Little Big Man

LITTLE BIG MAN - a serial novel by Travis Creel

CHAPTER SEVENTY-ONE: WHAT SHALL WE DO WITH THE SLAVES?

Previously: As the Fundamental Experience sails up the east coast of Africa, it stops to pick up Prince Khalid and the infamous machines that will transform four of this year's final twelve Tops into virgin Eunuchs. Dmitri, influenced by Jaakko, informs Alexei that if two out of three slave candidates (Alaska, Connecticut, and Louisiana) emerge intact, he will choose one of them to replace Alexei, putting Alexei in the uncomfortable position of hoping for their castration. Meanwhile, Jaakko Koivisto's slave, Javier, shares his back story – how he came to be Jaakko's slave, and how his attempts to rebel led to his nullification, which has both embittered and emboldened him. When Jaakko's back is turned, he charges his master, attempting to strangle him. Alexei and Rhody intervene, saving Jaakko's life. Khalid, impressed, informs Alexei: "When I own you, I might let you keep your balls."

RUSLAN: SUNDAY, 11 JUNE, AFTERNOON – PULA, CROATIA

The call originated from Istanbul and the name on my phone said "Egemen Cengiz".

Only a few people in the world have my cell phone number. None of them live in Istanbul and I know no one named Egemen Cengiz.

My instinct was to ignore it, but if some stranger had gotten hold of my phone number, I'd better find out how and why.

• Hello?

• Ruslan?

• Who is this?

• You don't recognize my voice?

• . . . Abdullah?

• I'm going by Egemen Cengiz these days. Egemen' means sovereign, dominant'. I thought that was a good choice.

• You're in Istanbul?

• I can pass for Turkish. Father left me enough in my account to get here and establish myself. I've got a job in a hammam. Doesn't pay that much but it covers the rent and I get to massage a lot of naked men.

Naturally, Abdullah would have my cell number from the months we lived together before Dmitri banished him from the house. But why, several weeks later, he was contacting me, was a mystery.

• What do you want, Abdullah?

• Where's Matti?

• Having lots of sex in his temporary home.

• Temporary?

• He'll be sold at the auctions in Mogadishu on Wednesday. I don't know why you're asking, Abdullah. You can't control what happens to him, and neither can we, though we have asked Abdul not to sell him to one of the militias or the snuff brothel.

• There's a snuff brothel?

• Not exactly. There's a brothel that has a snuff night every three months.

• Anyway, that's not why I called.

• So why did you call, Abdullah?

He told me the reason. I laughed.

I had no idea at the time that that phone call would impact Alexei's fate.

ALEXEI: MONDAY, JUNE 12, AFTERNOON - OFF THE COAST OF TANZANIA

• Well done, Alexei.

• (Wow, a compliment from Master.)

• You have prove yourself worthy slave. I don't sell you.

Possibly the four most precious words in the English language: "I don't sell you."

I wanted to jump for joy. I wanted to shout to the skies. I wanted to at least be able to say, Thank you, Master.' But worthy slave' would not respond without permission. I allowed myself a very broad smile. That would have to do to communicate my gratitude to Master.

• He has not said so direct, but I think Yuri keep Rodion also.

Happy days are here again. Except for Matti. I don't know where he is. Or who will buy him in less than a week.

DMITRI: MONDAY, 12 JUNE, LATE AFTERNOON – OFF THE COAST OF TANZANIA

• So what are you going to do with him? Toss him overboard?

• (Koivisto) We're too close to the shore. He might make it.

• So then what?

• (Jaakko) Well, obviously this is a Level Four offense. But we can't carry out a Level Four here.

• (Yuri) They do Level Fours at the palace.

• (Jaakko) How am I going to get it there? After the auction on Thursday, I have to take my new slave home and break it in.

• There are options in Mogadishu.

• (Yuri) The Unsheathed Dagger.

• (Jaakko) I've been to the Unsheathed Dagger, on Snuff Night, no less. You can't control who's going to win the honors – some of their methods are too simple.

• (Sergei) Like the guy in "Hostel" who just shot his victim in the head. He beat himself up afterwards, for not drawing it out. But there are no do-overs in executions.

• We don't have to settle this now. The main thing is that we agree this was a capital offense.

• (Sergei) With a capital C.

• (Jaakko) I am so grateful to you, Dmitri and to you, Yuri. I'd be dead now if not for your slaves. I'd like to do something for you. I'll see what I can do to help you get one of the boys you want. Alaska or . . . Connecticut, was it, Dmitri? And New York or Indiana for Yuri?

• Kind of you, Jaakko, but unnecessary. I've already told Alexei that I'm keeping him.

• (Jaakko) What? You were so ambivalent about the boy, and you get hard at the very mention of the word `Alaska'.

• I needed Alexei to demonstrate his dedication to being a slave. I think he did that this afternoon. I thought it important to reward him.

• (Jaakko) No, no, Dmitri, no. I can't believe what I am hearing. Did you actually use the word `reward'? Reward a slave?

• It's not altruism, Jaakko. Rewards can be motivating. He'll be a better slave now.

• (Jaakko) Yuri, have you -?

• (Yuri) I have not made any promises to Rodion. But I was inclined to keep him even before this.

• (Jaakko) I am disappointed in both of you. But, considering that you have given me the gift of life, I won't insist. It is a mistake, but I am so grateful that I will let you make your own mistakes.

And that settled that. Or so I thought.

ALEXEI: MONDAY, JUNE 12, LATE AFTERNOON – OFF THE COAST OF TANZANIA

• Rhody, what do you think they'll do to him?

• I don't know. Toss him overboard.

• I don't think so. I can see land, we're within eleven miles. If people can swim the English Channel, he might be able to get to shore.

• I can't see them letting him live.

• No. The royals were going to kill Matti for something he didn't do. Javier definitely tried to murder Koivisto. But there's a plus side to all of this.

• Not for Javier.

• Not for Javier, but that's his own stupid fault. For us. Master told me he was going to keep me, and he thinks Yuri will keep you.

• Really? God, I hope it's true. I don't want to lose you. I know we're not together in the same household, but at least we can see each other once in a while.

• (smiling wryly) And fuck each other once in a while?

• (grin) That, too. Speaking of which . . .

• Rhody, they could walk in on us at any time.

• I know that. But look how you're getting hard at the thought of it.

• Oh, God, Rhody, you ARE one sexy beast. . . . Hey!

• Oh, relax. I'm not going to bring you off. I'm just going to stroke it a little.

• Can I stroke yours a little?

• You can stroke it a lot. Just – not too much.

• Edging.

• Or edging toward edging.

• This is nice.

• Isn't it?

• If I'd never met Matti . . .

• Yes, well he's always going to be the elephant in the room, isn't he?

• Yeah, I'm afraid so.

• In the meantime, . . .

• Whoa, what are you doing?

• Relax, Alexei. I won't bring you off with my mouth, either.

DMITRI: MONDAY, 12 JUNE, LATER IN THE AFTERNOON – OFF THE COAST OF TANZANIA

• So, Ruslan, how did it go in the Balkans?

• Good, boss. Hungary is top notch, and Serbia's not far behind. I thought the first week was stronger, though.

• Do you have a favorite?

• Bulgaria.

• Valentin was from Bulgaria.

• Who? Oh, one of your early slaves.

• A volunteer, one of my failures. Have you talked to the others? Boris is a veteran, but how is Nurbek doing? Nikolai?

• Nikolai is competent in everything he does, though I think he's frustrated he can't fuck the winners. At least he has Jamal with him. Nurbek is one with all this logistical shit – way more organized than me, but my assistant Claudio has helped a lot.

I heard someone enter the room behind me. I was about to finish up with Ruslan – I was just checking in – and whoever-it-was was waiting patiently until I was free. I was close enough to the camera that Ruslan had no idea that anyone else was in the room. That quickly became obvious.

• Oh, Boss. You'll never guess what happened yesterday afternoon. I got a call from Istanbul, from a guy with a Turkish name. I couldn't figure out how some Turk would get hold of my phone number. Well, you know who it was?

• Who?

• Prince Abdullah. I guess I should say just Abdullah, since he's no longer –

• (a thunderous voice) WHAT DID YOU SAY?!

Uh-oh. That interjection came from behind me, and belonged to Jaakko Koivisto.

• (Ruslan) Boss, who's there?

• (Jaakko) Dmitri, who is that?

• This is Ruslan, my associate. He's doing national contests for Little Big Man Europe.

• (Jaakko) Ruslan, did you just say `Prince Abdullah' called you?

• (Ruslan) . . . Uh, yes, sir, I did.

• (Jaakko) Prince Abdullah, who was killed in an automobile crash five months ago.

• Jaakko, I can expl-

• (Jaakko) Burnt beyond recognition.

• I can explain. You see –

• (Jaakko) Burnt so badly that no one could be sure that it was, in fact, Prince Abdullah.

• Jaakko –

• (Jaakko) Prince Abdullah is actually still alive. Is that what you're telling me?

• . . . Yes.

• (Jaakko, to me) And you knew this all along?

• His father had disowned him. We helped arrange it. The cover-up.

• (Ruslan) To protect the Royal Family's reputation.

• (Jaakko) Why would the Royal Family's reputation need protecting?

• If I told you, it would ruin the Royal Family's reputation.

• (Jaakko) You have to give me more than that, Dmitri.

• (Ruslan) The boy ran away. The two boys, both of them.

• (Jaakko) Why?

• (Ruslan) They were tired of the palace and Abdullah said he didn't want to be king.

• (Jaakko) That makes no sense. Scores of naked slaves available at the snap of a finger, and he wants to leave?

• (Ruslan) I think he found his father didn't give him enough freedom. He wanted to go out on his own, get his own slave, live independently.

Well, that was all true, but the car crash wasn't the only thing that was being covered up. I decided to sit back and let Ruslan spin his tale. He's more inventive than I am.

• (Jaakko) How did you get involved?

• (Ruslan) He showed up in St. Petersburg. He refused to go home, but we told him he couldn't stay. He left and we hadn't heard from him since. Until yesterday.

Ruslan was proving to be as good at lying while telling the truth as Alexei could be sometimes. The fact that there were three months between he refused to go home' and we told him he couldn't stay' was somehow omitted. . . .

• (Jaakko) And if I ask Khalid about this, he will confirm this ridiculous story?

• He may deny it. It would make the Family look bad.

• (Ruslan) Imagine what it would do to them if this story got out.

• And, like it or not, Jaakko, they are IAMSO's biggest donor. They fund 80% of Slave Island. And virtually 100% of the conventions. Could you keep IAMSO going at the present scale if they withheld funding? We had to help them out.

• (Jaakko) And the young prince - Jamal? And the slave? And the driver? There were four bodies in that car.

• Four bodies who were already dead, Jaakko. No one died in that crash.

Jaakko stared intently into the screen at Ruslan, and then at me.

• (Jaakko) There's something you're not telling me.

And, his face full of suspicion, he walked out of the room.

ALEXEI: MONDAY, JUNE 12, EVENING – OFF THE COAST OF TANZANIA

It was the worst half-hour of the voyage, even worse than the gang-rapes of randomly selected Bottoms at lunch and dinner. They made us watch as the guillotines did their work, and four Tops became four Eunuchs, while others were tortured by thinking their castration was in progress.

I didn't want to watch, but I had no choice. I tried to do so with disinterest. I would have been terrified without the communication from Master that I was safe. He had said he was going to sell me if two out of Alaska, Connecticut, and Louisiana emerged intact. As luck would have it, the three of them were grouped together, so that two of them were guaranteed to remain fully male. (Or WAS it luck? What were the chances of that happening? Finnish Calculation Wizard, where are you?) It smelled like a fix.

But that was no longer my fear. Master had told me he was going to keep me, thanks to Rhody's and my intervention to separate Javier's hands from Jaakko Koivisto's throat. And Rhody seemed secure as well. Yuri had not given him the verbal assurance that Master had given me, but one of the boys I knew Yuri to be interested in – New York – was one of the unfortunate losers of the night's event.

Tomorrow, I knew, would be our last day at sea. The boys didn't know it, but overnight tomorrow, while they were blissfully unaware, the boat would pull into the harbor at Mogadishu and on Wednesday they would be pulled off the boat to be paraded stark naked in front of a leering crowd. I shudder at the memory.

But for Rhody and me, tomorrow should be a peaceful day. I hoped that the same was true for Javier. And that whatever they did to him, they would do it swiftly and mercifully.

TUESDAY, JUNE 13, MORNING – OFF THE COAST OF KENYA

They allowed the eight remaining Tops – including Alaska and Connecticut – to roam the ship, but kept maroons with them at all times. This was, after all, the same point in the journey when South Carolina had bolted over the railing last year in a vain attempt to commit suicide. No chance of that this year. Everyone else was isolated, so there were no conversations for Rhody and me to monitor.

They kept us in the Control Room and we were, well, hugging each other (but only that), when I heard someone at the door. We quickly separated and dropped to `display' position, in case it was Khalid.

It wasn't Khalid. It was Koivisto. Was he here to thank us for saving his life?

Nope. He ordered Rhody out of the room and me into a chair. He sat down nearby and stared at me.

I could never in four thousand two hundred and ninety-six years have predicted his next words:

• Tell me about Prince Abdullah.

• (Uh, WHAT?? But it was an order. I had to say something. Umm . . .) He's the son of –

• Is or was?

• (Damn, he's supposed to be dead. I can't lie. . . Try misleading him with the truth.) I don't know for certain, Sir. People say he's dead.

• Do you know anything about a faked car crash?

• (Shit! Somehow, he found out. And he asked this craftily – can't pretend I'd never heard of such a thing. Let's try this:) Sir, I'm aware of a discussion about faking a car crash. I do not know if it actually occurred.

• Did Prince Abdullah come to St. Petersburg?

• Yes, Sir.

• When?

• In January, Sir.

• Do you know why he came?

• Yes, Sir. He wanted to retrieve his former slave, whom my Master had won in a contest.

• What is the slave's name?

• Matti, Sir.

• Did the two of them leave together? Did Prince Abdullah leave to set up household with this slave?

• No, Sir. Matti was sent away, Sir. Prince Abdullah was sent away on the following day.

• Sent away? He didn't leave of his own volition?

• No, Sir. Master ordered Ruslan – Ruslan is my Master's –

• I know who Ruslan is. Continue.

• Yes, Sir. Master ordered Ruslan to sell Matti and to evict Prince Abdullah from the house.

• Why?

And there you have it. I had to tell him about the episode at the nude beach. Koivisto looked like his hair was on fire as he listened to me describe riding in an open convertible, being offered the opportunity to drive, and mingling with Men who were unaware of my status as a slave.

He drank all this in, calmed down, and then asked me a few more questions.

• Did Abdullah come with his brother, a slave, or a driver?

• Yes, Sir. All of them.

• Are they still alive?

• So far as I know, Sir.

• So far as you know, where are they now?

• The driver, I believe, is still employed by the Royal Family. The slave was given to another Man, a German friend of Master's named Horst.

• And the brother?

• The brother is now a slave, Sir.

• (double take) Did you say the brother is a slave? Prince Jamal? A member of the Royal Family? IS . . . A . . . SLAVE?!!

• Yes, Sir. He wanted to be a slave, Sir. He told me so himself.

• . . . Unbelievable. Who is his Master?

• A man named Nikolai. A friend of Master's. I believe he was Master's mentor.

• Nikolai Lermontov? Late fifties? About five-ten, stocky but fit? Lives in Yekaterinburg?

• Yes, Sir, that's him.

• His slave is Prince Jamal. You're certain of that.

• Yes, Sir. Well, as of January. I haven't seen either one since.

• That is all, slave. I can see why your Master wants to retain you. You are intelligent, resourceful, and honest.

• (Thank you, Sir, but I can't say that.)

• I hope your new Master treats you well.

• (What did you say? My new – )

• It is clear that Dmitri cannot remain with you. He will have to sell you at the auction on Thursday.

When he left, the door slammed shut hard. Not the door to the room. The door to my future life.

DMITRI: TUESDAY, 13 JUNE, EARLY AFTERNOON – OFF THE COAST OF KENYA

Jaakko had told me this morning that he wanted to talk with me and Ruslan. This made me a bit nervous, as he had left us yesterday suspicious of the story that Ruslan had told.

We set up a Zoom call for 1 p.m.

Jaakko looked like a man who had just been told that his beloved Doberman had mauled a neighbor's child and would have to be put down. Angry, disappointed, sad – but determined not to let it show.

• You know, Dmitri, my life is very difficult right now.

• I'm sorry to hear that, Jaakko.

• It is my own fault. I wanted a mestizo as one of my boys and there was Braulio Mendes at the convention, peddling Javier. And such a good fuck. Worst decision I ever made in my life.

• I've made mistakes with slaves myself. It happens.

• And now I'm saddled with the responsibility with disposing of him in a way that would teach him a lesson – if only he would be around afterwards to learn from it.

• (I waited. He didn't need Ruslan to hear this, so where was he going?)

• A boy who literally tried to murder me.

• (I remember. It was only yesterday.)

• To boot, two of my servants at my summer home are discontent, and looking for new jobs. Pekka my gardener and Olivier my chef. Olivier says it's too isolated and wants someplace closer to a city. Pekka wants to change jobs and be a chauffeur – impossible at my summer estate, where there are no cars. My only chauffeur is at my main home and I don't need to replace him. And both of them want raises. I invited your friend Nikolai to stay at the summer estate until he goes to Norway for LBM Europe – he had to arrive with a staff in disarray. And on top of this, I learn that the most trustworthy person on this ship is probably your slave.

• (excuse me?). . . Jaakko?

• I went out of my way to fix things for you, Dmitri. I arranged with Khalid so that all three of your boys would go into the guillotine at the same time – so two were guaranteed to emerge intact. You got the two you wanted – Alaska and Connecticut.

• Yes but I –

• AND Khalid agreed to let you have Alaska, provided you put Alexei up for sale. That was MY negotiating. And you ignore all that. So now I have to explain to Khalid how you've reneged.

• Jaakko –

• Only you won't renege. There is no question of you retaining Alexei now. Not after you lied to me about Prince Abdullah. And the fact that Prince Jamal is also still alive, and, irony of ironies, is at this very moment at my summer estate in Finland with Nikolai, who has claimed him – a member of the royal family – as a slave!

• Jamal is no longer a member of the royal family. He's fair game to be enslaved.

• And you hid this fact – and his brother's survival – from me.

• I didn't exactly lie.

• You didn't exactly tell the truth. I had to get it out of Alexei. Not only did he save my life, but he's the one person who has spoken the complete truth to me. You allowed Abdullah to take your slaves out in a car – openly naked in a convertible, no less – to a nude beach where they could masquerade as men?

• I didn't allow it. I was in Montana at the time

• And where were you, Ruslan? At the nude beach. Abdullah's twenty years old and you leave him alone in the house with slaves he's too close to, unsupervised.

• (Ruslan) Yes, that was my fault, Mr. Koivisto. I take full responsibility.

• You shouldn't. Because what sticks in my craw is how you handled it, Dmitri.

• Why? I kicked him out of the house.

• You let him go freely. And now he's on the loose in Istanbul. Maybe he's already told people he's a prince.

• What could I have done?

• There are plenty of things you could have done, Dmitri. You could have him arrested on some trumped-up charge and sent to a labor camp in Siberia. Or simply send him back to his father and let him face the music. I'll bet you didn't even inform the Prince Regent, did you?

• The Prince Regent made it very clear he no longer considered Abdullah his son.

• If that's the case, maybe you should have claimed him, like Nikolai did with Jamal. If anybody deserves enslavement, it's Abdullah. But you bungled it.

• If so, it's too late. It's in the past, Jaakko.

• So let's talk the present. It is obvious to me that you are too close to Alexei. And if you don't make Alexei available, Khalid will be furious and so will the Prince Regent.

• But I already told Alexei that I would keep him.

• You already told him. Dmitri, this is exactly what I'm talking about. You're worried about breaking your word to a SLAVE? That is not the Dmitri I know. It is clear to me this boy has gotten under your skin, and it is affecting your judgment. You need to sell your boy. Yuri also. You may both consider this an order. If you want IAMSO to endorse Little Big Man.

I do not take kindly to orders.

• Fine, Jaakko. I will comply. But I am not happy about it.

And to make it clear just how not happy about it I was, I rose from my chair and left the room.

RUSLAN: All while this scene was playing out, my mind was going tick-tock, tick-tock. And Plan Ruslan 2.0 – or was it 3.0? – was beginning to germinate in my mind.

Koivisto had not ended the Zoom session when Dmitri stalked angrily out of the room.

• Mr. Koivisto?

• Yes, what is it, Ruslan?

• Could we talk for a few minutes? I have an idea. A way you can thank Yuri and Dmitri without violating your principles. And it just might solve one of your own problems.

• I'll listen.

• But I warn you – it's big. And you need to act now.

I told him and he was interested. To effect my plan, I needed to make some phone calls. And Koivisto had to make one, as well. And I needed everything to fall the right way.

ALEXEI: TUESDAY, JUNE 13, EVENING – OFF THE COAST OF SOMALIA

• This is it, Alexei.

• I know.

• Master told me an hour ago. It's definite. He's selling me.

• Yeah, me too.

• We'll never see each other again.

• Oh, Rhody.

A hug ensued.

• I'm sorry. I know I'm crying, I just can't help it. I love you so much, Alexei. I held back because of Matti, but there's no point in holding back now. And now you've not only lost Matti, you've lost me.

• Rhody. Dear, dear Rhody. You've made me realize just how much I care for you. It IS possible to love two men at the same time. I love Matti, and I love you. If this were television, they'd make a movie out of it.

• (with a rueful smile) Or a game show. Slave number one, or slave number two?

• `Who gets the rose?'?

• Something like that.

• You'd get a rose, Rhody.

• After Matti did, but it's okay. So the palace is going to buy you?

• Yeah. Khalid confirmed it tonight. He says I won't be gelded, though. Not unless I mess up and fail my trial.

• Maybe the palace will buy me, too. Then we could still see each other.

• Don't count on it. Things are very controlled at the palace.

• Gawd, Alexei. I could wind up anywhere. Africa, Asia, South America – I could be oceans away from you.

• Now you're making ME cry.

• . . .

• Rhody?

• . . .

• Penny for them.

• . . . In an hour or so, our Masters are going to take us to bed. And in the morning we'll be taken off the ship. We might only have an hour left together – ever.

• (smiling wryly) You're not cheering me up any, Rhody.

• Let's make it a good hour.

• . . . Are you saying what I think you're saying?

• Is my cock answering your question?

• It's quite a risk.

• What are they going to do if they find out?

• Whip our asses to shreds.

• No. They're going to sell us – they don't want us blemished for the inspection.

• Ah.

• I see your cock is warming to the idea.

• Is there lube?

• There's always lube. In the bathroom. . . . Alexei, can I be on top?

• I'd be honored. You were always a little bit more of a Top than I was. And you're a great fucker.

• Thanks. You're a great fuckee. Wait right there.

Rhody retrieved a tube of lube from the bathroom. I bent over as he applied it to my hole, and then he fucked me for all he was worth. And he was worth a lot.

It was the best hour I'd spent since Matti left. Ah, Rhody. Why do we have to be separated, too?

Master arrived in the Control Room not five minutes after Rhody had deposited his sperm up my anal canal, swimming, no doubt, in hopes of fertilizing an egg, and winding up terribly disappointed. Master took me back to his cabin and gave me my obligatory nightly fuck within minutes.

He instructed me not to wake him when my alarm went off, but to get up and await further instructions. This was curious but mine was not to reason why, mine was just to do or get the shit beaten out of me.

Less catchy than the original phrase, but probably more accurate.

WEDNESDAY, JUNE 14, PRE-DAWN – MOGADISHU, SOMALIA

The alarm went off at the alarming time of 1:45 a.m. – not even two hours of sleep.

I rose, and waited. Master was sleeping soundly. The door opened. Ramses Crawford.

• Come, boy.

I went. We were in port – which I knew already by the lack of motion. Ramses led me to the exit ramp – this time mercifully devoid of the cheering crowds reveling at our humiliation – down the gangplank, and into the trunk of a waiting car. I glanced back and saw Rhody and Javier being led toward two other cars.

I'm not a fan of car trunks, but it was infinitely better than that crowded, brutally hot van into which we had been jammed last year.

We drove for a few minutes and then I was taken out. It was pitch black; no one was around. We were at the back side of a five-story building that looked like a hotel. In addition to Ramses, two maroons had ridden in my car – and there were others accompanying Rhody and Javier.

A hotel? Was Master taking me – a slave – to a hotel?

He was. We slipped in through a back entrance and threaded our way into a corridor, two maroons leading the way. I realized they were acting as scouts, to make sure there were no guests up and about at this hour in the hallway to see three slaves parading around naked.

Ramses, two maroons, and I got into a service elevator, not one that guests used. We got off at the fifth floor. Ramses held us there while one of the maroons checked the hallway. Empty. I was rushed down the hall and into a room. Ramses told me to use the bathroom now, as it would be hours before I would be allowed to again. And then he chained me to a bed and left.

A bed! He'd chained me to a bed! I didn't mind the chain, I was going to be able to sleep on a real bed! I gathered up my free hand and pressed the pillow – a real pillow! – under my head.

I think I was asleep in less than two minutes.

DMITRI: WEDNESDAY, 14 JUNE, AFTERNOON – MOGADISHU, SOMALIA

At noon, we paraded the boys off the boat in their full, naked glory – to their abject astonishment and humiliation, as they heard the jeers and catcalls of the men assembled to watch them disembark and be shoved into the van like sardines.

While they were waiting impatiently in the hot van, we took the enforcers to the Red Lion, where they had a great time abusing the brothel's all-male stock. Which, until today, had included Matvei. Suleiman informed me that he had been extremely popular with the clientele – he, in fact, was their most requested boy. Would I not, he said, extend his loan to the Red Lion for another year?

I would not, but Suleiman was free to bid on him at the auction.

Afterwards, I returned to the hotel and let Alexei loose from his chains for a few hours. Ramses had come by just before noon and given him a bathroom break and fed him. Alexei seemed content when I visited him – it was something of a role-switch for me to have been bringing him dinner. But I couldn't allow room service to enter the room with Alexei wandering around naked.

I fucked him and sent him to bed at about ten, chaining him down once again while I went on an odyssey. There was another piece of business I needed to attend to: a trip to the aquarium, along with Jaakko, Yuri, Sergei, Joey, and Tupu. It was close to midnight when we arrived. Abdul had greased the palm of the night watchman so that he would let us in at night when the aquarium was closed.

There was another person present – Javier. The six of us fucked him in succession, in front of a pair of curious sea lions – and we invited the night watchman to strip down and take sloppy sevenths. The night watchman, unaware of our plans, had probably never fucked a boy in his life, but participated eagerly. It wasn't every day, after all, that you got paid three times – your regular salary, a substantial bribe, AND the chance to get your rocks off, even if the recipient of your attentions was of a gender you hadn't previously engaged with.

After the night watchman had had his go, Jaakko fucked Javier a second time, before speaking to him:

• We had originally intended to put you to death, Javier. Attempted murder is an offense which, under normal circumstances, would not only result in execution, but a Level Four execution. While we do not have time for such a prolonged event – it takes more than 24 hours – the problem with an execution is that you don't learn a lesson from it.

• Therefore, I have decided to cut off your fingers, one by one, and feed them to the sharks. When they are gone, you will not be able to use your hands, much like the thieves under Sharia law.

We all remained nude – and hard – as the watchman led us up to the top of the shark tank. The watchman seemed nervous at hearing these plans, but Jaakko promised to double his bribe in exchange for his silence.

Javier screamed as his right thumb was sliced off and fell into the tank below. It was followed by two more fingers on his right hand, blood now dripping freely into the tank.

The blood got the attention of the sharks, who immediately gathered near the severed digits and gobbled them up.

• You know, Javier. On second thought, I think you're too stupid to learn anything from this. After all, you didn't learn anything from having your cock cut off. So . . . in you go.

Tupu and Joey lifted him up. Moments later, there was a splash.

The night watchman was apoplectic.

• You didn't tell me you were going to do that! Do you know what you've done? They'll fire me!

What happened next was unfortunate, but necessary: The night watchman, conveniently undressed, was clearly a security risk.

Well, at least he wasn't fired.

ALEXEI: THURSDAY, JUNE 15, EARLY AFTERNOON – MOGADISHU, SOMALIA

The auction was to be held today, and not in the hotel. How were they going to get me there?

I remembered from the convention that it would be acceptable to drape something like a poncho over me, as long as I was fully nude underneath. But a poncho would have been hard to justify in 100-degree weather – sorry, I still think in Fahrenheit – so it did create a bit of a problem.

My heart skipped a beat or three when I saw their solution – one of the emasculating guillotines, in its box, was wheeled into Master's hotel room.

• Relax, Alexei, you're only going in the box, not the machine.

But I was seated at the machine. They gagged me, pushed my balls out of the way, lowered the blade so that it couldn't fall accidentally, and closed up the box. Now I could be transported without anyone knowing I was nude. They carried me into a vehicle, which drove a short distance to our destination.

When the box was opened, I was in a room similar to the place where, a year ago, the Royal Family had pored over every inch of my body before deciding to choose Matti instead of me. Like then, I was attached to chains suspended from the ceiling and shackles on the floor of the low platform on which I was to stand. Initially, only three platforms were occupied, by no one I recognized. They fitted me into the restraints, spread-eagling me, as another slave was brought into the room, with more surely to come.

Judging from the varying heights of the slaves, this was not an LBM auction. It must be for slave re-sales, like me. Would I be joined by Matti and Rhody? It seemed likely. But I wouldn't see them, judging from the blindfold they were about to place onto my head. But one slave I did see was the strangest-looking captive I had ever seen, one whose Master had seemingly been inspired – cruelly so – by literature.

There are two writers named Alexandre Dumas – père (father) and fils (son). Dumas-père is the more famous, having written one of my favorite adventure stories, The Count of Monte Cristo, as well as the so-called `D'Artagnan Romances', the first of which is The Three Musketeers, and the last of which is The Man in the Iron Mask, which has been made into a couple of not-great movies.

I could have been an extra in a gay porn remake of The Man in the Iron Mask. The slave had been fitted with a metal helmet that covered his entire head, a bit like a welder's mask but contoured to mold to his face. There were openings for the eyes – ironically now covered by a blindfold – and most prominently for the mouth, wide enough to allow air access to the nostrils – but obviously made large so that the slave could open wide for deep-throating. He was trim but with nice pectoral muscles, olive skin, and an average-sized uncut dong that swung freely between his thighs in front of an undistinguished pair of balls.

I could only think of two reasons for such an accessory being fitted onto a slave. Either he had a very cruel Master who was punishing him by encasing his head permanently, or he had a very cruel Master who had disfigured him so badly that to display his face would have reduced his market value to near zero.

I thought about my adjustment period as a slave – all the indignities I had suffered – and thought: At least I didn't have a Master who did this to me. At least I didn't have a Master who castrated me. I was angry at Master for selling me, frustrated that I could do nothing about it, and fearing my uncertain future – but, in retrospect, Master had been far better to me than what Javier and this poor guy had endured.

For the next two hours, I was poked, prodded, squeezed, fingered, pinched, rubbed, spit on, slapped, teased into erection, endured things pushed up my ass (not a cock or a fist), had clamps or clothespins put on my nipples, genitals, and plenty of other places, and just about everything else you can think of that didn't involve fucking, sucking, or mark-inducing discipline. And listened as potential buyers discussed my good and bad features and compared me to others, mostly in languages I didn't understand.

The conversations in English – some of which came with heavy voices with what sounded like African accents – were generally quite praiseworthy. There was a lot of discussion about my provenance – my belonging to the head of LBM was quite a feather in my cap, although there was the inevitable well, then why is he selling him' argument, sometimes counterpointed by a knowledgeable consultant who would inform them they always trade in their slaves for a new one every year, it's just the way they do things'. Which had been true of Master except for keeping B.J. a second year – and evidently true of Yuri. I thought about Wyoming and especially Nodak. Sergei must have sold Wyoming already, or he would have taken him with him on the boat. And Boris was currently running contests for LBM Europe, and would have likely sold Nodak before departing, hoping to replace him with a Black boy.

When the inspections were finished, they unchained me and removed the blindfold. All the buyers had left, leaving only the tall white-clad Somali slave-handlers. And the nineteen slaves who were to be sold. Including the boy in the iron mask.

Including the man I loved.

Including the other man I loved, a little less.

A slave with dark skin, newly released from his chains, recognized someone across the room and ran toward him, calling out: "Muhammad!" The Somalis quickly intercepted him, knocked him to the ground, kicked him vigorously in the groin, and cuffed and gagged him.

• You will remain silent!

Which put an end to any thought I had of trying to speak to Matti or Rhody. It was Matti I really needed to talk to; Rhody and I had had a satisfactory consummation of our relationship last night. If it didn't seem like closure, it was at least a suitable farewell. But the last time I had seen Matti he was lying in a trunk with a breathing apparatus fixed over his face, about to be shipped off to who-knew-where. That was two months ago.

Our faces met, though. And he grinned. That sexy, beguiling grin that, more than anything else, had attracted me to him in the first place. He knew we were about to be separated yet again, forever this time – and he was grinning. This time, he wasn't sparing me the angst of separation. This time, he didn't want me to hate him. This time, he wanted me to remember the grin, the sexy beast, my Finnish Calculation Wizard, the man who lies horizontally, the crusader against `anti-Finnish bias', the Sauna Fiend, the joker, the pragmatist, the comforter, the – oh, shit, I was starting to cry.

They hauled him away, and I felt like Moses on Mount Sinai – I was able to see the one thing I wanted most in the world – but I would never have it. Rhody noticed the interchange, and smiled – ruefully. His loss was as genuine as mine, and now he was even losing the battle for my attention if there was one. And then they released him and led him out of the room. As he had the last time we had parted in this ill-begotten city, he looked back at me, like Orpheus needing one last look at his beloved Eurydice as he climbed out of the Underworld.

I was about to be cast into my own personal Underworld forever, with no Matti, no Rhody, no Ruslan, no Master Dmitri. My Underworld was disguised as luxurious palace, but for slaves it was far from luxurious: no hot showers or toilet paper or meals that didn't contain porridge. And, if I didn't measure up, the prospect of the dome.

Like Eurydice, I was doomed.

[COMING UP NEXT: CHAPTER SEVENTY-TWO - ALL GOOD THINGS MUST COME TO AN END.]