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Authors: Darrah Glass

A Superior Slave (Ganymede Quartet Book 0.5) (13 page)

BOOK: A Superior Slave (Ganymede Quartet Book 0.5)

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Martin blinked at the line of blurry boys who were all clapping for him and was deeply moved. Mr. Jacob handed him his glasses and he settled them on his nose. Now he could see the boys clearly, and they all seemed genuinely happy for him. All of the Standard boys had gone already, and half the Choice, but all his closest friends were still present and witnessing his triumph. Charlie, dressed in his white shirt and with his hair tied back, held out his arms.

Martin turned to Mr. Jacob. “Mr. J? May I?”

Mr. Jacob glanced at Mr. Elliott, who gave a tiny nod.

“All right. Just a quick hug,” Mr. Jacob agreed.

Martin ran into Charlie’s arms and held him tight. The nearest boys immediately joined their embrace despite Mr. Elliott’s admonishments.

Georgie said, “You did good,” into the curve of Martin’s ear.

“That’s quite enough,” Mr. Elliott said irritably. “We certainly didn’t give you permission to all pile on.”

“Martin, come get dressed,” Mr. Jacob said in stern voice. “Take your place in line. The Orpheus boys are selling right behind you.”

Martin reluctantly let go of Charlie and went to the back of the line where Mr. Jacob waited with his shirt. He pulled it on over his head and did the buttons and then tucked it into his tight pants. The neck of the shirt was cut in a vee to show his tattoo, so it would be clear to anyone who saw him that he was a slave. He slipped on and tied his shoes and stood upright. The shirt was scratchy, cheaply made; it was meant to be discarded immediately. The Blackwells would buy him an entire wardrobe in short order, everything new for him alone, and surely they would be nice things; rich people liked the things around them to be quality.

Mr. Elliott bade him hold still while he combed his hair back from his face. “You’re very handsome,” he said stiffly, never as natural with the compliments and endearments as his counterpart. “Now tie it back, please.”

Martin did as he was told, his hands shaking. He was hit with wave after wave of giddiness, his stomach unsettled and his breath coming short. He would have to calm down or he’d make himself sick. He couldn’t let himself be so worked up that he’d burst into tears when he saw Henry again. Would Henry still be reticent, still shy? Or would he meet Martin’s smile with one of his own? Did Henry’s determination to take Martin mean that he also felt what Martin felt? Was he as eager to be reunited as Martin was?

“Congratulations,” Stuart murmured, giving Martin’s hand a brief squeeze.

“You, too.” Martin squeezed back.

Stuart chuckled. “The DeWitts are a whole household of blond and blue, family and slaves alike, can you imagine? They made sure to let me know that I fit into their scheme. I do really like the young master, though. He seems kind and he’s not stupid. Nice-looking, too.”

“He reminds me of you, but not so handsome,” Martin admitted.

“Yours is
very
handsome,” Stuart remarked. “He could be one of us, except for his shyness.”

“I’ll help him get over that,” Martin said confidently. “He won’t need to be shy with
me
.” He thought again of having Henry’s cock in his mouth, thought of Henry’s pink cheeks and nervous hands, and gave a little shudder.

Another boy’s paperwork was completed and they all shuffled a few steps forward.

Martin couldn’t help getting ahead of himself, imagining scenarios in which Henry touched him with affection, a lover’s touch. He dared to imagine Henry’s hand low on his belly, just where he’d made Henry touch him earlier, and then imagined it lower still, Henry’s fingers closing around his cock. He bit his lip against a whimper and his eyes fluttered closed.

Stuart was watching him and laughed. “He’s lucky to have you, I think. You’re so eager to serve!”

The Orpheus boys were lining up behind Martin now. When the Orpheus minders moved to the back of the line, the boy directly behind Martin tugged on his shirt sleeve. The boy was short, with a pretty face and straight brown hair.

“Congratulations,” the boy said in a low, surreptitious voice. They really weren’t supposed to be talking. “Your master really wanted you.”

“Thank you,” Martin whispered back. “You’re kind to have noticed.”

The boy snorted. “
Everyone
noticed. Everyone wants to be wanted like that.”

The Orpheus minder came hustling over and shushed the boy and gave Martin a sharp look. “Now is not the time to make friends,” he told his charge.

Charlie stretched his arm back, behind Stuart, and held Martin’s hand for a bit, but Mr. Jacob made them let go. The line continued to move slowly but steadily. As each new boy stepped to his place at the head of the line, Mr. Jacob or Mr. Elliott would bind his wrists together with a Ganymede blue cord to be presented to his new master. It was a gesture of surrender, of submission, and it was tradition. Some of the boys began to cry a little when their wrists were tied. They cast frightened glances back at their lifelong friends, their eyes wild and lost when they recognized there could be no help from that quarter.

Martin was not frightened at all; he was exhilarated. He felt so lucky, so blessed. He hadn’t made his wishes in vain. It was
possible
that Henry Blackwell might turn out to be stupid or cruel, but he didn’t think this would happen. He had such a good feeling about Henry!

Georgie turned back, hands bound, his face pale and eyes wide with fear, and Martin gave him a loving smile, hoping to reassure. He loved Georgie and he would miss him, but it was time for them all to grow up and go out into the world, and the sooner Georgie stepped through that curtain, the sooner Martin would, too.

The hall attendant called Georgie’s number and ushered him through the curtain to join his new people, his new master. As soon as he was gone, Leo started quietly crying, shoulders shaking, and Mr. Jacob dabbed at his eyes with a handkerchief and fussed over him, encouraging him to buck up.

“You don’t want him to think you’re unhappy he’s your master,” Mr. Jacob said, keeping his voice low as he bound Leo’s wrists. “He won’t understand it’s Sandy you’re crying over. You don’t want to start off on the wrong foot with your Mr. Carson, Leo.”

Leo shook his head. “No, I don’t want to do that, Mr. J.” He paused, lip held between his teeth, then asked, “Sandy will be fine without me, won’t he?” in a plaintive tone.

Mr. Jacob petted Leo’s hair. “Sandy is stronger than he knows.”

“I didn’t cry before, Mr. J, because I didn’t want to scare him,” Leo explained, “but now…” He inhaled sharply and shook his head, not wanting tears.

“Not now,” Mr. Jacob said firmly. “You can cry later. Late at night, after your master falls asleep, you can cry all you want. That’ll be your time, Leo. Right now, this is Mr. Carson’s time, and you need to do a good job for him, understand?”

They’d been trained all their lives to put a master’s needs first, and the reminder seemed to do Leo good. He gave a wet sniff, stood up straight, and was dry-eyed when he passed through the curtain.

Charlie turned to Stuart and Martin as his wrists were being bound and smiled tremulously. “My two favorite boys,” he said. “I’ll miss you so much. I love you both.”

“I’ll miss you, too,” Stuart said. “You’re my best friend, Charlie, and I love you.”

Martin felt tears well in his eyes. “I love you, Charlie.”

“Your Mr. Blackwell will take good care of you, Martin,” Charlie said confidently. “I just know it.”

Martin smiled. “I hope you’re right.”

“Maybe we’ll see each other again?” Charlie said with a little shrug. “It won’t hurt to hope, I don’t think.”

Martin leaned against Stuart and reached past him, and he and Stuart each put a hand on Charlie’s back, keeping contact until his number was called. Charlie passed through the curtain with just a brief backward glance, the barest curve of a smile.

“My turn,” Stuart said with a rueful chuckle. He held his wrists for Mr. Elliott to bind. “I don’t
want
to leave you here all alone, but I guess we don’t have much choice…” He leaned in and kissed Martin quickly, ignoring Mr. Jacob’s
tsk-
ed warning. “I love you, of course, but
Charlie
…well, please think of him every now and then, would you? I think he deserves that much.”

“I will,” Martin promised. “I love you, too, you know.” They did love each other, but it was a friendly love, not exactly brotherly, of course, but certainly not romantic. He’d had such fun with Stuart, but he wouldn’t miss him the way he’d miss Georgie or Charlie. “I hope you have a good life with your lookalike family.”

Stuart laughed. “Well, I hope you have a good life with your weird, shy master.”

“I’m sure I will,” Martin told him, supremely confident. He felt a sick surge of excitement at the realization that he was only minutes away from seeing Henry again, face to face. Henry was surely waiting for him just the other side of the curtain, and Martin could only hope that he was just as excited, just as full of nervous energy, just as eager.

The attendant called for #62 and Mr. Elliott took Stuart’s elbow and steered him toward the parting in the curtain.

Stuart sounded calm when he said, “Goodbye, Martin.”

“Goodbye, Stuart.”

Now it was only Martin left for Ganymede. As Stuart stepped through the gap, Martin held his hands out, ready to be tied. Mr. Jacob and Elliott fussed over him, Mr. Jacob binding his wrists while Mr. Elliott combed and retied his hair, then polished his glasses with his handkerchief.

“We’re so proud of you,” Mr. Jacob reiterated in a hushed voice, mindful of his voice carrying through the curtain. “The Blackwells are a very good family, Martin, and they wanted you very much. A boy like you, you’re lucky to have such a handsome master. You’ll do an especially good job for him, I think.”

“I will, Mr. J,” Martin asserted. “I’ll make the House proud.”

“You’ll have an amazing life,” Mr. Elliott said gruffly. “I’m sure of it.”

“I hope so, Mr. E. I’m looking forward to it.”

Mr. Jacob slipped his arm around Martin’s waist and gave him a squeeze.

“Mr. J? Can I ask you a favor?”

“What is it?”

“My friend Frankie, the little one…could you tell him I got a good position, Mr. J? Could you tell him I’m happy?”

Mr. Jacob and Mr. Elliott looked at each other frowning, but then Mr. Elliott shrugged, as if leaving it entirely to Mr. Jacob’s discretion.

Mr. Jacob sighed. “Oh, I don’t see what it would hurt. If I see him, I’ll tell him.”

“Thank you, Mr. J.” Martin felt utterly content, settled. He was so ready to go to his master.

They stood in silent anticipation perhaps two minutes, muffled voices carrying through from the other side of the curtain, and the whispers of the Orpheus boys behind them. Martin was fairly vibrating with the desire to be with Henry, to be at his side, and it seemed a terrible torment to be delayed.

The attendant opened the curtain and stuck his head inside. “Ganymede 63, please.”

Mr. Elliott took Martin’s elbow and steered him toward the break in the curtain, the scrim between his old life and the new. Martin wanted to say goodbye to someone, but of course when he turned there were only the Orpheus boys, and he didn’t know them. Still, they were slaves, and they knew what he was going through.

“Good luck!” he said, and raised his bound hands to wiggle his fingers in an awkward wave.

The brown-haired boy who’d spoken with him raised his own hand tentatively and smiled, mouthing a
Thank you
.

And with that, Martin passed through the curtain and into his life with Henry Blackwell.