Page 3 of Body Slave

“Yeah, yeah,” Freddy grumbled.

“Well,” Oliver said, in an effort to dispel any tension he may have inadvertently caused, “I really appreciate having such good food.”

Small talk about the running of the house or slave gossip from other houses in the neighborhood ruled the rest of the meal. Oliver let it all wash over him and simply enjoyed the downtime. There were even cookies for dessert, a rare treat for him, although the others didn’t act as if it were unusual. He was careful not to eat too much, though. Not only were the pants tight, he figured the master would make use of him shortly and he didn’t want an overly full stomach. Being sick all over his master would guarantee punishment.

Oliver tried to help clean up when they were done, but Mary declined, reminding him he had not been bought for housework. At loose ends, he stood around, looking out the back door at the beautiful garden and in-ground pool beyond. He jumped at the sound of the master’s voice squawking through the intercom.

“Mary, send the boy up to my bedroom.”

“Yes, Master,” she replied into the thing and jerked her head toward the backstairs. “Up you go, last door on the right.”

Oliver nodded and headed up the long, narrow steps. His stomach grew jittery again as he approached his master’s bedroom. It was stupid, really. He knew what to expect, had been prepared well for any type of use by his new owner. The man hadn’t been cruel so far, so there was no reason to expect he would be now. Reaching the partially open door, he hesitated and knocked lightly.

“No need for that, just get in here,” came the brusque reply.

Pushing the door open, he walked into a large room appointed just as elegantly as the living room and dining room had been. His master sat in his underwear on the edge of a large four-poster bed. Above the headboard hung a painting of the man and a beautiful, redheaded woman. The picture drew Oliver’s gaze immediately.

“That was my wife,” his master said. “She’s dead.”

Oliver dropped his gaze. “I’m sorry for your loss, Master.” He got a grunt in return and had begun to think it was the man’s default form of communication.

“She used to sleep in this bed and now you’re going to, every night unless I tell you otherwise. Understand?”

“Yes, Master.” It was a simple enough command. It surprised him that a widower of a woman would then choose to replace her body with that of a male slave. Perhaps it was so there would be no comparison of the two, or maybe his master had always been bi or secretly gay. No matter. He didn’t have to understand the psychology behind the order to obey it.

“Go take a quick shower. Not your hair, though. I don’t want wet sheets and I have no interest in waiting until you dry it to fuck you. The blue toothbrush is yours and you’ll find lube in the medicine cabinet. Prep yourself for me, and keep yourself prepped always. I can’t be bothered to do it for you.”

“Yes, Master,” Oliver said again and turned to the bathroom to comply.

“And dump those jeans in the hamper. Damn things are too small for you. I’ll have Mary get you some clothes.” The words were added almost as an afterthought.

Oliver didn’t dare shut the bathroom door. His master might want to take him in the shower or maybe just watch him, and in any event, slaves didn’t have the privilege of privacy. Showering as fast as he could, he made sure his ass in particular was spanking clean. A master could be dirty or smelly. Not so a slave. Oliver brushed and flossed, too, and then putting a large dollop of lube on his forefinger, slicked up his hole. He hated doing it. No matter how often he did it, he hated it just as much as he had the first time he’d been made to do it at the training center. It felt like he was aiding in his own rape, as if a slave could be raped, which legally they couldn’t. A free person might violate another free person’s property rights by fucking that person’s slave without permission. That, the law recognized. No one cared what the slave thought.

Oliver was being stupid anyway. He was about to be fucked by a handsome, well-off man in a beautiful, comfortable-looking bed. That had been his fantasy since the age of fifteen when his mother had tearfully explained to him a body slave’s duties and that he’d likely be one someday. It might actually be pleasurable in a way that his training so far hadn’t been. Besides, he was lucky the master didn’t want to fuck him dry.

Clean and prepped, Oliver returned to the bedroom and approached his master. Before he could sink to his knees, the man reached out and grabbed him by the cock. He stifled a gasp at the abrupt and harsh touch, but he resisted the urge to pull away. His body belonged to his master, after all. Instead, he clasped his hands behind his back in the universal standing pose of submission. With dismay however, he watched the master secure a metal cock cage around him.

“This is so you won’t mess up my sheets when I fuck you. I know you’re not supposed to come unless I give you permission, but I don’t trust your control. You can still piss through it and I’ll let you out of it for showering or if I want you to come.” He ran his hand across Oliver’s abs. “That might be fun to watch sometime.”

Oliver said nothing as he hadn’t been invited to comment. His body, his cock, his orgasms weren’t his to command. He remained rock-still while his master stroked and explored his body. With his eyes cast downward, Oliver could see his master’s dick hardening, the head peeking out through the piss flap of his underwear. After a few minutes of exploring, his master stood abruptly and pushed him toward the bed.

“Get up on your hands and knees,” he ordered in a voice thick with arousal.

Oliver did as told and willed himself to relax. He had mostly succeeded, and the generous amount of lube he’d coated his hole with helped when his master knelt behind him and penetrated him with one hard thrust. Biting back a gasp, Oliver closed his eyes and breathed evenly through the burning and stretching caused by the large cock. Bruising fingers gripped his hips, and his master pumped with fast and furious strokes. The blow job had done little to ease the man’s ardor. He fucked Oliver as if he hadn’t had a release in months, as opposed to hours.

Well-trained slave that he was, Oliver took the pounding without complaint or any effort to evade the assault. Inside his head, he chanted the words drummed into him by his trainers, reminding himself over and over that he existed for this and only this. His master’s pleasure was all that mattered, and he would let him take such pleasure however he deemed fit. It was an honor to be used this way.

But damn, did it have to hurt?

Biting pain accompanied each pass of the cock through his too-narrow channel. Even with the lube, his tissue soon felt raw and his guts cramped from the invasion. Oliver gripped the sheet with white-knuckled fingers in an effort to diffuse the mounting discomfort.

The fucking ended fairly quickly, thankfully. With one long groan, his master drove his cock deep within Oliver’s ass. Warm cum invaded his insides while relief from it almost being done washed over him. He held still even when the fingers clasping him dug into his skin and his master’s teeth rasped against his back. He didn’t move, in fact, until his master collapsed on the bed then ordered him to shut off the light and pull up the sheet.

The master’s light snoring permeated the room by the time Oliver had done as told. Remembering that he was to sleep in the bed with him, Oliver slid under the sheet on the far side as gently as he could so as to not disturb the man.

Even snug in the luxurious bed, it took a long time for him to fall asleep. The day had been long and tiring, yet his brain would not shut down. So much for his hope that he would enjoy being a body slave. Although not particularly cruel, his master had shown him no more care or tenderness than the trainers had.

The cock cage proved to be no big deal as the fucking hadn’t aroused him. There had been no words of comfort or praise, let alone any cuddling after the fact. Well, what had he expected; one of those farfetched stories where a master falls in love with his slave? What a stupid idea. That only happened in really bad movies of the week and they rarely had a happy ending anyway.

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