Page 21 of Body Slave

“I’m sorry. I don’t want you to worry that I’ll confront my father and make him angry enough to hurt you even more. I didn’t mean it like that.”

Oliver’s head shot up and he took a step closer. “No, sir. No. I mean I don’t want you and the master to fight because he’s, well, your father. You shouldn’t strain your relationship with him because of some whiny little slut like me.”

Fury roared through Ben, fueled by booze and unfulfilled need. Clasping Oliver by the shoulders, he hauled him in close. “Don’t you ever refer to yourself that way! Do you understand me?” He gave the boy a shake for emphasis.

“Yes, sir,” came the breathless reply.

Their noses practically touched and Oliver’s plump lips were parted. His quick breaths wafted up to Ben’s chin. It would be so easy to kiss him, so easy. All he had to do was lower his mouth. But, no, it wasn’t right. Everything that ate away at him about his father would be mimicked in taking advantage of the boy even in such a small way. As he resolved to pull away, the slave surprised him by reaching up and pressing their lips together for a fraction of a second.

That small contact was electrifying, shattering Ben’s control. With a growl, he pulled the boy flush against his body and covered his mouth with his own. He wasn’t content with a simple blending of their flesh, pressing his tongue against the seam and plunging inside. The slave gave no resistance, instead melting into his embrace. He mimicked Ben’s moves with enthusiasm if not grace. Ben took that as permission to increase his assault, fisting one hand in the boy’s silky hair to gain greater purchase.

Sweet, so sweet, both the feel and the taste. His imagination couldn’t have conjured anything better. Despite the alcohol invading his blood and slowing it down, some of it still managed to flow to his cock. The erection strained against his jeans. Ben slid his other hand down Oliver’s back and cupped one firm globe of his ass. He pulled to bring the boy’s pelvis against his own and rubbed. That’s when reality crashed the party. Instead of another hard rod, his dick rubbed against bits of horizontal steel. Not a zipper, but the chastity device his father had the slave contained in.

Ben broke the kiss with a string of curses flying through his now cold lips. “God damn it!” he cried, putting distance between them.

Oliver let out a soft whine. “Did I do something wrong, sir?”

“What? No,” Ben hurried to reassure the kid, because that would be the shitty cap to the whole fucking day, him hurting Oliver’s feelings. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I promise you. It was me, all me. I shouldn’t have kissed you. I’m sorry.”

A dejected look crossed Oliver’s face. “Free people don’t apologize to slaves.”

Exasperation replaced concern. “Yeah, well this one does.” Placing the heel of his hand against his forehead, he sighed. “You should hurry back upstairs. My father is going to wonder where you are with his phone.” A thought struck him and he smacked himself. “Oh my God, you’re going back to my father. I’ve been drinking. He may smell it on your breath.”

He ran over to the minibar and scoured the shelves beneath it. Ah, there they were. “Here,” he said, racing back to Oliver with a mint. “Suck on this, and make sure to crunch and eat it by the time you’re back with him.”

The slave didn’t take it from his hand. Instead, he leaned down and slipped it inside his mouth directly from Ben’s fingers. It was possible his tongue lingered a few seconds more than necessary, but that could have been Ben’s fevered imagination. His cock certainly believed it, being harder than ever.

“Thank you, sir. Please don’t worry.”

Ben whimpered in frustration. “I can’t help it. I just wish I could do something for you,” he confessed. And, yeah, he sounded so whiny and pathetic as if he were the one living under oppression.

Oliver’s face lit up with a smile. “You have done something for me, sir.”

“What, the mint?” he retorted.

The smile dimmed. “No, sir, the kiss.”

“Seriously? I kind of manhandled you and it was pretty sloppy given how much I’ve had to drink. Not my best effort.”

“I wouldn’t know. It was my first time.” An almost reverent tone infused Oliver’s voice.

Ben felt as if he’d been punched in the solar plexus, the slave’s confession delivered such pain. “No one’s ever kissed you before?” he asked breathlessly.

“No, sir. You’re the first.” He paused. “Thank you.”

Christ, now Ben felt like crying. If he remained staring at the wistful look on Oliver’s face, he would for sure. Clearing his throat, he said, “You’re welcome. Now get going before my father comes looking for you and we both get into trouble.”

That warning sent the slave scampering out of the room. He gave a last look back at Ben before closing the door quietly behind him. Ben stumbled to the sofa and dropped down. He stayed sitting there, staring at nothing for a long time. His thoughts were in a jumble, his erection only partially subsided. As bad as things had seemed when he’d first entered the den, they were measurably worse now. How was he going to get through the months before his sister came home for Christmas? It wasn’t a matter anymore of navigating through a tense relationship with his father. No, apparently he needed more trouble.

Because he was falling in love with his father’s slave.

****

Oliver still felt Ben’s kiss even though two weeks had passed since that night. He couldn’t help touching the tips of his fingers against his lips as the memory swamped him again as it frequently did. He knew he was being silly, it had been a quick, alcohol-fueled impulse on Ben’s part, something he no doubt had forgotten by the next morning. He certainly didn’t give any indication that he remembered or cared. If anything, he treated Oliver with disappointing indifference, barely giving him a first glance, let alone a second one, and not speaking directly to him.

And why should a free person bother to interact with a slave that did him no service? Ben was busy with his new position in the master’s company. Both men were working long hours with little time for themselves. The one blessing was the master brought Oliver to his office more often than not. Of course it meant spending long hours on his knees, often under the man’s desk. Blow jobs were the staple of the day, although that caused the benefit, along with the toll of the master’s heavy work load, of reducing the nights when the master wanted to fuck him. Sometimes all the master wanted was for Oliver to kneel between his legs and keep his cock warm with his mouth while he worked. Weird, but whatever. At worst, it merely bored him to tears.

The upside of it all was it got Oliver out of the house where absolutely nothing interesting happened. He usually took lunch with the company slaves, as well. While those guys often teased him about his cushy life as a body slave, it was done good-naturedly. Danny had obviously vouched for him among the tight-knit group. John clearly ranked as a leader among them and he always sat with him and Danny, giving tacit approval of the new slave among them. Oliver now viewed the younger boy as a friend. Whenever the master dismissed Oliver for lunch, he made a point of going to the woodworking shop to meet up with Danny.

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