben rub a towel down one finely muscled calf and then the other. Oliver’s breathing became rapid, but that was just the effect of the heat. It had nothing to do with what he wasn’t looking at. Nothing at all.
“Son of a bitch!” The master stood and grabbed the robe he’d worn outside. He wrenched it on with angry jerks before Oliver had a chance to help him.
“What’s up, Dad?” Ben sauntered over, toweling his hair.
“I have to go into work for a little while. Some shipment came in damaged, and the idiot Sunday manager didn’t check it before signing the bill of lading. Now I have to go bust the wholesaler’s balls over it and I want to see the damage for myself before I make the call.” He started for the house and then stopped after two steps. “This is why I need you,” he said, pointing at Ben. “Between your mother and me, there was always someone at work who knew what they were doing.”
A pained expression crossed Ben’s face. “Dad.” There was a kind of pleading in his voice that Oliver didn’t understand.
“Never mind.” His father waved a hand at him. “We’ll talk later.” When Oliver started toward him, the master shook his head. “Stay here, boy, and give my son a massage.”
“Yes, Master.” He kept his voice as toneless as possible, terrified that his excitement would show through. He was going to touch Ben after all. The thought made his cock twitch, but he didn’t care. Let it strain and throb all it wanted. Any discomfort was worth it to be able to run his fingers across all of that tantalizing flesh. If he were really lucky, the massage would have the same effect on Ben as it did the master, and Oliver would have his chance to make Ben even happier.
Oliver turned to Ben. “If you would please lie down, sir?”
Ben didn’t respond for a few seconds. When he did, he cleared his throat first. “Ah, that’s okay. I don’t really feel like having a massage.” Before the disappointment could sink in, though, he added, “You look like you’re broiling. How about we have a swim instead?”
The idea of frolicking in the pool with Ben was incredibly appealing except for one little problem. “I, um, can’t swim, sir.”
“Seriously? Haven’t you ever been in a pool before?”
“No, sir.” He hated admitting it because he didn’t want to disappoint the man. But honestly when would he have ever had the chance to learn? His birth master hadn’t had enough money for a private pool and probably wouldn’t have allowed Oliver in it if he had. The public pool hadn’t allowed slaves to swim, either. He and his sister had been lucky that the city had put aside a small patch of ground in the park for slave children to play in. It had been nothing like what the free children had, of course. No jungle gyms, no swings, unless you counted the old tire tied to a tree.
“Well, come on, then. I’ll teach you.”
Oliver’s breath caught when he dared to look up at Ben to gauge if he was serious and saw an enthusiastic smile. Before he could respond, reality hit him upside his head. He dropped his gaze. “Um,” was all he managed before Ben sighed with exasperation.
“Hold on,” he ordered and dashed over to the intercom attached to the house by the sliding doors. “Hey, Dad?” he called into the box.
“What?”
Oliver winced at the angry sound of his master’s voice.
“Do you mind if I teach Oliver to swim?”
“What the fuck do I care? Just don’t let him drown. He cost me a shitload of money.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll take good care of him.”
Ben grinned broadly during his walk back. Oliver couldn’t help but return the look. He didn’t care about the swimming part, although that might be fun to do if he were ever allowed to use the pool again. Being with Ben, close to him, made Oliver happy. Maybe learning to swim meant Ben putting his hands on him.
“Come over to the shallow end,” Ben said with a wave. “We’ll start with the basics: floating.”
Oliver followed him as he descended the steps into the pool. The water felt deliciously cool against Oliver’s hot skin. Just standing in it up to his knees, swirling his fingers through the water was enough of a pleasure to suit him. But Ben coaxed him farther in until they were both about waist high.
“Okay,” he said, turning to stand next to Oliver. “Bend backward until your head touches the water then relax and lift your feet up.”
&nbs
p; Oliver figured he’d jump into the deep end if Ben asked it of him, but he couldn’t help looking a little dubious about the idea of floating. Surely the water couldn’t carry his heavy body. He wasn’t like the rubber ducky his mother had given him to play with in the bathtub. His doubts must have shown through his expression because Ben chuckled.
“I promise it will work. The key is to relax as you straighten your body, otherwise you will sink. Don’t worry,” he added with a disarming smile. “I’ll be right here beside you. I promise I won’t let you drown.”
Oliver’s eyelashes fluttered. Ben sounded so sure, so confident. It was impossible not to trust him and not because he had an incentive to protect his father’s investment. It sounded like he personally cared about Oliver. Of course, that was probably just wishful thinking. It was one thing for a slave to have a crush on a freeman, but a freeman would never feel the same for a slave. At best, Ben showed kindness because his nature demanded it of him, regardless of whether someone was a slave or not.
Determined to make the most of the afternoon, Oliver did as instructed. Bending back, he waited until he felt water against his nape before he pushed off the pool floor with his feet. And promptly folded in half, his butt heading down. Before the water covered his face, strong arms clasped his body and stood him upright again. Oliver instinctively grabbed at the arms around him before realizing what he did. He dropped his hands with a harsh gasp and moved away from Ben.
The arms tightened to hold him in place. “No, don’t,” Ben commanded and Oliver stilled immediately. The firm fingers twitched against his skin before lightening up on the touch. “Try it again, only this time, I’m going to keep my hands on your back and thighs so that you stay straight. That’s how my teacher taught me years ago. You’ll know you won’t sink because I won’t let that happen.” There was a pause. “You have to trust me, though.”
“I trust you,” Oliver replied quickly because he did, and he didn’t want Ben to stop touching him.
“Okay, then, try again.”
Body Slave Page 5