Slave For Rent

by Samantha Cayto

  Except he didn’t feel the same way. He’d made this decision himself. No reason for him to act as if he were ashamed. He lifted his head and straightened up in Master Graham’s embrace. Those fingers tightened briefly as if in comfort and reassurance, and it worked. By the time they reached his master’s battered truck, Danny’s mood had brightened, and he wore a small smile on his face. To his surprise, Master Graham opened up the passenger door and ushered him in. Hopping up on the big seat, Danny’s smile turned down. Shouldn’t he be the one helping his master?

  “Thank you, Master,” he said in a halting voice.

  The master grinned before shutting the door, then joined him within seconds. He started the truck up. “Seatbelt, Danny.”

  “Oh, sorry, Master.” Danny quickly complied with the command, annoyed at himself for having forgotten. He didn’t ride much in vehicles, spending virtually every day at the lumberyard.

  Master Graham remained silent until he’d driven out of the parking lot. “I don’t suppose I can convince you to call me Paul, can I?” He glanced in Danny’s direction.

  The question surprised Danny into muteness. Call a master by his given name? Who did that, other than maybe Oliver? Hadn’t he wished for that kind of a relationship just a couple of days ago? It seemed too soon for such rare intimacy. Still, the master’s word was law.

  “Whatever you wish, Master. I mean, Master Paul. I mean….” Danny shut his mouth and swallowed hard. Shit, he was acting like an idiot.

  The master shot him a grin. “It’s okay. I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable. How about we leave it at Master Paul for now?” He took his right hand off the wheel long enough to pat Danny on the thigh. “I like hearing you say my name.”

  The words as well as the touch sent a warm sensation straight to his groin. His dick thickened in his pants in a way that had to be obvious through the worn denim. Once more, or maybe still, his cheeks pinked up. The hand slid closer up his thigh, stopping perilously close to the evidence of his reaction.

  “You know, Danny,” the master said in a quiet voice. “I wanted you, not just any boy, but you.”

  Danny licked his lips and peered up at the man from under his lashes. “May I ask why, Master Paul?”

  The master shook his head. “Have you ever looked into a mirror, Danny?”

  Oh, of course. Danny knew he was a pretty boy. His mother had often said as much and yes, he did have eyes of his own. Somehow, the answer disappointed him, though. Pretty slave boys were a dime a dozen in the world. Stupid, what did he expect, a declaration of love? Master Paul wanted a bed-warmer, plain and simple. Danny fit the bill, was handy, and so here he sat.

  The fingers squeezed his thigh before letting go. “But you’re more than just someone I’m physically attracted to. If that were all, I could have bought myself any number of pretty slave boys,” the man said in echo of Danny’s very thoughts. Then the master said something that did funny things to Danny’s stomach. “It was you I wanted, not just your body.”

  With those words hanging between them, they spent the rest of the ride in silence.

  Chapter Three

  Danny saw more of the world in the forty minute or so ride to his new home than he’d ever seen before. Friday afternoon traffic had made the trip slow going, but he didn’t mind. There was so much to see even from a highway that he’d had plenty to occupy his attention. The master hadn’t seem inclined to talk, had even turned on the radio to an alternative rock station, making the ride even more fun and helping to keep Danny’s nerves at bay. Eventually, they pulled into the driveway, then into the garage of a small house in a packed neighborhood of similar houses. The area resembled nothing like the richer area he’d grown up in with its large houses and rolling lawns. Still, the master’s house looked well-maintained even if the yard could use a bit of attention. It pleased him, actually, to spot something right off that he could spend the weekend doing. His mother had taught him housework and cooking. The Tanner grounds-keeping slave, Freddy, had taught him about lawn care and gardening. He knew how to be handy in a master’s home, and surely they wouldn’t spend the whole three nights and two days in bed, would they?

  And if he didn’t stop thinking such arousing thoughts, his red cheeks would cause his master to think he had a fever.

  Danny hopped out of the truck as soon as the master killed the engine, vaguely worried the man might come around and open his door for him as if he were a free woman or something. He stood holding his bag in a death grip. Master Paul winked at him as he approached. The teasingly intimate gesture made Danny’s cock twitched in his pants. He wondered what would happen first. Maybe the master would take Danny right into bed and fuck him before dinner. He clenched his hole involuntarily at the thought. He wanted to be fucked, fantasized about it, but the idea of it still scared the crap out of him.

  Opening the door, the master went inside first and held it open. “Welcome to your new home, Danny.”

  Danny entered the kitchen and could smell how fresh everything was. As he journeyed farther inside, he couldn’t help but admire the cabinetry, his new-found experience in woodworking allowing him to appreciate the craftsmanship that went into it. He ran his fingers absentmindedly along granite countertops, taking in every detail of the place. Beyond the breakfast bar lay a combination living room and dining area. Although sparse, the furniture was also high quality, made of oak and leather. A huge flat screen television dominated the far wall, making him smile. The master had created the perfect man cave out of his house.

  “It’s beautiful,” he said without thinking, and shot his master a startled look. A slave’s opinion had to be asked for, not given, because it usually didn’t count for beans.

  The man smiled back at him. “I’m glad you like it. I bought it last fall and spent the winter rehabbing it.” He heaved a sigh. “Let me show you the bedroom.”

  Butterflies took off in Danny’s stomach as he followed the freeman through the living room and down the short hallway. He caught a glimpse of a small full bath and an office before they entered the larger bedroom at the end. It too was done in a Spartan décor and again with good quality furniture. The queen-sized bed dominated the area. It grabbed Danny’s attention so much, he almost missed what the master said.

  “I made some space for you in the closet and cleared out the bottom drawer of the dresser.” The man stood on the other side of the room, pointing to both places. He frowned at the bag in Danny’s hand. “I guess I assumed you had more stuff.”

  Danny shook his head, ashamed that he had so little to his name, although being a slave, he had no choice.

  “Well, it doesn’t matter. I bought you a toothbrush. It’s in the bathroom.” The master gestured to the open doorway to Danny’s left. “You can use my shampoo and deodorant and we’ll go shopping tomorrow to get you more things. Whatever you need.”

  From underneath his lashes, Danny could see the master giving him a tentative smile. Danny felt guilty about the guy buying him stuff. What if this didn’t work out? He’d have spent his money for nothing. He couldn’t voice those concerns, of course. A slave did not contradict a free person, especially when they were trying to be nice.

  “Thank you, sir,” he said instead.

  An awkward few seconds ticked by, during which Danny wondered if he should do something. Like strip off his clothes maybe, except surely the master would tell him when it was time for that.

  The master clapped his hands once, making Danny jump. “Okay. How about you get settled in, and I’ll go pick up some dinner?” Not sure if it was meant to be a question or not, Danny nodded. That could be taken to be agreement or acknowledgment. When it doubt, do whatever made the fewest waves.

  “Okay,” the master said again. “I was thinking Chinese food. Do you like that?”

  Now a question had clearly been asked. Danny just didn’t know how to answer it. “Um, I don’t think I’ve ever had it, Master. Paul.” Christ, remembering to tack the name on after would
take some time. He’d better learn to do it fast if he wanted to avoid a smack.

  The master frowned. “Really? Well, you’re in for a treat. I’ll pick up a few of my favorite things and you can try them to see what you like. How does that sound?”

  “Thank you, sir, I’d like that.” Although Danny hadn’t been sure of his answer, it seemed to please his new master.

  “I’ll be back soon.”

  The master slid past him, one hand jingling the keys in his pocket. Danny stood uncertainly until he heard the door shut. Then he mentally kicked himself into gear and put away his meager belongings. The truth be told, the master didn’t have much more than he did given the state of his closet. After that, he took a moment to pee in the master bathroom, a place of shiny fixtures and beautiful tile work. The master had spared no expense and effort in remodeling his modest home. Danny liked it.

  He wandered back into the kitchen. He wasn’t sure what the master had meant about settling in, but he did know that a meal required a set table. So he poked around in the cabinets and drawers to find plates, glassware and flatware. He set two places, one at the end of the table nearest the kitchen and the other to its left so he could easily jump up and get anything the master needed. It was a bold move to assume he would sit with his master, yet that was the impression he’d been given from the way the master had spoken about eating the Chinese food. If he was wrong, he’d be corrected and the second setting easily removed. If the correction came in the form of a slap or worse, well that would be an important lesson to learn this first weekend and not later on.

  He put out a pitcher of ice water too. Even though the refrigerator held a six-pack of beer, he had no idea of the master would want that with his meal. Besides, he didn’t know when he’d return and opening the beer prematurely would make it warm and flat. He stood perusing his efforts for long minutes before nerves had him pacing the length of the living room waiting for the master to return. The sound of the truck pulling into the garage revved him up even more. He took a few slow, deep breaths before the door opened. He really needed to chill out. This was his first and maybe best chance to find out what being with another man could be like. He didn’t want to blow it.

  The master came in carrying a large brown bag by its handle. Danny raced over to take it from him, intending to bring it into the kitchen and put the food into serving dishes. The master let go as he turned to shut the door, but stopped Danny when he swerved toward the kitchen.

  “Don’t bother doing anything more than bringing it to the table. It comes in convenient cartons and the fewer dishes we use, the fewer we need to wash.”

  Danny hid his surprise at the order. What difference did it make to the master how many dishes they dirtied? Danny would be the one to wash up after supper. Nevertheless, he did as told and hefted the bag onto the table. Pulling open the stapled top, he peered inside at the jumble of weirdly shaped white cartons. It looked like an awful lot of food to him, way more than two people could eat in one sitting. He mentally shrugged, however, as he took everything out. Maybe the master liked having leftovers.

  Speaking of the man, he came over to stand beside Danny, having taken off his jacket. He looked over the table settings and gave a quick nod. “Looks like you have everything else covered. That’s great. Let’s eat.”

  So saying, the master pulled out his chair and sat down. Danny finished emptying the bag and brought it into the kitchen to throw away. It only took him a couple of seconds to locate the trashcan in a narrow closet beside the refrigerator.

  “Master Paul, would you like me to bring you a beer?”

  The master’s focus was on dishing out various food onto each plate. “Yeah, that would be great, thanks. Don’t bother with a glass and grab one for yourself while you’re at it.”

  Danny hesitated when he reached into the frig. He didn’t really want a beer for himself. He hadn’t had much alcohol in his life, it being a rare luxury for slaves. What little experience he had with it told him he’d rather stick with water on a relatively empty stomach. He hoped it was okay to refuse. With the master’s bottle clutched in his hand, he returned to the table and slid onto his chair.

  “Is it all right if I just drink water, sir?” he asked while placing the drink in front of the master’s plate.

  The master wrinkled his nose at Danny. “Of course. You don’t have to eat or drink anything in particular, Danny. I want you to relax and enjoy yourself when you’re here.”

  Danny shot him a tentative smile of appreciation. It was a nice enough sentiment, but seriously, slaves didn’t get to relax in front of their owners or any free people. Still, the food smelled wonderful. Picking up his fork, he poked around at the array of stuff.

  The master took a swig of his beer and chuckled. “Go ahead and try everything. If you don’t like something, push it aside. None of this will go to waste, I promise. I got all of my favorites and I love eating leftovers.”

  Danny speared a piece of beef and bit off a small portion, chewed, swallowed and smiled. “That tasted wonderful, sir.”

  The master nodded. “Beef and broccoli. And that’s General Tso’s chicken. It’s a little spicy. Those are pork dumplings. This is a dipping sauce for them.”

  As he named everything on Danny’s plate, he pointed to them with his fork. He watched Danny out of the corner of his eye, as well, every time Danny put something new in his mouth. The attention unnerved Danny a bit, although it also made him feel special. He could tell the master really cared about whether Danny enjoyed his dinner. Fortunately, he did. He’d been a little worried that he’d have to fake it. It had obviously mattered to his new master that he like the experience and he didn’t want to disappoint the man. It had nothing to do with fear of punishment and everything to do with wanting this new arrangement to be good for them both.

  The meal ended quickly, each of them hungry enough to make short work of it. The final morsel of food was a bland cookie with a fortune in it. Danny’s surprised him by saying that he’d soon begin a new journey. Well, that pretty much fit his current situation, except that it had already begun. Despite their efforts, lots of food remained. Danny jumped up to clear the table and frowned when the master followed him into the kitchen with more stuff. Like he didn’t trust Danny to do it right or something.

  “Please, Master Paul,” he said reaching for the cartons. “I’ll figure out a place for everything and get the dishes done quickly.”

  The master pulled the stuff out of Danny’s reach and passed him to go to the refrigerator. “Many hands make light work, kiddo.” He shot Danny a smile to show he wasn’t angry.

  It still weirded Danny out to have the master working by his side, but it did make the cleaning up go faster. When they’d finished loading the dishes in the dishwater, the master grabbed another beer for himself. He held one up to Danny with raised eyebrows. The idea of a little alcohol easing his nerves appealed to him, so he nodded.

  “Thank you, sir,” he said in a quiet voice when the master handed an open bottle to him. With the meal over, his shyness had returned. It wouldn’t be long now before his real duties started.

  The master curled his fingers around Danny’s upper arm and steered him over to the couch. The touch sent a frisson of pleasure through his body. He went without question and sat down when silently directed to do so. The master sat beside him, their thighs touching lightly. Reaching for the remote on the coffee table, the master switched on the giant screen. The bright green of a baseball field loomed up within seconds.

  “Ah.” The master settled back and draped his arm along the top of the tufted leather behind Danny. He took a long pull of his beer. “I hope you like baseball. That and football are my two viewing passions.”

  Danny sipped at his drink and tried not to wrinkle his nose at the carbonation and the bitter taste. He also made himself sit back into the curve of his master’s arm. “Whatever you like, sir.”

  The master glanced at him. “I promise I won’t hog the
television all weekend. There’s no game scheduled for tomorrow night, so we can watch whatever you like.” He glanced at Danny and winked as he had in the garage.

  Danny wasn’t sure what the gesture meant exactly, except it seemed to be intended to lighten the mood. Given the state of Danny’s nerves, it didn’t work. Not really. He took a larger swig of his beer and nearly choked.

  The master patted Danny on the back when he leaned forward to catch his breath. “Easy there, kiddo.”

  His tone was light and teasing and his arm came to rest across Danny’s shoulders as soon as he sat back again. The touch was just as light, but he still managed to pull Danny closer to his side. Danny’s heartbeat sped up. His thumb worried the label on the bottle.

  “Relax.” This time the master uttered his reassurance against Danny’s ear, his warm, yeasty, breath tickling Danny’s skin. “We’re going to take things nice and slow. Right now, we’re just going to hang out and watch the game. The Sox are looking good this season,” he added, pulling away a bit.

  Danny had seen a baseball game on television before, of course. When they had the time, the lumberyard slaves loved watching all kinds of sports on the battered box afforded them in the barracks. Big John loved this game in particular, so Danny had tried to love it, too. Tried and failed. The slowness of it made him antsy. Nothing about watching it with the picture quality of a flat screen had changed his mind about it, either. The high definition just made a boring thing brighter, not more interesting. Still, he tried because as important as it was to make his father happy, making a master happy mattered much more.

  The man didn’t seem to notice one way or another, though. Master Paul’s concentration remained fixed on the action, or lack of it. He cursed at dropped balls, strike-outs and bad calls, and whooped and stamped his foot when some beefy guy in a Red Sox uniform stole a home run. He never looked at Danny, but his fingers made it clear he hadn’t forgotten who sat beside him. They played across Danny’s shoulder, feather-light, and squeezed occasionally when the game went well. Every stroke and pat rocketed through Danny’s body to pool in his groin. His dick hardened and his balls ached. The beat of his heart became an almost painful pounding in his chest. The waiting for the baseball to end and the real game to begin was driving him crazy.