The Academy

by Laura Antoniou

  “I understand your dilemma, Señor Vazquez,” Chris said gently. “You are not the first owner who has faced this regrettable situation. However, I do have some suggestions that might be of use to you at this point.” And he began to talk, Roberto looked amused, and then intrigued. It was much later when he finally hung up and retired to his bed, thoughtful.

  * * * *

  When Lamont returned from the Houston shoot, he was disappointed to learn that Roberto had decided not to renew Akira’s contract. “Why?” he pouted. “Akira was great fun, and very useful. I liked him.”

  “I liked him, too, and he is getting a good recommendation from us,” Roberto said. “But I’ve decided it’s time for a change. Let’s go to Amsterdam next month.”

  “Amsterdam!” Lamont threw his arms around Roberto. “How fabulous! Let’s find us a big old blond Scandinavian to round out the household.” Roberto merely smiled.

  The Amsterdam auction had little in common to the Tokyo auction, Lamont’s only other experience at major Marketplace events. The Japanese auction was very businesslike, held in a towering office building, the slaves posed carefully under bright lights, high-resolution television showing each slave up close in the adjoining room where elaborately tattooed women and men served sushi to the clients. Here, the hors d’oeuvres were excellent cheeses and a sharp white wine, more in keeping with the centuries-old house that served as the auction house’s headquarters. No garish, exposing TV here, but the rooms were large and interesting, filled with antiques and art.

  Lamont left Roberto reading the catalog and wandered to the viewing room. He saw a lovely pair of twins—male and female, beautifully displayed and clearly the highlight of the season’s offerings. There were several well presented women and men who probably served as general house staff, and Lamont spent a few minutes looking at the men. An older woman, dressed in a business suit, stood cheerfully as a gentleman used the paddle attached to the stand to spank her. Lamont wondered idly what her skills were—cooking? Bookkeeping? Law? He didn’t bother to read the book placed before her. But just beyond her he saw a profile he wanted to investigate.

  The man was gorgeous. His blond hair reached to his shoulders. Happily, he wasn’t shaved, and a soft gold dusted his chest and then grew deeper as the hair developed in a line starting just below his navel and continuing down to his groin. Lamont’s eyes traced the strongly developed muscles, lingering at the meaty cock and balls. He reached out a hand to caress the slave’s chest, to discover if the hair was as soft as it appeared to be. Lamont’s hand brushed slowly down the muscled wall of stomach, stopping just above the hairline. Touching the genitals was permitted, but was considered an assertion of serious intent to purchase. With a sigh, Lamont moved around the slave, his hand enfolding the hard buttocks, sliding between them to run down the inside of his thighs. He imagined the slave bending over for him, spreading his ass cheeks wide to take his dark cock. It was maddening, looking at this blond angel, knowing that if he was at home, the slave would do anything he wished. Where was Roberto?

  Returning to the front hall, Lamont found Roberto pouring over a printout of statistics. “Oh, Roberto,” he cried, “there is an angel in there, a fabulous, blond angel—you must come and see.” Roberto smiled and shook his head.

  “I’m looking at them from the other side,” he smiled, indicating the table where the Marketplace records were kept. “This is what’s important to me, you know that.” True, Lamont thought to himself. Pedro was an excellent example of Roberto’s interest in skills over looks. Roberto never seemed to notice what was important, Lamont thought crossly. But the vision of the blond man kept him pulling at his lover’s arm.

  “Roberto, this man, this—you’ve just got to see him,” Lamont insisted. “Quick, before the viewing ends.” But even as he pried his lover away from the auction books, the doors to the viewing room were closing, signaling that the bidding would begin in minutes.

  Because Lamont was not technically an owner, it was considered bad taste for him to pay too much attention to the bidding. Casually, he wandered away from Roberto and back to the bar, smiling at one or two of the Marketplace owners on his way. Lamont knew the Marketplace rated his performance in Roberto’s household as part of his owner potential, and Roberto had explained to him the importance of keeping up his contacts and his behavior at Marketplace events would also have an impact on his rating. Lamont was well familiar with networking in his own line of work, and the smiles came easily to his face when he met the eyes of Marketplace owners. But the men were more interested in the bidding than Lamont, and shortly he lost their attention.

  At last, after his third vodka tonic, Lamont heard the change in the crowd noise and knew the business was over. He strolled over to Roberto, who was shaking hands with several other men. “Good luck, Roberto,” said one, clasping his hand before turning away.

  “Lamont, we have a new purchase,” Roberto informed his lover happily. Lamont’s eyes opened wide. “Really? Who? Which one?” he jabbered, as his lover laughed and shook his head as the doors to the slaves’ display area were reopened.

  “His name is Joshua,” Roberto was consulting the numbers as they moved through the room. Lamont looked vaguely around, frustrated that he hadn’t bothered to read the slaves’ books when he was looking at them earlier. “He’s thirty, Bachelor of Science in Nursing,” Roberto continued, but Lamont was barely listening, reading the information quickly at each station to find a Joshua, stopping before a tall French maid to check whether the name was female or male. He vaguely heard Roberto’s voice talking about credit hours in immunosuppression, certification in something called oncology, before the realization broke through. He turned and stared at Roberto.

  “You bought a nurse!” He cried. “A nurse!” Roberto shushed him as other owners turned briefly toward them, then away politely. “You aren’t that sick, Roberto, you don’t need a nurse!”

  Roberto shushed him, answering in a quieter tone. “Lamont, my darling, I don’t need one now. But I will need one soon. Probably sooner than either of us wants to think about. Ah, here he is!” And Lamont once again found himself staring up at the blond god he had been so taken with earlier. But now the muscles lost their appeal, the blond tuft brushing across the slave’s brows was no longer entrancing. As Lamont stared numbly, Roberto snapped a collar onto the slave. Immediately, the slave knelt, and presented himself to his new owners.

  You may look like an angel, Lamont murmured silently, but you are really the Angel of Death.

  * * * *

  “He is a beautiful man,” Roberto said as they returned to the hotel. But Lamont was not to be placated.

  “Roberto,” he said tersely, “I cannot—I cannot accept that you will ever be so sick as to need a nurse in the house, no matter how handsome he is.” As Roberto started to object, Lamont raised his hand. “I know I overreacted when you were sick last time, but I wasn’t sure what to do then. I can do it now, Roberto. You don’t need a nurse, you have me! I can take care of you.” He glared at his lover, and they stayed that way for what seemed an eternity.

  “Lamont,” said Roberto after a moment. “You are my lover. You are my companion. Asking you to be my nurse on top of that is simply too much for anyone. Especially you.”

  “What!” Lamont exploded. “What do you mean, especially me?”

  “Lamont, face it. You’re a wonderful friend, fabulous lover, great at parties, but you hate dirty work,” Roberto replied firmly. “There may be a time when I need help feeding myself, or, God forbid, when I am unable to leave the bed to relieve myself. Lamont, you can’t even stand the smell of ceviche, how will you handle my vomit and shit?” As he watched his lover shudder at the thought, Roberto continued more gently. “Lamont, I’ve just purchased someone whose job it will be to take care of all of those problems. Someone who will change my sweat-soaked bedsheets and smile when I fart.” Roberto paused for a moment, his eyes far away. “Joshua will be there for the worst of it. W
hen you need a break from it, I’ll still have someone to take care of me.”

  “But Roberto—” Lamont protested, interrupted by a knocking at the door.

  “That would be Joshua,” Roberto said. “Let him in.” With a groan, Lamont walked to the door. “Lamont,” Roberto added. “I think you will thank me for this decision. Maybe not now. But someday.”

  * * * *

  For the next several weeks, Lamont hardly saw Joshua, unless he was called upon by Roberto when the two of them were together. Joshua was aware of his discomfort, and kept out of Lamont’s way. It was a relief, because every time the slave would walk past him, Lamont could feel his cock twitch. He longed to touch the slave, but his desire would deteriorate to hatred, and he would dream of beating the blond man into a bloody pulp. Sometimes Lamont dreamed of fucking him first, and sometimes he would imagine driving his dark cock between bruised and marked buttocks. But mostly Lamont dreamed of Roberto gaining strength and health as Joshua slowly grew sicker and sicker, giving up his life for Roberto. It was a dream that Lamont held onto.

  But that summer, Roberto began to drop weight. While there was nothing immediately pressing, both he and Lamont knew that it was a symptom of worse times to come. Lamont often found Roberto sitting in the kitchen talking quietly with Pedro in Spanish. On Sundays, Roberto would have Pedro drive him to early Mass, preferring the small dilapidated church founded nearly three centuries earlier by Spanish missionaries over the modernized cathedral in the better part of the city. Martha came to the house, and was introduced to Joshua, and they spent many hours in private, going over Roberto’s medical records. Joshua was now more present in Lamont’s life, as he watched the slave prepare medications and serve Roberto when the man was too tired to leave their bed.

  In early autumn, Roberto decided to visit the family estates in Ocotlan, outside Guadalajara. “I want to see it again while I can still walk on my own,” Roberto told Lamont.

  “Do you want me to come with you?” Lamont had visited Roberto’s home about seven years ago, and his memory was of unbearable humidity and an inability to communicate with anyone other than the simple phrases of Spanish he pulled from his Frommers Guide. Some of his discomfort must have shown on his face, because Roberto chuckled and kissed him.

  “No, but I will take Pedro. After all, it is his home, too.” Roberto smiled. “I’m sure Joshua can take care of you while I’m gone. I’ve told him that he is to obey you in all things during my absence.”

  It was after lunch on their first day alone that Lamont called Joshua to join him in the workout room.

  “Present,” Lamont ordered as soon as the slave appeared. Immediately, Joshua sank to his knees, keeping his legs spread and his fingers clasped behind his neck. Lamont silently moved behind the slave. He was so beautiful, Lamont admitted. He reached out to caress the slave’s head, then trailed his hand down the back, admiring the light golden fuzz across the man’s shoulders. Lamont returned to stand in front of the slave, and unbuttoned his pants. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a condom, and carefully rolled it onto his long, hard dick. “Suck this,” he said, and immediately Joshua leaned forward, keeping his hands locked behind his neck, to pull Lamont into his mouth.

  Lamont felt the slave’s mouth close on the head of his cock, and a tongue began to rub itself across his piss slit. His eyes closed as he reached down to curl his fingers in the slave’s hair, pushing his face slowly deeper, feeling his cock finally press against the back of the slave’s mouth. Joshua’s throat relaxed, and Lamont pressed himself even farther in, until the slave’s nose was brushing his jeans. Lamont pulled Joshua’s face away only a little, then pulled it back toward his body. Never letting his dick leave the back of the slave’s throat for more than a second, he started a fast and cruel stroke, punishing Joshua’s mouth with his cock.

  Joshua was good, Lamont thought in a small corner of his mind, the slave had not yet gagged nor was he gasping for breath. It irritated him. He shoved the slave’s head up and down the length of his cock, smashing the man’s nose against his torso. He was rewarded with the sound of gasping, and smiled a cruel smile. “Take it, slave,” he growled as he began pumping hard into the slave’s mouth. He pulled his cock away slightly, and made Joshua just work the head, worrying it with his lips and tongue until Lamont felt the pressure building in his balls. With a groan he pushed Joshua’s face farther down on his dick, grabbing the slave’s hair and using his head like a giant, warm fist, the slave unable to resist as Lamont’s cock thrust deeply into the back of his throat. With a groan that started deep in his belly, Lamont shot into Joshua’s mouth. He held the slave’s head tight against his body, knowing that his cock would be gagging the man, and wishing that his come was jetting down the slave’s throat to fill his stomach.

  That thought reminded him as to why the slave had been purchased in the first place. His warm relaxation began to heat up to anger. “You,” he whispered as he pulled his cock out of Joshua’s mouth. “How dare you try to placate me?” Even as he was speaking, he struck the slave across the face.

  “Sir?” Joshua asked confusedly. “I was trying to please you, sir.”

  “Please me,” Lamont sneered as he buttoned his fly. “Please me with your mouth, your body, is that what you were trying to do?” He grabbed the man by the hair and hauled him up to his feet. “You haven’t, you know,” he said, glaring at Joshua. “You have to try harder.”

  “Please, sir, tell me what you wish me to do,” Joshua pleaded.

  “Then follow me.” Lamont moved to a corner of the room where a large chest was sitting against the wall, and opened it. Pulling out a heavy flogger, he turned back to Josh. “Face the wall,” he hissed.

  The first lashes hit Joshua’s back before the slave had even completed the order. Lamont smiled as the slave gasped, and placed his hands firmly against the wall to prepare himself for the next blow. Lamont let his arm throw the whip forward and watched in delight as the lashes landed across Joshua’s shoulders, leaving a bright pink mark that wasn’t given a chance to fade before the whip landed again. Joshua gasped, and then let his breath out hard as a blow came across his ass. Lamont heard the slave emit small noises as the flogger pounded against his flesh, and smiled. The muscles in his arms sang as they did when he was pumping weights.

  Methodically, he worked the slave’s back and ass over with the flogger, his arm rising and falling, his biceps flexing as he prepared to land another barrage of blows across Joshua’s shoulders. Almost without breaking his rhythm, he reached to the box and picked up a cat-o-nine tails. The knots left hard raspberry-looking marks on Joshua’s fair flesh, and made the slave groan. Lamont sighed as he alternately flicked the whip to catch the tails against Joshua’s ass, and then used his entire arm’s force to drag the ugly knots harder into Joshua’s back. Detachedly, Lamont felt his anger drive the rhythm and pattern of the blows as he beat the slave. Joshua was beginning to tremble from the onslaught. After a particularly vicious blow from Lamont’s whip, his knees buckled, and he fell to the floor.

  “Over the box, you worthless bag of shit,” Lamont growled, watching in grim delight as the slave scrabbled feebly to pull his body over the chest. Pulling off his belt, Lamont smiled cruelly. “I’m not done with you yet, boy,” he sneered as he wrapped the buckle around his hand.

  “Please sir, please,” the slave cried. “Have I done something to anger you?”

  “Done?” Lamont laughed, the sound empty of any merriment. “You exist.” He brought the belt down across the slave’s ass. “You came into my house,” the belt crashing down again. “You wait to use your real skills,” Lamont’s voice becoming hoarse with the effort of talking and beating. “You are a daily reminder of death,” he panted, as his belt landed again and again. He let his anger work its way out through the belt, watching the welts grow across Joshua’s ass and thighs. The noises from the slave moved from groans to howls, then to whimpers. But Joshua asked no more questions.

 
; Finally, Lamont felt his mind calm again. He stood, and threw the belt down on the floor next to the quivering slave. “Pick this room up when you’re able to move again,” he spat out, and left to take a long, hot shower in the master bathroom. Later that evening, he was amused to watch the slave moving less gracefully than usual as he served Lamont dinner.

  * * * *

  The next day, Lamont called Joshua to him again. “You are afraid of me now?” Lamont murmured, making the slave move through various positions that left his body so open and vulnerable to attack. Lamont inspected the red traces of welts on the insides of the slave’s thighs, pinching one cruelly. Straightening, he struck Joshua brutally across the face. The slave gasped, but retained his position. “You belong to Roberto, but he isn’t here. Your fancy-schmancy nursing degree isn’t needed.” Lamont sneered. “I guess that just leaves your pretty face and body, doesn’t it? Not that it looks so good today,” he smirked, looking at the dark bruises that had spread over Joshua’s ass. “And it’s only going to get worse.” A shudder moved through Joshua’s body. “Good, good, you realize the implications,” said Lamont, and he struck Joshua’s face again. “Get up against the wall again.”

  This time, Lamont took his time with the slave, deliberately causing as much pain as possible. First, he fastened a huge ball gag into Joshua’s mouth, forcing the slave’s jaws wide apart and causing his saliva to slowly drip from the corners of his mouth. Returning to the box, Lamont pulled out ugly alligator clips and pressed them on Joshua’s nipples, then tugging to ensure that they bit hard into the tender flesh. He pulled a handful of smaller clips out of the box, and began to attach them to the slave’s balls and cock, until they glittered with metal. He then drew a long metal chain through the clamps on the slave’s balls and pulled it up to attach to the nipple clamps. Lamont watched Joshua’s eyes fill with pain, and he felt his cock grow hard. He reached back to the chest to bring out one of his favorite handmade toys, a series of clothespins attached with thin cord. He methodically attached the clothespins to the tender flesh on the underside of Joshua’s arms. The slave groaned through the ball gag as each clip bit into his flesh, but his discomfort only spurred Lamont on. He pulled more of the objects from the chest, and began to fasten them to the inside of Joshua’s thighs. The slave was whimpering now, his eyes filling with tears.