He said the name inside his head almost as if it were a magic word to be used sparingly. However much he was being encourage to continue to call his master by his first name, Diego no longer felt comfortable even thinking it. Not after tonight when he’d witnessed how easy it was for Mr. Kurt to insert himself between Diego and his master. He bet Mr. Kurt would hate such familiarity and would find a reason and a chance to punish Diego for it. Not worth the risk and hopefully the chance for such closeness would happen sometime in the future. On a silent sigh, he turned on his side and as much into his master’s body as he dared. The proximity comforted him, and with the master as a buffer between him and Mr. Kurt, Diego could relax. His ass was safe for the rest of the night, and that would have to be enough for now.
Chapter Seven
“Oh my God, what have I done?” The master planted his palm against his face and eyed his new acquisition through his fingers. “I think I’ve lost my mind.”
With a bark of laughter, Mr. Kurt curled his arm around the master’s neck and pulled him into a tight embrace. “Relax, baby. This new car is a beauty and you can well afford it now.”
The master wiggled free and with hands dipped into the pockets of his jeans, took another stroll around the expensive sports car he’d purchased. It was an amazing piece of machinery, even Diego recognized that. All shiny red with low-slung curves and an engine that roared. It seemed like a stupid car to have for driving in the suburbs, but Mr. Kurt had proven very talented at getting the master to part with his money.
Like Diego, the man watched his boyfriend run his fingers over the hood. Sliding up next to Diego, Mr. Kurt reached over and flicked one of Diego’s piercings through his shirt. Diego didn’t even flinch, hid the twinge of pain behind his slave’s mask of indifference. Training be damned, pride kept Diego from showing the free man who much he irritated Diego every time he poked or pinched or prodded at various parts of Diego’s body. The attention was constant, as if the free man couldn’t resist playing with his new toy. On the sly, of course. Mr. Kurt always made sure that the master wasn’t watching. Perhaps the secrecy of the whole thing added to the thrill, or it might be that Mr. Kurt knew, as Diego figured, the master wouldn’t like such cavalier treatment of his slave. Certainly the master showed Diego far more consideration.
“Here you go, Mr. McGill.” The car salesman came jogging up with a leather folder in his hand. “The paperwork is tucked away in here.” He held it out. “It’s all yours now. Do you have any further questions?”
Taking the folder, the master shook his head. “No, I’m good. You’ve showed me everything. Now, if I can drive it home without wrapping it around a tree. I confess I was picturing buying something with less horse-power.”
The salesman laughed, as did Mr. Kurt, who hugged the master from behind. “You have to have more faith in yourself, baby. You’re a great driver.”
The master craned his neck to smile up at his boyfriend. “Thanks. And, thank you, Randy.” He extended his hand for a shake with the salesman.
“It’s been my pleasure, sir.”
Diego bet that was true. The master had spent as much as Diego had probably cost his mistress to buy. He stood quietly waiting for orders, not sure if he wanted to ride back in the noisy, powerful machine. Not that the alternative of driving back with Mr. Kurt in the sedan interested him. God, he wished the master used Alphonse to drive him around more.
Mr. Kurt spun the master around and gave him a smacking kiss. “Go ahead and get in. I’ll drive the sedan home, of course.” He slanted his gaze toward Diego. “I’ll need the boy with me just in case. I’m still not familiar with the roads around here.”
The master twirled the key fob in his hand. “Um, okay. Diego, go with Mr. Kurt, and I’ll see you both home.”
The master slid into the bucket seat, closed the door and after one false start, took off. Mr. Kurt gave a cheerful wave good-bye before turning to Diego. Diego could feel the man’s heated gaze on him, although he knew better than to look up at the man’s face. He followed him over to the car and climbed into the passenger seat. Because he’d never been expected to fill the role of a chauffeur, Diego didn’t have a driver’s license. He was uncomfortable sitting beside the free man, yet what choice was there? He for sure wouldn’t sit in the back as if he were the free man being driven by a slave.
Mr. Kurt said nothing as he started out, not even checking with Diego as to the right direction to go in. Diego suspected the man knew well-enough the route to take. With sure moves, he had the car heading home. Diego had started to zone out looking through the windshield, when the man made a turn down a narrow suburban road. Diego sat up straighter and looked around as they passed sparsely-spaced houses, then a bit of farm land.
Licking his lower lip, Diego worked up the courage to speak. “Excuse me, sir. This isn’t the right way.”
“Shut up.” Although the tone was mild, Diego heard the menace behind the words.
He clamped his mouth shut and waited to see what the man was up to. Butterflies took wing inside his stomach. Nothing good, that was for sure. Moments later, Mr. Kurt pulled the car over to the side of the road out of sight of any house. He shut off the car, slid back his seat and unbuckled both his seat belt and his pants.
“Come over here, slut, and suck my cock.” He didn’t even look at Diego when he issued the order.
Knowing that any hesitation would earn him trouble, Diego quickly complied. He was leaning over the man, when a hand grabbed the back of his neck and shoved him down. His mouth filled with cock that hadn’t quite turned completely hard. As Mr. Kurt fed his dick inside, that changed. Diego had had enough of a chance to suck in a deep breath, but he still choked on the sudden girth filling his throat, clogging it up so that not a bit of air could pass.
Diego tried to relax and not gag. He could do this. He’d been here before many times. Saliva pooled in his mouth around the wide flesh, and he used it to lubricate the rod. He worked his tongue back and forth along the underside of the shaft. He swallowed convulsively, too, using his throat muscles to bring about a hasty orgasm. His lungs burned and spots started swimming behind his closed eyelids. The hand on the back of his neck increased its pressure, both pressing Diego firmly against the man’s pubic area and squeezing Diego’s throat even more.
The lack of air lasted so long, his training started to lose out to his survival instinct. Diego thrashed with increasing panic against the hold. A low laugh sounded above him.
“Choke on it, whore. Choke on my big dick, slut. Cunt.”
A loud groan overrode the ringing in Diego’s ears as cum rushed down his throat. He retched and fought even harder to get free. And, suddenly the pressure let up, and he could pull back. But, he wasn’t allowed to let go of the dick still in his mouth completely. The bitter tang of cum coated his tongue, now. He continued to swallow and licked the softening cock so that when he finally could spit it out, no cum remained to dribble on the free man’s pants.
Mr. Kurt sighed and flung Diego away. Slowly the man redid his pants. He slid his gaze over to Diego, who fought to regain his breath. “Not bad, cunt. We’ll have to work on it.”
Diego swiped at his lips with the back of a shaky hand and said nothing. What was there to say anyway?
Positioning his seat back, Mr. Kurt restarted the car. “You don’t say anything about this to your master, understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
A slap robbed him of his breath again. “You can call me that for now, slave.” He leaned over and grabbed Diego’s chin with a punishing grip. “I’m going to marry your master, and when I do, you’ll call me master, too. I’ll keep you naked and on your knees all day every day, and you’ll do whatever I demand because if you don’t?” He leaned in closer, his harsh breath blowing into Diego’s face. “I’ll sell your ass to a porn company so that I can watch videos of you being fucked into oblivion. You believe me, don’t you, slut?”
Diego didn’t even try to hold back the
whimper. He knew the free man wanted to hear his fear. “Yes, sir,” he whispered.
The man chuckled and tossed Diego’s head back. He flicked on the radio as he turned the car around and cheerfully sang along to the songs blasting all the way home.
****
“Yes, Stan, you can tell the board members that I’ve definitely decided to sell out to them. I have no interest in the company.” The master paused to listen, switching the phone to his other ear and holding it there with his shoulder.
Although Diego couldn’t help listening to the call, he stayed absolutely still the way the master had told him to. He lay naked on one of the lounges by the pool, arms stretched over his head, eyes closed. The day wasn’t very hot, yet not cool, either, so he was comfortable enough. After days of sketching him, the master was finally painting him on canvass in oil. Diego couldn’t imagine why the master was so insistent on using Diego as a subject. Mr. Kurt was equally lovely to look at it and a free person made for a far more acceptable portrait. Diego had even worked up the courage to suggest it. The master had merely laughed and ruffled Diego’s hair, mildly chastising him. The master was the artist, after all. Who knew better what to paint?
“That’s fine, Stan. You draw up the papers, and I’ll sign them. Right. Thanks. Bye. Hmm, the lights gone wrong. Time to pack it up for today.”
Diego understood that meant he could break his pose. Sitting up, he stretched his limbs and looked around. The master was cleaning his brushes, a job that he firmly refused to let Diego do for him. Mr. Kurt was nowhere to be seen, having left for who knew where once the master started painting. For all his assertion that he was an artist, the man never did anything remotely artistic that Diego had seen. It stood in sharp contrast to the master, who was always sketching if nothing else.
At any rate, Diego didn’t care what Mr. Kurt did or where as long as he was away from Diego. In the two weeks since he’d arrived, the man had managed to make liberal use of Diego’s body, sometimes in front of the master, but mostly in secret. Brutal blowjobs, quick and furtive, had become the norm. Diego counted himself lucky, though. So far, the master hadn’t allowed his boyfriend to fuck Diego, and other than that first night, the man hadn’t dared do it on the down-low. The master had also taken to sleeping between them, as if somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew that Mr. Kurt was a risk to Diego. Why he would care what his boyfriend did to his slave was beyond Diego’s ability to understand. Regardless, he was happier for it.
“Come here and take a look.”
Diego stood up and joined his master. He peered at the unfinished picture of himself and couldn’t hold back the frown.
“What? Don’t you like it?”
Hearing the insecurity in his master’s voice, Diego rushed to make amends. “It’s beautiful, Master. I mean you’re a fantastic artist.” He lowered his gaze. “I think I make a poor subject.” Although he enjoyed pleasing his master by posing, something about seeing the image of himself so wanton and exposed made him supremely uncomfortable. His master’s openness gave him the courage to express that discomfort.
Instead of getting mad, his master laughed and pulled Diego in for a quick kiss. “It’s so precious how you don’t appreciate your own beauty. Painting you is inspiring. I bet Marisol loved how DiPaola presented her on canvas.”
“Yes, Master.” Diego tried to sound convinced. He wasn’t so sure that the slave girl from long ago had enjoyed being her master’s focus. Perhaps she had. He didn’t know why he couldn’t at least fake enthusiasm over seeing himself coming to life on canvass. Something deeply ingrained about being a slave, probably. Life typically was better when you weren’t seen as trying to get above your station.
“Hey!”
Diego also tried to hide his disappointment at Mr. Kurt’s return. Glancing up, he caught the man’s furtive frown. He didn’t like it when the master showed Diego any affection. Well, the feeling was mutual. He couldn’t understand why the master missed how slimy and opportunistic the man was, and Diego really hated that the man bossed the master around.
“Come see.” The master pulled back and let Diego go. He waved at the painting.
Mr. Kurt came around, stopped and stared. “It’s amazing.” He turned to the master. “I’m telling you, babe, you have to contact that gallery owner and set up a show. This could be the center piece. It’s that good.”
For once, Diego believe the man’s sincerity. He just didn’t think the motive behind the pressure for the showing had anything to do with what was best for the master.
The master shook his head. “Maybe. We’ll see once I finish it. I’m going to put my supplies inside and come back for the painting in a sec.” Gathering everything up, the master left the pool area.
As soon as the master had cleared the bushes hiding the door to the house, Mr. Kurt grabbed one of the bar piercings and twisted until Diego writhed and gasped. He’d learned that the mild torture ended as soon as he gave a good enough performance, not that he needed to act like he was in pain. The torment eased, but the man didn’t let go. He tugged Diego over to the side of the pool.
“Cool off, slut,” he said before pushing Diego into the deep end.
Because he could swim and liked the way the water eased the mild heat of his skin, Diego didn’t resent the petty act. He stayed under water for a while until his lungs threatened to burst. Kicking up to the surface, he swam over to the edge.
“Yeah, I know, babe, I’m trying.” Mr. Kurt spoke furtively into his phone. “I promise I’ll get him to take me to the city in a few weeks. You have to be patient, and remember that calling me here is too risky. Yeah, I love you, too.”
Stunned, Diego stayed clutching the edge of the pool, trying to make sense of what he’d heard. He should have slipped back into the water, yet didn’t think of it until Mr. Kurt hung up and turned his hateful eyes in Diego’s direction. The man narrowed his gaze and curled up his lip. Too late for Diego to do anything more than freeze under that glare.
“Come here!” the man hissed.
Diego hastened to comply, although he knew he was in trouble. The meaning of the words the free man had spoken became clear during Diego’s short journey. Mr. Kurt had another lover, someone who was pressing him to get the master to New York, obviously. Mr. Kurt said he loved the master, but if that were true, why would he have someone else on the side? His thoughts must have shown on his face because by the time he reached Mr. Kurt, the free man’s expression had turned into a full-on snarl. His hand lashed out and grabbing a fistful of Diego’s hair, brought him down to his knees.
Diego winced as he hit the rough cement with a jarring thud. He instinctively cowered under the assault and tried to alleviate the pull of his hair. “Please, sir, I’m sorry.” He pleaded even though he knew he’d done nothing wrong.
“I don’t know what you think you heard, slut, but you’ll keep your mouth shut.”
“Yes, sir, I will.” He said the words because he had no choice. It didn’t mean he intended to remain silent. The master had to be warned. Would he believe Diego over his lover, though?
Mr. Kurt was away ahead of him. He all but dragged Diego by the hair over to the painting. And, grabbing an almost empty tube of paint, the man squeezed what was left and smeared it down the still-wet picture before tossing the tube aside.
“No,” Diego whispered. Now all of the master’s hard work was ruined.
Mr. Kurt tilted Diego’s head back and leaned into his face. “What the fuck! Why did you do that? Do you have any idea how much you’ve hurt your master?”
Diego looked up, wide-eyed, struck dumb by the questions. Then, he understood. The master gasped beside them.
“Oh fuck!” Grabbing up a cloth, the master swiped at the added paint in a desperate move to fix the problem. Of course, everything being still wet, it only served to smear his work more. “Damn it to hell,” he added in almost a whisper. He turned anguished eyes onto them. “What happened?”
Mr. Kurt shook D
iego’s head. “I told the boy to go jump in the pool to cool off. He seemed hot, you know? Anyway a friend called, distracting me, and by the time I realized what was happening, your little slave here had smeared paint on the canvas.” He shook Diego again for emphasis. “I’m so sorry, babe.”
The master’s sad eyes lowered to stare at Diego. “Why?
Diego opened his mouth, desperate to explain what had really happened. The grip on his hair tightened, a silent warning. Fuck, Mr. Kurt had boxed him in. It would be a slave’s word against a free man’s, and anyone could predict how that would turn out. Besides, Diego had been dumb enough to express a dislike for the painting, so really he had only his own stupidity to blame for this debacle. The funny thing was he worried more about the master being conned by his boyfriend than about what punishment Diego might face. Physical pain was nothing new. He could handle that. It was the worry over his master that already threatened to bring tears to his eyes.
He looked briefly in his master’s eyes, trying to convey his devotion, then he dropped his gaze to the ground. “I’m sorry, Master.” Sorry, that he hadn’t been clever enough to be able to warn him. The master would take it another way, of course.
“Oh, Diego.”
“He needs to be punished for this, Jason. You know that, right? You can’t be soft-hearted about it. He deserves at least twenty strokes with a whip.”
Heir to a Slave Page 11
