Page 12 of Body Slave

Oliver figured he’d jump into the deep end if Ben asked it of him, but he couldn’t help looking a little dubious about the idea of floating. Surely the water couldn’t carry his heavy body. He wasn’t like the rubber ducky his mother had given him to play with in the bathtub. His doubts must have shown through his expression because Ben chuckled.

“I promise it will work. The key is to relax as you straighten your body, otherwise you will sink. Don’t worry,” he added with a disarming smile. “I’ll be right here beside you. I promise I won’t let you drown.”

Oliver’s eyelashes fluttered. Ben sounded so sure, so confident. It was impossible not to trust him and not because he had an incentive to protect his father’s investment. It sounded like he personally cared about Oliver. Of course, that was probably just wishful thinking. It was one thing for a slave to have a crush on a freeman, but a freeman would never feel the same for a slave. At best, Ben showed kindness because his nature demanded it of him, regardless of whether someone was a slave or not.

Determined to make the most of the afternoon, Oliver did as instructed. Bending back, he waited until he felt water against his nape before he pushed off the pool floor with his feet. And promptly folded in half, his butt heading down. Before the water covered his face, strong arms clasped his body and stood him upright again. Oliver instinctively grabbed at the arms around him before realizing what he did. He dropped his hands with a harsh gasp and moved away from Ben.

The arms tightened to hold him in place. “No, don’t,” Ben commanded and Oliver stilled immediately. The firm fingers twitched against his skin before lightening up on the touch. “Try it again, only this time, I’m going to keep my hands on your back and thighs so that you stay straight. That’s how my teacher taught me years ago. You’ll know you won’t sink because I won’t let that happen.” There was a pause. “You have to trust me, though.”

“I trust you,” Oliver replied quickly because he did, and he didn’t want Ben to stop touching him.

“Okay, then, try again.”

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.

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