Body Slave

by Samantha Cayto

  “I’m ready to take off, Dad.”

  “Me, too.”

  The master stood and walked around his desk, giving Oliver the space he needed to come out from under it. He quickly checked to make sure his face was clean and dry as he scrambled out into the open. When he rose, he caught Ben’s expression, a short look of disgust before he masked it. Oliver stuck his hand in his pocket and rubbed the wood chip a couple of times before heeling to his master. He kept his head down, embarrassed and ashamed at Ben’s reaction to what he and the master had been up to. It was stupid of course, because slaves didn’t have the luxury of hurt feelings or of caring what people other than their master or mistress thought of them. He wished Ben’s opinion didn’t matter, but it did, because Ben mattered.

  “I have some great news,” the master said as the three of them strolled toward the lobby. Naturally he spoke to his son, but Oliver heard it as well. “I had a long call with a company up in Canada. They’re offering us an exclusive distributorship of their lumber.”

  “That’s terrific, Dad. Are they coming down here for a pitch meeting?”

  “No, they invited me up for several days to tour their facilities and hammer out the contract. The owner is an old timer like me. He wants a face-to-face. None of those conference calls and Skyping for him.”

  Ben snorted. “You’re not that old, Dad, but I get it.” He opened the front door to let his father go before him. With a twitch of his lips that might have been an apology, he went through next, although he didn’t let the door slam in Oliver’s face.

  The sun was still out and the heat of the day still evident as they approached the waiting car. Joe waited beside it, dressed as always in his severe black suit. Poor guy must roast in those clothes. Oliver felt lucky to have on a short-sleeved shirt and jeans. He waited until the freemen were seated before getting into the passenger’s seat.

  “Do you need me on the trip?” Ben asked once Joe had pulled the car away from the curb.

  “No, it’s a one-man task. Besides, I need you here running the operation while I’m gone.”

  “I’ll do my best to keep everything on an even keel.”

  “I have every faith in you, son.” There was a long pause. “I can’t tell you how much it means to me to have you here to take my place when I’m out of town.”

  “I know, Dad. I know.” They rode in silence for a few miles before Ben asked, “Are you taking Oliver?”

  Just like that the atmosphere in the car changed. Sudden tension spiked that even Joe felt. The older slave’s knuckles whitened around the steering wheel. Oliver, himself, held his breath waiting to hear the master’s reaction.

  “Of course not!” The terse answer could have rested on its own, except the master elaborated. “I’ll be damned if I’m going to take a slave up there when the government has been known to confiscate slaves of foreign visitors and free them. Canada may be full of quality lumber, but it’s also full of meddling do-gooders.”

  Ben said nothing to that and silence reigned the rest of the ride. Oliver didn’t even spare a moment of regret that he wouldn’t have a chance to go somewhere he might be free. The master wasn’t a stupid man. He’d paid a goodly sum for his body slave. No way he’d risk losing him. If his business trip became stressful, he’d simply have to use his own hand for relief. Too bad for him and a break for Oliver, except it probably also meant no more going to the lumberyard for the duration.

  ****

  On the morning he left, the master fucked Oliver long and hard, as if trying to make sure Oliver didn’t forget him while he was away. Afterward, he showered while Oliver packed his bags. Then he surprised the slave by removing the chastity device. With a harsh squeeze of the newly freed cock, he tossed the thing into the sink in the bathroom.

  “Clean that up and put it away below,” he ordered Oliver. “You’ve been wearing it too much and your cock’s looking a bit chafed. I don’t want to have to spend money on a doctor for you needlessly.”

  “Yes, Master.” Oliver tried to sound contrite, as if it had been his idea instead of the Master’s to keep his dick caged for days on end.

  There was a knock on the door and Joe stepped in to grab the bags. The master took one more moment to check himself in the mirror. Slapping Oliver hard on his rump, he gave a final warning. “Behave yourself. If I hear one thing from anyone about your behavior, I’ll beat you bloody.”

  “Yes, Master.” He kept his gaze down, his voice demure.

  “And, remember, you sleep in the slave quarters while I’m gone. You’re only allowed the privilege of my bed to be handy when I want to fuck you.”

  “Yes, Master.”

  Jeez, like he was some newbie slave that didn’t know his ass from his elbow. Maybe the trip made the master more nervous than he’d let on. Then again, what difference did it make? A few more seconds and he’d be gone. Then all Oliver had to worry about the trip was that it be successful, because if it wasn’t, only one person would bear the full brunt of that disappointment. He shuddered visibly. Good, perhaps the master would take that as a sign of his fear of the man and leave off with the unnecessarily redundant orders.

  Oliver had no more thought it and the man strode out the door. With a sigh of relief, Oliver went back to the bathroom to do his chore.

  ****

  It took only one day for Ben to truly appreciate how hard his parents had worked all his life. With his father out of town, it fell on him to run the ship and he was determined to do a good job. Despite his growing misgivings about the man, Ben accepted the duty of running the business well. His father, sister, and employees were counting on him. So were the slaves for that matter, even though he wasn’t supposed to care about them. Still, he dragged his ass back home Friday night with the faint hope the weekend manager wouldn’t need him for anything. He had intended to eat dinner, read in bed for a while, and make an early night of it. That was the plan right up until he walked his dishes into the kitchen and saw not only Mary’s unspoken disapproval, but Oliver.

  The slave sat at the table, finishing his dinner with the others, nothing out of the ordinary. Yet he caught Ben’s attention, nevertheless. Desire flared instantly, waking Ben’s body up in all the wrong places. The smart thing would have been to stick with his original plan, adding a little self-gratification in between the book and sleep. Fancy business degree notwithstanding, his brain failed him utterly, shutting down and pushing all rational thought aside. Of course, to be fair, most of the blood had drained out of it. Placing the dishes on the counter with more clatter than he intended, Ben turned to leave before anyone could spot the growing bulge in his pants.

  “Popcorn in the family room, please, Oliver,” he called over his shoulder.

  Christ, that was such a bad idea on so many levels. Ever since The Kiss, as it had grown to be in his memory, he’d resolved to stay away from the slave. No good could come from fueling the attraction growing between them. His attention could only serve to piss his father off even more, and it wasn’t fair to let Oliver think of Ben as any kind of savior.

  And still, there he was, picking out a movie, and listening for the sounds of bare feet tripping down the hall with the ordered snack. He decided on a comedy, The Hangover. Stupid fun, just what he needed after the strenuous week. A few laughs and a couple of beers would help him unwind, and if he had a pretty slave boy to look at from time to time, one he didn’t touch, where was the harm? Yeah, that was convincing. Before he could change his mind, however, those footsteps approached and Oliver stepped inside the room with a large bowl of popcorn and a wary expression.

  Ben couldn’t help but grin. God, the guy was adorable. With his master gone, he wore a simple T-shirt and jeans, the clothing just tight enough to show off Oliver’s fit body. Overriding need crowded out doubts over his decision. Even if Ben couldn’t touch that body, he desperately wanted it next to him. He stood and gestured at the coffee table.

  “Put it down there, will you?” He walked to the mini
bar Mary had been stocking now that he used the room regularly. “What would you like to drink?” He pulled out and opened a bottle of beer for himself and looked over at the slave.

  Oliver had done as ordered, but looked at him uncomfortably. “Um,” was all he got out.

  “I want you to stay and watch the movie with me. Cola?” he offered given that the boy didn’t state his preference. When Oliver nodded in assent, Ben grabbed the can and brought both drinks back to the couch. “Here you go.”

  “Thank you, sir.” The slave’s discomfort at being served by him was obvious.

  Too bad. Ben liked doing things for Oliver. He sat and cued up the movie. “Sit,” he ordered when the guy didn’t move on his own. But when Oliver dropped to his knees, Ben chided himself for forgetting his father’s idiotic rule. “No, I mean up here with me.”

  Skeptical blue eyes peeked up at him.

  “My father’s out of town, remember? When he’s gone, I’m the master and I want you to sit up here next to me. Okay?” Patting the cushion next to him, he stared the reluctant slave down. Finally the boy did as he was told, although he sat gingerly on the edge.

  Well, it was a start anyway. Ben settled back and started the movie. Sucking down his beer, he willed himself to relax. There was no agenda here. So long as they both enjoyed themselves watching the comedy, it would work well enough. It didn’t take long, either, to sink into the wild plot and forget stresses of the week.

  He finished the first beer and got up to get another one, pressing Oliver down by the shoulder when the slave tried to do it for him. That simple touch was electrifying and while he knew he should feel guilty about it, he just couldn’t work up the energy to. He started to get another soda for Oliver, but noticed the boy had only been sipping at the first can. So he brought back a soda water with lemon instead. When he swapped out the drinks, the slave’s grateful smile gave him a bigger buzz than the alcohol.

  Working his way through the second bottle, Ben stole glances at the boy sitting next to him. So beautiful and more relaxed than he had ever seen him. Having a movie night with his father gone had been the right call. There was no chance the older man would come storming in, no worry of the slave taking another beating for daring to enjoy himself.

  Oliver had accepted the invitation to eat the popcorn, too, and occasionally treated Ben to the sight of his licking the salt and butter off his slender fingers. It was sweet torture to watch, and Ben stored away the memory for a time later when he could pull it out and use it as a safe fantasy.

  A more poignant undercurrent infused the scene, though. When he laughed, Oliver looked even younger than usual, innocent. Except he wasn’t. The world had made sure he knew the harsh reality of his life, chapter and verse. Barely out of childhood, yet he had been forced to grow up in a matter of months. Other people may have started it, but Ben’s father continued it, and Ben himself sat there with the lurking need to do it, too. What was the matter with him? Why couldn’t he leave this boy alone?

  Sensing the scrutiny, the slave turned to him. “Sir?” he asked tentatively.

  A few seconds ticked by where they stared at each other. Then shaking his head, Ben said, “Nothing.” He turned back to watch the movie before an idea struck him. “Here,” he said holding the bottle in front of Oliver. “Have some.”

  Why not? The kid didn’t have anything pressing to do in the morning. A little beer wasn’t going to do him any harm. Oliver gave him a shy smile in response before reaching for the bottle. Perversely, even when he had a grip on it. Ben kept his hold, too. Their fingers touched, causing warmth to slide down Ben’s belly. The slave took a tentative sip then another.

  Oliver wrinkled his nose. “Thank you, sir.”

  Ben laughed. “It can be an acquired taste. You’ll get used to it.” He downed more himself but kept sliding it to the slave as he went. The constant contact gave him the courage to press Oliver back against the sofa on the pretext that it made it easier to hand him the bottle. Really he only wanted the slave to be more comfortable. When the last dregs of the second bottle were gone, he got a third. By the time that bottle was halfway done both boys had slid farther into the cushions and closer together. The breath caught in Ben’s lungs when he felt Oliver’s head on his shoulder. The simple gesture of trust and maybe even affection, however much aided by the alcohol, elated him. They finished the movie and the beer and just lay there together, not moving. Neither of them said anything. Ben didn’t dare for fear of breaking the sweet spell they had fallen under.

  Still, unable to resist the lure, he brushed his hand against Oliver’s arm, rubbing the skin lightly with his knuckles. The slave’s breath quickened at the touch. Ben’s lungs struggled to increase their tempo. Part of him acknowledged that the alcohol had lowered his own inhibitions. Maybe it had been his lizard brain’s plan all along. His moral compass wavered in the face of an unrelenting need to touch and savor this boy. He knew it was his job to pull back, to stop things from going any further.

  Before he could muster the physical or mental strength, however, Oliver proved to be the stronger of the two. Or, perhaps the more foolish. Sliding his hand over, he placed it right on Ben’s package. He moaned from the pressure against his already-hardening flesh. It didn’t stop there, either. Deft fingers unsnapped the jeans and tugged the zipper down. Then in a swift, graceful move, the slave was on his knees between Ben’s legs, his head moving toward the hard cock being freed from its confines.

  Awash with the pleasure of it all, Ben barely had the presence of mind to place his hand on that gorgeous head. “No,” he groaned. “You don’t have to do this.”

  Oliver looked up at him with pleading eyes, or was that just what Ben wanted to see? “Please. Please let me.” The tone of his voice, the sincerity of it left no doubt.

  With a sigh that morphed into another groan, Ben let go and dropped his head on the back of the couch. So this was how it would play out, how it had to be, the slave making the first move. Just like with The Kiss, Ben wouldn’t have dared to. He couldn’t bear the idea that he’d forced himself on this lovely boy like so many others had. Like his father did. Even now as those luscious lips wrapped around Ben’s aching dick, some part of him worried that it wasn’t consensual.

  Then he stopped thinking.

  Chapter Eight

  The soft, wet heat of Oliver’s mouth welcomed Ben’s cock with an intensity that robbed him of any coherent thought. Ben could do nothing more than relax and surrender to the slave’s mastery over his need. A clever, dexterous tongue laved the underside of the rod, teasing the ring around the head, and dipping into the slit. One hand squeezed the base of the hard flesh while the other played with Ben’s balls. He melted even farther against the cushions, losing himself in the glorious sensations of his slowly building climax.

  Oliver alternated between licking and sucking, all the while stroking and fondling. He teased the pleasure up to a point of eruption before pulling back and ratcheting down the level of play. At times, he did little more than flick his tongue against the cock’s head as if licking at an ice cream cone. When Ben groaned in frustration and lifted his hips, the boy held him down with a chuckle. Warm breath teased wet skin. Ben gripped the couch and bit back another groan. He ruthlessly shoved to the back of his brain thoughts of how the slave knew the way to drive him wild. It was too seductive to resist and too late for his conscience to object.

  Oliver lipped Ben’s dick from tip to base before lapping up it again and swallowing it whole. The slave’s stroking hand became superfluous as he sucked the hard length down to the root. Ben’s cock was wrapped tight within the boy’s throat, cocooned in silky warmth. And when he swallowed, the muscles coaxed the climax to come out. The lure of it was more than Ben could resist, especially when Oliver’s nimble fingers milked his balls to the same rhythm.

  With a cry, Ben shot his load straight past that willing mouth and down that throat. His hips bucked wildly with the force of his orgasm, but Oliver held on
, never letting him go, taking it all. Deaf as he was to everything but his own release, Ben still managed to feel the hum of Oliver’s voice while he milked him dry. When the last of the spasms subsided, the slave drew back, licking the softening cock sliding out.

  There was a sigh before the boy’s head rested on Ben’s thigh. He lifted his own head from the back of the couch and pried open his now-heavy eyelids. Oliver lay with his cheek inches from Ben’s spent, wet cock. The slave’s arms were loosely lying beside Ben’s splayed legs. Oliver’s torso rose with labored breaths, and for a moment, Ben worried that the boy was upset with what he’d done. Then he heard another sigh, the merest of sounds, and it held only contentment. Something snapped inside of Ben, driving him out of the lethargy of the blow job. He grabbed Oliver by the arms and hauled him up.

  Oliver braced for a blow when Ben’s strong hands pulled him up. He wasn’t going to regret what he’d done, though, no matter the punishment. For the first time since he’d been made to take another man’s cock in his mouth, he’d fully enjoyed himself. Now he understood why freemen wanted to give blow jobs. The pure joy of feasting on a man’s flesh and the pride of bringing him to climax was a memory he’d cherish. He wasn’t even going to pretend, either, at least not to himself, that he’d done it as a way of thanking Ben for the fun evening. No, he’d gone down on his knees for purely selfish reasons. He’d wanted to taste this man in particular, and so he had. A beating constituted more than fair trade for the experience.

  But Ben didn’t hit him or scold him even. Instead, he pulled Oliver into a tight embrace and attacked his mouth with his own. The kiss was wild and possessive. Thrilling. It stole his breath and reason. After a few seconds of stunned disbelief, Oliver returned the assault, using tongue and teeth with a fervor to match Ben’s. He clutched at the man’s back as they tumbled onto the sofa. The heavy weight pressing Oliver down felt good, safe, not confining the way it did with the master and other men. And they lay face to face. It was sweetly intimate.