Today we welcome the talented Samantha Cayto with Body Slave, Book One in The Pleasure Slaves series.


In an alternate universe, the ancient concept of a slave class continues to exist. While a few countries have finally ended the brutal practice, the United States isn’t one of them. Once born a slave, one remains a slave, with only a few laws for protection against the whims of a cruel master.

Eighteen-year-old Oliver is a newly-minted pleasure slave. Trained to be a living sex toy, he has been sold to a wealthy widower. Being gay, Oliver has high hopes he will enjoy his new life. Unfortunately, his master has a sadistic streak and treats him like an object. Oliver has no choice but to endure and make the best of his lot.

Ben has reluctantly come home to help his father temporarily with the family business. He’s surprised to learn his father has bought a beautiful young slave boy to warm his bed. He doesn’t approve of slavery and is disconcerted by his attraction to the boy. Oliver is equally wary of Ben’s kindness and appeal. No other free person has ever treated him with such care.

There can never be anything between them, however, so they fight their growing desire. But despite their resolve, Oliver and Ben grow closer, tumbling into a clandestine affair. In a world in which slaves have no choice and falling in love with a freeman is the stuff of movies, they risk everything to be together.

 Excerpt:Body Slave

Oliver reached out as if he were going to touch Ben, and Ben silently urged him to do so. The hand dropped down again. “I don’t need anyone.”

“Oh, Oliver, everyone needs someone to talk to once in a while.” He swallowed a few times, the scotch making his mouth dry and his voice raspy. “I wish you’d talk to me.”

The slave’s eyes flashed. “You don’t mean that, sir. Not really.”

“Yes, I do!” The fierceness of his response surprised even him.

Oliver looked away. “I don’t want to talk to you about the things that bother me. Please don’t make me.” His voice hitched. “I don’t want to be one more thing that comes between you and the master.”

Of course. What was the matter with him? He tried to push the slave into a position that would only cause him more misery. He was no good at hiding his feelings with his father, never had been. If he knew half the things his old man did to the poor kid, it would probably make his head explode. Then his father would take it out on Oliver again, a repeated cycle of anger and abuse.

“I’m sorry. I don’t want you to worry that I’ll confront my father and make him angry enough to hurt you even more. I didn’t mean it like that.”

Oliver’s head shot up and he took a step closer. “No, sir. No. I mean I don’t want you and the master to fight because he’s, well, your father. You shouldn’t strain your relationship with him because of some whiny little slut like me.”

Fury roared through Ben, fueled by booze and unfulfilled need. Clasping Oliver by the shoulders, he hauled him in close. “Don’t you ever refer to yourself that way! Do you understand me?” He gave the boy a shake for emphasis.

“Yes, sir,” came the breathless reply.

Their noses practically touched and Oliver’s plump lips were parted. His quick breaths wafted up to Ben’s chin. It would be so easy to kiss him, so easy. All he had to do was lower his mouth. But, no, it wasn’t right. Everything that ate away at him about his father would be mimicked in taking advantage of the boy even in such a small way. As he resolved to pull away, the slave surprised him by reaching up and pressing their lips together for a fraction of a second.

That small contact was electrifying, shattering Ben’s control. With a growl, he pulled the boy flush against his body and covered his mouth with his own. He wasn’t content with a simple blending of their flesh, pressing his tongue against the seam and plunging inside. The slave gave no resistance, instead melting into his embrace. He mimicked Ben’s moves with enthusiasm if not grace. Ben took that as permission to increase his assault, fisting one hand in the boy’s silky hair to gain greater purchase.

Sweet, so sweet, both the feel and the taste. His imagination couldn’t have conjured anything better. Despite the alcohol invading his blood and slowing it down, some of it still managed to flow to his cock. The erection strained against his jeans. Ben slid his other hand down Oliver’s back and cupped one firm globe of his ass. He pulled to bring the boy’s pelvis against his own and rubbed. That’s when reality crashed the party. Instead of another hard rod, his dick rubbed against bits of horizontal steel. Not a zipper, but the chastity device his father had the slave contained in.

Ben broke the kiss with a string of curses flying through his now cold lips. “God damn it!” he cried, putting distance between them.

Oliver let out a soft whine. “Did I do something wrong, sir?”

“What? No,” Ben hurried to reassure the kid, because that would be the shitty cap to the whole fucking day, him hurting Oliver’s feelings. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I promise you. It was me, all me. I shouldn’t have kissed you. I’m sorry.”

A dejected look crossed Oliver’s face. “Free people don’t apologize to slaves.”

Exasperation replaced concern. “Yeah, well this one does.” Placing the heel of his hand against his forehead, he sighed. “You should hurry back upstairs. My father is going to wonder where you are with his phone.” A thought struck him and he smacked himself. “Oh my God, you’re going back to my father. I’ve been drinking. He may smell it on your breath.”

He ran over to the minibar and scoured the shelves beneath it. Ah, there they were. “Here,” he said, racing back to Oliver with a mint. “Suck on this, and make sure to crunch and eat it by the time you’re back with him.”

The slave didn’t take it from his hand. Instead, he leaned down and slipped it inside his mouth directly from Ben’s fingers. It was possible his tongue lingered a few seconds more than necessary, but that could have been Ben’s fevered imagination. His cock certainly believed it, being harder than ever.

“Thank you, sir. Please don’t worry.”

Ben whimpered in frustration. “I can’t help it. I just wish I could do something for you,” he confessed. And, yeah, he sounded so whiny and pathetic as if he were the one living under oppression.

Oliver’s face lit up with a smile. “You have done something for me, sir.”

“What, the mint?” he retorted.

The smile dimmed. “No, sir, the kiss.”

“Seriously? I kind of manhandled you and it was pretty sloppy given how much I’ve had to drink. Not my best effort.”

“I wouldn’t know. It was my first time.” An almost reverent tone infused Oliver’s voice.
Ben felt as if he’d been punched in the solar plexus, the slave’s confession delivered such pain. “No one’s ever kissed you before?” he asked breathlessly.

“No, sir. You’re the first.” He paused. “Thank you.”