DECEMBER 19, 1900
On the Wednesday before the start of the winter holiday, Mr. Ross issued the invitation to his New Year’s Eve party to the entire group of masters as they stood shivering on the forecourt of the school. He then put his hand on Henry’s elbow and gave it a squeeze, saying, “You’ll come, too, won’t you Henry?”
Henry, who was plainly delighted to be singled out, said, “Yes, of course. Thank you, Charles,” and Mr. Ross clapped him on the shoulder, seeming pleased.
“There'll be so much liquor around,” Mr. Ross promised the group. “Last year, even the chambermaids got drunk. All the slaves, really. It was a madhouse. Believe me, we'll be able to get our hands on whatever we want.”
Standing nearby with the rest of the slaves, Martin heard this exchange and was full of questions. Did Henry understand that Mr. Ross’ parties were invariably swapping parties? If he did understand, did that mean he intended to participate? It was surprising, as Henry had given no indication that his feelings about swapping slaves had changed of recent. It wasn’t Martin’s place to question him in any case, but he was very curious.
Tom leaned close and in a pressured whisper asked “Did you hear that? You’re coming to a party !”
“I heard.” Martin laughed. “Don’t get so excited, Tommy. Mr. Blackwell isn’t going to want to swap.” He was almost confident of this.
“Maybe he’s changed his mind,” Tom suggested. “Maybe he’s wondering what he’s been missing.”
“Maybe,” Martin agreed, “but I doubt it.” He did doubt it, but supposed it was possible.
Tom turned to the larger group. “Did you hear? Mr. Blackwell just agreed to go to Mr. Ross’ party.”
All around, boys turned to look at Martin, grinning, their expressions welcoming and interested.
Miles said, “We’ve all been hoping you’d join us one day, you know.”
Stuart elbowed him and said, “It’ll be like old times,” and Martin was suddenly breathless remembering certain pleasurable afternoons spent spread out and pinned beneath Stuart’s weight in his bed at Ganymede. He’d always had a nice time with Stuart.
Tom laughed and said, “You’re blushing.”
Martin felt his face grow warmer still, but shook his head. “Mr. Blackwell isn’t going to want to participate,” he insisted. “He’ll just be coming for the regular party, you’ll see.”
Henry called out, “Come on, Martin.”
Martin broke away from Tom and the rest of his friends and hurried to Henry’s side. He made no mention of the New Year’s party. Today was Little Miss’ birthday and they had plans. “Are you eager to see your sister, Sir? I can’t wait to see what she thinks of her present!”
Henry grinned bashfully. “Me, neither. Plus, there’ll be cake.”
The omnibus was crowded so they both stood in the aisle, and Henry took the opportunity to lean on Martin as the car swayed. Martin murmured an admonishment but couldn’t help smiling at Henry’s audacity. As the car rolled along, Martin considered his options. He could simply ask Henry if he realized it was a swap party, but that would imply that Martin thought Henry wasn’t bright enough to figure it out on his own. Also, Henry might well be aware. After all, Henry could decide to swap Martin at any time, and he was under no obligation to give him any notice regarding his intentions. This did seem unlikely, but he couldn’t rule it out. It was possible, too, that Henry didn’t realize, but that he would come to the conclusion on his own before the date of the party and decide not to attend. Or he might go anyway. He might want to see what he’d been missing.
When Martin had first come to Henry, he’d been eager to participate in swaps, eager to experience the variety, all the new bodies. He loved sex, loved being fucked, loved kissing and touching and all of the things that masters weren’t supposed to do for slaves, and he’d looked forward to
On the Wednesday before the start of the winter holiday, Mr. Ross issued the invitation to his New Year’s Eve party to the entire group of masters as they stood shivering on the forecourt of the school. He then put his hand on Henry’s elbow and gave it a squeeze, saying, “You’ll come, too, won’t you Henry?”
Henry, who was plainly delighted to be singled out, said, “Yes, of course. Thank you, Charles,” and Mr. Ross clapped him on the shoulder, seeming pleased.
“There'll be so much liquor around,” Mr. Ross promised the group. “Last year, even the chambermaids got drunk. All the slaves, really. It was a madhouse. Believe me, we'll be able to get our hands on whatever we want.”
Standing nearby with the rest of the slaves, Martin heard this exchange and was full of questions. Did Henry understand that Mr. Ross’ parties were invariably swapping parties? If he did understand, did that mean he intended to participate? It was surprising, as Henry had given no indication that his feelings about swapping slaves had changed of recent. It wasn’t Martin’s place to question him in any case, but he was very curious.
Tom leaned close and in a pressured whisper asked “Did you hear that? You’re coming to a party !”
“I heard.” Martin laughed. “Don’t get so excited, Tommy. Mr. Blackwell isn’t going to want to swap.” He was almost confident of this.
“Maybe he’s changed his mind,” Tom suggested. “Maybe he’s wondering what he’s been missing.”
“Maybe,” Martin agreed, “but I doubt it.” He did doubt it, but supposed it was possible.
Tom turned to the larger group. “Did you hear? Mr. Blackwell just agreed to go to Mr. Ross’ party.”
All around, boys turned to look at Martin, grinning, their expressions welcoming and interested.
Miles said, “We’ve all been hoping you’d join us one day, you know.”
Stuart elbowed him and said, “It’ll be like old times,” and Martin was suddenly breathless remembering certain pleasurable afternoons spent spread out and pinned beneath Stuart’s weight in his bed at Ganymede. He’d always had a nice time with Stuart.
Tom laughed and said, “You’re blushing.”
Martin felt his face grow warmer still, but shook his head. “Mr. Blackwell isn’t going to want to participate,” he insisted. “He’ll just be coming for the regular party, you’ll see.”
Henry called out, “Come on, Martin.”
Martin broke away from Tom and the rest of his friends and hurried to Henry’s side. He made no mention of the New Year’s party. Today was Little Miss’ birthday and they had plans. “Are you eager to see your sister, Sir? I can’t wait to see what she thinks of her present!”
Henry grinned bashfully. “Me, neither. Plus, there’ll be cake.”
The omnibus was crowded so they both stood in the aisle, and Henry took the opportunity to lean on Martin as the car swayed. Martin murmured an admonishment but couldn’t help smiling at Henry’s audacity. As the car rolled along, Martin considered his options. He could simply ask Henry if he realized it was a swap party, but that would imply that Martin thought Henry wasn’t bright enough to figure it out on his own. Also, Henry might well be aware. After all, Henry could decide to swap Martin at any time, and he was under no obligation to give him any notice regarding his intentions. This did seem unlikely, but he couldn’t rule it out. It was possible, too, that Henry didn’t realize, but that he would come to the conclusion on his own before the date of the party and decide not to attend. Or he might go anyway. He might want to see what he’d been missing.
When Martin had first come to Henry, he’d been eager to participate in swaps, eager to experience the variety, all the new bodies. He loved sex, loved being fucked, loved kissing and touching and all of the things that masters weren’t supposed to do for slaves, and he’d looked forward to
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