Page 16 of Body Slave

As he rounded the corner of one of the stacks, he heard a loud crash. He hurried to investigate and saw a slender teenage boy with olive skin and dark-brown hair. The boy, a slave, knelt on the ground. He was trying to pick up pieces of railing that had spilled out of a broken box lying nearby. A look of panic consumed the kid’s face. Before Ben could reach him, however, a supervisor ran over.

“Clumsy fucker,” the man yelled. “What have you done?”

The boy recoiled from the angry man and stammered out a reply. “I’m s-sorry, sir. I dropped it.”

“I can see that.” The man grabbed the railing from the boy’s hand. “Fucking-A! This wood has chipped.” He peered at the mess on the floor. “There’s probably more that is damaged. This is coming out of your hide, boy,” he added, shaking the railing in front of the kid’s face.

“Yes, sir. I’m sorry, sir.” The slave’s voice wavered and he looked as if he were going to cry.

Ben rushed to join the two of them, wracking his brain for the supervisor’s name. Fuck, he’d just met him that morning. Ken, yeah that was it, rhymes with Ben. “Hey, Ken,” he said, keeping his voice light. “What’s up?” He shot the slave what he hoped was a reassuring look, not that the boy could see it with his head down. The kid shook already, though.

“Hey, Mr. Tanner.” The supervisor pasted a smile on his face.

“Ben, please.” Shoving his hands in his pockets, he looked down at the broken box. “Looks like we have a cleanup in aisle….” He looked around for a sign. “Fifteen,” he concluded with a grin.

Ken chuckled. “Ah, yes, sir. This kid,” he said, nudging the slave’s leg with the toe of his heavy work boots, “Dropped the box. I’m afraid some of the contents are damaged.” He held the piece of railing out to Ben.

He took the offering and inspected it. The surface was marred in places, no doubt about it. They wouldn’t be able to sell it for its intended use. Squatting down, he poked at what lay on the floor and spotted at least one other damaged piece. There were likely more in the pile. It had been a big box and heavy, too, given the weight of the one railing in his hand. He glanced at the kid, who breathed rapidly, and was clearly scared to death of the consequences of his mistake.

But Jesus, he was too slender to be carrying this box in the first place. He looked too young to be working in the warehouse, as well. “How old are you?”

The boy licked his lips and kept his gaze down. “Seventeen, Master Ben.”

Okay, so old enough, legally. There was something about his voice and pretty face that triggered a memory. Before he could ask any more questions, however, a large, middle-aged slave came running up. He slid to his knees next to the boy.

“I’m sorry, Master Ben. Sir,” he added with a nod to the supervisor. “I’ll help the boy clean this up.”

It took only a second for Ben to connect the dots now that the older man had arrived. “John!”

The slave glanced up and gave a brief smile. “Yes, sir. Welcome home, Master Ben.”

“So this is Danny?” Ben asked, pointing to the boy.

John smiled more broadly. “Yes, sir, this is Danny.”

“Wow,” Ben said, standing. “I’d forgotten that Mary said he’d come to work at the company.” Mary and John had received permission from his mother years ago to start a domestic arrangement. John often stayed the night or a weekend at the house. Danny had grown up there and while he was too young to have interested Ben or his sister as a playmate, he’d been a sweet kid to have around.

“He’s been here almost a year now, sir.” John’s pride at having his son with him was obvious.

The supervisor killed the mood. “Yeah, and he’s doing a shitty job. He couldn’t even carry this one box a few yards.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” John replied quickly. “Please, sir, put me on half rations for the next month instead of Danny.”

Ken scoffed. “One? Try at least three. This stuff was expensive.”

“Yes, sir.”

John didn’t bat an eye at the idea of getting less to eat for so long, but his son knelt there, blinking back tears. When he opened his mouth to say something, to protest maybe, his father gave him a subtle warning with a nudge of his arm. Ben caught the gesture, though, and it pained him to see these two nice people in such distress. Fortunately, being the boss’s son had its privileges.

“There won’t be any punishment,” he said and tossed the railing onto the pile. “It was an accident. Danny doesn’t look particularly suited to warehouse work. I’m going to find him something else to do.”

Ken raised his eyebrows at him. “Well, your father assigned him here and his rule is that if a slave breaks anything, it gets paid for through reduced rations.”

With as congenial a look as he could muster, he clapped Ken on the shoulder. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll take responsibility for the decision. My father wants me to put my business degree to good use and one of the things I learned is to sometimes mix up the work force. See if slaves in particular are better utilized elsewhere.”

Ken shrugged. “You’re the boss. John, clean this mess up.”

“Yes, sir.” Shooting a grateful look at Ben, the man started gathering up the railing.

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