A Superior Slave (Ganymede Quartet Book 0.5) (5 page)

“Use your hand,” Georgie said. “Touch me and kiss me. Just do that much.”

Martin did as Georgie asked and Georgie came, moaning into his mouth. Together they licked Martin’s hand clean.

“Will you do something for me?”

“What?” Martin asked.

“Will you think of me every now and then? Will you remember me? Will you touch yourself like I would do and make yourself come for me?”

If Martin’s master wasn’t a beautiful boy, as he likely wouldn’t be, it would be useful to imagine handsome Georgie in his place. “You didn’t have to ask me that,” Martin assured him. “Of course I will.”

“I needed to hear you say so, though.”

“Do you have to go back to sit with Noah?”

“No, not yet.”

Martin sat close within the curve of Georgie’s arm and leaned heavily against him. He yawned and took off his glasses and settled in, and Georgie bent to kiss his head.

“Will you stay here while I sleep a little?” Martin asked. He was hit with a sentimental pang. “Oh! I’m really going to miss sleeping with you!”

“Shh.” Georgie kissed him again. “Go to sleep. I’ll be here.”

Martin gradually relaxed and let the train rock him to sleep, comforted by Georgie’s familiar smells. He woke when Georgie nudged him awake. While he’d been sleeping, the train had made a stop to add on cars from more Houses, and it was now close to 2 o’clock. Mr. Jacob and Mr. Elliott were handing out paper-wrapped sandwiches and battered enamel cups of warm lemonade.

Noah got his sandwich and came to reclaim Georgie, sitting in the seat in front of Martin’s and leaning over the back practically into Georgie’s lap. Charlie and Stuart brought their food and came to sit in the seat directly behind.

Charlie, who was a notoriously fast eater, finished his sandwich and said, “Do you think it’s bad luck to talk about what sort of master we’d like?”

“Yes,” Noah said firmly.

“No,” Georgie said at the same time. “What do
you
want, Charlie?”

Charlie thought about it a moment. “I just hope he isn’t actually ugly. Hideous, I mean. It would be nice if he was handsome, but we’ve been warned so often that most masters
aren’t
that I’m pretty well reconciled to my master being homely.”

“I hope he’s
clean
,” Stuart said, making a face. “
We
all keep so clean for each other, but I don’t imagine free boys even think of such things.”

They all contemplated gamy cocks for a minute, noses wrinkled in distaste.

Georgie said, “I just hope he’s not a mean little bastard. I don’t want one who’ll be bossing me around for no other reason except he can.”

“Yes, I want a kind master,” Charlie agreed. “A nice boy, more or less. He doesn’t have to be an angel or anything, but a decent guy. That’s what I want.”

Noah cleared his throat self-consciously. “Not too fat.”

They all looked at him.

Noah blushed. “I don’t want some great huge boy squashing me,” he said, sounding somewhat defensive.

“Well, of course not.” Georgie put his hand on Noah’s arm and gave him a reassuring squeeze. “No one wants that.”

“In that case, you get on top and ride him,” Stuart pointed out. “Let him just relax and enjoy you, and no one gets squashed.”

“It would be nice if he wasn’t terrible at sex,” Charlie said. “I know I’ll have to teach him everything, but I hope he’ll
learn
. I hope he’ll listen to me.”

Martin thought the things his friends hoped for were very reasonable, very modest. He did not want to share his hopes because they were not reasonable at all. He wanted a handsome master, kind and affectionate, who’d touch him like a lover and treat him like a friend, and these wishes were desperately, unrealistically romantic. He’d been taught as much at Ganymede and it had been made very clear: his master would be an ordinary boy with an extraordinary bank account, and he would be under no obligation to think of his slave as a person.

They all finished their sandwiches and then Noah came to squeeze in beside Georgie, forcing Martin up against the wall of the car. Georgie kept his left arm around Martin’s shoulders but embraced Noah with his right. Martin thought Georgie enjoyed the enmity between Noah and himself a little too much at times.

Noah whispered in Georgie’s ear and they kissed, very tender and affectionate, and Martin grew annoyed in short order. “You could go back to your own seat, you know, if you’re not going to talk to me. You’d certainly have more room to do…whatever it is you’re doing.”

Georgie laughed and gave Martin a one-armed hug, but then did exactly as he had suggested, giving Noah a little push to encourage him up and out. Triumphant, Noah stood in the aisle and gave Martin a smug smirk.

Georgie leaned in and gave Martin a quick kiss. “He’s needy,” he explained in a low whisper. “You’re mostly not.” In a more normal tone, he said, “We’ll have more time together later, all right?”

Martin shrugged and turned up his nose haughtily, as if whatever Georgie might do was none of his concern. He slumped down in his seat, arms crossed over his chest.

Realistically, he wouldn’t get it from a master, of course, but he did want some young man, some other slave, to put him first, above everything but service. He didn’t want to have to compete for some boy’s divided attention; he wanted a man devoted to him and him alone.
Please
, he thought,
please let there be someone for me.

He’d have ample opportunities to meet other slaves, he was quite sure, at the swap parties his master would participate in. If the teachers at Ganymede were correct, swap parties were practically all young gentlemen did with their free time. The masters would trade slaves with one another, and Martin was amenable to this, of course, but what he was looking forward to were the couplings with other slaves, the sex performed for the delectation of masters. It seemed possible he’d meet a boy who’d care for him, another Georgie or Charlie who would like him especially well, and he was very much looking forward to his master’s swap parties for this reason.

Rex and Otto were enlisted to collect everyone’s cups and sandwich wrappers—Standard boys always did clean-up—and Mr. Elliott asked again if anyone had questions about the auction.

“Really, don’t you boys have questions about anything? Anything at all? The auction hall? The city?” Mr. Elliott seemed baffled by their lack of curiosity. “We’ve taught you as best we can, but I’m quite sure that living in the city will be a difficult adjustment for most of you.”

“Why is that, Mr. E?” asked Artie, one of the Standard boys. “Why will it be difficult?”

“Most boys are overwhelmed by the crowds and the noise and the dirt. Even with so many boys, the farm is very quiet in comparison.” Mr. Elliott considered a moment, then added, “You’ll all be going to grand homes, and you’ll likely be outfitted in good style, but out on the streets you’ll see evidence of poverty like nothing you’ve ever imagined and it can be very shocking.”

“We weren’t rich at Ganymede, though, Mr. E,” Rex pointed out.

Mr. Elliott and Mr. Jacob gave each other wry looks. Mr. Elliott said, “Ganymede gave you everything necessary to bring you to this point. You weren’t given luxuries because you didn’t require them, but you certainly didn’t grow up in poverty and deprivation!”

They had grown up with the knowledge that elsewhere, in the wider world, boys had their own bicycles and needn’t bicker about whose turn it was to ride. Elsewhere, boys had toys all to themselves. Elsewhere, boys had clothes that were bought new, just for them. But none of them had ever met boys like that; all they knew were the others on the farm, so it was hard to be envious of these imagined boys with their myriad privileges.

Of course, now each one of them was about to become another thing a privileged boy would have all to himself.

There’d been some attempts to train them to function in a city. Ganymede’s rickety horse-drawn omnibus was pulled up and down the road running past the farm loaded with boys taking turns playing at master and slave traveling via public conveyance. They’d pored over maps and handbooks. They’d been encouraged to be succinct and assertive in their dealings with shopkeepers. It had been impressed upon them that they should never, ever dawdle on a city sidewalk.

They were encouraged to depend upon their new family’s existing slaves for guidance, to learn from their examples. A family’s more senior companions would hopefully be welcoming to the newcomers and eager to help them learn to best please their young masters. The goal was to provide excellent, high-level service without any disruptions secondary to a slave’s unfamiliarity with city activities like riding public transport or negotiating a busy sidewalk. When a new companion climbed on an omnibus for the first time, his master shouldn’t have any idea he’d never done it before.

While they didn’t have practical experience of a city, they had practiced everything else. They knew how to dress and undress a gentleman. They knew a multitude of knots for neckties. They knew how to shave a man smoother than he’d ever shaved himself. They’d learned how to massage sore muscles and tense necks. They excelled at schoolwork. They’d learned to play all sorts of games that a young master might enjoy, poker and chess and parlor amusements, and they’d all learned to ride bicycles and horses. They knew the basics of serving at table and coordinating service with other slaves. They’d all been taught to defend themselves and their masters with their fists. And, of course, they were all very well-versed in sex.

Individually, they had their particular talents, the hobbies for which they’d shown aptitude, and which they’d pursued in an effort to become appealingly well-rounded. In addition to mastering all the usual skills, Martin played the violin well enough that he had served as first chair in the Ganymede orchestra this past year. He’d been the epée fencing champion for the fifteens and sixteens, and he was adept with bow and arrow. He did not care so much about the archery, but he had enjoyed fencing a great deal and he fervently hoped he’d be allowed to continue with the violin. He’d been warned, however, that a master might not be interested in music, and most families would balk at the cost of an instrument if the young master wasn’t enthusiastic. So really, Martin wanted a master who was dark, handsome, unusually kind, and a music lover besides, and odds were that he wouldn’t get this, or anything close. He might be top boy, but even a top boy couldn’t expect anything exceptional from a master.

Anyone might choose him. Anyone at all, and as long as he could pay, he could have Martin, and Martin would have no say in the matter.

Martin was slumped against the window, watching the landscape roll past, when Charlie slipped into the seat at his side and leaned close to kiss his cheek, just in front of his right ear. “Hey.”

“Hey yourself.” Martin shifted in his seat, turning towards Charlie with a grateful smile. It was not like him to be morose, and he welcomed the distraction of his friend’s company.

“I don’t know if we’ll have the chance later,” Charlie began, “so I wanted to talk to you before we get to the city.”

Embarrassingly, Martin felt his eyes begin to immediately tear up. He loved Charlie and was going to miss him. He loved all his friends. He gave a shaky laugh and said, “Don’t say anything to make me too sad, all right?”

Charlie laid his arm along the back of the seat and toyed with the neckband of Martin’s shirt. “I just want you to know how much I care for you,” he said shyly, not meeting Martin’s eyes. “You’ve been my favorite since we were just kids, and I know it wasn’t the same for you—”

“Charlie—”

“No, it’s all right. I know you wanted others more.” He indicated Georgie at the rear of the car with a jerk of his chin. “It’s all right, Martin. I’ve never needed you to feel the same. Besides, we’re not meant for each other, anyway.”

“No, we’re not,” Martin agreed. They were all meant for the rich boys who’d bid on them tomorrow. “But you’re one of my dearest friends. You know that, don’t you?”

“You’ve always been so sweet to me,” Charlie said by way of agreement. “Loving and generous. Your master is going to be so lucky. I’m just imagining some virgin boy who’s never had his cock sucked getting service from you.” He laughed. “He won’t know what’s happened to him! He won’t know how to react!”

Martin laughed. “That’s how they’ll all be, don’t you think? Everyone’s masters?”

Charlie put his hand around the back of Martin’s neck and gave it a little squeeze. “Will you do it for me one last time? I’ll be happy to return the favor.”

Martin glanced toward the front of the car, where Mr. Jacob and Mr. Elliott sat together talking in low voices, indifferent to the sighs and groans of their charges.

“We could move to the back, if you want,” Charlie suggested. “If you don’t want them to hear.”

“They’re making a point of not paying attention. I think they expect we’re all doing
something
anyway,” Martin pointed out. “I think they might be disappointed in us if we weren’t!” He reached for Charlie with both hands, running his fingers through his long dark hair. Charlie sighed and tilted his head to rest his cheek against Martin’s palm.

“I’ll miss your hands,” Charlie said wistfully. “I love the way you touch me.” He put his own hand on Martin’s cheek and caressed its curve. He leaned close and kissed Martin very softly, his breath fevered and sweet. Martin shivered with pleasure and opened his lips for Charlie’s tongue, darting and slick. Charlie took hold of his waist and pulled him close with a little grunt.

Martin paused to remove his glasses and they traded places, Martin straddling Charlie’s lap and moving against him while they kissed, then Charlie shifting to take the place by the window, Martin on the aisle. Charlie trembled and held Martin close and whispered, “Will you let me be the last of us to kiss you? Please?”

Martin shook his head, “I can’t promise you that, Charlie.” He reached down to unbutton the placket of Charlie’s trousers.

“What about this? Can mine be the last cock?”

Martin chuckled, considering this. They’d be in the city soon, and of course they wouldn’t be allowed any further sex once they’d arrived at the auction hall. If he’d been planning for sentimental cocksucking, he would have made Georgie the last one, but it was fine if it was Charlie instead. He’d be sucking a new cock by dinnertime tomorrow anyway.