Slave For Rent

by Samantha Cayto

  Shit, now his stomach roiled. Paul might even expect Danny to join them, have him service them both. Okay, that wouldn’t be so bad. As long as it made Paul happy, Danny would do anything he wanted. Right, like he had a choice. Except from the little he’d learned about his new master, he couldn’t imagine the man passing Danny over like a bottle of beer. At least not to some random guy, assuming it wasn’t someone Paul dated regularly. Danny hadn’t seen any indication that Paul had a boyfriend, and why lease a slave to fuck if you already got it regularly?

  His brain ran through fears and scenarios at warp speed on their short journey to the truck. When they arrived, the master opened Danny’s door as he always did and handed Danny up to his seat. He resumed what he’d been saying once he was behind the wheel and after he’d yanked Danny into a searing kiss.

  “Christ,” he breathed into Danny’s face. “I missed you. Anyway, I bought a ticket months ago, before I knew we’d be in this leasing arrangement, to a performance by my favorite jazz guitarist at a local club. Today, I checked on the club’s policy about slaves.”

  He switched on the truck, threw it in gear and pulled out of his space. He glanced over before continuing. “They let slaves in but only if they stay sitting on the floor next to their owner.” He shook his head. “That’s supposed to make them progressive. I think it’s a shitty policy and I don’t want you stuck sitting like a dog at my feet for a few hours.”

  While the kiss had fuzzied up Danny’s thinking, his brain at least realized the import of Paul’s words. It sent a message to Danny’s stomach that it could stop cramping now. Paul didn’t have a date. Danny had only a vague idea of what jazz meant. But he heard the excitement in his master’s voice and wanted to make him happy.

  “I don’t mind, sir. Really. I’m used to sitting on the ground. I’d love to go if you want to take me.”

  Paul threw him a smoldering look. “I want to take you all the time and everywhere.” He sighed. “But, as much as I want to see this concert, I don’t like the idea of your being made uncomfortable. Do you even like jazz?”

  Danny wanted to lie, he really did. A lifetime of training stopped him. “I don’t know, sir. I’m not sure I’ve heard it much or at all. I’d like to try it, though.”

  “Hmm. Okay. We’ll go and if you’re bored or I’m too pissed off at having to keep you on the floor, we’ll leave. Sound like a plan?”

  “Yes, sir.” Danny fixed the most sincere look he could on his face. He was determined, however, to like the performance or fake liking it really well.

  ****

  “There’s a two drink minimum and a ten dollar cover charge for your boy.” The goth-type girl sitting in the ticket booth held out her hand and gave Paul a bored look.

  He pulled out his wallet and handed the money over without a qualm. He was excited about sharing something with Danny. Cost didn’t matter. If they were to have more than a master/slave relationship, they needed to learn about each other. The respective family events this weekend fit that plan perfectly. Tonight hopefully would as well.

  Danny stood quietly behind him and to his right, wearing the snug black pants he’d bought him and a dark blue button-down. God, he looked gorgeous. They’d taken a long shower when they’d gotten home, including mutual blowjobs that had helped to chase away the fatigue of the week. Then Paul had taken Danny out to dinner, this time at a better place that didn’t have a slave menu. A restaurant that seemed to more genuinely practice equality. Then again, they were in Cambridge, the land of the crunchy and the granola.

  Paul spied a stack of worn cushions behind the ticket girl. “Are those for slaves to sit on?”

  The girl snapped her gum. “Yeah, ten dollars rental.”

  Out of his peripheral vision, Paul saw Danny open his mouth. Paul slapped another tenner on the counter before the boy could assure Paul he didn’t need one. He grabbed both the cushion and Danny’s arm once he’d paid and hustled him through the velvet curtains leading to the club. He’d come early enough that he was able to snag a small table near the stage and off to the side. Dropping the cushion near the wall, he positioned one of the table’s two wooden chairs so that he’d be sitting as close to Danny as he could.

  Danny smiled in thanks before sinking gracefully down to his knees and sitting back on his heels. Paul plopped down next to him.

  “We’ve got a while before the performance starts. Maybe you should sit cross-legged.”

  “I’m fine, sir, really, and I like being up higher to look around. If that’s okay,” he added with a dip of his lashes.

  Paul swiped a casual hand through Danny’s hair. “Whatever you want, baby.”

  “Hi, what can I get you?” Another gothy kind of girl, wearing an apron, had sidled up. She peeked down at Danny and smirked. “It’s a two drink minimum.”

  “Yeah, I know. Do you have Downeast Beer?” When the girl nodded, he said, “I’ll take that and a soda water with lime.”

  “Coming right up.” She turned, then stopped. “Oh, and you can share your water with your slave, but not the beer.”

  Paul grimaced. “Got it.” He wasn’t surprised by the edict. Lots of people thought slaves couldn’t handle liquor. It didn’t matter anyway. He’d realized pretty quickly that Danny didn’t like beer.

  He shifted slightly in order to speak with Danny without having to turn his head. The slave’s gaze swept the room, stopping to stare at one thing after another. Undoubtedly this was his first time at any kind of club. His curiosity showed intelligence to Paul’s way of thinking, and he liked that about the boy. It meant Paul could teach him things. He also hoped it meant the boy wouldn’t be bored. If the music didn’t interest him, perhaps the people watching would.

  The drinks arrived and Paul handed over his credit card to start a tab. He picked up the water with one hand and the beer with the other. He passed the first glass down to Danny, waving it in front of the kid’s face when he didn’t notice.

  “Oh, thank you Master Paul.” Taking the drink, he sipped on it, then balanced the glass on his thigh. “Sorry, I got distracted.”

  “It’s okay.” Paul helped himself to a fair amount of his beer, appreciating the coldness sliding down his throat. He tracked Danny’s sight, trying to see the place from the slave’s eyes. Lots of people were filing in now, everyone talking and occasionally loudly enough that pretty soon Paul would have trouble talking to his boy on the floor. He wasn’t the only one with a slave, either. A number of the other patrons brought one in, some with cushions, others without.

  As he took another long pull of his drink, Paul couldn’t help but judge all those people and himself. What made it right for some people to sit in chairs while others had to stay on the floor? Now that he had a slave, the institution itself no longer existed as a concept he knew about in only the academic sense of the word. He had another living, breathing human being in his life, in his fucking bed. Other than superficial differences like physical build and coloring, he and Danny were essentially the same. An accident of birth had put one of them in charge and the other in a collar.

  He grimaced again as he looked down at the boy. Danny’s gaze flicked up at him and the slave stilled, wariness passed over his face. Aw, shit. Like any slave, Danny was good at reading his master’s mood. Paul forced his lips to turn up and reaching down, he carded his fingers through Danny’s hair. The boy’s expression changed instantly into a smile. To have so much power over someone else’s feelings scared the crap out of Paul. When he’d first formed the idea of having Danny for his own, he’d thought of little past the sex and companionship. Slowly he’d come to understand the awesome responsibility he’d taken on. Not only did he need to take care with Danny sexually, he was responsible for the kid’s entire well-being.

  Something of the concern, or even abject fear, that he felt must have shown in his face. When Danny looked up at him again, the grin the boy’d been sporting faded. Paul instantly bent to reassure him, once more raking his fingers throug
h the thick hair. Then he bent down even farther and planted a quick kiss on his lips. Did free people show affection to their slaves in public? Did he even give a shit what was considered proper slave owner behavior? Hell, no. If he wanted to kiss his slave, he’d damn well do it.

  It was the right thing. Danny’s whole body relaxed under the attention. Paul ordered another round of drinks. Soon the performance started, and he got lost in the music. Jazz soothed his soul. Sitting back, he fixed his focus on the man just a few feet away making magic with his guitar. Paul didn’t think the experience could get any better until a slight weight pressed against his thigh. Tearing his gaze away from the small stage, he looked down at the mop of dark hair. Danny nuzzled Paul’s leg with his cheek as he watched the performance. The simple gesture of affection and trust tightened Paul’s chest. He put his hand on that sweet head and tugged him in closer. He slouched down into his chair to give Danny easier access, and the boy reacted to the unspoken invitation by leaning all the way, his head resting on Paul’s thigh. With his fingers entwined with Danny’s hair and rubbing gently, Paul settled in for a fantastic night.

  ****

  As much as Paul loved jazz, he loved being inside Danny more. He’d hustled them both out of the club during intermission, sorry to miss the rest of the performance, but worried that his slave was falling asleep, despite the boy’s insistence to the contrary. Paul knew tired when he saw it, droopy eyelids, a slack body. Besides, the benefit of going home early was that he could be just where he was now—lying between Danny’s legs, slowly pumping his cock in and out of Danny’s tight hole. He rocked their bodies with a gentle rhythm, enjoying the unhurried fuck, reveling in the way Danny’s slick channel grasped Paul’s eager dick.

  Face-to-face gave him access to Danny’s mouth, too. Paul slid his tongue in and around the warm crevices. The boy shyly met him with tentative swipes of his own tongue, and he clung to Paul’s shoulders with a tight, almost desperate grip. Ah, God what a wonderful way to end the evening. Paul moaned down Danny’s throat as the pleasure built with sudden eagerness. Too many days had passed since they’d last fucked and despite his intent to the contrary, he couldn’t make it last. Picking up speed, he slapped his body into Danny’s, shoved those slender hips up with each thrust. Far from passively receiving the assault, the slave bucked to meet the strokes.

  Their harsh pants filled the room, dual moans echoed around them. Paul had a vague thought that he really should pull back and grab Danny’s dick to take it along for the ride. But he couldn’t make himself move his arms from where they flanked the boy’s head. Instead, his fingers gripped the sheet they lay on so hard his knuckles ached in protest. His balls ached more, though, so he picked up his speed even more. With each stroke, he shoved Danny’s body higher up the bed. He had enough sense left to release the sheets and brace his palms against the headboard to keep Danny from banging into it.

  Still, he drilled that tight hole and welcoming body faster and faster until his cock swelled and cum pulsed out. Paul reared up and yelled into Danny’s mouth. His hands sliding off the wooden frame and twining into Danny’s hair. The boy writhed beneath him, crying out, too. His fingers dug into the flesh on Paul’s shoulders and scraped down his upper arms. The bite of pain renewed Paul’s climax and pressing tightly against the crook of Danny’s legs, he shuddered and moaned.

  When the aftershocks of his orgasm started to fade, Paul collapsed onto his slave, dazed and satiated enough that he could have fallen asleep right then and there. He almost did until some part of his brain woke up to remind him that he was probably squishing the poor boy. Not to mention he yanked so hard on the guy’s head of hair, he might have pulled some strands out. He relaxed his grip immediately and tried to pet Danny’s head soothingly. Worst of all, he hadn’t bothered to help his boy come with him, except now that his synapses were firing better, he realized he lay in something wet and sticky.

  “Holy fuck,” he hissed and pulled up enough to look down.

  Danny lay with his eyes closed and a small grin on his face. His body practically melted into the bed, he was so relaxed, except for the quick rise and fall of his chest. The obvious reason for his boneless state could be seen shining on his stomach. The guy had come without any direct stimulation on his cock. Fucking alone had gotten him off. Paul’s lips twisted up in an arrogant smile. He couldn’t help it. He’d done that to the boy, and it gave his ego a big boost.

  He gently disengaged his cock from Danny’s hole and rolled off him. Danny’s eyebrows furrowed and his mouth turned into a small mew of disappointment. Then he sighed and curled into Paul’s side. His arm wrapped around Paul’s waist, and his sticky cock pressed against Paul’s hip. Then the boy heaved a bigger sigh. Seconds later, his breathing became slow and steady. Danny had fallen asleep. Paul did some gymnastic maneuvers with his toes and legs to pull the covers up to within reach of his hand. He covered them without disturbing his slave. With a quick kiss to Danny’s forehead, he closed his eyes and drifted off.

  Chapter Eleven

  The moment they turned down a street lined with large, beautiful homes, Danny’s nerves started to jangle and the slight unease he felt in his stomach turned to outright queasiness. He couldn’t say what he worried about most. Having to face his old master now that he knew what sex could and should be like unnerved him. He hoped he could hide his feelings, if only to ensure that Master Paul didn’t trip to something weird going on. And speaking of his new master, he didn’t like the idea of the man meeting his mother. She knew what he and Danny got up to. Of course she did even if Big John hadn’t said anything in particular to her. What if she resented Master Paul and couldn’t hide how she felt? Master Tanner might see her being disrespectful and punish her for it. The very idea of his mother being whipped was enough to make him sick.

  Paul whistled as he drove slowly down the quiet street. “Whoa, this is a nice neighborhood. Big houses.”

  “Yes, sir, but I like yours better,” Danny replied sincerely. “It’s homier.”

  Paul shot him a grin. “Yeah? That’s nice to hear.” He swung his gaze from side-to-side. “Which one is the Tanner’s?”

  Danny pointed to the left. “The brick one up ahead.”

  Paul slowed down, drove past the house, then banged a U-ee in order to park on the street near the entrance to the driveway. “May as well leave the truck back here.” Paul cut the engine and gave Danny a wink. “Allows for a quicker get-away.”

  With a laugh, Danny hopped out of the truck. When he met up with Paul, the man took his hand. The gesture surprised him even though his master had shown such affection before. That had been in those places that allowed free people and slaves to more or less mingle. Given that they were about to join people with mixed feelings about the roles of slaves, it seemed provocative. Still, the feel of his hand cocooned in Paul’s larger one gave him comfort and courage. Whatever they were about to face at the Tanner’s house, they were facing it together.

  Paul led him up to the front door and Danny knew a moment of fear because he had never been allowed to enter the house this way in his entire life. It felt wrong, but he was with a freeman, and the master could march up to the front door if he wanted. Danny forced himself to relax while they waited for someone to answer the bell. Polly opened it up, her expression going from polite reserve to a bright smile for Danny, then back to reserved again as she greeted Paul.

  “Good afternoon, Mr. Graham. The master asked that you be led out to the backyard where all of the family and guests have gathered.”

  Paul nodded his head and stepped through the doorway. He gently pulled Danny along with him. They proceeded through the family’s part of the house, places Danny had only been in before to clean or when the master had called him for service. That memory flash caused his feet to stumble. Paul put out a supporting hand. Danny smiled briefly in gratitude and kept going as if nothing had happened.

  The party was already in full swing, people lounging next to the pool
and gathered around the large built-in grill. The old master fancied himself also a master of outdoor cooking. A group of men and one woman surrounded him. With a small amount of relief, Danny saw that Oliver was among them, hanging near Master Ben. The woman he quickly realized was Miss Deidre, or rather Mistress Deidre, he corrected himself. She was an adult now and the woman of the house with her mother dead. She’d been away at school and traveling so much, he hadn’t seen her in a long time. She had always been nice to him.

  He recognized the man standing closest to the old master, too. Mr. McGill. Danny suppressed a shudder. The guy had always given off a strong creep vibe. More interestingly, a boy stood beside McGill and a little behind him, head bowed, hands clasped behind his back. Classic pose for a slave showing submission. As they got closer, he saw the boy wore tight, low-slung jeans and a T-shirt that was snug and cropped above his waist. The kid was obviously a pleasure slave, although Danny had never had the impression that McGill had the kind of bank for personal slaves. Times had changed evidently.

  “Thanks, we can find our way from here,” Paul told Polly over Danny’s head.

  The girl nodded and peeled off to head back to the house. Of course, the real work happened in the kitchen. Master Tanner’s guest would act like he’d put on a feast, but Mary and Polly would be the ones to thank. Danny knew from past experience that all the slaves would be congregating in the kitchen. He turned to look wistfully in that direction, wishing he could go straight there and avoid meeting up with the free people by the grill.

  Paul marched right over, though, and stuck out his hand in greeting to Master Tanner. “Hi, Mr. Tanner, how’ve you been? Thanks for having us over.”

  Master Tanner’s gaze flicked to Danny briefly, although long enough to make Danny’s skin crawl. He took solace and strength in the fact that Paul still held his hand and had used the word “us” instead of “me” as if the invitation to the barbeque had been extended to Danny as well. It was really sweet how much Paul treated him as something other than a slave.