Little Big Man

LITTLE BIG MAN – a serial novel by Travis Creel

CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN: HAPPY NEW YEAR

Previously: After a night in which Rhody absorbs brutal punishment to spare Alex the same, Alex realizes that he loves Rhody, as well as Matti – while also drawn to Ruslan, who has just fisted him. He knows he is likely never to see Matti again, but is worried about Matti's upcoming `trial', a performance evaluation that all palace slaves undergo after six months. Although, thanks to Ruslan, Matti was proven innocent of the attempt to poison his Master (Prince Abdullah), he is still not trusted by Khalid and Mustafa, who are maneuvering to have him sentenced to the dome at his trial. They think they can accomplish this if Dmitri will sell Alex to serve as Matti's replacement – and Ruslan has discovered that they plan to invite Dmitri to the palace for this purpose.

ALEXEI: SUNDAY, DECEMBER 25, AFTERNOON – MASTER'S BEDROOM

In Russian Orthodox Christianity, Christmas is celebrated on January 7, not December 25, so today was just an ordinary day. In truth, I had no idea if Master had any religion at all, or whether or not there would be any kind of celebration on January 7. Were gifts given? I hoped not – in any gift exchange, I was more likely to be one than to receive one.

But today, I actually did receive a gift: Master gave the staff a week off. I suppose it was an end-of-year bonus, or a New Year's celebration – in any case, he acknowledged that they might want some time to visit their families, and the end of the year was a good time to do it. Henri, whose relationship with his family in France was strained, stayed on to cook for Master, but the rest departed this morning.

There was an inch of snow on the ground, so I didn't have to dream of a white Christmas – I was having one. But it was not "just like the ones I used to know."

The ones I used to know. . . . The glorious memory of coming down the stairs with the Christmas tree magically surrounded by gifts from Santa. My mother was still there in those earliest memories. Even as a four-year-old, I was aware of the tension between her and Dad, but on Christmas Day it vanished.

She left us when I was six. In the years afterwards, when our faith in both her and Santa Claus had run its course, Dad would still dress up as Santa while distributing the gifts to us kids. He made sure that Adam and I, twins, got distinct gifts of equivalent value. Half the time we traded them – he got something I wanted and vice-versa. Dad kept giving Amelia dolls for years when she was past that age. He never really understood any of his children, and still doesn't.

But today, for the first time in ages, I thought about him. How had he reacted when I sailed off in the summer – and didn't come back? Did he give a shit? Or did he think good riddance'? On the boat, they had told us he would get an email from me', explaining why I wasn't returning. I wonder what I said in it. I wonder what passed through his mind when he read it – and what Amelia thought.

Were the two of them spending Christmas alone together? Did Amelia bring a boyfriend? How was Dad dealing with the first Christmas without either of his sons?

I kept thinking back to those childhood Christmases and the joy they contained, joy catalyzed by Adam's presence. During the holidays, the two of us were inseparable, feeding energy off each other until Dad would order us to play outside, we were getting too rambunctious.

After the accident, Dad had virtually cut me off, both emotionally and financially. I still held a lot of resentment from that. But I couldn't help thinking about him now, how I had deprived him of Adam's company during this Christmas and all future ones.

And how I had deprived Adam of the rest of his life. . . .

White Christmas? No, this was a blue one.

And what kind of Christmas was Matti having? It certainly wasn't being celebrated at the Royal Palace. Was his head as full of nostalgia as mine had been? His parents had died in an avalanche when he was fifteen; he'd had to endure lonely Christmases ever since; although his diving coach had taken him in, it couldn't have been the same. And how had he spent Christmas during his years at UMD? Something I'd never asked him.

And now, with the trial hanging heavy over his head, could he be thinking `this might be my last Christmas'? Was he holding it together? Was Matti the pragmatist taking it one day at a time – or was he letting it get to him?

And was he thinking about me, the way I was thinking about him right now?

FRIDAY, DECEMBER 30, AFTERNOON – GARAGE

It was as blissful a week as I had experienced in my six months of slavery. I didn't have to measure up to Ivan's fussy cleaning standards or drop to my knees every time somebody was in the mood for a blow job – which in Pyotr's case was almost daily. I still had daily discipline and Master's nightly fucks, but no afternoon appointments other than Henri on Tuesday.

Tuesday night, knowing I had already satisfied the mandate for a daily fuck, he didn't stick his cock into me. He stuck his fist into me. It was excruciating, as it had been with Ruslan – but it was also pleasurable – and beneficial. Master was pleased with how well I took it, and particularly pleased with the erection it caused. So much so that he took hold of my cock and brought me off. He'd never done that before.

I thought: Maybe he'll keep me after all. Maybe I'm proving myself to him. In a normal week I spend more time with the servants than with him. But this week, aside from my time in the kitchen, I was with Master constantly, and I made every effort to be extra-attentive and obedient. (If he noticed.)

During the week, it snowed several times, resulting in about ten inches of accumulation. Did I have to go outside to shovel the path to the garage? No! No staff was driving to work and there were no visitors. But now the staff's vacation was winding to an end. The drive from the gate was nearly a mile long – how would that get cleared? I couldn't operate the snowplow. And no way could I shovel that length without literally freezing to death.

The answer appeared this afternoon in the form of Pyotr, boots coated with snow (which he removed in my presence so that I could clean them). He must have parked his car on the road near the gate, used his key to get in, and then trudged the mile to the house through the snow. On seeing me, he planted a big kiss on my lips and spoke to me affectionately in Russian. I have no idea what he said, but he was obviously glad to see me.

Master ordered me to clear the path from the house to the garage. I could do that in an hour – the longest period I was allowed outside in this weather. And I got to wear bubble-wrap on my feet.

Pyotr, meanwhile, got on the snowplow, working his way down the driveway, piling huge mounds of snow on either side. I was astonished at his ability to even discern where the driveway was, as an even distribution of snow obliterated the driveway's boundaries. He finished his job before I finished mine.

Reaching the garage, I stepped inside, which was SLIGHTLY warmer, then returned to the house via the slave tunnel. At its end, I peeled off the bubble-wrap and disposed of it in a trash bin. Then, slave-standard nude, I climbed the stairs, emerging in the library, where Pyotr awaited, naked and erect.

• Boss govorit, chto ya mogu trakhnut' tebya v zhopu.

There was a wide grin on his face. I dropped to my knees.

• (gleefully) Nyet. V zhopu.

He picked me up and ran his hands over my butt.

• V zhopu. Boss govorit. Ruslana zdes' net. Ya mogu tebya trakhnut. (Pushing a finger into my cleft) Pyotr tebya khoroshenko trakhnet.

I looked up to see Master in the doorway.

• He say he going to fuck you good. I allow – he earn it, he come back early to plow driveway. Now he plow you. Is normal Ruslan fuck day, but Ruslan not here.

He spoke further to Pyotr in Russian, taking the grin down, but then it returned.

• I tell him you need get warm first. He say he warm you plenty, but I say he must wait half hour.

Thirty minutes later, my skin back to room temperature and with some of Henri's tea warming my insides, Pyotr bent me over the arm of a wingback chair, greased me up, and buried his bone to the hilt. His joy at being able to fuck me again was so evident I could hardly resist smiling myself. Pyotr was such a sweet man – and handsome! Even if I didn't understand a word he said.

I liked the feel of Pyotr's cock up my ass. I could also say that of others – but of those others, the only cock I was likely to experience with any frequency was Ruslan's. Grigory was wherever Grigory was, Latronius had certainly been banned from the household, future engagements with Rhody were uncertain, and there was no cause to bring Bobrovsky back to the house.

DMITRI: Grigory was still being detained until Tcherepnin could get the paperwork processed. Latronius was a slave now. Bobrovsky – well, his appearance on this list surprised me, perhaps I should have him back for a party. As for Yuri's boy Rodion – Alexei would see him sooner than he knew.

ALEXEI: I didn't put Matti in that list – I had more than a special fondness for him, but the only time I felt his cock was in a brutal, joyless rape.

DMITRI: There was another omission from your list. A rather important one, I would think.

DMITRI: FRIDAY, 30 DECEMBER, LATE AFTERNOON, BEDROOM

On a typical day, my business calls came into the office, and only the important ones were forwarded on to me. Sasha knew which ones were important. But Sasha was not here, and I had to let the answering machine handle the incoming calls. I had Oleg leave a recorded message instructing the caller to speak English, if possible. I then sent Alexei down to the office three times a day to transcribe any messages left in English. Those in Russian he was to play for Henri, who would translate.

This being the holiday season, I did not receive many business calls. But today, there was one important one, as transcribed by Alexei:

• Hello, Sir. My Master, His Majesty the Prince Regent would like to speak with you. If you are not available now, kindly return his call at the earliest possible convenience. Thank you, Sir.

I'd been waiting for this. Ruslan had told me to expect a contact from the Royal Family, and that if I received an invitation from them, I should accept it but not too readily. I called the Prince Regent immediately.

• Dmitri. How nice to hear from you. I wish you a happy new year.

• The same to you and your family, Your Majesty.

• Dmitri, we need to talk business.

• We do? Is something wrong?

• Can you come down here in two weeks?

• Two weeks? That's short notice. I have several meetings scheduled for LBM Europe and -

• Postpone them. I want you to come for New Slave trials. We can even put you on a jury.

• I don't understand.

• All our slaves undergo trials after six months. If a verdict is close, we couldn't let you be the deciding vote. But you'd get to sample the wares, mouth and ass. It's quite entertaining. Not for the boys, of course, but we enjoy ourselves.

• That sounds attractive, Your Majesty, but I am a bit confused. I mean, we're good friends but you've never invited me for this before. I'm not complaining, but why now? Why this year?

• As I mentioned, we need to talk business.

• Yes, and when I asked if something was wrong, you changed the subject.

• I wouldn't say wrong'. I would say complex'.

• Complex how?

• We . . . shall we say, have another offer.

• . . . The Chinese?

• The Chinese. Dmitri, I have no intention of letting them take away your business, but they did come in at a lower figure and my brothers are keen to accept it. I think we can find a way to talk them out of it.

• You're the Prince Regent. You don't need to talk them out of it. You can overrule them.

• That is true, my friend, but they are also my brothers and I need to keep relations smooth. It will be easier if you are here.

• You have your brothers, I have my partners. I can't make a decision entirely on my own.

• Of course not, but it would look odd if we invited all four of you.

• Boris and Sergei are still pissed at you. And I don't think Yuri is available.

• I don't want Yuri anyway. Bring Boris.

• Boris? Really? Boris irritates you. The last time you were together you hung his slave over the rotunda and threatened to drop him.

• (chuckles) Ah, yes, that was great fun. I was just teasing Boris, he understands that.

• I'm not so sure he does. Why Boris and not Yuri or Sergei?

• Because I would like to have a wager. The one you wouldn't accept last time. Your boy versus Abdullah's in a diving contest. Winner takes all.

• That wasn't an answer to my question. Why Boris?

• I want to broaden the wager. If Abdullah's boy wins, I get your boy and Boris's boy.

• Andrei?

• Is that his name? The flutist. The one I had such fun dangling. North Dakota, if I recall correctly.

• Unacceptable. You can't leave us without slaves.

• I'll supply you with suitable replacements. I'll give Boris one of the Blacks he prefers. He can even have Rashid's boy – the singer, you saw him when you were here.

• Ohio.

• Ohio, yes. Excellent slave. Rashid will be upset, but my cousin Hosni has a similar boy that should pacify Rashid.

• Fine for Boris. What about me?

• I'd give you Abdullah's boy. Minnesota. As I recall, he was on your list, even though I would have preferred your boy Arseniy.

• Alexei.

• Alexei, whatever. Such a bother, names. Wisconsin, in any case. I would have taken him at the slave draft, but took Minnesota instead so that you could have one of your famous blonds. I know how you love them.

• What if Alexei wins the contest?

• He won't.

• But if he does? Then I get Minnesota. I don't need two slaves.

• Sell him back to me. I'll pay you above his market price in cash, and we'll dome him, as Khalid and Mustafa want. I won't get my prize – your boy – but at least it will mollify my brothers.

• But not Abdullah.

• Abdullah will think I gave him to you. He'll never spot him on the dome. Boys on the dome all look alike from a distance, and I'll mount him facing away from my window.

• But then Abdullah will be without a slave.

• Dmitri, you are worrying about this for nothing.

• Because?

• Because your boy is not going to win the diving contest. You will see to that.

• You're assuming I'll agree to this contest.

• You will.

• What makes you so sure?

• Let's put it this way, Dmitri: if Abdullah's boy wins the diving contest, then you won't need to worry about the Chinese.

• And if Alexei wins? Or if I don't agree to the contest at all?

• Then you may have to underbid the Chinese to get our business. And, Dmitri, that would cost you a lot, compared to what we're prepared to pay if your boy loses. A bigger loss of revenue than you would want to have to explain to your partners.

• I . . . understand, Your Majesty.

I did, too. The question was how to break it to Alexei.

ALEXEI: SATURDAY, DECEMBER 31, EARLY MORNING – ST. PETERSBURG, RUSSIA

This morning, it was still only Pyotr and Henri in the house. But tonight was both Saturday – party night – and New Year's Eve. That was not a good confluence of events, for which I had been sure the remaining staff would return. But last night, before retiring, Master had me pack his bags. He was going away for New Year's Eve? I couldn't imagine New Year's Eve without plenty of revelatory celebrations in the interior sections of yours truly. Maybe the party was elsewhere – at Yuri's?

So it was no great surprise this morning when I was ordered to the garage. Into the trunk I went, followed by a tossed blanket. It was only a half-hour to Yuri's, so why we were leaving this early in the day was beyond me. Silver lining, Alexei: earlier arrival, more time with Rhody. (Maybe.)

SATURDAY, DECEMBER 31, LATE AFTERNOON – SOMEWHERE IN RUSSIA

It was not at Yuri's. We drove for too long. After a few hours, the trunk opened, and Henri popped a bialy into my mouth. Then the trunk slammed shut and we drove for a few more hours. Wherever we were headed, it was far from St. Petersburg.

When I next saw daylight, there was no daylight. So it was past 4 p.m., which is when the sun went down this time of year. Pyotr pulled me out of the trunk. Henri was with him, but not Master. I learned later that he had taken a plane. Fortunately, it had warmed up a bit – it felt like almost 10 degrees – that's 50 in Fahrenheit.

We had arrived at a mansion, nearly as grand as Master's, and isolated. No chance of nosy neighbors spotting the naked slave. There was some snow cover but nowhere near as deep as at `home'. The driveway where we had stopped was clear of slush. The soles of my feet got wet, but nothing else.

Pyotr and Henri headed toward the entrance, not even looking back to see that I followed. I followed. What – I should make a run for it, naked, with no idea where I even was?

When he got to the entrance and saw I was about to follow him in, Pyotr barked a directive at me, which Henri translated: The slave entrance was at the rear of the house – I'd find a stairwell leading down from ground level to a door marked with a letter p' – p' being the first letter of the word pab' (pronounced rov'), Russian for `slave'.

I found the staircase, descended it, and knocked on the door, which was opened by a familiar face.

• Nodak!

• Wes!

If Nodak was opening the door, this must be Boris's home. We were in – or near - Moscow.

We embraced. My mind flashed back to the last time we had touched each other, in that overheated van in Mogadishu when we were all jammed up against each other. Rhody had maneuvered to put his arms around me. The resultant erection bumped against Nodak's backside. "I think someone's discovering their gay side," he had remarked when he felt me accidentally probing his nether regions.

I guess I was, even if I wasn't ready to admit it. I wonder if Nodak had discovered his.

• We're all here now. You, me, Rhody, Wyoming, all four of us. And this time we can talk!

My reunion with Wyoming was, on his part, surprisingly warm and enthusiastic. I thought back to the days when we hated each other. I guess there's nothing like the common experience of slavery to bring people together, eh?

And then there was Rhody. Just seeing him gave my cock a twitch – not enough to produce an erection. At least not until he put his arms around me and kissed me passionately on the mouth. I embraced him back and just enjoyed the moment. Who cared what the others thought – it had been months since I had seen Rhody, and his physical presence was too powerful for me to even attempt to overcome. When we separated, we were both hard.

• (Wyoming, a wide grin on his face) Well, well, well, look at you two. To think we all considered ourselves straight a year ago.

• And now, I'm horny as hell when I see this guy here. And my Master's handyman. And his chauffeur. And – you don't look so bad yourself, Wyoming.

• Who knows, you might find out I'm quite the stud, Wisconsin. Master says I might get to do you tonight.

• (Nodak) Wyoming, you really think your cock is going to get any action tonight? It's a New Year's Eve party. We're not the guests, we're the party favors.

• I do miss you, Nodak. I never missed you, Wyoming (grinning) but I do admit you look hot.

• (Rhody) Ahem.

• Oh, Rhody, don't be jealous. You're still my number one.

• (Wyoming) Number one? So you dumped Minnesota after –

• (Nodak) Wyoming!

• (Wyoming) What? Look, we all know Wisconsin and Minnesota were tight. We also all know what happened at the pool in Fuckinarabstan, whatever that place was. I'm just saying it's natural for him to have dumped Minnesota after that. Dude treated you raw, man. He deserved to be dumped.

• (Rhody) It's a little more complicated than that, Wyoming. Wes – Alexei – still has feelings for Minnesota. But he's stuck down there and there's not a lot we can do about that. - (Wyoming, putting my hand on his cock) Well, I'm here, so want to take advantage of THAT?

• Dream on, dude. I said you're hot. You're still an asshole.

• (Wyoming) Thanks. I try.

And with that, I kissed him on the mouth – not as deeply as I kissed Rhody, but just to tease him.

• (Nodak) Hey, what about me?

• Okay, okay, you too. (kissing him as well)

• (Wyoming) He called you Alexei a minute ago. You got a Russian name now?

• Yeah.

• (Nodak) So do I – Andrei. I used to be Andrew.

• (Wyoming) Used to be?

• (Nodak) Andrew is dead and buried back in Grand Forks. I'm Andrei now, professional slave and proud of it. Although I'll answer to Nodak, too.

• (Rhody) They call me Rodion. Easy adjustment. Rodion after Rhode Island.

• (Wyoming) Shit, my Master just calls me Wyoming. Is that bad?

• Does he treat you well? Do you like him?

• (Wyoming) Oh, God, he's so sexy. I'd like to drill HIS ass sometime. I never thought I'd like getting drilled myself, but I do. I always thought that if you took it up the ass, you weren't a man. Now I think it makes you more of a man, because you can take it. Master likes me okay, I guess, but I'm not his type.

• (Rhody) What's his type?

• (Wyoming) Nevada. I'm not sure how they divvied us up between the Russians and the Fuckinarabstanis, but Master was pissed that he didn't get Nevada. He even said it: `You should have been Nevada.' Made me feel about three inches tall. I'm not used to that kind of humiliation. Being drilled – that's not humiliation, in a way that's being honored. Being told I wasn't wanted – that's humiliation. And now everybody's got a Russian name but me. I know what that means. When the year is up, I'm out the door.

• (Nodak) My Master didn't want me either.

• (Wyoming) True. Both our Masters were pissed when they didn't get their choices – and they blamed your Masters. So they stole their slaves.

• (Rhody) Stole their slaves? What are you talking about?

• (Wyoming) You didn't know? Our Masters wanted Nevada and Illinois. Your Masters wanted me and Nodak. But something your Masters did pissed off our Masters, so they chose me and Nodak just to spite them. So your Masters wound up with you two.

• (Rhody) Shit, NONE of us were wanted.

• (Wyoming) It's not like that. You're the type your Masters wanted; they were happy to get you. North Dakota's and mine – they wanted something different. That's why I know I'll be gone by July, and probably North Dakota, too. Sorry, but it's the truth and we've got to face it.

Yeah, we did, didn't we.

SATURDAY, DECEMBER 31, EVENING – BORIS'S HOME, NEAR MOSCOW, RUSSIA

There were lots of guests at Boris's New Year's Eve party. But I was in a good mood and looking forward to it. Our enemas had been laced with wine, and I was nicely drunk. They had also injected our cocks to force erections, like on the boat. The combined effect of the pleasant tingling in my cock and balls with the warmth and silliness invading my intoxicated brain was responsible for the goofy smile on my face.

This being a party, and these being Russians, of course there were games. The first – the reason for our erections - was to have us slaves fuck each other. The guests voted on tops and bottoms.

I was initially paired with Wyoming, and Rhody with Nodak. The crowd chose Wyoming and Rhody as muscular tops, fucking myself and Nodak, respectively. Wyoming was either a pretty good fucker or I was just so drunk I didn't care. Anyway, it felt good. Then they paired off the winners and losers, resulting in Nodak's first experience as a top since the boat – at my expense – and Wyoming fucking Rhody, reversing the incident on the roof at the Royal Palace. Later, Wyoming gleefully reminded Nodak of his prediction that he would fuck me, to which Nodak had retorted that we were just `party favors'.

We spent the rest of the night being party favors. They played some kind of complicated game, wherein every guest got to fuck one of us, get blown by a second, give a third fifteen with a flogger on the back, and give the fourth five on the butt with a strap. There were forty-four guests, so do the math. Eleven cocks in each hole, 220 strokes in total. In case the wine enema wore off, they poured a little vodka down my throat. I confess I don't really remember very much of the event.

When it approached midnight, they let our Masters inaugurate the new year by reaming our asses, with everyone watching and cheering them on.

But hey, I got to wear a party hat for the occasion. Bubble wrap and a party hat on consecutive days – I'm practically a fashion plate.

THURSDAY, JANUARY 5, LATE AFTERNOON – MASTER'S BEDROOM

• Alexei, is time for talk. You may speak free and honest, within reason. Okay?

• Yes, Master, I understand.

• Do you enjoy New Year's Eve party?

• Being drunk helped. . . . Before we go further, Master, may I ask a question?

• If respectful.

• I THINK it is. I'm not sure.

• Ask, then you find out.

• Did you want me? Or did you want Nodak instead? North Dakota. Andrei.

• . . .

• (Uh-oh. He didn't like that question.)

• Who say this?

• Wyoming. He said his Master and Andrei's Master were mad at you and Rhody – Rodion's – Master, and they took Andrei and him away from you. And you had to take us instead.

• . . . Is not question you should ask Master.

• It's true, then.

• Does matter? You here now, you good boy, I treat well. Same like I treat Andrei if he my slave.

• But would you rather have him? Andrei. No, strike that, I can't ask that. I'm sorry, Master.

• Why it matter to you?

• . . .

• Alexei. You not answer my question. Why it matter to you? - Because if you'd rather have him, then you don't want me. And I don't want you to sell me.

• You intelligent boy, but not logic. I want you, I not want you, have nothing to do with Andrei. Past is past. Decision to keep you is all about you, not Andrei. But is reason I want to have talk today. About future.

• (terrified) Yes, Master?

• Alexei, do you love your Master?

Holyshitfuckitydamndamn! There is no good answer to that question. If I say yes', he'll know it's a lie, and if I say no', then I'm disloyal and he'll sell me in a flash. Time for a stalling tactic.

• I belong to Master, my life revolves around him, I do everything to make him happy. If that is love, then I love my Master.

• That not love, Alexei. That obedient. Do you love your Master?

• How do you define love?

• Would you give life for Master?

• (alarmed) Are you asking me to?

• (slap) Answer question, boy. Would you give life to save Master?

• A slave's duty is to do whatever his Master orders.

• (slap) Do not insult my intelligent! I ask question, you give answer from textbook. That answer for first week of slavery. I ask you one more time. Would you give life to save Master out of love? If you have choice.

• . . .

• Your answer no'. If answer yes', you answer right away – I would see in heart that is truth. But you not love Master, not truly love Master. Is okay. I not ask love, only devote. Let me ask other question. Would you give up life to save Matti?

• (in shock) WHAT?!

• Matti. You in love with him, yes? Is clear from writings.

• I . . . Master, I'm sorry if this is disrespectful, but I don't see why this is relevant. You are my Master and I see you every day. I want to stay with you. Matti is a slave and – and – (shit, my eyes are getting wet) - and I'll never see him again. What I feel about Matti is – this is so unfair, Master. Punish me for saying this, I don't care, I belong to you, but my feelings for Matti are none of your fucking business!

• . . .

• . . .

• . . .

• . . .

• You speak to Master like that and yet you say you want me keep you.

• . . . (sobbing)

• . . .

• I'm sorry, Master, I'm so sorry. I – I'm just – I'm so confused. I don't know why you're asking me these things. Yes, I love Matti, and yes, I want to serve you. I don't know what I can do to convince you of that. I can do both – I can love him and also serve you. It – it seems like you're forcing me to choose between you and Matti and I don't know why.

• . . . I tell you why. . . . You right – I am ask to make choice. Not ask – I require to make choice.

• Then I choose you. I can't do anything about Matti. But I'm worried to death about him – his trial is this month, there's no way I can control what happens to him.

• . . .

• . . . Master?

• What if you can?

• What? What do you mean? What if I can what?

• What if you can control what happen to Matti?

• (thunderstruck) How can I - ?

• I tell you. You wrong about something you say before. You say you never see Matti again. You see Matti next week.

• (mind spinning wildly) What? How? Is he -? Am I - ?

• We go to palace next week. You and Matti have – what is word? Redo. Rematch. Second diving contest. Contest is for possession of slave. You win, I own Matti.

• (dancing on the ceiling) So if I win, we can be together? Is that what you're saying?

• No. - (crushed as completely as if the Sears Tower had fallen onto me) . . . No?

• I not need two slaves.

• . . .

• I keep you, I sell Matti.

• But at least he won't have to go through that trial and maybe lose his balls or –

• I sell him back to Royal Family. His trial go ahead on schedule.

• Hunh? I'm confused.

• Way to save Matti is to lose contest.

• Lose? But then how does -?

• Contest is for ownership of loser. You lose, you go to Royal Family. I then without slave, Family give me Matti because they want to get rid of him anyway. You take his place.

• Let me get this straight: If I win, I stay here and even though you have just won possession of Matti, you sell him back to them and he goes on trial. If I lose, he comes here and is safe but I take his place at the Royal Palace? I become one of their slaves?

• You become Prince Abdullah slave. Is Prince Regent son, Matti Master.

• That's insane.

• You have choice, Alexei. Me or Matti. Choose me, you stay here but Matti go on trial and we don't know how is that turning out. Choose Matti and he safe but you go to Royal Family. I tell you, Alexei – life much harder there. And you have own trial in six months, who know what is happen then? Is your choice. Who more important to you – me or Matti.

DMITRI: Alexei was not the only one forced to make a choice. I had to choose between keeping Alexei and making money. The Prince Regent's threat would significantly lower my revenue. Not that I needed it – I am a wealthy man – but I would have some explaining to do to my partners and investors. But I also have my pride; I wanted to see what choice Alexei would make. If he chose me over his boyfriend, this would be a powerful statement. If he could sacrifice his friend, maybe I could sacrifice some euros. It depended on how many euros they're asking me to lose.

ALEXEI: My mind flashed back to discussions that Matti and I had had on the boat. He was always talking about zero-sum games. If someone won, someone else had to lose. But what Master was presenting me was a game in which I was the principal player, yet I could never win. Matti could win, the Royal Family could win, Master could win, but I could only lose.

• It's not really my choice, is it? I can't control who wins the contest

– Matti's a good diver.

• You can lose if you want to lose.

• Master, this is not a decision I want to make. I am your slave. I will do what you order me to do.

• I not give you order.

• But what do you want? What do you think?

• What do I think?

• Yes.

• I think you lose competition.

[COMING UP NEXT: CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT – RETURN TO THE PALACE]