Heir to a Slave

by Samantha Cayto

  “Babe, you don’t mean that.” Kurt took another step forward.

  “Don’t call me that!” Jason’s nerves had snapped. “Go,” he added with a finger jab toward the door.

  Kurt threw up his hands. “Fine. There’s obviously no reasoning with you tonight. You’d think that little cunt was made out of glass the way you’re carrying on. I’ll see you in the morning.” Before stomping out, he threw a look of hatred at Diego, who hid his face in his arms.

  Neither gesture was lost on Jason, and he intended to think about all of this more later. First, he needed to help his slave. A bath seemed like a good idea, so he went to fill the big tub with warm water. He didn’t add bubble bath on the assumption that it would be irritating. Then, returning to the bedroom, he crawled onto the bed and touched Diego’s shoulder. The boy’s face was hidden still in the crook of his arm, and he didn’t respond right away.

  “Hey, Diego, come on. I’ve drawn you a bath. A warm soak might help.”

  Slowly, the boy lifted his head and looked up at Jason with sad and frightened eyes. “I’m sorry, Master,” he said in a low, watery voice.

  Jason pushed hair away from the boy’s forehead. “You have nothing to be sorry for. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

  With an audible swallow, Diego blinked back tears. “You and Mr. Kurt had a fight because of me.”

  Jason huffed out a sigh. “Well, I’m not sure you could call it a fight exactly. I’m mad at him, that’s for sure, but in any event, none of it’s your fault.” He bent down to peer directly into his slave’s eyes. “Kurt and I hurt you, so that’s on us. Jesus, Diego, are you really trained to take the blame for bleeding?”

  He could tell by the look in the boy’s eyes that yes, he was expected to be blamed for his own injury if it proved inconvenient for his master. Exactly the way it had been when Nina cut herself. Well, hell that was so fucked up on so many levels, Jason didn’t know what to do with the anger building inside him. He decided in a heartbeat to tamp his feelings down for the moment. It certainly wasn’t going to help Diego for Jason to rant and rave about the injustice of it all. Actions would be better than words at this point.

  He tugged at the boy’s arm. “Come on. Let’s get you into the bath.”

  Diego didn’t resist being urged off the bed and into the bathroom. Of course, he didn’t. Being a good slave meant being complacent. He stepped into the tub and sat down into the warm water, a small grimace crossing his face as he did so.

  “Sorry, I bet it stings, huh?”

  “A little, Master.” Diego didn’t look up, yet it was a good sign that he at least was being honest with Jason.

  “I’m hoping it will help things in the long run. Not that I have any kind of medical training, or anything.” He stood awkwardly by the tub, rubbing at the back of his neck.

  Lifting his head, Diego trained his dark eyes on Jason. “I’m really fine, Master. Please believe me.” He lowered his gaze again. “Please don’t be mad at Mr. Kurt on my account.”

  Annoyance flared inside Jason. He really wanted Diego to stop worrying about Kurt and whether Jason was on the outs with his boyfriend. What difference did it make to the slave anyway? He paced away and started rummaging around the medicine cabinet, looking for anything that he might be able to use to ease Diego’s pain and help with healing. Nothing looked right in the topical treatment category, but he found an old prescription bottle of Vince’s that contained a couple of pain pills. He weighed the risk of giving one to Diego without a doctor’s authorization against the need for the poor guy to get some relief. Figuring a doctor would tell him to go ahead, Jason opted for bringing over the pill and glass of water.

  “Here, take this. It should help.”

  Diego dutifully swallowed the pill and even drained the glass. He looked fairly relaxed in the water, too, for which Jason was grateful. Jason knelt by the side of the tub and quietly let the boy soak until the water started to cool and Diego’s eyelids began to droop.

  Jason stood back up and grabbed a large towel off the nearby rack. “Come on, time to get out.”

  Diego seemed steady enough as he got out with Jason’s assistance, wobbling only a bit, and docilely allowed Jason to rub him dry, usher him over to the sink to brush his teeth, then essentially tuck him into bed. Diego looked up at Jason with sleepy eyes and a wary expression. Jason couldn’t help running his fingers through the slave’s hair.

  He smiled to reassure the boy. “Everything’s going to be fine. Don’t worry. Get some sleep.” He wanted badly to apologize, something he realized he hadn’t really done yet. Not in so many words, at least. Sensing that Diego wasn’t in an emotional place where he could hear and accept something like that, not yet anyway, Jason held his tongue. At this point, saying the words would be more about making Jason feel better than Diego.

  Turning off the light, he returned to the bathroom to clean up and brush his own teeth. Before leaving, he stared hard in the mirror. He wasn’t sure he even recognized himself anymore. He wasn’t the same boy who’d come running home from Europe to see what his uncle had left him. That boy had been so carefree, seeing the good in the world, and the fun. Not having any responsibilities, yet not trying to burden anyone, either. Not wanting to hurt anyone. And, yet here he stood, responsible for the lives of six people, and responsible for hurting one of them simply because he’d become so caught up in his own pleasure, he’d lost sight of the fact that slaves were people, not things.

  At that moment, he didn’t like himself, and he vowed to do better. He put it to the test moments later when he crawled into bed with Diego. He desperately wanted to gather the boy in his arms and hold him close. But, that would be selfish, something to make Jason feel better, when the poor kid probably wanted to be left alone for the night. So, Jason lay on his side of the vast bed, gut churning with guilt, hands itching for someone to hold onto, and his mind turning over and over again what he’d done wrong and how he could fix things.

  ****

  Diego knew the moment he woke that he’d slept in pretty late. He couldn’t say how he knew. With the heavy curtains around the bed oddly closed tightly, the sun was blocked, and there was no clock either nightstand. He had no phone, either, to check on. He just sensed that he’d slept a long time, and of course, the master had left the bed long enough ago that the sheets on that side of the bed had cooled. With a muffled groan, he stretched and took mental stock of his body. His head felt stuffy and he had cotton-mouth, obviously from whatever the master had given him the previous night. Some aches and pains made themselves known, but nothing too bad. He suspected he’d feel worse once he moved around, yet the thing that bothered him the most was his fear that he’d come between the master and Kurt. The look of hatred that man had shot Diego before leaving the bedroom had held a world of threat. Diego had no doubt the man had already started cooking up punishment for Diego. So long as the guy didn’t try to convince the master to get rid of Diego, it would okay, though. He could take anything else.

  Slowly and carefully, he got out of bed and freshened up before sliding on track pants, the softest, loosest thing he owned. He deliberately chose to leave his chest bare, figuring the master might view him more kindly with a little sexual distraction. It was a calculated move, but even after the tender care and concern the master had shown him the night before, Diego couldn’t be sure that he wasn’t in some kind of trouble. After all, Kurt had had the morning, perhaps a few hours, to whisper into the master’s ear about how much trouble Diego was as a slave. Dumb slut couldn’t even manage to take two cocks up his ass without bleeding on the sheets. And, the guy would have a point. God knows, Diego had tried to relax and accommodate both men. In the end, knowing the he was failing, he’d at least tried to keep the failure to himself.

  Cringing at the memories of the master hovering over him, tucking him into bed like a little kid, Diego nevertheless thought to strip the bedding. He balled it up in his arms and headed out into the hall. The house stood e
erily quiet, no one move about in the upper floor. Neither Nina nor Peggy seemed to be cleaning, which was odd. He slipped down the backstairs to the kitchen and found Ginger quietly kneading dough. She looked up the moment the first of his bare feet hit the floor and smiled.

  “There you are, sleepy boy. Did you have a good lie-in?”

  Diego ducked his head, suddenly feeling sheepish. “Yes, ma’am. Um, what time is it?”

  “Going on eleven thirty.”

  Shocked at how truly late it was, he stood with his mouth hanging open for a second or two. “Really? Wow, I don’t think I’ve ever slept in this late before without being really sick.” He looked around the kitchen. “Where is everyone?”

  Ginger finished with the dough and slapped it into a large metal bowl. “Here and there. Master ordered everyone to stay quiet until you got up.” She gave Diego a pointed look. “He seemed set on your sleeping as long as you wanted.”

  Now Diego blushed. “Um, can’t understand why.” He hefted the bedding in his arms. “I’ll stick these down in the laundry room.”

  “No, you won’t. Peggy!” The maid scurried in within seconds. “Take that armload from Diego and get it into the wash, please.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Peggy liberated Diego from the bedding and took off down to the basement.

  Feeling kind of awkward because of the unusual treatment from the master and the other slaves, Diego stood silently for a moment before moving toward the refrigerator. Hunger had made itself known and he wanted to deal with that basic need before facing the master and Kurt.

  “What are you doing?” Ginger asked the question with folded arms. She didn’t even give Diego a chance to answer. Instead, she intercepted him before he got the fridge door open and waved him away. “I’ll fix you some eggs and toast. You go sit down.”

  “Jeez, Ginger. I can feed myself.”

  She shook her head and pointed to a chair at the kitchen table. Knowing that fighting with the senior slave was a waste of time, Diego did as told. He couldn’t hold back the wince when his first effort at sitting that morning aggravated the itchy ache and sting of his hole. Keeping his gaze on the table, he hoped that Ginger hadn’t seen his reaction. No such luck. After bustling about the kitchen, getting ready to cook for him, she slapped a couple of ibuprofen and a big glass of apple juice in front of him.

  “Master said to make sure you had pain meds, too.”

  Diego didn’t even try to argue that he didn’t need the help at this point. Instead, he downed the pills and sipped at the cold drink until a plate of fluffy scrambled eggs and buttery wheat toast was placed in front of him. He ate like a starved man and by the time he’d licked his fork clean, he felt really good. Except for his worry over how his master was feeling toward him. The man’s obvious solicitousness with the sleeping in and the household quiet didn’t ease his concern, either. The master was a good man and felt guilty over Diego’s hurt. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t sell Diego and replace him with a more robust pleasure slave.

  Pushing back, he stood and gathered his dirty dishes. He deftly evaded Ginger’s efforts to take them and at least managed to get them to the sink. He turned back to her.

  “Where’s the master?”

  “Out by the pool, drawing, I think.”

  Diego started to head that way then stopped and sucked up his fear. “Is Mr. Kurt out there with him?”

  Ginger didn’t answer right away. Silence stretched out with no response long enough that he looked over his shoulder. He saw her staring back at him with a small smile on her lips.

  Diego frowned. “What?”

  “He’s gone, honey.”

  “What?” he said again because he couldn’t quite understand. “Gone where?”

  Ginger shrugged. “Who knows, but he took his bags and the master’s new, fancy car and …” She shrugged again. “A lot of yelling went on first thing.”

  “I didn’t hear anything.”

  “It happened mostly in the dining room. Mr. Kurt was up early, ordering his breakfast.” She made a face. “Eggs Benedict. Anyway, the master came in loaded for bear, and while I can’t say I was eavesdropping or anything, sound carries through the door well enough, so I got the gist of it.”

  Diego took a step toward her, his heart racing. “W-what did the master say?”

  “He was mad about how they treated you last night.” Her expression softened and he cringed inside at the pity in her eyes. “Said he and Mr. Kurt both owed you an apology and needed to treat you better.”

  Still mortified, yet delighted to hear about the master’s defense of him, Diego almost didn’t dare ask how the rest of the argument went. “I bet Mr. Kurt didn’t like that.”

  Ginger huffed out a laugh. “Oh, no he didn’t. He said the master was too soft on you and a lot of other nasty things I’m not going to repeat. Anyway, long story short, the Master gave him the boot.”

  “I didn’t even hear Mr. Kurt come into the bedroom for his things.”

  “I think the master did that himself. I’m sure he was careful to be quiet.”

  Diego tugged at his lower lip. “Do you think it’s for good? I mean, free people have fights all the time, don’t they? They separate, then get back together again, I think.” God, how terrible would it be if he hoped Kurt was gone for good only to have him return?

  “It’s possible, I suppose.” Ginger turned to the sink. “Go on out and see the master, now. Maybe he’ll tell you what’s what.”

  Confused, scared and strangely hopeful, Diego did as told and sought out his master. He couldn’t help grinning when he found the man lounging on one of the pool chairs, furiously sketching a sparrow perched on the table beside him and pecking at a piece of bread. Diego stopped before the man could see him, because he wanted a moment to simply take in the peaceful scene and imprint it on his memory. Knowing that he’d perhaps learn his fate, for better or worse, in the next few minutes, he wanted to have this one perfect moment to hold tight no matter what. He indulged himself, getting that one moment before stepping up to the poolside.

  “Master?”

  The free man turned, mid-stroke, and gave Diego a head-to-toe sweeping gaze before dropping his sketch pad and pencil and hurrying over to greet him.

  “How are you?” The master peered at Diego intently and ran a hand gently down his arm.

  Uncomfortable with the concern, Diego stared at his toes. “I’m fine, Master.”

  “You sure? Any more bleeding this morning?”

  “No, Master.” Not that he’d put the issue really to the test yet.

  “Let me take a look.” The master tugged Diego over to the chair.

  Having spent his whole life as property with no control over anything, let alone his own body, Diego shouldn’t have been embarrassed at the notion of bending over for his master’s inspection. His master had the right to look and touch and do anything else that pleased him to and with Diego’s body. And, if the intent had been to fuck him, he wouldn’t have been. This fussing over him was different somehow.

  “Please, Master.” Diego dared to resist compliance a tiny bit.

  It worked. Stopping, the master asked, “What?” When Diego had trouble putting words to his feelings, the master said, “Oh. I guess this isn’t exactly the place for me to have you drop trou and bend over.” He released his hold. “I’ll take you at your word for now that everything is okay. But, I’m checking for myself later. You’ve proven to be unreliable in being honest with how you are.”

  The low level admonishment sent a spike of fear through him. “I’m sorry, Master,” he said in a rush of words.

  The master patted his arm. “Don’t worry, I’m not mad.” He huffed out a breath. “Well, I am mad, just not at you. I’m miffed at you, though. You should have spoken up when you found yourself being hurt so badly.” Another huff. “Except that’s not fair. You’re a slave, and I bet Uncle Vince punished you for any sign of complaint.”

  Well, that was true enough. The old mas
ter hadn’t tolerated anything of the sort. The man had also actually liked causing pain, but there was no point in raising that with such a kind man as Jason.

  “I promise I’ll speak up next time, Master.”

  “There won’t be a next time.” The fierceness of the reply made Diego flinch. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. It’s only that I’m not going to put my sex life before your actual life ever again. I can’t tell you how sorry I am for hurting you.”

  The master paced away, obviously agitated, and with hands on his hips, he stared out over the pool. After a few seconds of silence, he spoke without looking at Diego. “Kurt’s left. I broke up with him. Permanently. I finally saw him for what he is, and a person like that is not going to change. He’s completely self-absorbed and apparently has no moral compass.”

  With a snort, he shook his head. “I can’t believe how completely taken in by him I was. What an idiot I’ve been. And, don’t you dare feel guilty about any of this,” he added with a glance over his shoulder.

  Diego was careful not to let his feelings show. He didn’t feel guilty. He felt elated. So long as that break up didn’t lead to his master resenting him.

  “I gave him that stupid car. Hopefully he can sell it for an equally stupid amount of money as his parting gift. God, I can’t believe I let him talk me into buying it in the first place.” He turned to Diego. “I can’t believe I let him talk me into a lot of things.”

  Diego stood awkwardly, not knowing where to look or what to say. Deep inside where the rebellious part of him was buried as it was in all slaves, he wanted to rant at Jason. He wanted to berate him for being such a dupe, for not seeing how Kurt had been using him since he’d arrived. He wanted to tell him of all the times Kurt had used Diego with such callous disregard, and all the while apparently having an affair with someone else.

  He didn’t say anything, of course. He didn’t have the right to chastise his master, or complain about how a free man who’d been given access to Diego had chosen to use the right. Free people could make all the mistakes they wanted and could rail against the fates. Slaves had to go with the flow, adapt and accept.