Page 8 of Body Slave

“But why a slave, Dad? Why don’t you start dating?”

The master smiled wanly at the question. “Why would I do that? I found the woman of my dreams, married her, raised children with her, and ran a business with her. She was perfect in every way. I won’t find that again. I don’t even want to try.”

After few long seconds, Ben nodded. “Okay, I guess I get that.” Putting his hand on his father’s shoulder, he added, “I miss her, too, and I want you to be happy, Dad.” He turned to Oliver. “Welcome to the family.”

“Thank you, sir,” Oliver answered in a sincere tone. With this young man in the house, things might be better.

“I’ll grab that shower and meet you in the dining room,” Ben said to his father and bounded up the stairs.

The master watched him go, a cheery look on his face. When his son disappeared from sight, the expression disappeared. Spinning around, the master gripped Oliver by the arm and yanked him down the hall. “Come on, I need another drink.”

Oliver stumbled to keep up.

****

Dinner held more interest than usual given a conversation took place. By some unspoken agreement, father and son talked about the trip abroad in terms of sights, and food, and other touristy stuff that had no overtones of politics. Too bad. Oliver had hoped to hear more about these countries where everyone was free. How did one even go from being a slave to being free? The idea boggled his mind. But as the meal dragged on, he tuned out the conversation, and simply knelt at his master’s side as usual.

When he’d first sunk to his knees, he caught Ben’s frown. The younger man didn’t say anything, however, and for that Oliver was grateful. Even if the young master didn’t like his presence or maybe just didn’t like him on his knees, Oliver didn’t need to be a point of contention between father and son. He stayed still and ignored the discomfort of his position and his growing hunger, his mind a pleasant blank. Until a sharp slap across the face brought him back to the present. He gasped more out of shock than any real pain and blinked up at his master.

“My son asked you a question, boy,” the master admonished.

Oliver turned to Ben. “I’m sorry, sir, I wasn’t paying attention.” He swallowed hard. “Would you please be so kind as to repeat it?”

Ben frowned once more. Oliver didn’t think he was mad at him for wool-gathering because he changed his expression to an encouraging one almost instantly. “I asked where you’re from,” he said in a kind voice.

Oliver gave the young master a shy smile. “My birth master lived in Fitchburg, sir.”

“Oh.” Ben speared a forkful of meat. “That’s only about an hour away.” He bit into the food, chewed, and moaned. “No matter where I ate, nothing was as good as Mary’s cooking.”

Oliver wasn’t surprised about the quality of Mary’s skills, but it somewhat surprised him to learn he was so close to his mother and sister. He’d been crying so hard when he’d been sold, he hadn’t paid too much attention to where he’d been brought or how long it had taken to get there.

“Do you have any family, Oliver?” Master Ben asked.

“Yes, sir, I have a mother and younger sister.” He didn’t say he had a father because he was pretty sure calling your former master your father would be presumptuous. He didn’t want another slap.

“Are they still with your birth master?”

It was weird how the guy talked to him. Oliver had never really had a conversation with a free person before. “I believe so, sir.” He could still picture his sister and mother wrapped in each other’s arms, crying as he’d been led away.

“Maybe you can visit with them then,” Master Ben offered.

The suggestion surprised and delighted Oliver. He hadn’t dared think of such a thing, let alone ask for it. Before he could respond, though, the master chimed in.

“That’s not going to happen. This wasn’t a private sale. I got Oliver from a broker, so there was no agreement for visitation.”

The master crushed the fleeting hope in Oliver’s heart with his callous words. Stupid to have thought even for a second that such a thing was possible anyway. He had no one to blame for his disappointment other than himself. He blinked back the tears suddenly threatening to leak out and steadied his gaze to a point across the room. Before he did, however, he was sure the young master had seen his distress. The man didn’t say anything, yet a look of sympathy had flashed across his face before he too masked his feelings. Knowing that he was an object of pity somehow made everything worse, not better. Oliver was beyond relieved when the master picked up the conversational ball and lobbed it away from his slave.

After dinner, Oliver was dismissed for a few hours while father and son caught up some more in the master’s den. Oliver was called to his master’s bedroom much later. He used him rougher than usual, not even bothering to speak with him. Fisting his fingers in Oliver’s hair, he tugged his head back and pounded into him. It seemed as if the return of his son had made him if not unhappy, at least on edge. Fortunately he had his new slave to squeeze as a human stress ball. By the time the man finished and fell asleep, he’d left Oliver sore and worn out.

Lying on his side facing away from his master, Oliver tried to will himself to sleep. Visions of the young master battered their way through his tired brain. The handsome face with the warm brown eyes stared down at him with compassion, and maybe a hint of desire. No, that was pure fantasy and one that caused his cock to strain once more against the damnable cage. Slowly, so as not to jostle the master, he slid his hand across his hip to cup his aching dick. The flesh pressed against the metal as if it could squeeze through the rings. His balls were pulled up tight against his body, trapped with no possible way to empty.

He groaned inside his head, being silent in his pleasure a well-learned lesson. He should have shut thoughts of the young master down immediately, but perversely he didn’t. Instead he imagined what it would have been like if the master had taken him into the den after dinner the way he had most every night. What if he had been ordered to service both of them, giving the son a welcome-home blow job? He pictured kneeling between Ben’s legs and taking what would have been a freshly washed cock inside his mouth. Perhaps he would have been the first person to suck him off in the months he’d been gone.

Yeah, right. As if someone as attractive as Ben would go that long without having someone. Women and men must throw themselves at him all of the time. And speaking of which, maybe Ben was straight and unlike his father, not open to being serviced by a male slave. Likely, all he’d ever see when he looked at Oliver was his father’s pathetic sex toy. A drop of pre-cum slid down to touch his hand, mocking him. His cock and balls ached painfully. With one last squeeze of his unsatisfied flesh, he let go. The dreams and the hand job were getting him exactly nowhere. All he had accomplished was to add new hurts to his body and new sorrow to his lot.

With fists resting up against his chin, he let the tears fall through closed eyes. He told himself the pain and exhaustion of his body wrung out those tears. Then he wondered why he bothered to lie.

Chapter Four

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