Page 18 of Body Slave

“Yes, sir,” the slave, Danny, said in a meek voice that grated on Oliver’s nerves even though he’d used the exact same tone many times himself. “This way,” the boy said with a flick of his head to Oliver.

As Oliver followed the boy to the warehouse, he couldn’t help scrutinize him out of the corner of his eye and compare him to himself. The kid had darker skin and hair. It was an exotic look, he supposed. His face still had that pudgy softness that Oliver had only recently lost. It made him that much prettier than he. The other slave was a little shorter, though, and skinnier. Oliver might not be muscle-bound, but he beat this boy in mass. Surely Ben wasn’t into scrawny teens. Or, maybe he was into exactly that kind of guy. Except the more Oliver looked, the more he realized that the other slave wasn’t just baby-faced, but a baby. Well, younger by a year anyway, too young to be a body slave. As little as he knew of the young master, Ben struck Oliver as being too decent a guy to ever prey on someone so young.

Danny slowed his footsteps and sighed. “What?”

Embarrassed to be caught looking, Oliver feigned a casual shrug. “What, what?”

“You’re staring at me,” the other boy scoffed.

“Am not.” Jeez, he felt like a little kid with this exchange. Plus, he had been staring, so now he was getting defensive.

“You’re a body slave, aren’t you?” Danny asked, changing tacks.

Oliver stiffened with renewed embarrassment for a second before realizing there was no shame in what he was. At least no more shame than being any kind of slave. “Yeah, so?”

“So, I guess that’s kind of a tough job.” Danny’s tone of voice held a note of sympathy, indicating he wasn’t trying to be a shithead by asking about it.

Oliver shrugged. “It’s not so bad. The master is pretty nice and it’s not hard work.” Why he felt the need to lie, he couldn’t explain. It wasn’t pride. It just seemed wrong to spill his misery onto this kid.

“Does he give you cookie dough ice cream after you suck him off?”

The question had Oliver stopping dead in his tracks.

Danny went a couple of steps farther then stopped as well. “What?” That seemed to be the boy’s go-to question. He appeared generally puzzled by Oliver’s reaction.

“Why would you ask me that?”

Danny looked around before he stepped closer. “’Cause that’s what he gave me after, you know.” His voice was low. He hunched his shoulders as if worried what he’d said would earn him a rebuke.

Struck dumb for a few seconds, Oliver swallowed hard before responding. “You were the master’s body slave before me?” Holy fuck! No way could Danny be eighteen.

The other boy rolled his eyes. “No, not like officially or anything. I was still only fifteen then, not even old enough to work here. He only had me do it a few times.” Frowning, he added, “It didn’t hurt, but it was kind of gross. I liked the ice cream, though,” he added in a soft voice and gave Oliver a crooked smile, making him appear even younger than he must be.

Oliver didn’t know what to say. He didn’t want to make the kid feel bad about what had been done to him if he’d convinced himself it hadn’t been awful. “He shouldn’t have done that,” he finally said in an equally low voice. “You were too young.”

Danny held out his hands and shrugged. “He’s the master. Who’s going to tell him he can’t do something in his own home? It’s not like here where the state does inspections.” His expression became more serious. “Don’t repeat this to anybody else, okay?”

“Okay.” Who would he tell anyway? It wasn’t as if Oliver was free to go to the police. Even if he were, slaves couldn’t testify against free people period, let alone their own master.

“I mean it.” Danny grimaced. “I don’t want my mom finding out. You know how moms are. I think it would make her sad.”

Think? “Don’t worry. I promise I won’t say anything to anyone. How would I tell your mother anyway?”

“You see her all the time, dopey. She’s Mary.”

“Mary?”

Of course. Oliver had heard her mention she had a son working at the lumber company with his father. That must be where Danny got his darker complexion from. So his master had not only molested an underage slave, he’d picked the son of his devoted housekeeper. And done it right under her nose. God, could the man get any more disgusting? To think Oliver had entertained for a second the idea that life with him could be nice. The only good part about being owned by the man was Ben and even that point held misery because Ben was off-limits. Oliver’s earlier jealousy left him with a sick feeling, too. He’d done a disservice to both Ben and Danny. Ben was not like his father. The slave, himself, looked at Oliver with guileless eyes, obviously not fully aware of the advantage taken of him.

Oliver gave the boy a reassuring smile. “I won’t say a word.”

“Good.” Danny started walking again. “Let’s go get lunch. If we don’t get there early, the best stuff will be gone.”

“Okay.” Oliver hurried to catch up. Right, like he could eat now.

****

Lunch with Danny and his father and the other company slaves was surprisingly fun. Once he resolved to put aside the boy’s confession, he enjoyed the chance to relax, if only for a half hour. The slave ate pretty well, too, deli sandwiches with carrot sticks. He even ate a small chocolate chip cookie with only a modicum of guilt that it put him off the strict diet the Master held him to. He’d just have to exercise an extra half hour the next time he worked out, that was all.

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