Page 33 of Body Slave

Oliver blinked back tears that threatened to leak out. The advice is what he’d heard his whole life. Only free people made decisions and had the luxury of choosing what they wanted. Slaves dared not have opinions and accepted gracefully the decisions made for them by their betters. He’d always tried to be a good boy, a good slave. It’d made his mother happy when he stayed out of trouble. It made him happy, too, of course. Being punished was never enjoyable and often in the last year certainly, unbearable. This time it was different. If he passively allowed Ben to turn his life upside down for a slave, it would be wonderful only in the short term. Eventually Ben would regret his decision and maybe resent Oliver for it. Regardless, Oliver knew he’d hate himself for making Ben unhappy.

“I can’t let him do it,” he said in almost a whisper. “I can’t. I do love him, too much to be so selfish.”

Mary sighed and set aside the half-eaten toast. “And just what do you think you can do to stop it?”

Oliver shook his head. “I don’t know. I’ll think of something. If I really love Ben, I have to.”

The tears spilled out and down his cheeks. He made no move to wipe them away. The enormity of the situation overwhelmed him, pressed on his chest, hurting his heart, and forcing air out of his lungs. When Mary wrapped her arms around him and hugged him to her breasts, he went willingly. A sob tore past his lips then another. He let himself go and wailed at his own impotence until he had nothing left inside.

****

Oliver woke with a start, eyes gritty from his crying jag and large portions of his body throbbing with pain. In the dimmed light of the subterranean room, it was impossible to tell the time or how long he’d been asleep. None of it mattered anyway. The one overriding thing that grabbed his attention and chased the remaining fog from his brain was that Ben had come into the room. Oliver bolted to his feet and almost keeled over when his head swam.

“Whoa!” Ben rushed to his side and held him steady. “Are you okay?”

Oliver kept his head down and struggled to provide an answer. Instead, he blurted out, “The master?” He didn’t dare look at Ben as he waited for an answer to the half-formed question.

“He’s going to be fine,” Ben said, rubbing his hands gently up and down Oliver’s arm. “It was a heart attack and he needs surgery for his arteries, but the doctor said he’d make a good recovery.”

Oliver let his breath out in a whoosh, his knees weak with relief. As bad as the master had treated him, he hadn’t wanted the man to die if only for Ben’s sake. “Thank God,” he said in a quiet voice.

“Yeah, it’s ah, good news. Here, sit back down and let me look at you.” As commands went, it was gentle. The pressure Ben used to press Oliver into a sitting position left no room for argument, however.

Oliver still didn’t trust himself to look Ben in the eye, so he kept his gaze on his hands clasped in his lap. Ben’s scrutiny was almost a palpable thing. Oliver acted like a good slave, obedient and pliable when Ben used his finger to tilt his chin up to inspect his face and raised the hem of his T-shirt to look at his torso.

Air wafted between them when Ben choked out an, “oh.” Then he said, “Mary said you insisted on not going to the clinic.”

Hearing the censure in his tone, Oliver jumped to alleviate his concerns. “Nothing’s broken, I’m sure of it. I just needed cold packs and ibuprofen. Really.”

Ben huffed out another breath. “Fortunately for you, Mary agrees. I trust her judgment more than yours on this.” With the side of his finger, he forced Oliver’s chin up again. “Look at me,” he ordered in a quiet voice.

Unable to refuse Ben anything, he lifted his gaze. The misery he saw in Ben’s eyes would have made him cry all over again if he’d had any tears left.

“I’m so sorry I didn’t protect you.”

“No, sir, please don’t blame yourself. It wasn’t your fault.”

“Yes, it was!” The sternness of Ben’s tone caused Oliver’s breath to hitch. “And I’m sorry I yelled at you. I didn’t mean it when I said your wishes didn’t count. I just wanted to keep my father’s attention off of you. Forgive me, please.”

“There’s nothing to forgive. What you said was true, I don’t have a say in what happens to me.”

“I disagree, and don’t start arguing with me now,” Ben added teasingly, “There’ll be plenty of time to develop that skill later.”

Before Oliver could process exactly what that meant, Ben reached up to unclasp Oliver’s slave collar. When it fell away from his neck, he took the first truly easy breath in weeks. He’d become accustomed to its tightness and the feeling of liberation made him grin. Ben mirrored the expression before fishing one hand into his front pocket. He pulled out a gold necklace made of thick links longer than the one that had been taken off. A round disk etched with a single stylized letter swung from it.

Treating Oliver to an even broader smile, Ben wrapped the necklace around Oliver’s neck. It sat loosely along his collar bone, the pendant lying flat just below the hollow of his throat. The metal felt cool against his skin.

“There,” Ben said with a brisk nod. “That’s better.”

Oliver licked his lips. “I-I don’t understand.” That was not entirely true. Of course he understood the import of the changing of his collar. He just needed to hear it confirmed. Then he needed to undo it.

Ben pulled out of his back pocket a document folded lengthwise in half. He opened it and showed it to Oliver. “Look at this.”

He did as told, but all he could tell was that his name appeared imbedded within it. The rest of it meant nothing to him. He dropped his gaze. “I’m sorry. I can’t read.”

“Oh!” Tossing the paper on the coffee table, Ben clasped Oliver by the shoulders. “That was stupid of me. I should have known. Don’t worry, I’ll teach you.”

Oliver hid his wince. Learning to read would be nice, but he didn’t want Ben to have to keep him long enough to accomplish it. He said nothing, however, merely nodded in understanding, if not agreement.

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