Oliver bent backward once more, closing his eyes against the sun. He focused on the feel of Ben’s fingers lightly touching his back and thighs just below the swell of his ass. When he raised his feet off the floor of the pool, his body bumped into Ben’s. He felt the hard ridge of the man’s abs and maybe something more. He couldn’t be sure, and it excited him to think he made the young master hard. Before he could ponder it more, however, Ben shifted his body and the contact reduced to only his hands. Then Ben’s touch disappeared altogether and Oliver simply floated. Still, the other man stayed by his side as the cool water lapped around Oliver’s body. It was wonderful, although the lack of contact with Ben took away some of the joy. As soon as he thought it, he admonished himself. He basked in a pool with a handsome and sexy teacher. Right at that moment, his life was perfect.
Chapter Five
Ben hovered near Oliver like an anxious parent, ready to grab him if the slave started to sink again. It was hard to keep his distance, hard to let go of the lithe and beautiful body, hard not to cup and knead the perfect globes of Oliver’s ass. But he had to if he wanted to keep his arousal a secret, and he did. The last thing the poor guy needed was to think Ben’s attention some ploy to use his body. If Ben had wanted that, he would have gone ahead and taken that massage his father had ordered. The thought of Oliver’s graceful fingers playing over his body sent shockwaves through his cock. He could have even received the same happy ending as his father. He had tried, but failed, to miss how the slave had jerked his father off under the skimpy towel. Seriously, was that his father’s idea of being discreet?
And, oh yeah—ick.
This was better. Oliver deserved a break after his long night of servicing the poker players and massaging his hungover father in the heat. If Ben did a good job of teaching him how to swim, hopefully Oliver would be allowed to do it on his own. Ben had always loved swimming. It was a fun way to exercise. Teaching Oliver, however, required getting his hard-on under control. With his eyes closed, the slave couldn’t see it. That would change as soon as the next phase of the lessons started. Ben needed to deflate his cock. He used the one trick guaranteed to work—he pictured his mother lying in her casket. As awful as the memory was, it got the job done. He silently sent up a message to his mother asking for forgiveness, if she were in a position to hear.
Moving closer to Oliver, he said, “Okay, you’re doing great at floating. Time to move on to swimming.”
Oliver managed to right himself with only a little bit of splashing and sputtering. “Yes, sir,” he replied with a shy smile, his gaze lowered as usual.
Ben wished he could get him to look him in the eye. He didn’t want to make him uncomfortable by pushing the issue, so he put the thought aside and concentrated on the lesson. For the next couple of hours, he showed Oliver simple strokes. Occasionally, he needed to give some hands-on help, which made his erection problem come back. It was impossible not to appreciate the finely toned muscles of the slave’s body or the tempting cock encased in that ridiculous cage. Ben kept himself under control, though, for both their sakes. An afternoon of swimming lessons was not how his mind pictured time with Oliver, but it was the best way for the slave, and doing something for him made Ben happy, too.
As the sun started to set, Mary stuck her head outside of the French doors. “Dinner’s in an hour, Master Ben.”
“Thanks, Mary,” he called back. He was disappointed that the day had come to an end. It had been the best afternoon he’d had at home in forever. He hoped Oliver had enjoyed it as much as he had. He swam over to the edge of the pool, making sure the slave kept up with him. With some small measure of pride, he watched Oliver swim up behind him and haul himself out. Not bad for one day. He grabbed a couple of towels and handed one to the slave.
They stood side by side, drying off. Oliver cleared his throat delicately, and Ben looked over at him. “Thank you, sir. I really appreciate your taking the time to teach me how to swim.”
Ben shrugged and continued to rub the towel down his leg. “You’re welcome. It was fun. You’re a good student.” He intended to add that they could do it again sometime when fingers touched his arm lightly. He stopped his own movements and glanced up at Oliver.
The slave’s gaze was firmly downward as usual and his Adam’s apple bobbed a couple of times. “May I do something for you to show my gratitude?” he asked in a low, tentative voice.
A bunch of things flitted through Ben’s mind instantly—Oliver on his knees, bent over the massage table, or just wrapped around Ben’s body. He mentally shook his head. No, he wasn’t his father, except his cock apparently was, because it sprang up at the images.
Moving his towel in front of his tightening groin, he said, “No, thanks. That’s ah, nice of you to offer, but I had a good time doing it, really. I’m going to just, ah, go grab a shower before dinner. You should, too,” he added as he hastened away. “Chlorine’s bad for your skin.”
He practically flew into the house and up to his bathroom. Once he stood under the warm spray of his shower, he let his thoughts fly as well. He pictured Oliver there with him, the slave’s mouth wrapped around Ben’s dick, not because he had to but because he wanted to. A groan passed his lips when he used his fingers to do what he fantasized about. It wasn’t the same, but it worked well enough. He gripped his hardened flesh with a tight fist and worked his palm up and down his cock with slow, even strokes. Every few laps, he swiped his thumb over the head of his rod, pretending it was Oliver’s tongue licking him. With his other hand, he grabbed his tight sac and squeezed in rhythm to his ever-faster cock-jerking. He let his head drop under the spray and moaned against the water bombarding his lips. As pent up as he’d been for hours, it didn’t take more than a minute for his balls to empty. He stroked himself through the orgasm, visions of Oliver playing in his head. Damn, he was in trouble, stuck between desire and conscience. He couldn’t exploit Oliver, yet couldn’t stop wanting him.
A long, hot shower later, his dilemma hadn’t abated. It didn’t help, either, when he went down for dinner to learn from Mary that his father would be at work for hours more. As he ate his well-cooked, but lonely, meal, an idea of how to spend the evening popped into his head and stayed there despite a niggling doubt that it was a bad plan. By the time he finished, he had accepted the inevitable. Picking up his dishes, he brought them to the kitchen. All of the slaves were seated around a table, finishing their own meal. When they spotted him, their conversation ceased and they leaped to their feet as one.
“Oh, Master Ben, let me take those,” Mary said, rushing toward him. He heard the censure in her voice. Free people didn’t clear their own table, but he had done that and more during his college days and while in Europe.
“Thanks,” he replied, relinquishing the dishes she tugged from his hands. “I’m going to watch a movie. I’d love some popcorn with butter and salt.” Of course he could work the microwave for himself but knew that wasn’t going to fly.
Mary smiled at him. “I’ll do that right away, sir.”
“Thanks.” He glanced over at the others. Oliver remained with them, wearing only a pair of jeans that sat low on his hips. He looked even more delectable clothed in that small way than he did naked. Knowing that he played with fire, Ben said, “Oliver, bring the popcorn to me when it’s ready, along with a couple of cans of cola. I’ll be in the family room.” He heard the, “yes, sir” before he left the kitchen, a smile on his face.
****
Oliver padded tentatively into the family room with a bowl of popcorn in one hand and two cans of soda in the other. He had yet to see this room because the master never used it. It was homey in a way that the other rooms for the family weren’t. Ben sat in the middle of a large sectional sofa, scrolling through the online cable movie selections. Kneeling by the coffee table, Oliver put the food and drinks down. He wiped his hand, wet from the cans’ condensation, on his pant leg. He hadn’t been sure of whether he should strip down or not. The rules with
the master were clear. The rules with Ben weren’t. Oliver didn’t think he’d get into much trouble if he’d made the wrong decision, though. Ben showed only kindness and patience with him, never getting mad once when Oliver had trouble learning the swimming strokes. Surely he would forgive something like keeping his pants on.
As if to prove all of Oliver’s good feelings, Ben shifted his gaze from the television to him. “Thanks,” he said with a smile. “That second soda’s for you. I want you to stay with me and watch the movie.”
Really? Oliver was so surprised by the order-cum-invitation that he looked up at Ben’s eyes. They were so warm and sexy. Oliver blushed just looking at them before he remembered to lower his gaze to the floor. “Thank you, sir,” he replied.
Ben grabbed a can and a handful of popcorn. “It’s no big deal. I like having the company.”
That was fine by Oliver. Maybe Ben would want a foot rub or a blow job while he watched. It didn’t matter. Spending time with Ben regardless of what he did, or had Oliver do, was way better than anything else. Settling down between the sofa and the table with his legs crossed, he picked up the other can and opened it. He wasn’t that fond of cola, but if it pleased Ben for him to drink it, then it pleased him, too. He glued his eyes to the large screen across the room, curious as to what kind of movie the young master had picked. Before anything came on, however, Ben plopped down beside him. Oliver dared to sneak a glance at the other man, his eyebrows raised in confusion.
Ben grimaced. “I forgot you can’t sit on the furniture, so I decided to watch from down here.”
Oliver opened his mouth to say...what would he say? That it wasn’t necessary for the young master to join him on the floor? Who was he to tell a freeman anything? Ben could watch the movie standing on his head if he wanted to. Besides, the proximity of the other man’s body thrilled him. With a slight nod in acknowledgment, he took a sip of his drink and nearly sputtered it out again when a pillow landed behind his back.
“There, that will be more comfortable,” Ben said. “I’m assuming my father doesn’t have a rule about leaning against the furniture?”
“Not that I know of, sir.” He spoke the truth and while a part of his brain still worried about it, Oliver was too happy to be next to Ben to heed it.
Ben wiggled his back against his own pillow and placed the bowl of popcorn between them. “Help yourself. I’ve decided on G.I. Joe. It’s kind of hokey, but there’s a lot of action, and Channing Tatum and the other guys are awesome to look at.”
Oliver had no idea what Ben referred to, movies being a rare luxury in the slave world. The one comment that stuck out for him was that Ben liked looking at other guys. That meant he was gay, and while straight men fucked male slaves all the time, it titillated Oliver to learn the young master preferred men after all. It didn’t take long, either, for him to settle into watching. There were a lot of really jacked soldiers to ogle, and bullets flew with regularity. The movie even featured a slave character, a soldier who fought alongside the freemen just as fiercely. They treated him with the same respect as they treated each other. They let him joke around and give them shit. The easy camaraderie surprised and delighted Oliver. As did the way he and Ben sat side by side, eating popcorn, sipping sodas, laughing at funny moments and tensely watching when the action got heavier.
A few times, their fingers touched while reaching for the bowl between them. The first time, their gazes locked, too. Something flashed in Ben’s eyes that Oliver read as desire. And the way the man shifted his legs indicated his jeans might be getting tight, although Oliver didn’t dare look. He held his breath, instead, waiting for the young master to grab him and press his face down for a blow job. It didn’t happen. After a few seconds, Ben looked away and stared at the television once more. Strange how the passing of the moment left Oliver disappointed rather than relieved.
When the credits of the movie started to scroll, Ben rose and picked up the pillows. Throwing them on the couch once more, he yawned and stretched. Oliver got up and mimicked those actions, although more discreetly. It didn’t do for a slave to show fatigue in front of his owner. It touched him, though, that Ben had stuck out the whole movie on the floor when he could have been more comfortable on the couch. As he pondered how to voice his appreciation for that gesture and the entire evening for that matter, footsteps coming down the hall stopped him. The master loomed in the doorway, the sight sending Oliver down to his knees.
“Hi, Dad,” Ben said, his casual tone sounding forced. “I didn’t know you were home.”
“I just got back,” came the gruff reply. “Mary told me the two of you were in here.” He did not sound pleased.
“Oliver kept me company while I watched a movie.”
A few seconds of silence ticked by and Oliver was grateful that he and Ben had been off the floor before the master had seen. He knew the man wouldn’t have been happy to find his son in such a menial position. As it was, the man probably didn’t appreciate his body slave lounging about.
“Humph,” the master said, a response that could have meant anything. “Get up to my room, boy.”
The sharp command left no room for doubt that the master was not happy. Oliver shot to his feet and rushed for the door. Although he wanted desperately to thank Ben, he didn’t dare. Not only did he want to avoid making the master any madder, he also didn’t want Ben in the doghouse with him. Oliver was used to angry masters. He wasn’t sure about Ben’s experience with his father’s temper. It might have been a small thing to keep the master’s anger focused on him and off Ben, but he couldn’t think of a better way to show his gratitude.
He hurried to the bedroom, aware that the master strode only steps behind him. He entered the room and turned with a half-formed apology on his lips. Before he could voice it, however, a large hand connected with his cheek hard enough to send him sprawling to the floor. White spots floated in front of his eyes while he tried to catch his breath and get back on his feet. He didn’t get a chance to do that, either. Fingers gripped his hair and hauled him upright enough to drag him over to the bed and toss him over the edge. Those same fingers yanked down his pants and spread his ass. Oliver’s fingers clawed the comforter, grabbing fistfuls, and holding on as the master thrust his cock deep within him.
Thank God he’d remembered to lube up after his shower. It dulled the pain of the invasion to a manageable ache. Squeezing his eyes shut, he willed himself to relax and take the pounding without uttering a cry. Making noise soon became impossible anyway when the master hooked a couple of fingers inside Oliver’s collar and pulled it even tighter against his throat, constricting his air. Despite his training and his resolve, Oliver started to struggle against the hold as his breathing became more labored. The master’s grip only tightened and his thrusts became harder. He grunted and growled over Oliver, his body bending closer until his breath blew against Oliver’s neck.
“Remember your place, slut!” he spit out. His body heaved, and bucked, and battered his slave’s. With a final shove, he collapsed on top of him.
Oliver lay motionless, his master’s heavy body pressing him into the bed. He didn’t mind the weight. At least the fingers had loosened their hold on his collar and breathing came easier because of it. The spots that had grown to cloud his vision slowly dispersed. He relaxed his grip on the comforter and willed himself to go boneless.
“I’m sorry, Master,” he managed to say in as contrite a voice as he could. He wasn’t even sure what he was apologizing for, not really. Except he did. His growing feelings for Ben were not as deep a secret as he had tried to make them. The master had obviously picked up on something when he found the two of them together. The man had a right to be angry and to punish his slave for being arrogant enough to long for the touch of a man who was not his master. Oliver deserved everything he would get this night, and more. So long as the master’s anger stayed focused on him and not Ben, it would be okay.
“I’m sorry,” he said again, his voice no m
ore than a whisper. He tried to move his head to give the master a sincere look along with his words.
The man pushed Oliver’s head back against the comforter. “Stay where you are, cunt,” he growled. “I’m not done with you yet.”
****
Ben entered the gym with as casual an air as he could muster. He’d had to wait until his father had left the house before he dared to seek Oliver out and make sure he was okay. The previous night had been great fun until his old man had come home. It had been pretty obvious that he hadn’t been happy to find his body slave hanging out with his son, although why wasn’t as clear. Except, yeah, if Ben were honest with himself, he knew exactly what had pissed his old man off. Obviously Ben had done a shitty job of hiding his growing interest in Oliver. He’d tried to resist it, he really had. He’d told himself that he was just trying to give the guy a break given how crappy his father treated him. That was only part of the truth. The bigger reason was that he enjoyed Oliver’s company, especially when he let down his guard a bit and showed his true feelings. Despite being dealt a lousy hand in life, the guy could still appreciate small joys, like swimming or watching a movie.
He spotted the slave right away, running at a fast clip on the treadmill. He wore nothing more than skimpy shorts, giving Ben a nice view of his sweaty torso. Ben couldn’t suppress a smile as he sauntered over to him. His happy expression dimmed, however, when he got closer and saw that more than sweat covered the slave’s fair skin. Small bruises marred various places—arms, shoulders, waist. His feet slowed to a crawl while he took in the evidence of just how mad his father had been the night before.
Although Ben hadn’t made any noise that could have carried over the music playing, Oliver turned to look his way. That’s when the livid bruise on the boy’s cheek showed itself. With a gasp, Ben stopped and stared, his mouth hanging open. Oliver averted his face, slowed the pace of the machine down until it came to a stop. Without looking at Ben, the slave hopped onto the floor and grabbed a towel. Instead of using it to dry off, he flung it over his shoulders and used one end to cover the bruised side of his face. As if Ben hadn’t been able to see the discoloration already.
Body Slave Page 6
