A Superior Slave (Ganymede Quartet Book 0.5) (9 page)

They were awakened at 5 o’clock and offered weak tea with a little milk and bread with butter, the last meal Ganymede would serve them. They’d eat next when their new families fed them their dinner. While boys yawned and ate their meager breakfasts, Mr. Jacob and Mr. Elliott saw to it that everyone made a trip to the bathroom to clean out his bowels.

“
Scrupulously
clean,” Mr. Elliott reminded them. They held in the water until Mr. Elliott, who was timing them with his watch, gave them permission to release it in a rude rush. Martin checked; he was indeed scrupulously clean. There would be no unpleasantness for any prospective master to encounter during the viewing.

They took turns shaving one another, a last practice. Martin shaved Charlie, and Charlie shaved both Martin and Stuart. The next boy any of them would shave would be his own new master.

A bottle of oil was passed around and the boys were instructed to prepare themselves well. They should be ready to be examined at all times. They could expect the prospectives to be woefully unschooled in intimate touching, and most of them would offer rough treatment out of simple ignorance. The boys were warned they would be sore by the end of the viewing.

“The salesmen will try to keep an eye on what’s being done to you,” Mr. Elliott told them. “They’ll do what they can to prevent any
real
rough stuff. We can’t allow anyone to damage the merchandise, after all.”

Conrad and Gideon brought them the brown-paper-wrapped packets from the clothing hamper that had their names written in black pencil. Each packet contained a pair of tight, old-fashioned breeches in Ganymede blue, a white shirt cut to show their tattoos, and a blue ribbon to tie back their hair. For the viewing, they’d wear nothing but the breeches. They’d had to try these on the day of their farewell party, looking for a tight fit.

Martin pulled on his breeches and buttoned them, smoothing the fabric over his hips. They were snug enough that his cock was plainly outlined; he’d never deliberately worn pants this tight before. This kind of display seemed more overtly sexual than simple nudity could ever be. There was a long mirror in the smaller bedroom where Mr. Elliott and Mr. Jacob had spent the night along with the twins, and the boys were allowed to go in to look at themselves. Martin was pleased to find he looked very attractive, actually, and this put him in a more cheerful mood. His ass was round and squeezable, his cock blatantly on offer, the long muscles in his thighs sleek and hard. If a prospective master liked his coloring, surely he’d find nothing to fault about Martin’s form.

“Let someone else look,” Otto complained, digging an elbow into Martin’s ribs. “You’re the fairest of them all, everyone knows that already.”

Martin laughed and gave Otto a quick kiss on his way out of the room.

Mr. Jacob came to Martin and said, “Your glasses, please,” and Martin gave them up with some reluctance.

They stood in nervous clumps or perched on the edges of the cots, all tense with anticipation. A few boys made last-minute trips to the bathroom. Martin stood with Charlie and Stuart, their arms about one another. Nearby, Leo was saying to Sandy, “…always be in my heart,” and stroking his hair. Sandy wasn’t crying, at any rate.

At a quarter to seven, the salesmen came into the room, all dressed in blue jackets and beautifully groomed, each carrying a riding crop for effect. The salesmen drank tea and conferred with Mr. Jacob and Mr. Elliott. Conrad and Gideon, dressed in blue-and-cream togas, were led out to take their places at either side of the entry doors.

Mr. Paulsen said, “Superiors, follow me, please,” and strode from the room without waiting to see if they’d do as he’d asked.

They did hurry to follow him, padding silently on bare feet, and were led to the dais where they’d stand during the viewing.

“Line up,” Mr. Paulsen said. “Top boy on the far end. That’s you, Martin.”

Martin was greatly relieved that they hadn’t replaced him with Stuart. He climbed the two steps to the dais and stood on the faint chalk X marked on the blue carpet. Stuart stood to his left, Charlie beside Stuart, then Leo, then Georgie. Mr. Paulsen climbed up and fussed with their hair, then climbed down and squinted at them critically.

“Hands behind your backs, please, and keep your hair out of your eyes as best you can. We want them to see your handsome faces, all right?” He cocked his head, expecting an answer.

They all mumbled a, “Yes, Sir.”

The Choice and Standard boys were being arranged. Sandy turned to cast an anguished look back at Leo, who mouthed something at him, but Martin couldn’t know what because he couldn’t see well enough at this distance.

Mr. Paulsen said, “You, there. All of you. Keep your attention on the prospectives. Paying attention to the other slaves will make you seem unfriendly, all right? You need to convince yourselves that these prospectives are the most fascinating boys you’ve ever met and behave accordingly.” He checked his watch, and it was suddenly apparent that he was almost as tense as they were.

“I know you’ve been told over and over that Ganymede boys don’t need to be vulgar to find masters. But that doesn’t mean you can’t be flirtatious. That doesn’t mean you can’t take advantage of situations to make it clear to a prospective that you’re interested in becoming
his
. No offering to suck boys’ cocks, of course, but you can
hint
. You’re all supposed to be smart, so use good judgment, all right?” Again, he cocked his head, waiting for an answer.

“Yes, Sir,” they said.

“You have to be nice to every prospective, of course, and you need to do whatever they ask of you, but you should be
especially
nice to the prospectives that we bring to you. These will be the richest families, valued patrons of the House, and we want them to bid on one of
you
. We don’t want to waste them on a Standard boy they can get cheaply, all right?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Say yes to everything you can say yes to. Remember they’re all Sirs. Let them see whatever they want to see, and touch whatever they want to touch—it’s entirely up to them if they want to risk the stigma of being seen touching another boy’s cock, after all. These are the sons of very powerful men, and they can afford to overcome a lot of stigma. Every one of them is going to want to examine your ass, and you’re going to be sore by the end of the day, so just expect that. It’s going to be a long morning, but if everything goes well, there’ll be a big payoff for Ganymede, and you’ll go to some of the best families in the city.”

Mr. Paulsen checked his watch again and chewed his lip. “Very well, then. Do you feel ready?”

Martin was excited and nervous, but mostly excited. He looked good in his tight breeches. He was still top boy. Everything was as it should be.

“Yes, Sir,” they all said.

“I’ll be back with buyers soon,” Mr. Paulsen said. He turned and headed for the curtain separating the viewing area from the anteroom.

They stood alone for only a few moments before Mr. Jacob and Mr. Elliott approached.

“We’re so proud of you,” Mr. Jacob said. “You’ve worked so hard to get here. You’re going to do the House proud.”

“I’m sure Mr. Paulsen told you already—you’ll want to put your best face forward when you meet the prospectives,” Mr. Elliott reminded them. “Make sure they understand that
you
are the best, that you’re a quality slave.”

Mr. Jacob pointed out that, “It’s true that the more they pay, the more likely they are to treat you well when they get you home, so think about being as charming as you are able and bringing those bids up, up, up!”

Somewhere, a clock chimed 7 o’clock.

“Oh!” said Mr. Jacob, putting his hand on Mr. Elliott’s arm. “We still need to talk to the others!” To the boys, he said, “Good luck, my dears. Make us proud.” He and Mr. Elliott hurried to give some final remarks to the Choice and Standard boys.

It was a good ten minutes before any prospectives entered the viewing area. The first grouping consisted of a portly gentleman with an even fatter son. The father’s companion was a refined-looking creature bearing the black-and-red mark of House Apollo. Martin and the rest of the Superiors stood at the ready, their attention focused on this trio, but these prospectives came no further into the showroom than the Standard dais. The father and son talked briefly with Sam and Winston and then left.

A few more trios trickled into the viewing area, but none of them made it any further than the Choice daises.

It was another ten minutes before Mr. Paulsen brought them a group of prospectives. These were the Athertons, and they were shown Martin first. Young Mr. Atherton, a tawny-haired boy with freckles, looked at Martin and frowned, and Martin understood his dismay. In Mr. Atherton’s place, he wouldn’t be interested in a boy with coloring so similar to his own, either.

“What about that one?” he asked, indicating Charlie with a nod, and Mr. Paulsen smoothly altered his sales patter midstream to tout Charlie’s many virtues. For his part, Charlie was charming and servile, demonstrating an appealing eagerness to cater to Mr. Atherton’s whims. When this prospective master asked to examine him, Charlie pushed down his breeches with the air of a bride revealing herself on her wedding night. While Charlie was bent over, Martin watched the expression on young Mr. Atherton’s face. Quite obviously, and quite understandably, he’d never put his finger in anyone’s asshole before, and he seemed to find the experience most edifying. He didn’t seem rough or careless, and Martin hoped he might be so lucky when some boy decided to finger him.

The Athertons were still talking with Charlie when another of the salesmen, Mr. Flowers, brought the Miltons to see Martin. Young Mr. Milton was blond and sullen, a short boy, not the sort Martin would pick for himself, but he made a friendly presentation nonetheless. Mr. Milton glared at the front of Martin’s tight pants, his glower growing ever-darker, and he finally interrupted Mr. Flowers’ recitation of Martin’s fine qualities and asked to see him exposed.

“Of course, Sir,” Martin said, smiling. He unbuttoned his breeches and slid them off his hips, fully expecting that he’d be asked to turn around and bend over, but Mr. Milton surprised him.

“No. He won’t do,” Mr. Milton said with an adamant shake of his head.

Mr. Flowers was taken aback. “He won’t do? Pardon me, but you haven’t examined him yet.”’

“He’s too big,” Mr. Milton said, blushing angrily. “Show me a smaller one.”

“He doesn’t want to compare unfavorably,” the elder Milton explained, seeming slightly embarrassed by his son’s behavior. “Do you have any with smaller…male parts?”

Martin stood awkwardly exposed, unsure if he should pull up his breeches or not.

“I must confess, sir, it’s not a question that’s come up before. I can ask—”

“Never mind,” said young Mr. Milton angrily. “If he doesn’t know, he doesn’t know. I’m not about to look at every single one.”

Mr. Flowers realized Martin was still exposed and turned to him, murmuring, “You can dress now, please.”

Martin was grateful to cover up.

“That’s exactly what you’re going to have to do, son,” the elder Milton explained. “If this is going to be your only criteria…”

The father’s companion, a fellow who bore a Ganymede tattoo, put his hand on his master’s arm. “Sir, perhaps we should discuss this at the club. Young Sir might enjoy a coffee, don’t you think?” He steered the Miltons toward the exit.

The elder Milton turned to glance back over his shoulder, apologetic, as they left. “Thank you for your time,” he said to Mr. Flowers.

“Certainly, sir. I was glad to help. Please do come back after you’ve had time to think things over.” He rolled his eyes, making all the Superiors bite their lips against rude giggles. To the boys, he said, “I shouldn’t say it, but I hope that one goes to another House. None of
our
boys needs the headache.”

Some of the prospectives who came looking introduced themselves, but most didn’t bother, so Martin didn’t learn the name of the first prospective master who fingered him. He was a boy with brown hair and sharp nails who had been inspecting most of the slaves on view and Martin was suspicious he had no intention of bidding on any of them but was simply taking advantage of the situation.

Martin was bent over, hands on knees, wincing as this inexperienced boy roughly probed his ass, when the boy complained to his father, “He doesn’t feel any different than a Standard one. What’s supposed to be so special about
him
?” He withdrew his finger and walked away wiping it on his handkerchief, still complaining. Martin pulled up his breeches and fastened the buttons and tried not to look annoyed. Somehow, he had not anticipated that the prospective masters would
irritate
him.

Mr. Pepper brought him a dark-haired boy, quite attractive, but short and slight. Still, he was some of what Martin liked, so Martin gave him a very warm smile. These people were the Darlings, the boy was called Andrew, and the father’s slave was a Ganymede man.

Andrew Darling was saying, “But, Papa, we passed one on the way in—”

“These are the better ones. These ones right here,” his father insisted.

“
That
one has red hair,” said young Mr. Darling, pointing back toward the Choice dais. “Can’t we look at him?”

“The one right in front of you has red hair,” the father suggested, though he did not sound convinced by his own words.

The boy scoffed at this assertion. “Not hardly. That other is a
real
redhead.” He glanced up at Martin and said, “Sorry, but you’re not a redhead.”

“Oh, no, Sir, I wouldn’t claim that distinction,” Martin said with as much cheer as he could muster.

“Well, at least give this one a chance,” the father insisted. “Take a look at him, and if he won’t do, we’ll go look at the other.”

It was disheartening to be made to offer oneself to someone who did not wish for such accommodation, but Martin did it all the same, smiling and giving a little shimmy as he wriggled out of his breeches. He bent over for a decidedly perfunctory probing and looked back over his shoulder at young Mr. Darling, intending to offer an encouraging smile, but Mr. Darling was looking back over his own shoulder at the Choice dais even as he poked at Martin’s insides.