Slave Boy Excerpt

Author’s Note— Okay, what you need to know is that Haven and Wren have a Teacher/Student type relationship. When Wren was younger, he was being sold as a sex slave on another planet. Haven found him and bought him and promised that he would never have to submit to another man abusing him sexually again.
Now as we enter the story, Haven and Wren are going undercover as a Master and sex slave in order to mediate a conflict between two opposing factions. Haven is concerned that he will have to break his promise to Wren and touch him eh-hem inappropriately. And of course, you know he will.
I think Slave Boy will appeal to those of you who liked The Assignment because it is another undercover type plot where the characters are forced to do things they don’t want to do to each other (only they really do want to do them) in order to keep from blowing their cover. So in this scene, Haven is getting Wren dressed for an royal court appearance with mixed results.
Hope you Like! Evangeline



Wren was kneeling with his arms bound behind his back and his legs spread wide on a waist high dark red platform. His head was bowed low in apparent submission and his sides were heaving, as though he had just run a race, but worst of all, he was completely naked. What in the seven hells? Wren, are you all right? he sent anxiously through their link. I’m sorry, Master. Wren looked up, his large golden eyes wide with fear. Haven could actually see the white showing all around their amber depths as though his novice was a frightened animal. Below his navel, he was completely smooth, the soft nest of brown curls that surrounded the base of his cock had been shaved away. The cock itself was curled against Wren’s right inner thigh, completely soft, looking pink and terribly vulnerable. Sorry about what? What have they done to you? Haven demanded. But Wren only shook his head, his thoughts a chaotic jumble that Haven couldn’t begin to make out. His protective instincts aroused, he strode quickly to his novice’s side and stroked the pale forehead which was damp with sweat. Wren turned his face into his master’s large palm, still breathing hard, obviously seeking comfort. Haven felt his heart swell with emotion. He never should have allowed this to happen—never should have let them separate him from Wren! He turned to the Minister of the Wardrobe and his assistant who had just entered the room. “What have you done to my slave?” he demanded, nodding at the naked Wren who was still kneeling submissively. “Only gotten him ready for his court appearance—or tried to!” The Minister of the Wardrobe sounded defensive. “Why, he isn’t even dressed or oiled yet! And audience hours are almost over. Oh, Minister T’will will have my head if you aren’t ready in time and just look at this!” He gestured at the Wren with agitation and then turned to his assistant. “B’orl, how could you allow this to happen?” “Minister, I swear, I tried to get him ready but--” “Enough!” Haven roared, cutting off the twittering argument. “Where are the clothes he needs to wear? I’ll get him dressed myself.” “The harness is here.” B’orl stepped forward, holding out a bewildering array of black leather straps. “But we didn’t get as far as that, Master Haven, because your slave refuses to be oiled.” “Oiled, what in the seven hells are you talking about?” Haven demanded angrily. Court protocol or not, there was only so much foolishness he was willing to put up with. “Oiled. Prepared,” the Minister of the Wardrobe emphasized, raising his thin purple eyebrows suggestively. “In case you wish to make obeisance to the god-emperor, may he live forever.” He frowned, gesturing a long thin vial of pale golden liquid that B’orl had handed him. “My understanding from Minister T’will was that you were quite fond of this slave, Master Haven. You don’t want to injure him by taking him too roughly if the situation demands it, do you?” “Taking him too…” Haven’s voice died away as the meaning of the minister’s words suddenly hit home with him. Master, you know what he’s talking about…Wren sent a sudden image of himself kneeling naked on hands and knees with Haven behind him. Haven’s long, thick cock was in his hand and he was pressing it deep into his novice’s tight, virgin rosebud, filling him, fucking him, as Wren panted and moaned beneath his master, open and ready for his assault. Enough, Wren! That isn’t going to happen! Haven took a deep breath and pushed the deeply erotic image away from him with all his strength. He refused to think of such things, despite the way his cock was throbbing angrily in the too-tight trousers he had been forced to wear.
“I don’t plan to…to take my slave in that fashion,” he explained carefully to the anxious Minister of the Wardrobe. “So there is no need for any, ah, oiling to take place.” “What? You would refuse the command of the god-emperor, may he live forever, if he orders you to honor him with your slave?” The Minister of the Wardrobe looked beyond shocked. “Our customs differ from yours in that we do not perform intimate acts in public,” Haven said firmly. “Surely the god-emperor will understand this.” “Most assuredly he will not!” B’orl protested. “This is the sort of thing that got the Gowan emissaries in trouble in the first place. First they refused to eat the meat that was placed before them at the Feast of Clemency—claiming that they did not eat the flesh of other species. Imagine!” He snorted. “And then when it was time to make obeisance to the god-emperor, they had no slaves to service them. It was a dreadful scandal, to be sure.” “To be sure!” The Minister of the Wardrobe echoed his assistant. “Of course, it is by no means certain that the god-emperor will demand that you perform for him. But not to at least be ready is the height of offense. Your slave’s shaft must be shining with oil, Light Bringer, if for no other reason than to show your respect for his majesty, Rudgez the fourth.” He frowned and handed the thin vial to his assistant. “Unfortunately, your slave refuses to allow B’orl here to oil him.” “It’s true, even with the inhibitor manacles on he is most obstreperous.” B’orl looked indignant. “He acts more like a free man than a proper slave. Why—he doesn’t even have a brand.” “A brand?” Haven frowned at them. “Are you serious?” The Minister of Wardrobe crossed his arms over his chest. “Of course. All slaves on Tiber are branded on the upper arm or pelvis. A slave can never truly escape if you burn your mark into his flesh.” He looked thoughtful. “You know, Light Bringer, I could arrange for that if you like—we Tiberions use the standard alphabet for our branding irons and I’m sure I could find one to match your initials.” Please, Master, don’t let them! Wren looked up at Haven again, his beautiful eyes wide with fear. “Gods, no!” Haven stepped in front of his novice, shielding Wren with his body. What the hell was wrong with these people? The thought of burning his name into another man’s body was abhorrent, sickening—yet the Minister of Wardrobe spoke as though it was a matter of course. “I mean…” He cleared his throat, trying to keep the disgust from showing on his face. “I mean, my people do not brand their slaves.” The Minister of the Wardrobe shrugged his narrow, stooped shoulders. “You may suit yourself in this matter, Master Haven, but unfortunately there is no question that your slave must still be oiled. Do you wish to do it yourself or should B’orl complete the task for you?” Please, Master, Wren’s inner voice came through their link again. If you do it I can stand it. But please don’t let anyone else put their hands on my body! Please! Peace, little one. Haven leaned down to look in Wren’s eyes and stroked his novice’s cheek soothingly. No one will touch you but me, I swear it.