by Lynn Lorenz
A yellow taxi dived out of traffic to the curb and then waited for him to get in.
“Where to?” the driver asked.
Stoltz gave the address and sat back. Tomorrow he’d pick up the weights and jump rope and get Ashland started on a workout regime until they could hit the sparring cages.
The cab pulled over. Stoltz swiped his debit card through the reader, added a small tip, and got out. The vehicle took off and merged into the heavy traffic.
Stoltz didn’t bother to look up at his building to the tenth floor where his apartment sat. He couldn’t afford anything above the fifteenth floor, where the cloud cover broke on the rare sunny day.
On a good day, he was lucky to see down the street to the massive Coliseum a dozen blocks away. Still, he’d needed to be close, and this was fine for now.
Once he hit it big with Ashland, won some clients, and started training a few winners, he’d think about moving. Maybe over by Murphy’s place. He’d bought into an older building, but it was huge and spacious.
Stoltz rode the elevator up, got out on his floor, and strode to his door. He unlocked it with the card key and went in. He took off his jacket, hung it up, and went to the kitchen.
Time for dinner.
As he puttered around, putting together a sandwich or two, he thought of Ashland. What would he be eating tonight? A steak? Chicken? Stoltz had made sure to stock the pantry and the fridge.
Because what Ashland needed was some meat on his bones. He had to be twenty, maybe twenty-five pounds underweight. Damn Durio, the bastard. How could he expect anything out of a half-starved, abused slave?
Maybe that was just it. He hadn’t. If Ashland were weak enough, he couldn’t put up a fight. Stoltz didn’t know Durio, but he could picture him. Small, ratlike, and sinister. Undeserving of owning a creature as magnificent as a werewolf. As Ashland.
He sat at the small table and ate, taking measured bites of one sandwich, a drink of beer to wash it down, then another bite, until it was gone. He picked up the other one and started in on it, not really tasting it as he chewed.
But the beer, that he tasted. Cold and thick, it suited him just now. He finished the sandwich and the beer, thought of getting another beer, then decided against it.
He had to get up early in the morning and see to those items.
Then visit Ashland. Maybe run him through a short workout. They didn’t have cage time, but they could use the quarters. Plenty of room to work out in.
Stoltz cursed. Making up reasons to stay longer than he needed was just pathetic.
If anything, he needed to put some distance between himself and the big werewolf. His desire wouldn’t be welcome, not if Ashland had been abused by his former master. After such treatment, no slave would want his master to touch him, even a new one. One who had good intentions and wanted the slave only if he wanted the master.
Stop. Those were dangerous thoughts. They wheedled and inveigled into his mind, cutting through his defenses and resolve.
Stoltz put away his dishes and then grabbed another beer. Fuck it.
He opened it and took a big swig, letting it wash down his throat. Stoltz finished it in two more gulps and then tossed it into the garbage. He stormed through his place, stripping down to bare skin, and ended up in the bathroom. He needed a hot shower, a jerk off, and some sleep.
The water came to temperature quickly, and he stepped under the showerhead. Hot water drenched him, and he shook his head like a wet dog and blew water out of his mouth. Turning, he let the liquid pour down his back, soothing the ache of muscles held too tense for too long.
As he relaxed, he picked up the soap and worked up a lather on the washcloth. Once it was frothing, he ran the cloth over his body, washing away the sweat of the day.
He didn’t wash away the desire for the slave. No, that wouldn’t just succumb to soap and rinse down the drain. That sort of desire hung on him, clinging like guilt. He knew it was wrong to have these thoughts about his new slave. He knew the man had been badly abused, and there he was thinking of how he’d wanted to put that collar on Ashland. Buckle it. Kiss his bare shoulder, trail his tongue along the man’s throat, up to his strong jawline, and take his mouth in an act of possession.
Licking, biting, and tasting. Making Ashland quiver as Stoltz discovered all the places the big werewolf longed to be touched. What made his nipples peak? Or his huge cock stiffen? As Stoltz’s balls drew up and his cock stuck straight out, he moaned.
He didn’t realize when he had grabbed his dick or when he started to pull on it, sliding his hand up and down the shaft, but once there, he fell into well-worn territory.
Slide, pull, tease the tip, down the shaft, and back up.
He grunted as he squeezed his balls with just a bit too much force. That felt good.
Fucking good. Ashland kneeling on the tiles, his mouth on Stoltz’s cock. That would feel excellent.
He gasped as the image threw him headlong into a release he didn’t see coming until it shot down his cock and he spurted seed onto the tiles of the shower.
“Ash!”
When it was over and his dick grew soft in his hand, he braced his body against the wall with the other hand. He turned into the spray and rinsed off, shut down the taps, and grabbed a towel.
He scrubbed it over his body and got out. He shouldn’t have done that, fantasized about his slave. No. He shook his head. He had to stop calling him that; even if he was a slave, he had a name, and Stoltz should fucking use it.
Ashland.
Ash, he’d called out.
Fuck.
Stoltz ran his hand through his unruly hair and decided he needed it cut. Tomorrow. He’d drop off the stuff at Ashland’s quarters, then go get his hair cut.
He staggered into his bedroom and yanked back the covers. Unlike the slave quarters, the heat stayed on all night, along with the lights and water.
Once in the bed, he pulled the covers up to his chin and turned out the light. Sure, it was just as dark as Ashland’s place; dark was dark. But Stoltz had the option of turning on a light if he needed to see. Ashland didn’t.
Stoltz had never thought about all this stuff before, the imbalance between free men and slaves, even those as highly prized as werewolves had become. The fight league gave prestige to the sport, gave it legitimacy, made a huge amount of money, and with all that, the value of werewolves rose.
He closed his eyes, forcing his thoughts away from werewolves, one in particular, and worked on emptying his mind so he could sleep.
The two beers must have been what he needed, plus getting off and a hot shower, because he fell asleep in no time at all.
Chapter Seven
Ash woke up in the morning with one thought in his mind—Dan Stoltz was going to be there today.
Dan. Master. Ash rolled onto his side, spit into his hand, slipped it down to his morning hard-on, and closed his eyes. He’d jerked off often before Durio had owned him, and it’d been a long time since he’d enjoyed the touch of his own hand.
Fear of being used had stripped him of his sex drive, and Durio hadn’t cared if he’d gotten off or not as long as Durio found his release. No. Durio was gone. Ash was safe. So far.
He groaned as he let go, the pleasure of simple touch filling his balls. He rolled them in their sac and tugged on them just the way he liked it. Precum pearled at his slit, and he thumbed it, smearing the bead across the head of his cock.
Nice. If Dan were there, lying in bed next to Ash, working him with a tight grip, it would be better than nice; it’d be perfect. Like most slaves, Ash had wanted to please his owner, before Durio, but he’d never hoped his owner would pleasure him. Now that was a slave’s fantasy.
Dan leaning over him. Taking Ash’s cock into his mouth, sucking him hard. Moaning. Telling him how beautiful, how sexy he thought Ash was, whispering soft words against Ash’s skin.
Nipping Ash’s shoulder. His neck. Kissing him, pushing his tongue deep into Ash’s mouth.
Ash spread his legs apart and threw his head back, imagining Dan thrusting into him, riding him, owning him, taking Ash to the edge of pleasure.
In a few lightning-fast strokes, he stiffened, groaned, and came, shooting into the sheets.
Flopping onto his back, he caught his breath. That had been fast and furious, but good. This was the first day of his new life, and he felt better than he’d felt since before being sold to Durio as a young fighter. So many years ago. So many years of misery.
Not anymore.
He got out of bed, rushed to the bathroom to piss, then washed up and headed to the kitchen.
His master hadn’t said when he’d arrive, so Ash didn’t spend time fixing breakfast. He cleaned the kitchen, put pots and pans away and the dishes on their shelves, and wiped the counters until they shone.
Only then did he grab a protein drink from the fridge and stand naked in the kitchen, drinking it down. He burped and wiped his hand across his mouth, then tossed the empty into the trash.
A quick scan told him where to get to work next. The bed. He’d slept in it, spreading out his arms and legs, taking up all the room. The blankets had kept him warm, even after the lights and heat went off for the night, but they were rumpled and untidy. And smelled of his cum. Nothing he could do about that.
He made the bed, stacked the pillows against the wall, and gave it a nod of approval. Then he turned to the living area. He’d pushed back the couch the other day, and if Stoltz had noticed, he hadn’t said. Ash decided to leave it. He’d need the room to work out in anyway.
What next?
He needed a bath. He’d jerked off in the dark and quiet of the night before falling asleep, and dried cum stuck to his chest hair from it. Three times last night alone. He raced to the bathroom and started the shower.
This time, no jerking off. Get clean and get into that robe. Reluctantly, he unbuckled his collar, placed it on the bathroom counter. Getting it wet and ruining it wasn’t an option. He got in to bathe and worked fast and with purpose.
Clean, he dried off. Dressed in only his collar and robe, Ash stepped from the bathroom and looked down at his bare feet. Next to the couch were the sandals, right where he’d left them after trying them on.
Should he greet Stoltz with them on or off?
Fuck. He wanted everything to be perfect. For nothing to be out of place or to give Stoltz one second of regret for buying him. He wanted this day to go well.
He put on the sandals and then took them off. They felt odd on his feet. They looked odd too. He’d never had shoes before.
But what would his master say?
He’d gotten them for the times when Ash would travel to and from the sparring cages, not for wearing around the room. That was stupid.
Damn. He cursed Durio again.
He wasn’t stupid. He’d thought all of this through, hadn’t he? What to do, why to do it. Stupid people just did and said things without thinking.
Ash never made a move or uttered a word without thinking about it first.
Carelessness could get a slave punished or worse.
Ash never wanted Stoltz to punish him. He’d do the best he could to prove to his master he’d made the right choice.
He carried the sandals to the side of the bed and pushed them against the wall for when they were needed.
Ash kneeled on the floor, hands clasped behind him, head down, and waited.
»»•««
Ash woke up to the sound of the doorbell. For a moment, his heart thudded in his chest, and he was back in his old room, and Durio was at the door. Ash sat up and looked around.
Not Durio.
Home. Dan.
He jumped up, ran his hands over his face as he stumbled to the door, and hit the intercom.
“Hello?”
“It’s Stoltz. I’m coming in.”
Ash smiled. Durio had never announced his entries—he just opened the door. No knock, no warning, as if he expected to catch Ash doing something wrong. What could he possibly do wrong? He was a slave, locked in and with barely enough food to keep him alive.
The door opened, and Stoltz came in. “I got the weights and the rope.”
“Good.” Ash took a few steps back, careful not to crowd his master, not to appear threatening.
Stoltz put down the duffel bag he carried and unzipped it. He pulled out the rope.
“I think this is long enough.” He tested the handles to make sure they were secure. “Let’s see what you can do. Take off the robe.”
Ash stripped but placed it on the bed.
“It’s been a while since I’ve done this.” Ash swallowed as he moved to the center of the room. Naked, he faced his master.
“Oh. You moved the couch.” Stoltz glanced at him, then looked at the furniture. “Good thinking.”
Ash puffed up at the praise. He whipped the rope back and forth a few times to get the feel of it, then let it fall behind him. He leveled out his breathing and swung the rope, hopping over it as it hit the floor.
He set a steady pace, legs straight, knees flexing only a little, the handles loose in his grip, the rope slapping the floor. Stoltz watched from his seat on the couch, glancing at a stopwatch in his hand.
“When you hit ten minutes, I’ll signal you.”
Ash felt as if he could fly. He barely breathed heavily. His muscles didn’t ache. He never broke his rhythm. Werewolves built muscle, body mass, and stamina much faster than humans, due to their natures and breeding.
“Ten!” Stoltz called out, and Ash stopped and gathered the rope into loops before placing it on the floor next to him.
“Good! If you keep that up, you’ll be hitting thirty minutes by the end of the week. It’ll build stamina, and each time I’ll add something different.” Stoltz stood and went to the duffel bag, squatted, and dug around in it.
He straightened, holding two dumbbells in his hands. “These are only ten pounds, but you can use them and build up to adding more weights later. I don’t want to stress your muscles out. The idea is to get a good workout, not leave you aching and too sore to manage the next day.”
“Yes, Master.” Ash took them and looked to Stoltz for guidance.
“Let’s start with arm curls. Then we’ll do some side lifts and then floor work.”
For another hour, Stoltz put Ash through a routine of rapid lifts in counts of ten. When he finished, a fine sheen of sweat coated Ash’s body, and yet he wasn’t winded at all.
Stoltz wiped down the weights and put them to the side of the couch.
“What are you doing on your own?” he asked.
“Push-ups. Sit-ups. Stretching some.”
“All good.” Stoltz walked around Ash. “I like what I see, Ashland. With good food and working out, you’ll be fit for the cages by next week.”
“Do you have a client already, Master?” Ash asked.
“Not yet. But once the others see you in the sparring cage, I’m sure I’ll have some takers.”
“Good. I want to do well.” Ash looked down at his feet.
“Are you eating? Don’t depend on just those protein shakes. Get some of that red meat into you. Chicken, if you can. I’d suggest the meat either in the morning or at night, to help repair your muscles, and use the chicken and fish at lunch. They won’t sit so heavy in your belly during your workouts. And drink lots of water. The system here is filtered, so it doesn’t taste so bad.”
“Yes, Master.” Ash went to the bathroom and grabbed a towel. He wiped his back, arms, legs, and chest free of the sweat. The coarse material felt good as he rubbed it over his skin, invigorating him.
Stoltz didn’t watch; instead, he gathered up the duffel bag.
“Are you leaving, Master?” Ash blurted out.
“Yes, I have to get some errands done.” He went to the door.
“Wi
ll you be back tomorrow?” Ash took a step toward him, but the man had already opened the door.
Stoltz stopped without turning back. “No. Just do the routine we worked on today twice a day, and continue upping the reps. I’ll see you at the end of the week, and we’ll talk about the training arena.” Then, without a word from Ash, Stoltz left.
The door slammed shut.
Ash stood there, towel pressed to his chest. He looked down.
His cock stood at half mast.
When had that happened? Ash hadn’t noticed it hardening.
Fuck. Stoltz had seen it. No wonder he’d bolted.
Chapter Eight
Goddamn fucking shit!
Stoltz paced down the hall, getting far away from Ashland as fast as he could. Why the hell did the man have to look so damn good? His body wasn’t all it would be, but it still got Stoltz rock hard.
When Ashland took off the robe and wore only Stoltz’s collar, it sent a rush of blood straight to his dick. He’d had to concentrate to keep from going behind the man and grabbing his cock, jerking him off.
They could have done more in the workout, but Stoltz needed to get the hell out of there before his urges overtook his brain.
He wanted to fuck Ashland. No getting around that. But there was also no getting around the fact that Ashland was off-limits. Owners didn’t fuck slaves. Not good owners.
And Stoltz prided himself on being a good owner. One of the best.
What the hell was he going to do about this?
Murphy.
He needed to talk to the man. Maybe he’d have some advice. A suggestion. Other than to get rid of Ashland.
The thought of selling Ashland sent chills through him. No, Murphy wouldn’t tell him that; he’d tell him to get his shit together. Buck up. Jerk off and keep his hands and his dick away from the gorgeous slave.
Stoltz glanced at his watch. Murphy would be at the training cages by now.
»»•««
Stoltz stood outside the guarded double doors to the sparring cages. He flashed his badge, and one of the armed men opened the door for him with a brisk nod, which he returned.
