About The Harem Boy

by Jay Lygon
45 pages / 17250 words
ISBN: 978-1-60370-742-8, 1-60370-742-5
Available file types - html. lit, pdf, prc, epub, Sony-optimized pdf

It's been years since Master Ophir was Hector's boy, but he's never stopped loving his old Master. Chris used to be a student at the University where Ophir teaches, but since his parents threw him out of their house and stopped paying his tuition, he can only pretend to belong.

When Ophir finds out that Chris has lost everything, he offers the boy a place to stay for the weekend. After only three days together, they both know that Chris belongs in Ophir's harem of slave boys, but first Ophir has to convince the boy to trust him, and convince himself it's time to move on from Hector.

Sample

The office door opened slightly, then a bit more. Dark blond hair styled into stiff spikes appeared first, then a pale forehead, and finally, solemn eyes.

“Professor, er, Doctor, um...” A gangly boy slid into the office. He stared at his feet. “I’m sorry to interrupt, Sir, but I saw this on the stairs, and...” The boy thrust out his hand. In it was a small, red leather bound book.

“Ah. I was just looking for that. Thank you...” Ophir searched his memory for the boy’s name. Unusual for him, he couldn’t seem to remember one. Funny. The boy had been in class all semester. Although the boy slouched in the back of the class and never raised his eyes or his hand, such a charmingly submissive undergrad could never be invisible under Ophir’s gaze.

Ophir’s ex-Master Hector casually teased Ophir of being a chickhawk, but that wasn’t entirely true. Yes, Ophir admired beautiful young men. Who didn’t? Their unquenchable sex drives were a bonus. Their real charm lay elsewhere for him, though. Few young men wanted a serious relationship. After serving him for three years, they were ready to move on. He saw to it that they had a college diploma in hand and a good job lined up when their terms of service were up. It was a fair exchange, and it didn’t involve any messy emotions. A few begged to stay, but were firmly escorted out. He was sure they recovered quickly and got on with their futures. The young were resilient like that.

And yet, your heart still stings every time Hector brings a new boy over to your house, Ophir chided himself. You always worry that this one will be the one he loves more than he ever loved you.

Oh just stop it. It’s been over for years.

Yes, you left him when you were young and resilient.

That train of thought was going nowhere good, as usual, so Ophir concentrated on remembering the name of the boy fidgeting before his desk. The creases between his thick black brows grew deeper. Ophir took the offered book. The boy bolted for the door.

“Stop!”

The boy stopped immediately, his backpack swinging off his shoulder and thudding on the floor.

“As long as you’re here, why don’t we go over your term paper?” Ophir asked. He’d at least get the boy’s name that way.

The boy bowed his head. “That’s all right.”

“Sit.”

Used to being obeyed, Ophir didn’t wait to see if the boy took a seat. He settled onto his desk chair and withdrew the neat files from his briefcase. Was this the boy who wrote the impassioned but sloppy essays? No. That was the little brunet who always sat at the front of the class and tried to monopolize every discussion. Maybe he was the one who wrote the scathing denouncements of Shelly’s work. No. That was the jock who made it clear all he wanted was his humanities requirement filled as painlessly as possible. Hmm. He hoped the boy’s paper wasn’t as forgettable as his name.

The boy quietly closed the door and sat at the edge of a seat against the wall. As Ophir flipped through the files, the boy’s feet tapped on the floor. He stared at his writhing fingers.

“Name?”

The boy jerked to his feet.

“I didn’t give you permission to rise.”