Little Big Man

LITTLE BIG MAN – a serial novel by Travis Creel

CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT: BACK TO THE PALACE

Previously: The Prince Regent invites Dmitri for slave trials, with a catch: He wants to set up a second diving contest with Matti – the loser to change owners. He pressures Dmitri by threatening non-renewal of the LBM contract if he fails to acquire Alex. Dmitri then presents Alex with an ethical dilemma: He can lose the contest and spare Matti the uncertainty of a slave trial, at the price of becoming a palace slave himself. Or demonstrate his devotion to Dmitri by winning the contest (if he can), so that Dmitri will keep him for another year, at the price of Matti going on trial, with an unknown outcome.

Earlier, Ruslan had visited the Royal Palace posing as a slave, and found himself attracted to a trusty slave named Declan. Ruslan earned Prince Abdullah's gratitude and gained his trust by absolving Matti (Abdullah's slave, whom he loves) from responsibility for a failed attempt to poison his Master.

ALEXEI: THURSDAY, JANUARY 12, AFTERNOON – OVER RUSSIA

This morning when we left St. Petersburg it was -20 degrees Celsius, which would have been below zero even in Fahrenheit. Northern Wisconsin got that cold, but when I lived in Wisconsin we had parkas.

And boots. And pants. You know, clothes, you've heard of them, right? Useful for the outdoors in winter.

Into the trunk of Master's Bentley I went, a blanket tossed in after me, just like at New Year's. When I emerged we were at the landing strip. Blanket left behind, I had to walk to the plane in a whipping wind. I wanted to run, keeping my time in the freezing weather to a minimum, but I had Master's luggage to lug, plus I had to stay a few feet behind Master, who was walking calmly at a normal pace. Sasha, Oleg, Ilya, and Ruslan, walking alongside him, served as a mini-windbreak.

Ruslan? I had noticed Master meeting frequently with Ruslan lately, meetings that didn't seem to be about his role as a handyman or disciplinarian. Was Master folding Ruslan into his business staff? If so, it might explain why he was on this trip.

Even more surprising was the presence on the plane of a man in perhaps his early fifties who spoke to Ruslan – in English, with an American accent. He seemed to know Ruslan: How was that possible?

I sat alone in the back, in the slave seats – complete with wrist restraints attached to the armrests. The seat belts were leather and almost like a harness. I didn't mind – I was grateful for the heat and prepared for a long flight. Which turned out to be short. We must have stopped in Moscow for additional passengers.

Sure enough, here was Boris – and trailing behind him, toting his suitcase, was Nodak! Just Boris and Nodak? Why not Yuri (and Rhody) and Sergei (and Wyoming)?

I was confused. With Sasha, Oleg and Ilya all in tow, it was clear this was a business meeting, with my diving contest as a side attraction, accounting for my presence. But if Boris was here, why not HIS assistants? And why bring Nodak?

Nodak was strapped into the seat next to me, our hands tied to the armrests. Boris instructed us firmly: "No talk."

We didn't talk. But we let our legs rub against each other. And Nodak got in touch with his gay side. We looked at each other and grinned. My gay side sprung up soon thereafter.

FRIDAY, JANUARY 13, MORNING – ROYAL PALACE

We had gone straight to the palace after arrival yesterday afternoon. I was fearing some kind of reception in which Nodak and I would be passed around like hors d'oeuvres, but instead we were greeted by slaves – two tall, muscular ones (evidently a trusty like I had seen on the previous visit) and four LBM-sized slaves. All in inspection position, heads to the floor, legs spread, assholes on display.

When they rose, one of the trusties went white as a sheet. Slaves are trained to keep our private thoughts private, but something flashed in front of this trusty's eyes that clearly shocked him. He stared at us solidly for five full seconds before recovering his composure and averting his eyes.

I wondered what had startled him so much. I didn't recognize him, but when we were here in September, I was so focused on seeing Matti I scarcely noticed the other slaves. His eyes, it seemed to me, were focused on an area to my right, where Master's employees were grouped. Had one of them engaged with him in some way when we were here for the convention? Ilya would have been the most likely to break that taboo, but I remembered Sasha once making a comment about liking big men.

The only person he hadn't seen before was Ruslan. But why should that startle him? Could he have known Ruslan in the days before his slavery? That made no sense. This was an older slave who might have been here since Ruslan was a teenager. And the world was huge; what was the likelihood this trusty was from the same Russian town as Ruslan? No, he couldn't have recognized Ruslan. It had to be something else.

Obviously acting on instructions from the Prince Regent, he greeted us on the Royal Family's behalf and led Master and me to our room. The other trusty accompanied Boris and Nodak; Sasha, Oleg, Ilya and Ruslan each got one of the smaller slaves, evidently a protocol dictated by the difference between slaveowner and slave-friendly civilian. The trusty spoke with an Irish accent – so he was not Russian and therefore couldn't possibly know Ruslan. It would remain a mystery, I guess.

Master's guest room was on the fourth floor – with a view of the swimming pool with the diving platform, as if to remind me of why I was here. It was as opulent as you would expect from a royal palace – Master's bedspread appeared to be mink and the sheets were of the finest satin. In the corner was a low bench over which I was bent and fucked before Master retired.

I, of course, slept on the floor – and there was not even a doggy bed for me to curl up in or anything to rest my head on. Worse than that, there was an area cut out from the carpeting on either side of the bed right where my doggy bed would be – obviously the slave sleeping area. I had to sleep on the hardwood floor. That seemed unnecessarily mean-spirited. A small thing, but one more reminder of why I wanted to stay with Master. Slaves here, I was reminded, may live around luxury, but not IN luxury. In a moment of unusual kindness, Master tossed me one of the six pillows on his bed, but otherwise I had to sleep on the hardwood floor.

The bathroom was opulent, but contained only one toilet and one shower. The Irish trusty explained that `the slave bathroom is down the hall'.

But at least there was no welcoming orgy with multiple dicks plumbing my depths and wearing me out. Just Master's familiar cock reaming my ass, like every night.

This morning, I assisted Master in accordance with his usual routine, then slaves delivered breakfast – Master's was enormous with eggs, meat, pastries, assorted fruits and veggies and a choice of coffee and tea – he couldn't possibly eat it all, and didn't. Mine was a bowl of unsweetened porridge, a sliver of melon and black coffee. I was given no spoon, so eating was messy At 9:00, Master left for a meeting, instructing me to remain in the corner after I took care of my morning ablutions – which would include purging my face of the porridge and melon juice that adorned it.

The slave bathroom was another wake-up call as to the status of slaves in this place. There was only a trough urinal and three squat toilets, over one of which a South Asian slave was hovering. There were no dividers between them – and I couldn't see where the toilet paper was.

I wanted to ask, but wasn't sure if I would get in trouble if I spoke. He noticed.

• You have a question?

• Where is the toilet paper?

The slave looked at me as if I had just asked when the next bus to Mars was arriving.

• First day?

• My Master is a guest.

• Ah. That explains it. Guest slaves always expect toilet paper. Use your hand.

Fabulous. The brown-skinned slave didn't wash his hands in the sink but headed straight to the shower area. Over the sinks was a little sign "Not for use after toilet," in English and Arabic.

The shower area consisted of hoses attached to shower heads and a single valve to open them. I turned it on, anxious to clean my hand, and waited for the water to get warm before stepping under it.

It didn't. The Asian slave was amused at my reaction.

• Expecting hot water? Are you sure you're a slave? (looking at me sympathetically) You're used to better, aren't you? For a while, I was jealous of slaves elsewhere who got treated like people. But you get used to it here.

I did not want to get used to it. I did not want to live here. Sleeping directly on the hard floor, cold showers and cleaning yourself with your hand? What other indignities were inflicted on the palace's slaves? But it was the only way to ensure Matti's safety. His trial was sometime this month. If it didn't go well, he could go on the dome. And after his time on the dome, they would put him to death.

Master, what are you asking me to do? Surely there must be some other way of saving Matti. And what if I sacrifice myself for his sake and I didn't need to because he was going to pass his trial anyway?

RUSLAN: FRIDAY, 13 JANUARY, MORNING – ROYAL PALACE

The moment of our arrival yesterday had been a shock. I'd assumed that we'd be greeted by one of the Royal Family – if not the Prince Regent, then perhaps a brother or a son. I was dreading a reunion with Khalid and Mustafa, but Dmitri had assured me he would explain my presence, fully-clothed. It would be an awkward diplomatic moment, but Dmitri was good at that sort of thing. Nevertheless, he advised me to keep out of sight of the brothers if possible.

But it had never occurred to me that it we would be greeted by Declan. The look on Declan's face when he saw me – a look that mixed shock, betrayal, and attraction – will stay in my memory for a while. The concept of seeing a slave' in clothing is so inconceivable that I thought that if we encountered each other, he might not recognize me. Just as Mehmet had reasoned that if he were disguised as Prince Abdullah, no one he passed would ever think, that's a slave under those robes'.

No such luck. He knew me in an instant; I could not imagine what was going through his head. He would put two and two together, remembering that I'd said I had been ordered by Prince Abdullah to investigate his poisoning. Now Declan would realize that the investigation was the entire reason I was posing as a slave in the first place – well, it wasn't, but I doubted he knew what a practicum was.

I guess I should have seen it coming - as a slave who directly served the Prince Regent, Declan was a likely candidate to greet us. But didn't the P.R. realize that Declan would recognize me? Then again, to him, a slave's reaction was inconsequential – he couldn't report this to anyone important, like Khalid or Mustafa.

It was only those two that I needed to worry about. My hope was to delay my reunion with them until after the diving contest. The P.R. had gone to considerable lengths to keep my undercover mission a secret; so far as the brothers knew, I had been sold to another master. They would be pissed at the deception – but the P.R. was probably counting on their anger being dissipated by the removal of Matti from his post as Abdullah's slave, either by sending him to Dmitri or by sending him to the dome.

Of course, the entire reason I insisted on coming was to try to influence Matti's fate. And that was only Phase One of what I mentally deemed Plan Ruslan. Phase One required the cooperation of both Dmitri and Prince Abdullah. I had spoken on the phone with the prince twice over the last month. Getting him to agree was tricky, but he owed me for absolving Matti of his poisoning.

Phase One was iffy. The rest of Plan Ruslan had an even lower chance of success – and I wasn't sharing it with Dmitri.

ALEXEI: FRIDAY, JANUARY 13, MORNING – ROYAL PALACE, GUEST QUARTERS

The morning passed slowly. I was used to working all day; sitting alone in the corner was boring as hell. A less obedient slave might have turned on the television to help pass the time but I couldn't risk Master walking in after his meeting and hearing the sound before I could switch it off. As if there would be programs in English anyway.

The monotony was broken for about ten minutes at around 9:30 when Oleg sauntered in for a blow job. Of the three assistants, Oleg was the one I liked the most. Ilya treated me like shit and Sasha treated me like a functional piece of furniture, but Oleg talked to me as if I was an actual person. Not quite the way Henri did – but once in a while he would give me advice or ask how I was. I opened my mouth to accept his cock, but he spoke to me first.

• You're wondering what's going on, aren't you?

• Yes, Sir.

A moment later my mouth was filled with his member as he pushed it past my teeth and I felt his hand on the back of my head.

• They're meeting about the contract. Little Big Man. Arabs want to lower the price, say they've got a better offer from the Chinese. They're taking a break now, this is probably my only chance for a blow job. I'm surprised Ilya didn't beat me to it.

Talk about timing. Ilya walked in a moment later, saw Oleg occupying my mouth, swore in Russian, and left in a huff. Oleg chuckled.

• He knows there's not time enough for both of us.

Glancing for a moment at his watch, he pushed on my head harder and faster, his penis penetrating deeper and soon I was deep-throating him. Oleg was the tallest of the three assistants, and, not surprisingly, had the longest cock. His skin smelled of cinnamon, the result of a kind of soap he liked to use, and I could imagine a touch of cinnamon taste on his cock.

As the cocksucking turned into genuine face-fucking, he shot his load down my gullet in what seemed like record time, then tucked his member back into his pants and patted me gently on the head.

• You're a good boy, Alexei. I hope you win the diving contest. The other boy is sexy, but I'm hoping Dmitri keeps you around. The contest is tonight, did you know that?

• No, Sir. I did not know when it was to be held.

• It's very strange – the Family keeps mentioning it in the negotiations, as if the price they're willing to pay for the next Little Big Man depends on the outcome of the diving contest. Which makes no sense. This afternoon we're going to one of the slave trials – do you know about the slave trials?

• (Oh, yeah. I knew about the slave trials all right.) Yes, Sir.

• I think Boris is going to be a judge today.

Matti's? Was it Matti's trial?

• A Black boy. Boris likes those.

So not Matti.

• The boy you're competing against? His trial is Monday. He'd better hope the Boss wins him tonight. Because the way I hear it, his trial is rigged and he'll be castrated and on the dome by Tuesday.

Which cemented the situation. Ironically, the only way to win was by losing. And Master's words echoed in my head: "I think you will lose the contest."

Clearly that's what he wanted me to do. I think. But he specifically said it wasn't an order. Why?

DMITRI: FRIDAY, 13 JANUARY, MID-AFTERNOON – SLAVE TRIAL ROOM

We were in a large room on the second floor, where a slave trial was to be held. Boris had been invited to be a guest judge of one of the slaves – a Black boy, evidently, as the P.R. knew his predilection for slaves with dark skin. I was part of an audience of about thirty, as were Sasha, Ilya and Oleg. Ruslan stayed in his room to avoid a possible reunion with Khalid and Mustafa.

His caution was justified: all three of the P.R.'s brothers were present, as was the P.R. himself. Their presence was an immediate indication that the trial was for an important slave. Let me rephrase that; there is no such thing as an important slave. This trial was for the slave of an important personage. All twenty-four of the palace's LBM slaves had been obtained in late June, so all twenty-four would be having their trials around now. The eight who arrived as eunuchs had had their trials last month, the sixteen intact slaves were spread out over the month of January. Well, fifteen – South Carolina was already a dome slave, making a trial superfluous.

The man running the show today was not the Prince Regent, but an older man, identified at Prince Farouk, the Prince Regent's uncle and the king's brother. Yes, there was a king, King Sadiq, who was nominally the head of state – but mental and physical decline had rendered him incapable of ruling, which is why the Prince Regent, who WAS ruling, was a prince regent and not officially a king.

Farouk addressed the assemblage in both Arabic and English, announcing that today's trial was for Slave Number 4386 – Prince Mustafa's boy. Ah – that would be Illinois. Illinois had originally been Boris's second choice behind Mississippi, but Mississippi had lost his balls to the guillotine. And then, in the `draft', Mustafa snapped up Illinois before Boris could.

The boy was brought in and dutifully presented his ass to the assembled jury. It was a lovely ass, and a lovely boy. The ten-member jury was then introduced, including Rashid, Khalid, Mustafa, several other princes whom I did not know – and Boris.

• (Farouk) I will explain the format in English, so that the slave and our distinguished visitors may understand it. There are ten members of the jury, but your Master will have three votes, for a total of twelve, as in many western juries. Each juror will evaluate you in seven categories: beauty, cocksucking, fucking, discipline, competence, obedience, and character.

• To evaluate cocksucking, fucking, and discipline, jurors will interact with you directly. For the three performance categories, witnesses – including your Master – will provide testimony. Competence refers to how well you accomplish the duties assigned to you, regardless of effort. Only results matter. Obedience is self-evident. And Character refers to your attitude and degree to which you have embraced your slavery. Beauty will be evaluated in all phases of the trial.

• Within a category, each juror will vote aye', signaling approval, or nay', signaling disapproval. If he gives you four or more aye' votes among the seven categories, his overall verdict for you will be aye'. Otherwise, it will be `nay'.

• Then the overall verdicts will be tallied. If you receive seven or more overall `aye' votes, including your Master's three, you will be retained in your current position. If you receive five or fewer, you will be demoted. If you receive six, your Master's vote will break the tie.

• Should you lose your current position, due to an overall nay' vote, the trial will proceed to a secondary phase. The jury will then vote on whether or not to geld you, requiring seven votes. If that vote is aye', then the trial will proceed to a tertiary phase, in which the jury will vote on whether to place you on the dome, requiring ten votes.

• Today we have a guest juror, who comes to us from Moscow. This juror will participate in the cocksucking, fucking, and discipline evaluations. His vote, however, will not count if it would produce a tie – which means, in effect, that his vote will not affect the outcome of your trial.

• Boy, do you understand these procedures?

• (Illinois) Yes, Your Highness.

• Then drop to your knees and open your mouth. Our guest juror will go first.

Boris, who was already hard, quickly stripped his lower half and approached the boy he had so ardently coveted on the boat. Into the boy's mouth went Boris's cock, and the cocksucking commenced.

Nine cocks later, it was time for the boy to get his ass fucked. Each juror wanted him in a different position, and he grunted with enthusiasm and pleasure as ten cocks pounded his black ass.

Khalid wanted to combine the fucking and discipline courses, and had Illinois tied to a point of complete immobilization before ramming his prodigious phallus up the boy's slender rump. While he was still in bondage – his mouth full of a ball gag and his ass full of an enormous butt plug – other jurors crushed his balls until he had no choice but to scream and then flogged his back, chest and ass with straps, canes, floggers and a heavy paddle. Had the boy been white, his entire rear half, from neck to knees, would have been crimson. Other than during the CBT, he kept his cool and only emitted gentle grunts of pain – responding admirably considering that the number of strokes he was subjected to totaled in the hundreds.

There followed the testimony phase, at which it became evident that Farouk's task was to act as a sort of prosecuting attorney. As Mustafa and others praised the boy's competence, obedience and character, Farouk produced other slaves and a couple of men who provided anecdotes of moments when Illinois had fallen short. One slave had witnessed him drop a plate. Another found a carpet stain that had been inadequately removed. A lesser family member had ordered him to the Fuck Room and Illinois had hesitated before complying (which was understandable; as Prince Mustafa's slave, he should have been off limits to this low-level royal – but it was nonetheless a transgression and valid to raise it as a fault).

These objections were relatively minor and perfunctory, however, and Illinois was approved by a unanimous vote. I knew this would please Alexei – I had learned from his writings that Illinois was one of his friends on the boat, the one he called `Noisy'.

It was now approaching seven o'clock. Time to eat. And to recoup psychic energy for the major event of the day – the diving contest was to be held at ten o'clock tonight.

RUSLAN – FRIDAY, 13 JANUARY, MID-AFTERNOON – PRINCE ABDULLAH'S SUITE

I entered Abdullah's suite without knocking, having texted him to let him know I was coming. He greeted me himself, brought me into his bedroom and immediately departed, leaving me alone with Matti.

On seeing me, the boy was as stunned as Declan had been. Of course, he was not allowed to verbalize his astonishment unless given permission. I gave him permission.

• Yes, Matti, it's me. I am not a slave. I was never a slave. Your Master's father asked me to pose as one to investigate who had poisoned your Master, acknowledging that the slaves responsible would never reveal themselves to the Royal Family, but might to a fellow slave.

• But you – you were naked and – did somebody, you know – I mean – sex?

• Yes, I got fucked. But I had to do that anyway. I'm going to be a slaveowner, and you have to spend 48 hours as a slave first so you can experience it.

• Forty-eight hours is not enough. It took me a lot longer than that to get used to it.

• I didn't need to get used to it. I just needed to see what a slave goes through, so I can handle him better. It's not a matter of empathy. It's a matter of control.

• Of course. What slaves want or feel doesn't matter.

• That sounds harsh, but, yes. Slaves are slaves. What they want or feel doesn't matter. Except –

• Except what?

• Except what Alexei wants and feels does matter. At least it matters to me.

• Alexei? Who's Alexei?

• You knew him as Alex.

• Alex? (Long pause. Very long pause.) MY Alex? The one I told you about, that I'm in love with?

• Yes, your Alex.

• How do - ? . . . What's - ? . . . Hunh?

• My boss is Alexei's Master. Is it all that surprising? You can tell that I'm Russian.

• Oh, my God. You're Alex's -

• I'm his Master's handyman but I'm also Alexei's disciplinarian.

• And you're here with his . . . is Alex here?

• You didn't know that?

• How would I know that?

• The diving contest.

• What diving contest?

Fortuitously perhaps, Abdullah rejoined us at that minute before I had to decide whether or not to answer Matti's question or leave it in his Master's hands. I knew that he could not ask his Master that question without being invited to. So it was no longer my quandary what to do.

• (Abdullah, to me) The last time you were here, I asked Matti if he wanted your cock up his ass. At the time, I couldn't have permitted it. Now I can. Do you want to fuck him?

• I would be delighted to fuck him. However, someone else is higher on my priority list. Do you think it would be all right if you took me to your father's suite, while he's at the trial?

Abdullah regarded me curiously, but nodded.

ALEXEI: FRIDAY, JANUARY 13, LATE AFTERNOON – ROYAL PALACE, GUEST SUITE

Master had returned from his morning meetings in a good mood. It looked like the negotiations had been successful, whatever that meant. A slave brought up our lunches – Master's looked delicious, mine was more slop in a bowl with no spoon. Not even fruit to accompany it.

And then he left, saying he would not return until evening. Oleg had told me they were going to a slave trial. I guess they lasted a while. He wasn't taking me along. A pleasant surprise – neither was Boris taking Nodak, and he decided to let the two of us spend the afternoon together. It was our first chance to talk, as we had been prohibited from doing so on the plane.

• Wisconsin, what are we doing here?

• Call me Alexei. Should I call you Andrei?

• Like I said at New Year's, Nodak is fine. Just among us, I like it. It sounds kind of Slavic, anyway. But anyway, I'm really confused. What are we doing here?

• I know why I'm here. I'm not sure why you're here. I guess it's because your Master is here but I'm not sure why your Master is here.

• Well, that could be clearer.

• Oleg – one of Master's employees – says they're meeting about the next LBM contract. But the Prince Regent gets along better with Yuri – Rhody's Master – than he does with your Master, so I don't know why Boris is here and not Yuri.

• And why bring us? They could have left us home. Hasn't your Master taken trips without you? Mine has. But you said you knew why you were here.

• Yeah. I'm here because I'm up for grabs.

• Up for grabs – what does that mean?

• Oh, Nodak, it's so awful. You remember how they made me do a diving contest against Matti when we were here before?

• Who could forget? It was terrible.

• Well, they're having another one. A rematch. Tonight. If I win, I get to stay with Master, but Matti goes on trial on Monday. And if he loses the trial – and Oleg says he will – he could go up on the dome.

• On the dome? You mean what we saw before, impaled on those marble phalluses and suspended over the rotunda?

• Yeah.

• I had my own experience being suspended over the rotunda, and that was terrifying enough, even for a few seconds. Of course, those guys on the dome don't have to worry about being dropped eight stories to the floor.

• And if I lose, I have to live here.

• WHAT??

• Yeah. Winner gets me. But Matti gets to live with Master. My life for his, basically.

• Omigod. It's awful here. The food, the bathrooms, and –

• I know.

• Alexei.

• Yeah?

• Do you think that's why I'm here?

• What do you mean?

• In September – it wasn't just you having a contest with Matti – I mean, that was the worst one – but I also had a contest, remember?

• You and Ohio. You made him cry when you played `Bridge over Troubled Water'.

• Ohio is Black. My Master likes Black. Maybe we're going to have a rematch, too. And if I lose, I come here and Master gets his Black boy.

• Oh, shit, I hadn't thought of that.

• He's going to sell me anyway, I'm sure of that. I just don't want it to be here. Just this morning, some guy in a robe saw me and ordered me to a Fuck Room on the second floor. I didn't know who he was, he didn't know who I was, but I was naked and therefore a slave and therefore someone he could fuck. And while I was there, two other Men fucked me, too. I guess they were thinking, hey, he looks new, haven't fucked him before, I don't know. Maybe I'm here because I'm going to stay here.

• Oh, hell, Nodak, I hope not. But at least you don't have to worry about being responsible for someone else's life. If I win, they might kill Matti.

• How do you know I don't have to worry about that? Maybe they'll do the same to Ohio if I win. And I don't even know Ohio's name.

• Here they don't even have names, just numbers and `Boy'.

• If there's a contest for both of us, Alexei, no matter what happens, we're screwed.

• And so is Matti and so is Ohio.

• And it's Friday the thirteenth.

• I was trying not to think about that, Nodak.

RUSLAN – FRIDAY, 13 JANUARY, LATE AFTERNOON – PRINCE REGENT'S SUITE

Prince Abdullah escorted me to the Prince Regent's suite. The small Black slave opened the door and admitted the two of us. The boy didn't seem to recognize me. Declan was nowhere in sight.

Abdullah turned to leave. There was one thing I needed to discuss first.

• You haven't told him about the contest.

• I'll tell him later. He'll obey – he always does. Look, I'm doing what you ask because I owe you – a big one. Matti'd be on the dome already if you hadn't proved him innocent. But your plan – it's so risky. So many things can go wrong. What if Father doesn't –

• My plan may not work. But it's Matti's only chance.

• Maybe I can still persuade my uncles to –

• Your Highness. With all due respect, you're nineteen years old. Do you think your uncles will listen to you? They want Matti on the dome and they're going to get it if he goes on trial. You've lost him, Your Highness. No way you can keep him. The only question is whether we can save his life.

Abdullah nodded, looking discouraged, and left.

I proceeded into the great room and there he was. He looked at me with fear in his eyes, and then presented his ass to me. He was in shock, but not so much as he ignored fifteen years of slave training.

I ordered the Black boy out of the room. The other small slave, the white one, was nowhere around. It was just me and Declan now. I ordered him onto his feet.

• I give you permission to talk freely.

• . . . I don't know what to say, Sir.

• It's a shock, I know.

You can say that again, said his face and body language.

• I work for Dmitri. Do you know who Dmitri is?

• The Russian who runs Little Big Man.

• Exactly. Your Master asked me to come here to investigate Prince Abdullah's poisoning, but I had to pose as a slave.

• But . . . but you . . . I had sex with you. I penetrated you. I . . . I could go on the dome for that.

• Of course not. The Prince Regent gave you permission. It's hard to explain, but I had to be a slave for forty-eight hours. And that meant getting fucked like a real slave. So I got fucked by you, as well as a lot of others.

• But . . . but I asked and you said it was okay.

• And it was. Of everyone who fucked me, you were the only one I really enjoyed being with.

• You did?

• I did. When you were angry with me – when you thought I was in sympathy with the insurrectionists – I was so upset. I wanted your body next to mine – and I didn't care if you were on top. I'm usually attracted to smaller men – like my boss's slave Alexei – but you're an exception – a bigger man who makes my cock hard.

Speaking of which . . .

• And I see you feel the same way, Declan. I at least have the benefit of pants to hide it a little bit.

• Sir, with the size of your cock, it's hard to hide even with pants.

• Maybe I should get out of them, then.

• Sir?

• Declan, we're going to have sex. Only this time I am a Man and you are a slave. Only one way one of our cocks goes into the other's ass – and that's mine in yours. Would you like that?

• Yes, Sir.

I spent the next half hour plowing his ass and planting kisses on his beautiful Irish face. He took to my fucking like a kid to an ice cream cone. He was in sheer ecstasy as I raped his no-longer-tight bottom to my heart's content – and his. After I bred him, I stayed inside for another full two minutes as I leaned forward and caressed his beautiful torso.

• Thank you, Sir. That was wonderful.

• Would you like to do it again?

• Now, Sir?

• I have to go somewhere now. But in the future?

• Yes, Sir. But Master –

• Don't you worry about your Master. I won't get you in trouble with him, I promise.

• Yes, Sir. . . . Sir? Are you sure you don't want to do it again now?

My head was sure, but my cock disagreed. And I pummeled his insides a second time. God, was I turned on by this Irish boy. After Alexei's, his was the ass I most wanted in the whole world.

ALEXEI – FRIDAY, JANUARY 13, VERY LATE AFTERNOON – SWIMMING POOL

Master had given me a pair of ear buds and told me that if he needed me to do anything before his return, he would let me know. Of course, I didn't hear from him all day. But suddenly at 5:20 there was a voice in my ear:

• Alexei, report to swimming pool.

But it wasn't Master's voice – it was Ruslan's.

Ruslan wasn't Master, but I still had to obey him, so I left the suite and took one of the slave elevators down to ground level, hoping that no one would shanghai me for a fuck. When I arrived, unmolested, at the ground floor, I managed to find my way outside and locate the swimming pool with a diving platform adjacent, where Ruslan was waiting for me.

To my astonishment, he was naked. Was he going to have sex with me, then, here by the swimming pool? He wasn't. He didn't explain his nudity, but went straight to the heart of the matter.

• It's been a while since you've dived, isn't it?

• Yes, Sir. Since last May except for once when I was here before.

• I know all about that. You have a rematch tonight, you know.

• Yes, Sir, I know.

• I think you should get in some practice.

• Why, Sir? I can't win.

• If you lose, you'll wind up here. Do you want that?

• No, Sir.

• Then you should win.

• . . . I can't.

• Because - ?

• Because then . . . then something bad will happen to someone I care about.

• You mean Matti.

• (Shocked pause) You know about Matti?

• I've met Matti. He's very much in love with you.

• (tears forming) He is? Really?

• Really. He told me so. `I love him so very, very much' – those were his exact words.

• Sir, I – then you know why I can't win. I can't let them –

• You're going to win. I am ordering you to win.

• . . . Sir, with all due respect, that's not something I can control.

• Very well. I am ordering you to TRY to win.

• Master doesn't want me to win.

• Has he ordered you to not win?

• No. He told me it was not an order.

• So if you try to win, you wouldn't be disobeying him.

• . . . Not exactly, no, Sir.

• I am ordering you to try to win. And if you don't, then you would be disobeying me, wouldn't you?

• . . . Yes, Sir.

• And even though I am not your Master, I am a Man and you are a slave and you have to do what I order you to do.

• Yes, I know, but . . . Matti.

• Matti will be all right.

• His trial. Master says if I win, he still stays here and he goes on trial. Oleg says the trial is rigged and he's going to lose. They're going to cut off his balls and put him on the dome.

• Alexei, do you trust me?

• I . . . I'm scared, Ruslan. I mean, Sir.

• Alexei, do you trust me?

• I –

• Yes or no?

• . . . Yes. I trust you. I . . . yes, I trust you.

• Then leave it to me. You need to win this competition.

• And Matti will be safe?

• I can't guarantee it, Alexei. But if things go according to plan, he will be.

• He's a better diver than me. He's probably going to win anyway – what's the point in my trying?

• You have the chance now to practice. Practice.

A new hope was swelling in my heart. Could Ruslan be right? Was there a way to save Matti AND avoid having to live here? If I won, Master would own Matti, but Master was supposed to sell him back to the family. But maybe Ruslan could persuade him to sell Matti somewhere else – or sell me somewhere else. Somewhere better than here, with its porridge meals and cold showers and hardwood sleeping areas – and phallus-mounted dome slaves. I'd lose so much else – Ruslan included. But then another thought occurred. Ruslan didn't want to lose me either. Was that why he told me to win – because he didn't want to lose me? It was flattering that he liked fucking me, but –

No. I can't think that of Ruslan. He cares for me. He told me that Matti loves me! He didn't have to say that. He wants me to be happy.

I went out and had the best damn practice session I had had in my life. If I lost this competition, it wouldn't be for lack of trying.

But would it be a Pyrrhic victory? Would it cost Matti his life?

I had to trust Ruslan, it was my only chance. But . . . SHOULD I trust him?

[COMING UP NEXT: CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE - REMATCH]