Page 13 of Body Slave

As if to prove all of Oliver’s good feelings, Ben shifted his gaze from the television to him. “Thanks,” he said with a smile. “That second soda’s for you. I want you to stay with me and watch the movie.”

Really? Oliver was so surprised by the order-cum-invitation that he looked up at Ben’s eyes. They were so warm and sexy. Oliver blushed just looking at them before he remembered to lower his gaze to the floor. “Thank you, sir,” he replied.

Ben grabbed a can and a handful of popcorn. “It’s no big deal. I like having the company.”

That was fine by Oliver. Maybe Ben would want a foot rub or a blow job while he watched. It didn’t matter. Spending time with Ben regardless of what he did, or had Oliver do, was way better than anything else. Settling down between the sofa and the table with his legs crossed, he picked up the other can and opened it. He wasn’t that fond of cola, but if it pleased Ben for him to drink it, then it pleased him, too. He glued his eyes to the large screen across the room, curious as to what kind of movie the young master had picked. Before anything came on, however, Ben plopped down beside him. Oliver dared to sneak a glance at the other man, his eyebrows raised in confusion.

Ben grimaced. “I forgot you can’t sit on the furniture, so I decided to watch from down here.”

Oliver opened his mouth to say...what would he say? That it wasn’t necessary for the young master to join him on the floor? Who was he to tell a freeman anything? Ben could watch the movie standing on his head if he wanted to. Besides, the proximity of the other man’s body thrilled him. With a slight nod in acknowledgment, he took a sip of his drink and nearly sputtered it out again when a pillow landed behind his back.

“There, that will be more comfortable,” Ben said. “I’m assuming my father doesn’t have a rule about leaning against the furniture?”

“Not that I know of, sir.” He spoke the truth and while a part of his brain still worried about it, Oliver was too happy to be next to Ben to heed it.

Ben wiggled his back against his own pillow and placed the bowl of popcorn between them. “Help yourself. I’ve decided on G.I. Joe. It’s kind of hokey, but there’s a lot of action, and Channing Tatum and the other guys are awesome to look at.”

Oliver had no idea what Ben referred to, movies being a rare luxury in the slave world. The one comment that stuck out for him was that Ben liked looking at other guys. That meant he was gay, and while straight men fucked male slaves all the time, it titillated Oliver to learn the young master preferred men after all. It didn’t take long, either, for him to settle into watching. There were a lot of really jacked soldiers to ogle, and bullets flew with regularity. The movie even featured a slave character, a soldier who fought alongside the freemen just as fiercely. They treated him with the same respect as they treated each other. They let him joke around and give them shit. The easy camaraderie surprised and delighted Oliver. As did the way he and Ben sat side by side, eating popcorn, sipping sodas, laughing at funny moments and tensely watching when the action got heavier.

A few times, their fingers touched while reaching for the bowl between them. The first time, their gazes locked, too. Something flashed in Ben’s eyes that Oliver read as desire. And the way the man shifted his legs indicated his jeans might be getting tight, although Oliver didn’t dare look. He held his breath, instead, waiting for the young master to grab him and press his face down for a blow job. It didn’t happen. After a few seconds, Ben looked away and stared at the television once more. Strange how the passing of the moment left Oliver disappointed rather than relieved.

When the credits of the movie started to scroll, Ben rose and picked up the pillows. Throwing them on the couch once more, he yawned and stretched. Oliver got up and mimicked those actions, although more discreetly. It didn’t do for a slave to show fatigue in front of his owner. It touched him, though, that Ben had stuck out the whole movie on the floor when he could have been more comfortable on the couch. As he pondered how to voice his appreciation for that gesture and the entire evening for that matter, footsteps coming down the hall stopped him. The master loomed in the doorway, the sight sending Oliver down to his knees.

“Hi, Dad,” Ben said, his casual tone sounding forced. “I didn’t know you were home.”

“I just got back,” came the gruff reply. “Mary told me the two of you were in here.” He did not sound pleased.

“Oliver kept me company while I watched a movie.”

A few seconds of silence ticked by and Oliver was grateful that he and Ben had been off the floor before the master had seen. He knew the man wouldn’t have been happy to find his son in such a menial position. As it was, the man probably didn’t appreciate his body slave lounging about.

“Humph,” the master said, a response that could have meant anything. “Get up to my room, boy.”

The sharp command left no room for doubt that the master was not happy. Oliver shot to his feet and rushed for the door. Although he wanted desperately to thank Ben, he didn’t dare. Not only did he want to avoid making the master any madder, he also didn’t want Ben in the doghouse with him. Oliver was used to angry masters. He wasn’t sure about Ben’s experience with his father’s temper. It might have been a small thing to keep the master’s anger focused on him and off Ben, but he couldn’t think of a better way to show his gratitude.

He hurried to the bedroom, aware that the master strode only steps behind him. He entered the room and turned with a half-formed apology on his lips. Before he could voice it, however, a large hand connected with his cheek hard enough to send him sprawling to the floor. White spots floated in front of his eyes while he tried to catch his breath and get back on his feet. He didn’t get a chance to do that, either. Fingers gripped his hair and hauled him upright enough to drag him over to the bed and toss him over the edge. Those same fingers yanked down his pants and spread his ass. Oliver’s fingers clawed the comforter, grabbing fistfuls, and holding on as the master thrust his cock deep within him.

Thank God he’d remembered to lube up after his shower. It dulled the pain of the invasion to a manageable ache. Squeezing his eyes shut, he willed himself to relax and take the pounding without uttering a cry. Making noise soon became impossible anyway when the master hooked a couple of fingers inside Oliver’s collar and pulled it even tighter against his throat, constricting his air. Despite his training and his resolve, Oliver started to struggle against the hold as his breathing became more labored. The master’s grip only tightened and his thrusts became harder. He grunted and growled over Oliver, his body bending closer until his breath blew against Oliver’s neck.

“Remember your place, slut!” he spit out. His body heaved, and bucked, and battered his slave’s. With a final shove, he collapsed on top of him.

Oliver lay motionless, his master’s heavy body pressing him into the bed. He didn’t mind the weight. At least the fingers had loosened their hold on his collar and breathing came easier because of it. The spots that had grown to cloud his vision slowly dispersed. He relaxed his grip on the comforter and willed himself to go boneless.

“I’m sorry, Master,” he managed to say in as contrite a voice as he could. He wasn’t even sure what he was apologizing for, not really. Except he did. His growing feelings for Ben were not as deep a secret as he had tried to make them. The master had obviously picked up on something when he found the two of them together. The man had a right to be angry and to punish his slave for being arrogant enough to long for the touch of a man who was not his master. Oliver deserved everything he would get this night, and more. So long as the master’s anger stayed focused on him and not Ben, it would be okay.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, his voice no more than a whisper. He tried to move his head to give the master a sincere look along with his words.

The man pushed Oliver’s head back against the comforter. “Stay where you are, cunt,” he growled. “I’m not done with you yet.”

****

Ben entered the gym with as casual an air as he could muster. He’d had to wait until his father had left the house before he dared to seek Oliver out and make sure he was okay. The previous night had been great fun until his old man had come home. It had been pretty obvious that he hadn’t been happy to find his body slave hanging out with his son, although why wasn’t as clear. Except, yeah, if Ben were honest with himself, he knew exactly what had pissed his old man off. Obviously Ben had done a shitty job of hiding his growing interest in Oliver. He’d tried to resist it, he really had. He’d told himself that he was just trying to give the guy a break given how crappy his father treated him. That was only part of the truth. The bigger reason was that he enjoyed Oliver’s company, especially when he let down his guard a bit and showed his true feelings. Despite being dealt a lousy hand in life, the guy could still appreciate small joys, like swimming or watching a movie.

He spotted the slave right away, running at a fast clip on the treadmill. He wore nothing more than skimpy shorts, giving Ben a nice view of his sweaty torso. Ben couldn’t suppress a smile as he sauntered over to him. His happy expression dimmed, however, when he got closer and saw that more than sweat covered the slave’s fair skin. Small bruises marred various places—arms, shoulders, waist. His feet slowed to a crawl while he took in the evidence of just how mad his father had been the night before.

Although Ben hadn’t made any noise that could have carried over the music playing, Oliver turned to look his way. That’s when the livid bruise on the boy’s cheek showed itself. With a gasp, Ben stopped and stared, his mouth hanging open. Oliver averted his face, slowed the pace of the machine down until it came to a stop. Without looking at Ben, the slave hopped onto the floor and grabbed a towel. Instead of using it to dry off, he flung it over his shoulders and used one end to cover the bruised side of his face. As if Ben hadn’t been able to see the discoloration already.

Ben grimaced then he made the effort to close his mouth and stop staring. He went to shut off the music before turning to face Oliver once more. The slave had not just his gaze down, but his whole head. Misery radiated off his body, although it was hard to tell if pain or shame motivated him. Both, probably. Carefully so as not to startle him, Ben walked up to Oliver and gently clasped the wrist of the hand holding up the towel. He tugged down at the same time his other hand urged Oliver’s chin up to give him a better look at the bruise. The slave still didn’t look at him, but that was nothing new.

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