Page 27 of Body Slave

Despite the devastating orgasm, Ben couldn’t sleep. Instead, he cuddled Oliver’s limp form against him under a light sheet. He’d somehow found the energy to clean them both up a bit. Oliver had slept through it all, a small smile gracing his lips. He looked ridiculously young in his sleep. That observation led to reminders that this boy belonged to Ben’s father and had become far older now by a measure more than mere years. What they had was an illusion that would last only a few days. He couldn’t imagine how he could go back to acting as if Oliver didn’t matter while his father treated him like an object.

Oliver wore only the too-tight collar, marking him as property. Ben frowned at the hateful thing in the dimness cast by the bathroom light he’d left on. He hated it and what it represented, yet he could do nothing about it. Perhaps with time, his father would tire of his toy and let Ben buy him. The idea of paying money for not only a person, but his lover, made him sick. It was better than the alternative, though. He couldn’t let his father sell the boy to anyone else.

There was nothing to be done about it at the moment. He would try to live in the now as best he could and appreciate every minute he had. If that meant staying up all night just for the pleasure of holding Oliver, then it would be enough. He worried that he had exploited him by fucking him, although Oliver had seemed to enjoy himself. He would have to take at face value that the slave genuinely acquiesced.

As much as he hated to let Oliver go, just before dawn, he shook him awake. “Wake up, baby,” he crooned.

“Hmm.” Oliver’s eyes flew open and he tensed for a second before his gaze landed on Ben.

“It’s okay,” Ben hastened to assure him, realizing too late that maybe being woken by another man in bed wasn’t Oliver’s favorite thing. “I’m sorry, but it’s almost morning and you should leave.”

Oliver blinked a few times before sitting up. Ben reluctantly let him out of his embrace. “I’m sorry, did I fall asleep?”

Ben gave him a reassuring smile. “Yeah, I guess I tuckered you out.”

Oliver’s lips quirked. “I guess you did.”

“I hate to kick you out,” Ben said, sliding out of bed himself. “But I don’t want to put Mary and the others in a position where they have to keep secrets from my father. If anyone sees you in bed with me, they’ll know that I went beyond what my father has allowed me to do with you.”

At the mention of the man, Oliver’s eyes widened. He practically jumped out of bed. “I understand.” The slave gathered up his clothing and yanked them on.

Ben clasped him on the shoulders. “I hate to make you keep secrets, too. I don’t want you to get into trouble though.”

“I don’t want you to either,” the boy replied.

Ben gave him a quick kiss before playfully swatting his ass. “Don’t you worry about me. Now if anyone asks, we both fell asleep after watching the movie and you giving me a blow job. Okay?”

“Yes, sir.” When Ben frowned at him, the slave amended his answer. “Yes, Ben. And, thank you,” he added before hurrying out of the room.

Ben shook his head and went back to bed. The guy had just thanked him for what? His inability to keep his hands off Oliver had complicated the poor guy’s life considerably. If Ben really cared for the slave, he’d leave him the hell alone. That was the right thing to do. No chance in hell he had the strength to do it. They had a few days to spend together then he’d see what possible options he had because walking away from Oliver was not one of them.

****

No lumberyard emergencies, or even minor dramas, meant that Ben could do what he pleased that Sunday. He decided to meander downtown, something he hadn’t done since returning home. Although it wasn’t the smartest thing to do, he brought Oliver along. He enjoyed seeing things through the slave’s eyes. The boy obviously hadn’t been out and about much in his life. He took in everything around them with wide eyes. It was hard to watch him, however, given the typical protocol of a slave walking behind the person who owned them. Ben had to keep turning around or watching him through the reflection of windows they stopped to stare in.

“How about some ice cream?” he asked when they reached his favorite place.

Oliver couldn’t hide his enthusiasm. “I’d like that, sir. Thank you.”

The guy was shy and respectful out in public. Ben hated the formality that needed to be in place between them. “Come on,” he said, and went to open the door. The sign in the window, something he’d never noticed before, stayed his hand. Turning back to Oliver, he frowned. “Sorry, they won’t let you come in.”

With his hands clasped behind his back, Oliver stood off to the side. “I understand, sir.”

His easy acquiescence irritated Ben, as did the law that allowed businesses to keep slaves out. Ben’s feelings on the issue hardly mattered, of course. Oliver was being sensible in accepting that which he couldn’t change and it was more important to give the boy the treat than to rail against the system.

“What’s your favorite flavor?” he asked.

Nibbling on his lower lip, the boy said, “Whatever you like, sir.” Before Ben could demand a better answer, the slave grinned shyly. “Surprise me, please.”

Well, when he put it that way. “I’ll be right back.” True to his word, Ben returned within minutes, carrying two cones of coffee ice cream with chocolate chunks. His own favorite was vanilla, actually, but that seemed too dull a treat for his boy. He handed over the cone with a flourish. Oliver took a tentative lick then a bite. “Well?”

“It’s delicious, sir. Thank you.”

They stood grinning at each other around mouthfuls of ice cream. People milled about them, but Ben’s world centered on the beautiful boy enjoying the simple treat. How many had he had in his short life, he wondered? Damn few, he bet. It wasn’t fair. There had to be a way of making life better for him even after his father returned, although for the life of him, he couldn’t think how.

“Ben!”

He started at the booming voice next to him. Shifting his attention away from Oliver, he hid his annoyance when he saw Vince McGill. “Mr. McGill, how are you, sir?”

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