Ashland

by Lynn Lorenz

  Lust shot through Stoltz, and his cock leaked, dampening his pants, but he didn’t care. This wasn’t for him; it was for Ash. For the man who had been so abused by his last master.

  Stoltz spit into his hand and worked Ash’s cock, the push and pull driving Ash wild as the man thrust up and cried out. He was so vocal, so loud. Stoltz chuckled at his evident pleasure. What a marvelous lover Ash would make. How he’d loved to pull those sounds from his lover…

  Stoltz stopped that line of thought.

  Slaves had no rights to choose their partners, and Stoltz had no right to make demands. He knew it. He’d sworn it.

  “More. Harder,” Ash cried out, and Stoltz obliged him. Whatever he needed, whatever his wolf wanted, he’d give him. But only for tonight.

  Ash’s thrust quickened, and then all rhythm fell apart as the cock in Stoltz’s hand stiffened rock hard, like velvet over steel. Ash grabbed him with both hands as they kissed and Ash bucked against him, reaching for his release.

  “You’re safe, Ash. I won’t ever hurt you,” Stoltz whispered his promise to his slave.

  “Gonna come.” Ash thrust and froze. “Oh, sweet goddess!”

  Ropey white ribbons shot from Ash’s cock, spilling over Stoltz’s hand and splattering onto Ash’s belly, tangling in the red hair trailing down to his thatch.

  Beautiful. More than Stoltz had ever expected. Ash had touched his heart, wrapped around it and mastered it, like no one ever had.

  And that was so very, very bad.

  Ash let go of Stoltz and lay back on the bed, spent. His cock, still long but flaccid, lay against his thigh. Stoltz used the edge of Ash’s wrap to wipe the cum off his hand and then rubbed the cloth over Ash’s belly to clean him.

  Ash sighed and fell asleep.

  Time to go.

  Stoltz stood, careful not to wake the big man. He gazed down on his slave, forcing himself to use that word, to remind himself of what they were—master and slave. Nothing more.

  There couldn’t be anything more, no matter how much Stoltz wanted it.

  He let out a deep sigh and headed to the door.

  Maybe in the morning, Ash would think it was all a dream.

  Stoltz knew he’d be dreaming of it for the rest of his life.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Ash groaned as he rolled over. His head throbbed, but not as much as his shoulder. He glanced down at the neat sutures. It looked good. He’d had stitches once before, so he knew to check for redness and infection.

  “Shit.” He rubbed his eyes and poked at his once-ripped ear. No pain, and it felt whole. Thank the goddess for shift healing.

  He opened his eyes and reached out next to him, feeling the emptiness of the sheets and bed. Alone.

  But Stoltz had been here. In this bed. The memory, vague and misty, came to him, of Stoltz leaning over, kissing him, and…

  Ash’s cock roared to life. Oh yes, his master had touched him. Kissed him senseless. And jerked him off until he came, shooting stars exploding behind his eyelids.

  So good.

  Ash reached for his cock and gave it a quick slip of his hand. He rolled over and reached under the other pillow, where he’d stashed the small bottle of cooking oil he used. All he needed was a small squirt of it in the palm of his hand to slick up his aching dick.

  Ash closed his eyes and relived what he could remember of the night before, adding a few things, putting words and intentions in his master’s mouth. Sweet promises that didn’t even fool Ash. He knew the score.

  Stoltz didn’t want him. Last night had been about a hurt Ash, about a master being more than kind to his slave. He should be grateful for that much, and he knew it.

  He pushed those thoughts out of his mind and concentrated on the sensations of his hand sliding over his cock, bringing him a little pleasure, enough to get off.

  He picked up the pace, widened his legs, and rolled his balls in his other hand. “Oh yeah, that’s it.” He groaned as his balls drew up, his cock ready to spew.

  In the end, he pictured Dan Stoltz, his master, leaning over him and whispering, “Slave, come for me. Come for your master.”

  And he did.

  »»•««

  Stoltz called Ash from his apartment later that morning. Ash ran to the phone and picked it up. “Yes, Master?” No one else would have called him.

  “No sparring today. I cancelled our appointments. I want you fully healed. Take a break. I’ll see you in two days.” Stoltz’s voice sounded crisp and all business.

  Ash sagged against the wall. Not see his master for two days? He wanted to howl his bewilderment at being left alone.

  “Yes, Master.” He tried not to sound petulant, as if he were a spoiled and pampered sex slave. He was a fighting werewolf, and he shouldn’t expect any more from his master.

  Stoltz hung up.

  Ash replaced the receiver, stomped over to the couch, and threw himself onto it. It groaned under his weight. He glanced at the equipment, thinking he should exercise, but he couldn’t work up the motivation.

  Two days without Stoltz.

  What would he do to kill time?

  Yeah, besides jerk off thinking of his master?

  With a sigh, he sat up and ran his hand through his hair. Then he stood, went to the weights, and picked up his rope.

  Thirty minutes of jumping rope should take his mind off his situation. And when Stoltz returned, he’d see that Ash had been working out on his own and be proud of him.

  Because Ash wanted to please Stoltz, and that was a very new feeling for him. He’d never given a shit if he pleased Durio or not, and he’d never thought he’d ever care for a master.

  But Stoltz was so different.

  Ash cared. A lot.

  He swung the rope in a lazy arc, then started jumping, his gaze on the clock on the wall. Thirty minutes.

  Go.

  »»•««

  Stoltz opened his mailbox and pulled out the handful of letters. Mostly ads. A few bills.

  He frowned. A letter from the WWFL office.

  As he walked back to his apartment, he ran his finger under the flap and opened it. He went inside and sat on the couch as he pulled out the letter.

  He read it, and his stomach dropped out from under him as if he’d stepped off the edge of his building and plummeted ten floors down.

  That bastard Durio wanted Ash back.

  What the hell?

  Stoltz had paid for him, fair and legal. He’d signed the ownership papers, and a representative of the league had notarized them. Ash was registered to him, according to the WWFL records. Durio had to be out of his mind, thinking Stoltz would just give Ash back.

  He read on, getting lost in the fine print of what had to be a lawyer-drawn document, not just a letter. He checked the signature at the bottom. The familiar name of Stevens and Stevens, a law firm that specialized in WWFL contracts, was splashed across the bottom.

  Durio was appealing his loss of Ash to the WereWolf Fight League, stating he hadn’t been given the correct amount of time to pay the back taxes and that Ashland had been taken from him illegally, which meant the sale to Stoltz was invalid.

  “Holy shit!” Stoltz sat back; the paper in his hand trembled. The urge to crumple it up, toss it out his window, burn it, shred it, filled him, and he gritted his teeth at the cry of rage threatening to burst out.

  “Fuck, no.” He’d fight this, with everything he had.

  Which wasn’t much.

  He exhaled and sank back into the sofa. Face it, he had nothing. Nothing but the start of his business funds, his apartment…and Ashland.

  He rushed to the phone and called Murphy. The man picked up after three rings.

  “Murphy? You gotta help me. Durio wants Ash back. I can’t let him take Ash. I don’t know what to do, but I’ll sell everything. That bastard can’t have him back.” The words tumbled out of him as he clung to the receiver with a death grip.

  “Whoa! Slow down, son.”

  Stoltz
took a deep breath, held it, and then let it out slow and even. “Sorry. I’m just so…fuck.”

  “I get it. Look, Durio probably doesn’t have a leg to stand on.”

  “That’s not what this lawyer says.” He rattled the paper in front of his face.

  “Which lawyer?”

  “Stevens and Stevens.”

  Stoltz heard Murphy’s breath catch on the other end of the line. “Okay. They’re good. What exactly does it say?”

  Stoltz read the letter to him. “What do you think?”

  “Fuck. Dan, I think you might lose Ashland.”

  “No. I can’t. I won’t give him up.” He shook his head as if Murphy could see him.

  Murphy chuckled. “So, it’s like that, huh? He’s got to you, bad. What are you going to do, son?” His voice softened. “Take him and run? The man is marked. You’ll be tracked down and sent to the slave market. You’ll be throwing everything you’ve worked so hard for away. And all for a man you won’t even fuck, a slave.” How did Murphy read his mind? His mentor sighed. “Think about it, Dan.”

  “I’m thinking.” Stoltz’s mind spun, searching for what to do, but none of his ideas had him keeping Ash legally. “I need a lawyer.” He put the paper down and closed his eyes.

  “Now that’s the first thing you’ve said that made sense.”

  »»•««

  Stoltz met Murphy later that afternoon in the office of Murphy’s lawyer, Frank Sutton. He wasn’t high powered like the Stevens firm, but he knew his contract law, and Murphy had used him for years.

  Stoltz sat in the chair, clutching the letter, all his hopes pinned on this man. He had to find some way of fighting this claim. He had to. Failure meant losing Ash. And faced with that prospect, Stoltz realized how much he loved the werewolf, slave or no.

  The secretary nodded to them. “You can go in now.”

  “Thanks, Greta.” Murphy nodded and stood. Stoltz rose and followed him inside.

  The office was nice, not plush or anything, but the furniture was a good quality.

  The man behind the desk stood and offered his hand to Murphy.

  “Good to see you.”

  “Glad you could make time for me.”

  Sutton motioned to the two chairs in front of his desk, and they sat. He held out his hand. “The letter?”

  Stoltz surrendered it to him. Sutton was his only hope of keeping Ash, and he prayed the man could work a legal miracle.

  Sutton read the document, then tossed it onto the table. “Boilerplate legal crap designed to scare the shit out of you.”

  “Well, it worked,” Stoltz deadpanned. He didn’t want to let the lawyer know just how freaked out he was over this. The man didn’t need to know how deeply he cared for Ash.

  “However, their case hinges on one point—the league made a mistake.”

  “Bottom line, Mr. Sutton. Do I have to give Ash back?”

  “You might. I have to go over the records from the league, but frankly I’m betting their lawyers know their stuff and wouldn’t have jumped the gun on the dates. Relax for now, and give me time to check into it. In the meantime, I’ll send an answer back, lawyer to lawyer, letting them know we intend to fight this.”

  “Okay.” Stoltz exhaled. He glanced over to Murphy. “What do you think?”

  “Well, I’ve never lost a slave before, but I’m betting the league won’t like this. If it goes through, then every incidence of seizure like this comes under suspicion. Right?” He looked to Sutton.

  “Exactly. Bad precedence. They won’t like this claim any more than you do. Really, don’t worry. You won’t lose your fighter, not if I can help it.”

  “I can’t lose him.” Stoltz heard how ragged his voice sounded. “He’s my first sparring werewolf, and my entire business is wrapped up in him. Without him, I’m fucked.” And he meant it, but not in the business way.

  Murphy stole a sideways glance at Stoltz, but asked Sutton, “How soon will you know?”

  “Soon enough. So this Durio? He didn’t pay his back taxes, but what else can you tell me about him?”

  Stoltz bristled. “The bastard is abusive. Kept Ash near half starved. Murphy can attest to his condition when I bought him.”

  “Abusive? That might count for something. The league takes a dim view of owners who abuse their werewolves. Makes it look bad for all the owners; drags down the reputation of the league. Brings out the bleeding-heart anti-slave radicals who’d love nothing more than to shut down the cage fights and the slave industry.” He gave them a devious grin, then sobered. “When you say abusive, what exactly are you talking about?”

  Stoltz shifted in his chair. “I heard from a reliable source Durio raped Ash repeatedly, underfed him, and never actually fought or trained him. He wanted a werewolf for his personal enjoyment.”

  “There’s no law against that. A master has full and complete control over his slave. You know that. Whether or not Durio had sex with his slave is beside the point. It’s expected. His lawyer will just claim the slave didn’t need to consent to it.” He shrugged. “Was he beaten? Most masters beat their slaves, but if we can find a record of numerous hospital or clinic visits, we might show a pattern, but it’s a thin chance.”

  “No, I don’t think he ever took him to a medical facility, and I don’t think the abuse was that sort of physical. Just the sex.” He twisted his hands together. “It’s not right.”

  Murphy cleared his throat. “We believe, Dan and I, slaves have no control over their lives, and that vulnerability makes forcing them to have sex no better than rape. Maybe we can use that?”

  “Rape?” Sutton rubbed his jaw. “Raping a slave isn’t illegal.”

  “Maybe it should be,” Stoltz barked out. “Maybe there should be legal rules on the treatment of slaves. They’re men and women, after all. Even if they are different, or poor and whatever. Why can’t slaves have rights?”

  Sutton sighed and leaned back in his chair. “Because if a slave has rights, then we don’t have the right to have slaves. See how that works? If we bring that up, try to force that issue, the league won’t stand with us, not for a moment.”

  Murphy patted Stoltz’s knee. “We need the league behind us. It’s the best way, Dan.”

  “It sucks.”

  “If you’re so opposed to slaves, why did you buy one?” Sutton cocked his head to the side.

  “I’ve wanted to fight werewolves since I was a kid. Dreamed of it. When I met Murphy, he let me train under him. I could see my dreams come true.” He ran his hand over his eyes. “Guess I never realized how personal it could get.” It was the closest he’d come to admitting what was between him and Ash was more than slave and master.

  “So, you have a personal stake in this?”

  Stoltz looked at him, then to Murphy. “Yeah. It’s personal. I care for Ash.”

  “You in love with him?” The lawyer pinned him with a hard gaze.

  “I don’t know. Maybe.” Stoltz groaned. “Yeah. But I won’t act on it. It’s not right to ask for more from him. He’s my slave. He knows the rules, just like he knew them with Durio. If the master asks, you roll over and let him fuck you. I won’t do that. It’s rape, and I’m no rapist.” He set his jaw and leaned forward. “No matter how I feel about Ash, I’ll never take advantage of him.”

  “So, how does he feel about you?”

  “I don’t know. See, that’s the problem. If he wants me, is it because he’s a slave giving in to what’s expected from him, especially after Durio? Or does he really want to be with me?” He sighed. “I won’t ask him, demand anything of him.”

  Sutton whistled and jerked his head at Stoltz. “Shit, Murphy, the man’s in a real fucked-up situation. Loves the slave but won’t act on it. Won’t take what the slave might offer, won’t believe him if he says he loves him back.” He shook his head. “I’d hate to be in your shoes, my good man. And you are a good man.” He stood and extended his hand to Stoltz.

  “Thank you.” Both Stoltz and M
urphy rose.

  “I’ll let you know when I’ve figured out how to approach this. Murphy, good to see you. Dan, nice to meet you too.”

  They said their good-byes and left the office.

  In the hall, Murphy pulled Stoltz to the side. “I’m proud of you, Dan. It takes a big man to hold to his values, even if it means he denies himself what he wants the most. I don’t envy you, but I’m impressed as hell.”

  Stoltz’s throat closed a bit tighter. “Thanks.” He shook Murphy’s hand. “Thanks for setting this meeting up. I feel so much better.”

  “Sutton’s a good man. Good lawyer. If anyone can get this straightened out, it’s Frank Sutton.”

  They parted, and Stoltz headed back to his apartment.

  In another day, he’d have to see Ash again and get him back in the cage. They had two appointments, and if he cancelled any more, things could go from bad to worse.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Stoltz stood outside Ash’s door and took a deep breath. He’d been going back and forth, arguing with himself about whether or not to tell Ash about Durio’s claim.

  If the lawyer handled it, Ash would never have to know.

  If things went south, Ash would be blindsided.

  He thought of what he’d want and knew the answer. Ash was no less of a man than him, and if he’d want to know, so would Ash.

  His mind made up, he knocked on the door and pressed the code. Taking a deep breath, he schooled his face and opened the door.

  Ash stood on the other side, naked, waiting.

  God, Stoltz wanted to take him into his arms, kiss him, hold him. The desire surging through his blood for Ash frightened him. Now that he’d admitted it to himself and to Murphy and Sutton, how could he not tell Ash how he felt?

  Because that in itself was force of a kind. Because he could see in Ash’s eyes the hope it might be true, that his master loved him. And that soured Stoltz’s stomach. That trust, a trust too dear to sully by base needs.

  “Get ready. We have twenty minutes to get there.” He’d waited until the last minute to retrieve Ash.

  “Yes, Master.” Ash grabbed his wrap and slung it around his hips to hide his manhood. He looked at Stoltz and asked, “Master, is something wrong?”