Little Big Man

LITTLE BIG MAN – a serial novel by Travis Creel

CHAPTER SIXTY-NINE: LITTLE BIG MAN REDUX

Previously: Alexei and Matti have a few months of calm and grace as Abdullah settles in as Dmitri's guest and Matti's master. Dmitri leaves for the state contests in America, which prompts Abdullah, who has just learned to drive, to sneak Alexei and Matti out of the house for an adventure – leading them to a nude beach, where they can blend in with others who won't be aware of their status as slaves. Unfortunately, Ruslan is among the others at the beach and reports the event to Dmitri. Dmitri, outraged at Abdullah's fracturing of protocols, orders Ruslan to kick Abdullah out of the house – and to sell Matti to a Somali brothel. Alexei is devastated.

DMITRI: WEDNESDAY, 17 MAY, PRE-DAWN HOURS – SOMEWHERE OVER EUROPE

Perhaps you are surprised by this dateline. I have been in America for the past four weeks running state contests. Normally, when the state contests are over, I fly to Florida and, in addition to some pre-`contest' preparations, enjoy the things one can do in Florida in May – golfing, deep-sea fishing, lying on the beach, and so forth.

I usually sell my slave before departure, so I don't have to worry about who's-minding-the-slave while I'm gone for an extended period. But if I want to renew him, I'll find a suitable custodian. So I left Alexei in the capable hands of Ruslan.

But Abdullah threw a monkey wrench into the gears when he let Alexei and Matvei masquerade as every-day citizens at a nude beach – and offered to let them drive the Maserati! He had to go. As did Matvei.

This, unfortunately, affected Alexei. He became depressed and his performance declined to an extent that made me question my intention to keep him on for a second year. While Matvei was with us, Alexei was as good a slave as a slave could be. Slava-worthy, truly fulfilling his potential. But now, according to Ruslan's reports, he was veering into a sort of lethargy that was almost Jacksonian.

I had to check it out myself, so here I am on my way to St. Petersburg. I texted Pyotr to meet me at the airport. I should arrive home in time for breakfast.

ALEXEI: WEDNESDAY, 17 MAY, LATE AFTERNOON – ST. PETERSBURG, RUSSIA

I had one of the (many) shocks of my life when I entered the dining room to serve breakfast and found Master there. I said nothing, of course, holding in my rage, but he noticed my aloofness. I tried to pretend life was normal, as if he had never left, and went about my daily duties and my afternoon fuck by Bobrovsky. At 4:30 I reported to Master's room, where he decided to have another of our little talks.

• Alexei, you may speak freely. You must make honest and don't hide truth. Is clear?

• Yes, Master.

• Ruslan say you not good slave. Is because you angry with me?

• . . .

• Alexei, that was question. You require to answer.

• A slave should not have emotions, Master.

• That not correct. Of course slave have emotion. A slave should not SHOW emotion or allow to interfere with duty. I ask again, are you angry because I sell Matvei?

• . . .

• Alexei?

• Yes, of course I'm angry! What did you fucking expect?!

• Alexei –

• Oh, look, the slave just cursed in front of his Master. You'll have to be punished for that, Alexei. Well, go ahead, get your whips out, take all the skin off my ass, do your best, I deserve it, I just cursed you. And his name is Matti, not Matvei. You don't own him anymore, you have no right to give him that name.

• . . . Are you finish?

• You want more?

• No. Ruslan punish you tonight for being disrespect, but I tell him leave you some skin.

• Was that an attempt at a joke? You never were very good at that, Master.

• You right. Humor not my strong.

I took a deep breath. Master was amazingly calm after my outburst. At the very least, he should have slapped me for my insolence. I realized how much I needed that moment of catharsis – how much fury had been building up within me that needed release. And I was grateful for the opportunity to let it all out. But now that I had, I was ashamed. Tears started to trickle down my face.

• Master, I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. I should never have spoken to you like that. I am a slave, you are my Master, I exist to serve you. That – what I just did – it's not who I am.

• No, Alexei, it who you are. And so is apologize. It all part of who you are. I tell you to make honest and don't hide truth. You make honest and don't hide truth. I not angry.

• (fighting to regain control) Thank you, Master. I – I'm just not sure how I can go on. I feel . . . destroyed.

• Do you understand why I do?

• Why you sold Matti? No.

• Abdullah do terrible thing. If Jaakko Koivisto or anyone at IAMSO find out what he do and I do not punish, I am disgrace. Maybe they suspend me from IAMSO, maybe worse. I have to punish. Do you understand?

• So punish Abdullah, okay, but why Matti? He did nothing wrong. His Master ordered him into the back seat of the Maserati, he obeyed. We both obeyed. That's what we're trained to do.

• I not punish Matv - Matti. I punish Abdullah. Abdullah fond of Matti – maybe not strong fond like you – but he like Matti more than Master should like slave. I punish Abdullah by sending Matti away. He have to watch Matti go into trunk.

• Yes, and so did I. I had to watch. I had to watch the love of my life disappear into God-knows-what-kind-of-future. I love him, Master! I was so happy when he was here.

• It very painful for you.

• . . . Do you think?!

• That part of Abdullah punishment. He have to see it hurt you. He bear responsibility for you have pain. He have to live with what he do to Matvei. Matti. He have to live with what he do to you.

• Like he cares what it does to me? You know as well as I do, the feelings of a slave don't matter, especially the feelings of another Man's slave.

• . . .

• What? Did I say something wrong?

• . . . Why you think I here, Alexei? Why you think I come back from America?

• For business.

• I come back because of you.

• Right. I'm part of your business. I'm a commodity you buy and sell. You have to decide to put me on the market.

• Alexei, I am very wealthy Man. I have billions of rubles. Over billions of dollars, even. Do you think I travel all the way from California for asset such tiny part of portfolio?

• Don't tell me you really care about how I feel. Everybody knows feelings of slaves don't matter.

• Alexei. Of course feelings of slave matter. Yes, you asset, but you human asset. You have feelings, I know this. If I not know this, we not talking right now, I just order you around. But feelings of slave should not affect decision-making, for either Master or slave.

• Slaves don't make decisions.

• Don't be stupid. Of course slave make decision. Every time you obey Master, is decision. You could choose disobey, you could choose run away. You face consequence for bad decision, but decision still yours. Masters, too, they have feelings. I fond of you, Alexei. I want you stay for another year. But performance must improve.

• I don't know if I can, Master. I'm so depressed. The way I feel right now, you might as well gift-wrap me and mail me to the palace. That way, I'll be dead by the end of the year. Maybe that would be for the best.

• What would make you improve?

• Having Matti back.

• I can't have two slaves, Alexei.

• Give him to Ruslan. He was Ruslan's until Abdullah got here.

• I can't send away slave and then take back without lose face.

• And losing face is more important than losing me.

• I like to avoid lose either one.

• Master, when Matti was here, it was fantastic because we could be together. But I would have been a good slave anyway just knowing he was safe. If you could contact his owner – maybe you could even arrange for a visit so we could see each other now and then, like Rhody – Rodion – and I used to see each other.

• Alexei, Matvei – Matti - not in Russia.

• (panicked) . . . Is he at the palace?

• No, Alexei. Matti safe. I explain. In two week I take you on Little Big Man boat. When we arrive in Somalia I pick out favorite slave from trip. Then we go to slave market. I keep you and sell him or I keep him and sell you. Where Matti is – is only temporary – he go on market in Mogadishu. Someone buy him there. I not know who. I cannot wait until I know that to make decide about you.

• But if he's on sale, and the Royal Family –

• I will speak to Prince Regent and ask not to purchase Matti. I not know if that work – we still friend but he upset about losing two sons and maybe he not willing to do me favor. But I tell Abdul – slave broker – not to sell to militia or other buyer who don't keep slave around very long, if you know what I mean. I say only good owner, only kind who go to IAMSO convention.

• Like the Royal Family, who executes their bad slaves?

• Prince Regent may respect my wishes – and is foolish to buy slave you don't expect to keep – but Khalid may want vengeance. I can try to persuade but I cannot guarantee. Royal Family will decide – is such a thing as free will.

• Not for all of us.

• You have free will, Alexei. You can decide to be good slave or bad slave. Is one month before sale in Mogadishu. I going back to Florida tomorrow. You have two week here with Ruslan and two week on boat. My decision depend on how you perform in that month. If performance improve – if you again good slave – I keep you. If not, I sell to highest bidder. Is clear?

• Is clear.

• And Alexei – it reasonable to think Prince Regent still want to acquire you. If that is case, I cannot prevent.

ALEXEI: WEDNESDAY, MAY 31, EVENING – FORT LAUDERDALE, FLORIDA

Here I am on the Fundamental Experience once again, nearly a year after I left it. In between, my fundament has had a lot of experience. But today has made liars out of the LBM Masters, who told us last year we would never again set foot in the United States. Today I did just that – literally.

If we were going on a commercial flight, I knew I would be packed into a trunk with a breathing tube and sedated. But Ruslan just ordered me to the garage, where I climbed into the trunk of the Bentley. I emerged to find myself at the same landing strip we used to fly to the Prince Regent's country. Pyotr sent me to the plane, where I found myself accompanied by Sasha and, to my complete surprise, Bobrovsky.

Minutes later, Rhody's hunky body joined us, accompanied by two Men I didn't know and presumed were Yuri's employees. We weren't allowed to chat, but we could look out the window, there being no danger of our nudity being spotted 30,000 feet in the air. The jet was too small to fly non-stop to Florida, so we stopped to refuel at a place that might have been the Azores. Bobrovsky, being Bobrovsky, fucked me on both legs of the journey, earning me, I suppose, membership in the Mile High Club – one of relatively few to qualify outside of a bathroom. I suspected Bobrovsky was already a member.

I watched as we approached the coast of Florida and continued to a small landing strip a bit north of the Everglades. Sasha escorted me down the stairs in full view of – well, almost no one. There was no passport control, no control tower, nothing. Somehow Master – or IAMSO – had bribed the authorities to let us to sneak into the country unannounced.

There was, however, a sort of reception committee: four Men, each dressed in a maroon uniform all too familiar to me. I recognized three of them – Robinson, Marcus, and Tupu – three of the group who had raped Iowa on my lunch table inches away from me.

It was hot and humid, probably unusually so for early June – even in Florida – and I was grateful for the fact that no clothes were sticking to my skin. I stepped down the staircase and placed one foot on the tarmac – literally, one foot – before Robinson and Marcus seized me and carried me over to – where else? – a trunk, where I was sealed inside. Tupu, who was strong enough to lift an ox, was more than strong enough to lift Rhody, and Rhody soon found himself inside a matching trunk. While we could be nude out here in private, they couldn't transport us in a car trunk – how would we get onto the boat, naked, on the docks of Fort Lauderdale?

So into the trunks we went, and when we were released, we were on the ship – on the bridge deck, somewhere I'd never been. I was left alone in what I presumed was Master's cabin for hours. At six o'clock, Carlos, one of the assistants I remembered from last year, entered with a tray of food, for which I was grateful, as I hadn't eaten since breakfast. It wasn't until about nine o'clock that I saw Master. He came in, fucked me, ordered me to `bed' (floor) and left without explanation. Or any kind of encouraging word. Or any acknowledgement that we had been apart for the last two weeks.

After our talk, I had tried to be a good slave. I worked hard and responded enthusiastically during sex, all in hopes of getting a good report from Ruslan as to my improvement'. Master's attitude toward me was perfunctory, as if fucking me was an obligation he had to check off his to-do' list – which I guess it technically was, to conform to IAMSO protocols. But I had no clue as to whether there was any change in my precarious status as his slave.

THURSDAY, 1 JUNE, EVENING – OFF THE COAST OF FORT LAUDERDALE, FLORIDA

Little Big Man is under way – we just pulled out to sea - and it is reviving old memories. Tons of old memories. The contestants, which Master calls `cargo' – have just come on board. I can watch them from the Control Room and see their eager enthusiasm, masculine brio, and slight nervousness as the maroons lead them to their individual cabins. Soon they will discover that they have been locked into their rooms, kept incommunicado with the outside world and each other, and a vague sense of discomfort will invade their predominantly optimistic brains. They have no idea that they have less than forty-eight hours remaining in their lives in which to wear clothing. For some, less than twenty-four.

After yesterday's long periods of boredom, I have been wondering what, if any, my slave duties would be on board. Obviously, I can't cook, clean, polish cars, or work in the garden. This morning the four LBM leaders, including Master, met with Rhody and me to give us instructions. The constitution of this meeting was itself a shock. I expected to see the same four Russians I saw last year, although the possibility had occurred to me that there would be some changes because of Little Big Man Europe. Yuri was there, and so was Sergei, but when I saw who the fourth leader was, I nearly fell off my proverbial chair.

DMITRI: Originally, it was to have been Misha, who had run the state contests on the east coast. But when the President of IAMSO asks to join the cruise leadership, you don't say no. With his participation, our profile would skyrocket and our prestige would go through the roof. This could only attract more buyers to the sales in Mogadishu and Bata, not to mention the residual effect on LBM Europe. And with increased demand comes increased revenue. The sky was the limit. This was a breakthrough moment for LBM. I apologized to Misha for the lost opportunity, but, as a businessman himself, he completely understood.

ALEXEI: I could not understand what Jaakko Koivisto, of all people, was doing on board the Fundamental Experience, but that wasn't really my concern. My concern was what our job was. We would be working in the Control Room.

The Control Room is an amazing place. The four walls had names – the Monitor Wall, the Locator Wall, the Profiles Wall, and the Status Wall. As its name suggests, the Monitor Wall displays images from the cameras mounted all around the ship. Nowhere a contestant could go, other than his cabin, was unsurveiled. After dark, though, you can only see where there is adequate lighting – they haven't yet gone infrared, although I suspect that is in the near future.

The Locator Wall featured large, detailed electronic maps of the decks where the `contestants' could go. Similar maps were on several computer stations – we slaves were seated at three of them. The maps were not yet functional, as the contestants had not yet been fitted with their identity headbands, which would contain a tracking device. When activated, they would light up a little dot on the wall map (and on a corresponding image on your monitor); if you clicked on it, it would reveal the identity of that person. Ideal for making sure that contestants were in their cabins when they had been ordered to be. If you wanted to know where, say, Arkansas was, you could type in his name, and his light would flash for five seconds – ah, there he is, in the Rec Room by the basketball hoop.

The Profiles Wall contained profiles of each of the contestants, organized – for now – by region. Each profile included their status (as of now, `Top' in all cases), their vital statistics, and images - head-shots and the nude pictures from their physical examinations.

The Status Wall, for now, was blank. It would not only list which boys were in the Top, Bottom, or Eunuch categories, but also the running point totals of any ongoing competitions, so that the Masters had a good idea of who was most likely to be demoted.

Our job was to monitor conversations. One technological enhancement since last year had been to wire each headband with a transmitter, so that we could eavesdrop on any contestant's conversation without their knowledge. We were to report any violations of instructions, particularly any instance where a contestant referred to another by his true name rather than the name of his state. I thought about the many times Matti and I had called each other Matti' and Alex' – mostly me using his name either accidentally or devil-may-care, and getting away with it. That would not have been possible had we been in this year's contest.

If you were reading my description of the room closely, you will have noticed that I mentioned that we slaves' were seated at three computer stations. Three, not two. Besides Rhody, there was a third slave with us. His name was Javier, and he was the slave of Jaakko Koivisto. I didn't recognize him at first, but as soon as I became aware of Koivisto's presence, pieces clicked into place. I had encountered him before – at the IAMSO convention. He was the bold (which is to say stupid') slave who tried to strike up a conversation with me while we were waiting for transportation to the Royal Palace.

There was something odd about him. He was no longer eager to approach me (or Rhody). He sat at the terminal at the far end of the long desk, away from us, and always kept his lower body under the table. Whenever he rose from his desk, he swiveled away to the right and kept his face away from us, like he didn't want us to see the right side of his face. I wondered if there was a scar over there. It would be plausible, given his willingness to push the boundaries of slave behavior.

Another odd thing. At the convention, he spoke when it wasn't allowed. But here in the Control Room, we could talk freely, but he didn't. Rhody and I were grateful for the opportunity to engage. But Javier didn't respond to our efforts to get to know him, and after a couple of hours we gave up trying. Perhaps he had been chastened into silence in the past nine months.

FRIDAY, 2 JUNE, AFTERNOON – ATLANTIC OCEAN

Watching from the Control Room was like déjà vu, only not all over again. It was more like an out-of-body experience where you float over your body and witness yourself from a distance. Rhody and I watched the contestants on the monitors as they filed into breakfast, met each other for the first time, received their headbands and were instructed never to use their real names. Their faces conveyed a combination of confusion and bemusement, and we could see them decide to play along in good fun, just as we naïvely had a year ago.

Rhody, Javier and I were busy at that breakfast, making sure that only state names were used – we split up the room into evenly-divided sectors. Two maroons stayed in with us, making sure we were well-behaved and working conscientiously. Then we watched the initial fake contests – the ones that involved racing in shackles and wrestling and getting locked into stocks and pelted by tomatoes.

It was in the afternoon when I knew things would get serious – at least for the first group of thirteen, randomly selected by cards drawn from a deck. Accompanied by the Masters, we watched all the little lights appear in their respective cabins – each uniquely identified. The map was detailed enough to tell where in the cabins they were, so I knew that a bunch of the guys were taking the most consequential shower of their lives. But apparently not all thirteen.

• (Ricky – one of the assistants) Only twelve in the shower, sirs.

• (Yuri) Who's missing?

• (Ricky) South Carolina.

• (Master) What is it about that state? It's cursed. Send him a message. If he doesn't comply, we'll have to strip him by force.

The message must have worked, as a moment later his light moved from his bed to the bathroom, and eventually into the shower.

• (Ricky, on his phone) Go!

I knew that was the signal for the maroons to go barging into rooms and stealing every shred of clothing in them. Minutes later, I watched those thirteen guys being forcibly dragged naked into the corridor and herded up to the gymnasium.

Where the Masters (and Ricky) joined them, leaving the three of us alone to watch the festivities, as thirteen naked college students were in for the shock of their lives.

Rhody turned to me.

• Alex, am I a terrible person?

• God, Rhody, no. I seem to recall you asking that identical question a year ago, after you fucked Maine.

• Yeah, poor Maine. I wonder where he is now.

• With any luck, as happy being a slave as we are. Were you just reliving the moment, or is there some fresh reason why I should excoriate your personage?

• I'm getting turned on by this.

He stood and displayed his rigid cock.

• So you are.

• It's like – I should be empathizing with them, feeling sorry for them. I remember how we were feeling when we were in there. But being up here, knowing what's going to happen before they do – it's a little bit like being God.

• (sing-song) "I know something you don't know."

• Exactly. And it gives me a feeling of power, like some kind of power over them. And that's a turn-on.

• Now you know what our Masters feel. Wait – they're about to lower the boom.

There was a camera feed from multiple angles. We could watch the video of the rooms being raided – this time it was New York's room who got the close-up treatment – and simultaneously watch the reactions of the faces of the naked captives on the opposite wall. We saw their curiosity turn into astonishment turn into horror turn into an anxiety that bordered on despair as the graphic appeared that the national Little Big Man contest did not exist.

• Rhody?

• Yeah?

• If you're a terrible person, so am I.

And I stood up for him to see. I was hard as a rock.

• (Javier) You guys are sick.

It was the first bit of conversation he had volunteered. And I half-wondered if he wasn't right.

We watched in fascination as the thirteen `contestants', having lost their swagger, their confidence, and their clothes, learned that they were about to engage in male-on-male sex. When the news was announced, I found pre-cum dripping from my cock. Rhody was glistening as well. Javier, half-hidden behind his desk, looked at us with disgust. I couldn't see, but didn't imagine he had a hard-on.

After the Sex Period was announced, the Masters returned to the Control Room to watch naked dudes pursue each other, six pairings culminating in the anal penetration of one by the other. It was afternoon, so we could see all the activity clearly. The gymnasium, where the stocks were located, indeed was a focus of activity. We could listen in on any conversations going on – as could the Masters (something they couldn't do last year). When I saw Idaho and Alaska together, I was waiting to see who would win the battle for Top, but, listening in, I realized they were plotting the same bait-and-double-cross that Matti and I (mostly Matti) had run on Utah. I soon saw Alaska approach Oklahoma, and listened in as he broached the idea of teaming up as a threesome. The trio headed for the gymnasium, where they trapped Nodak's successor as North Dakota and fixed him into the stocks, immediately followed by Idaho and Alaska seizing Oklahoma and sodomizing him as well. I wasn't the only one who noticed.

• (Koivisto) Well done, Idaho and Alaska. Clever little ruse.

• (Master) My boy did the same thing last year, teamed up with his friend, nailed a couple of Bottoms, one of whom we sold as a eunuch in Bata. Little piece of shit, so far as we could tell.

• (Sergei) Yeah, well we'll blame Boris for that. He had the West last year.

• (Yuri) Certainly couldn't be your algorithm.

• (Sergei) Be careful, Yuri – you had the South last year. You got us both Florida and South Carolina.

• (Master, to me) Boy, where is this year's South Carolina? (to the others) He's the one who didn't get into the shower right away.

• On the sun deck, Master.

• (Master) Anyone with him?

• He's alone, Master.

• (Koivisto) Stupid fool's going to lose his nuts if he's not careful.

• (Yuri) He thinks we're bluffing.

• (Sergei) After we showed them the video of last year's eunuchs?

I continued to watch – my cock in a constant state of excitement – as two other pairs found each other and copulated, in neither case by mutual agreement. Which left five still in the hunt, looking for partners to have sex, by consent or by force. South Carolina, indeed, had remained on an Adirondack chair in the Sun Deck, admiring the view, his rigid cock pointing skyward with the involuntary erection all the contestants were given. Then I saw another little light go hunting in that area. I focused on the appropriate monitor and saw a nude body angle in. New York. I clicked on his name to listen in.

• Hey.

• Who's that? Oh, it's you, New York. Lovely up here, isn't it? Blue sky, bright sun, gentle breeze. Come hang for a bit?

• . . . South Carolina, are you serious? I'm here to have sex.

• Oh, come on, you didn't buy into that crap, did you? (in a weird, mocking voice) `If you don't have sex, we're going to cut off your balls'?

• Bro, were you fucking paying attention? Did you see that video? They showed us balls that they cut off last year. And they threw our clothes into the fucking ocean!

• Videos can be faked, `Bro'. Didn't they spend all morning telling us those games counted, and then, oops, we lied? This is one of the great pranks of all time. You ever see Impractical Jokers?

• I saw my clothes being tossed into the ocean.

• You saw SOME clothes being tossed into the ocean.

• No, I saw MY clothes and MY suitcase taken out of MY room. I can recognize my own shit, bro. Now we're going to have sex because I don't want MY balls to be featured in next year's video.

• Find somebody else.

• I found you.

And with that, New York lunged at South Carolina, knocking him out of his chair and spilling him onto the deck. He picked up the edge of the chair and hit the Southerner on the side of the head – not hard enough to knock South Carolina out, but enough to stun him. New York squirted some lubricant from the lanyard around his neck onto his hands and then onto his eager cock, and then shoved some into South Carolina's hole.

And then we watched New York rape South Carolina, preserving both of their balls.

• (Master) Well, at least we won't be stuck with THIS South Carolina. Let's try to sell him in Bata if we can.

In the end it was this year's Nevada who wound up the odd man out, the first to achieve the unwanted status of Eunuch. Which meant a gang-bang that included one of the four Masters.

• (Master) Okay, who gets to fuck him? He's a blond, can I have him?

• (Koivisto) And what if I want him as well?

• (Master) We'll draw cards. Gentlemen, name your suit.

• (Koivisto) Spades.

• (Sergei) Clubs.

• (Yuri) Diamonds.

• (Master) And I'll take hearts. Alexei!

Surprised, I rose from my desk, my erect member betraying my interest in the proceedings. The four men began to laugh.

• (Master) You see, gentlemen, Alexei is starting to take after me. He wants to fuck Nevada, too.

They ordered me to draw a card from the deck. It was the six of spades.

• (Master) You win, Jaakko.

• (Koivisto, to me) Well done, boy. Perhaps I'll follow him up with a trip up your asshole.

• (Master) If I win tonight, you can give him his nightly fuck, Jaakko.

And that's what happened. In the evening round, Nebraska's Little Big Man came up the big loser, and Master won the right to join the gang-bang before Nebraska's date with the surgeon tomorrow morning. I was sent to Koivisto's room, where he spanked me mercilessly before throwing a fuck into me that was as rough as I'd experienced at most of Master's parties. I guess there was a reason he was president of IAMSO. I did not envy Javier, who faced this every night. When Koivisto was spent, he sent me back to Master's room, where I curled up on the floor (wishing I had a doggy bed) and didn't even hear Master return from his fuck sometime during the night.

SATURDAY, JUNE 3, MORNING – ATLANTIC OCEAN

This morning we were unsupervised as we listened in on the contestants' conversations. I guess they trusted us to do our job after being well-behaved yesterday. It also gave us freedom to talk to each other.

• (Rhody) Alexei.

• What?

• (Rhody) I heard something. I think. Tune into Tennessee.

I clicked on Tennessee. The lights on the map indicated that he was talking to Virginia.

• So my question is: What kind of competition could be so secret that they don't want us to even know what it is?

• My question is: Why do they have to do it in four groups over two days?

• Good point, Jace.

• Stop calling me that.

• Look, your name is Jason, right?

• Yeah, but they said not to use it.

• And if you use it, your coach will turn into a pumpkin and your footmen to field mice? Jeez, you're paranoid.

• I don't want to screw up this competition. There's a quarter of a million dollars out there for one of us, and I'd like it to be me.

• Hmph.

There was a pause. I turned to Rhody.

• Which one is Jason?

• Don't know, that's why I'm listening.

• . . . The wall! Keep listening, Rhody.

I got up and examined the Profiles Wall. Tennessee's real name was listed as Lucas Carpenter and Virginia's as Jason Detwiler.

• Jason is Virginia.

• (Rhody) Yeah, while you were up, the other guy just said his name was Lucas and dared Jason to repeat it three times like `Candyman'.

• Okay, we've got to report this, Rhody.

• (Javier) You're shitting me.

• What?

• (Javier) You're going to turn those guys in because they used their names?

• (Rhody) It's what they told us to do.

• (Javier) And you do everything your Master tells you to do?

• Yes.

• (Javier) But he's not here. He's never going to know. You do shit your Master tells you to even if he'll never find out you didn't?

• (Rhody) It's called being a slave, dude. It's our job.

Rhody got up and went to the door. The maroon named Ezequiel was posted outside, partly as security in case some rogue contestant wandered up to the bridge deck and partly to be there if we needed him.

The door closed while Rhody reported what we had heard. Javier turned to me and made slurpy kissing noises, as if we were kissing the asses of our Masters. I'd had enough and snapped at him.

• What's your problem, dude?

• What's my problem? My problem is an uppity slave who thinks he's holier than thou. What – do you think if you're the best little slave ever, your Master is going to set you free? He won't.

• I know that.

• So what's the point?

• If I'm going to be a slave, I'm better off being a good slave.

• Oh, yeah? Was Matti a good slave?

World's longest pause.

• (quietly because I was too stunned to yell) . . . What did you say?!

• Matti. Your boyfriend. Was he a good slave? Is he better off now?

• Who the fuck told you about Matti?

At that point, Rhody came back into the room. I turned to him.

• Did you tell Javier about Matti?!

• (Rhody) Matti? Why would I tell him – of all people – about Matti?

• Somebody did. Who else knows?

• (Rhody) Dude, I swear I – that's between you and me and your Master, nobody else.

• (Javier) Relax, Lexi-boy. It wasn't Rodeo – whatever your ridiculous name is. Dmitri spilled the beans to Jaakko last night. I was there. He talked about all the problems he had with you.

• Javier! We don't call our Masters by their first names!

• (Javier) Ha! You don't, you pussies. Mind you, I'm not stupid enough to say it to his face. I'm all `Yes, Massa, yes Massa, three bags full, Massa'. But Jaakko's not here now, is he. Fuck. He's human, he has a name.

• (PA system) Tennessee, Virginia, report to your cabins immediately.

• (Javier) Wow. Proud of yourselves? You just got two guys in trouble. For the abhorrent crime of using their own freaking names. So now what? Your Masters going to give you a doggie treat? (imitating a fawning dog-owner) `Who's a good boy? YOU'RE a good boy, yes you are. Yes you ARE! SUCH a gooooood boy.' . . . Let me tell you something. If you're on this boat, you're on this boat for one reason, and one reason only. We're headed for a slave market in Somalia, and your Masters are going to sell you there.

• . . . Did my Master say that?

• (Javier) Use your brain. If he was going to keep you, he would have left you at home.

• There's no one there to be my Master. He had to take me with him.

• (Javier) Bullshit. If he wanted to keep you, he'd find someone to park you with. They always can. And you should know this – Dmitri's got his eye on some of these boys. He likes Michigan. He likes Connecticut. And he really has the hots for Alaska. He's not married to you, Alexei. And he asked Jaakko for his advice.

• What did your Master say?

• (Javier) He said, `For God's sake, Dmitri, sell him. I can't believe you're even torn about this decision. He's a slave, Dmitri – you can't get too attached. Get rid of him. Change your slave every year like I do. Look, Alaska's perfect for you, and you like breaking in new slaves. The fact that you're considering keeping your boy is the very reason you should sell him.'

• (stunned) . . . What did my Master say?

• (Javier) He said, `You're probably right.'

• Shit.

• (Rhody) Shit indeed.

• (Javier) So you see, there's no point in being a `good slave'. They owe you nothing. They're bastards, every one of them. You only keep your dignity by rebelling in whatever ways you can. Like ignoring orders when you can get away with it. I heard two guys use their real names this morning – I'm ignoring it. And no I'm not going to tell you who they are, you'll turn them in. Masters are assholes – especially mine.

• (Rhody) How did you wind up with him?

• (Javier) He bought me at the IAMSO convention. He always trades in his slave there. Only he hates me so much he's dumping me a few months early.

• He's probably doing that because you haven't been a good slave.

• (Javier) Yeah, well, he's had his revenge already, hasn't he?

• (Rhody) What do you mean?

• (Javier) I've been hiding something because I was embarrassed about it. But you need to know just what kind of man Jaakko is – what slaveowners are capable of.

And he got up out of his chair and faced us full-frontal for the first time.

He had no balls. And no cock.

• (Javier) Do you want to hear my story?

• Look, we have work to do. We shouldn't have been talking this much. Breakfast is still going on. If a maroon came in and heard us talking –

• (Rhody) Alexei's right, now is not the time. But, yes, we want to hear your story.

I didn't. I truly didn't. Javier was messing with my head, and I didn't want to get inside his. But in retrospect, his story helped explain what happened later – which had a major effect on my life – so I'm going to share it.

[COMING UP NEXT - CHAPTER SEVENTY - JAVIER]