A Most Personal Property (Ganymede Quartet Book 1) (51 page)

Henry thought it quite lovely. “Partita, hmm.” It had a dainty liveliness to it that went well with the glossy arch of the mare’s neck, the flick of her ears. And it had been his idea, besides! “I like it. What do you think?”

“I think it’s
beautiful
, Sir!” Martin said rapturously. “It’s perfect! I would never have thought of it! It’s so clever of you!”

Henry could not remember the last time anyone had called him clever. In fact, it might never have happened before. Not even Nurse, who had loved him best of anyone, thought he was clever. It took a great effort not to pull Martin into an embrace and kiss him. He felt his cheeks glow at the praise.

Timothy watched them impassively and Henry became aware of the need to control his expressions. It was bad enough that Timothy knew his relationship with Martin had finally become physical; it wouldn’t do for him to become suspicious about the extent of Henry’s feeling. Timothy should just believe that they were doing normal master-slave things, no kissing, no…
mouths
everywhere. He couldn’t control his blushing, but he could stop making cow eyes at his slave, so he turned away from Martin and looked out the window at the passing fields while he finished his sandwich.

The trip back to the city on the train was uneventful. Henry kept his elbows and knees to himself and tried not to look at Martin overmuch. Timothy and Martin discussed the matter of a saddle and Martin readily agreed to let Jerry choose something suitable.

Timothy had called to let Jack know which train they’d be on before leaving Pierce’s farm, so the carriage was waiting for them outside the station. On the short ride back home, Henry realized how tired he was, just the effects of getting up earlier than usual. Martin did not look any worse for wear, but he was accustomed to getting up early.

At home, Timothy went to find Father and Henry went upstairs, Martin right behind him. They went into Henry’s room and locked the door and undressed where they stood. Henry was improving at getting out of his clothes on his own, though he doubted he’d ever be as fast as Martin, who seemed to become naked by means of magic.

Henry put Martin on hands and knees, spread his buttocks wide, and tongued his asshole until he was pleading for release. They curled around each other on the bed, Henry’s fingers in Martin’s ass, and sucked each other’s pricks until Martin came, followed quickly by Henry. They slept through the afternoon until a knock at the door startled them awake.

“Sir?” It was Timothy’s voice. “Sir, I need Martin for a minute, please.”

“Just a minute, Mr. Tim,” Martin called out. He turned to Henry and in a loud whisper said, “Get under the covers, Sir!” Henry scrambled to get into bed while Martin ran for his dressing gown. Decently covered, he went to the door and unlocked it, opening it perhaps two inches. “Yes, Mr. Tim?”

They spoke quietly, and then Martin stepped into the hall and closed the door behind himself. Henry was mortified. Timothy would have a rough idea of what they’d been up to, at any rate, and Henry did not like the idea of Timothy knowing even that much, out of fear that he would talk to Father about it. Of course, Father certainly knew what could happen when he’d purchased Martin for Henry. He’d expected it to happen, for that matter. Henry tried to relax. He was making too much of this. Timothy was not looking askance at him, judging him. Timothy wanted him to be happy, didn’t he? And Father likely did, as well. But they probably didn’t want him to be
this
happy.

Martin came back in and relocked the door. He looked a bit embarrassed, perhaps, but not exactly ashamed. “Mr. Tim needs me to come downstairs to be measured, Sir. Jerry needs my inseam to choose my saddle. I’ll just get dressed and go down, if you don’t mind.”

“What else did you talk about? You were out there quite awhile.”

Martin gave him a shy smile. “Oh, Sir, he only wanted to know how things were going between us.” When he saw the look of horror on Henry’s face, he hurried to mollify him. “He didn’t ask for details, Sir! All he wanted to know was if you were treating me kindly.”

Henry was hurt. Timothy had known him all his life; what had he ever done to make Timothy think he’d be unkind to a slave? “What did he think I’d do to you?” he said a bit defensively.

“It’s not you, Sir, I’m sure,” Martin said soothingly. “It’s just that some boys are overeager and rougher than they intend to be. Some of my friends at school have had harsh treatment and their masters don’t mean to be bad boys. But you’re not like that at all, Henry, and I told Mr. Tim so. I told him you’re very kind to me.” He smiled mischievously, a light in his eye. “I didn’t tell him the full extent of your kindness, of course, Sir. That’s just between us.”

Henry wasn’t entirely reassured. He was worried that they’d been obvious in some way, that Timothy had seen his stupid moony face in the carriage and become suspicious.

Martin picked up his shirt from the floor where he’d dropped it earlier. “Wrinkled,” he muttered to himself, frowning fastidiously. He went into his room and got a fresh shirt, then quickly put his clothes on. He came across the carpet and kissed Henry quickly, happily. “I’ll be back soon, Henry.”

Henry stayed in the bed, fretting a bit about Timothy’s question. Did he really seem like the sort of boy who’d hurt a slave? He thought of the first time he’d fucked Martin, had been inside his body—that had all been Martin’s doing. It had been Martin who had insisted that it was all right to keep moving forward when now Henry was quite certain it had been painful and perhaps even harmful.

When Martin came back, successfully measured, Henry asked him, “Would you tell me if I did something that you didn’t like?”

“Sir?” Martin, still dressed, came over to sit on the edge of the bed and reached out to roll Henry’s nipple between his fingertips. “What are you talking about?”

“Sex things. If I did something you didn’t like, would you tell me to stop? Or would you just put up with it because you’re my slave?”

“Sir, I can’t imagine anything you’d want to do that I wouldn’t also want.”

“But if I did, if I came up with something awful, what would you do?”

Martin looked guilty, as if he was trying to figure out how to avoid the question rather than answer it. “Sir, I’m meant to accommodate you—”

“Yes, yes,” Henry snapped impatiently. “But you have things you dislike, just like anyone, don’t you?”

“Of course, Sir, but what I like isn’t—”

“Stop that!” Henry fought to control his temper. “No slave talk! Just answer the question as a
person
. Don’t you have things you dislike?”

“Yes, Sir.” Martin, cowed and chastised, looked down at his hands in his lap.

“Tell me something, something you don’t want to do.” Martin opened his mouth to speak when Henry hurriedly qualified his request. “A sex thing, I mean.”

Martin closed his mouth and thought a moment. “Well, Sir,” he began, “I’m not in favor of anything that involves a great deal of shit.” While Henry gaped at him, Martin continued. “Sometimes a hint of it is unavoidable, Sir, of course; it’s in the nature of the thing.” He looked at Henry and saw his incredulous expression. “Do you not believe me, Sir? There are people who like to play with it. I’m not making it up.”

“Did they train you for
that
at Ganymede?” Henry demanded. “To play shit games with perverts?” A horrible image, Martin’s white torso covered in brown handprints, filled his head.

“Oh, no, Henry, we didn’t do anything like that! But they told us in detail about all sorts of things people do, Sir, extreme things. It was actually quite fascinating.”

Henry thought about the case studies book in the Briggs library, the shoe fetishist and the cat-petters and cocksuckers and all the rest. “I guess I’ve heard about some things like that,” he admitted. “But…playing with shit!” He shuddered, wanting the thought out of his head. “Is there anything else?”

“Anything I don’t like, Sir? I don’t really know. I’ve liked everything I’ve tried.”

Again, Henry was uncomfortably reminded of Martin’s greater experience.

“Well, then, is there something you want to do? Something we haven’t done?”

Martin shook his head emphatically. “I love the things we’ve done together, Sir. I love your cock. I love the way it feels in my ass, and I love it in my mouth, Sir, and I love that you suck my cock, and that you’re so good at fucking me. If we’re going to do anything differently, let’s just let it happen naturally, please!”

“Do you mean it, about me?” Henry desperately wanted it to be true. He wanted what was occurring between them to be as amazing to Martin as it was to him. “Do you really think I’m good at it?”

“Can’t you tell, Sir?” Martin looked at him fondly and reached to brush the hair off his forehead. “Can’t you tell by how hard I get for you, Henry? How hard I come for you?” He bent over Henry and kissed him so that Henry began to believe him.

When Martin broke the kiss, Henry said, “Why are you still dressed, anyway?” He was half-hard and could be easily convinced to do something about it.

“I have to go back down for my dinner, Sir.”

“It’s already that late?”

“We slept a long time, Sir. You were very tired. It was an early morning for you.”

“You get up that early every day, don’t you?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“That’s two hours before me. What are you doing with all that time besides showering and eating breakfast?”

“Well, I do calisthenics, Sir. It’s important that I keep in condition for you, don’t you think?”

Henry had had no idea! While he slept, Martin was hopping around in his room, sweating and out of breath, and all for Henry’s sake!

“You’re very fit as it is,” Henry said. “I give you permission to sleep in.”

Martin shook his head. “I am naturally a bit too thin, Sir. I look better with some muscle.”

Henry, with his lackadaisical approach to physical activity, was impressed by Martin’s resolve, but unconvinced that Martin need make so much effort. He was very likely to seem beautiful to Henry even with a change in his weight.

“And speaking of that, Sir, I should go down for my dinner before it’s too late. Cook has made us macaroni and cheese, which is one of my favorites.”

“Am I having that, too?” Henry asked hopefully. It was nursery food, comforting and appealing.

“I wouldn’t know, Henry.” He bent and kissed Henry sweetly. “I’ll be back soon to dress you.”

At dinner, Father had questions about the morning’s errand. “I understand your Martin has selected a horse,” Father began.

“Yes, sir. A very suitable horse, I think.”

“Timothy agrees with you,” Father remarked, “and I trust his judgment. I hope this will result in you riding more often. It is expensive to keep all these horses that no one rides.” Father darted a quick, accusatory glance at Mother, who was not paying attention and did not notice.

“I believe it will, sir. Martin and I are very keen on riding.”

Father then directed his questions above Henry’s head. “Martin,” he said, “Do you feel you’re well-equipped now? Is there anything else you require in order to adequately serve my son? To entertain him?”

“No, Sir,” Martin said, a nervous quaver in his voice. “I am extremely well-supplied. I am most grateful for all you have given me, Mr. Blackwell, Sir.”

“See to it that you make it worth my while,” Father said. “Henry should have the best service you can provide. You are in large part responsible for him.”

“Of course, Sir. I will do my best, Sir.”

And with that, Father returned to dictating letters to Timothy.

Henry heard Martin whispering with Billy behind his chair, though he could not hear what they were talking about. Billy discreetly left the dining room and Henry had nearly forgotten all about him when he appeared suddenly at Henry’s elbow.

“For you, Sir,” Billy murmured. It was a dish of macaroni and cheese. He took away Henry’s half-eaten fish course and set the pasta on the table before him.

“Thank you,” Henry whispered. He smiled and colored, knowing that this was a treat Martin had arranged for him. How lucky he was to have Martin! It was just as delicious as he remembered from his nursery days, creamy and crunchy both, the cheese rich and salty, and it tasted even better because of Martin’s involvement.

After dinner, up in the parlor, Cora was brought in to say goodnight and she startled everyone by gleefully shouting out, “Martin!” and running to hug him.

“Miss!” Nurse said, despairing. “Please, Miss, come back!” She cast a frantic eye at Father, who was very clearly judging her harshly, with narrowed eyes and mustache downturned.

Martin had bent to greet Cora and was encouraging her to return to Nurse’s side. She went reluctantly, looking back over her shoulder at him, her fondness for him very evident and, honestly, quite charming in Henry’s opinion. He saw no reason why Cora should not be enthralled with Martin.

“Your slave has an admirer,” Father remarked dryly as Nurse led Cora from the room.

“He is quite admirable, sir,” Henry replied.

Father snorted at this. “Are you going to read, then, Pearl?”

“Yes, Sir.” Pearl cracked the covers of
Cherie
and began reading the second chapter.

It became evident quite early in the reading that this wasn’t really a family book. Beautiful and innocent Cherie was ravished by the eldest son of the family who owned her, and Pearl’s voice faltered in describing the indignities to which the poor chambermaid was subjected. Henry knew Father paid little attention to these readings, but surely something this lurid would manage to intrude upon his consciousness! Mother didn’t seem to notice anything untoward, either, but Henry doubted she was actually listening. Really, then, it was just Henry and the slaves listening to this twaddle, and Henry doubted the slaves were enjoying it any more than he was. Poor Pearl! She was a gentle and upstanding lady who already had much to put up with; it seemed very unfair that she would be made to read an obscene book aloud. Henry determined he would not be a party to her humiliation and pointedly ignored the remainder of her reading.