Flight 12

Flight 12 – a serial novel by Travis Creel

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO: PERIL BELOW GROUND

Previously, Underground:

• The bottoms are subjected to a day-long orgy on Christmas Day, after which Piers is executed.

• Abe learns that he, Jordan, and Miles are all slated to die by the end of the month.

• Barry, given permission to fuck anyone' except Abe, fucks Augie in front of Jordan; Jordan asks if anyone' includes virgins.

• After encountering an amorous Vic, Miles, who had been stringing Vic along under Sean's direction, reconsiders his relationships with each of them.

• Dai and Paul, concerned that they'll never find each other in Alphaworld, decide to ask if each other's names can be tattooed onto their bodies.

[Author's Note: Chapter 41 covered the two days after Christmas on the surface. This chapter will cover the same period underground.]

• • • • • • • • WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 26 * * * * * * * *

JORDAN'S CELL – JORDAN

Every moment of the orgy was burned into my brain – every penetration, every pounding, every stroke of the cane or strap, every yell, every scream, every gasp, every fluid ounce of semen squirting into my anal canal. Yet after all that, I was completely uninjured this morning. Such was life in Hamishland.

Barry dropped by for a morning fuck, or so I thought. No such luck, though he promised to try to work in a punishment session later. Given his newly-granted freedom to use anyone and everyone he wanted, he wanted to sample the full menu – today's agenda included Ed, Tim, and maybe Augie as well – he really liked fucking Augie.

• What about Harry?

• What ABOUT Harry?

• You said you were allowed to fuck anyone but Abe.

• I did. I am.

• And I asked `even a virgin?' You never answered that question.

• . . .

• Harry wasn't part of the orgy, was he?

• He was there. He watched.

• All Harry wants in this world is to lose his virginity. So how about it? Add him to your shopping list.

• Jordan, there's a reason he was left out yesterday.

• I repeat. You were told `anyone', right? Anyone you wanted, as long as it wasn't Percy's pet.

• That's what Hamish said.

• So that includes Harry.

• . . . It would seem to. Technically.

• I know he's overweight, Barry. But his ass is as fuckable as anyone else's. And bound to be tight.

• Nice and tight, true.

• And you'd have the notch on your belt that said `I deflowered a virgin'.

• Oh, I already have several of those notches. But, yeah, it's always a pleasure to take a cherry. Even if they want it taken.

• So . . . ?

• I'll get back to you.

THE DORMITORY – HARRY

• So despite what they did yesterday, I'm completely fine today.

• That's how it works down here, Tim.

• Does my butt look normal? When I went to bed, it was so sore. I thought it would be bruised for months. But now I don't feel a thing – are there marks on it at all?

• Not a one.

• Yours looks completely normal, too.

• Oh, my ass never looks completely normal. But no, there are no marks on it. I . . . didn't go through what you guys did.

• What? You weren't raped all day?

• Not once. They want to keep me a virgin. I guess because I'm so pure and saintly. The Virgin Harry - they'll be erecting chapels in churches for me soon.

• That's sacrilegious, Harry.

• Sorry. But I've been exempted from –

I was interrupted in mid-sentence by the appearance of Uri, my personal lieutenant and non-tormentor.

• (Uri) It's time for the milking.

• (Tim) You get milked?

• No. I watch Dai get milked. I do clean him up afterwards, though. I suppose that's something.

FUCK ROOM A – DAI

They strapped me up, ready to start the machine. We were just waiting for Harry to arrive to witness my humiliation – and further his. Poor Harry. He wanted so badly to be fucked – and they wouldn't do it.

Given my unique ability to produce an extraordinary amount of sperm, the first two milkings were intensely pleasurable, despite the fact that it was hard metal and not a human mouth, hand, or rectum coaxing the jizm from my cock. The third was more of a strain but still pleasurable. After that, the chafing got painful. I was capable of cumming seven times, but the last milking rubbed my cock so hard I thought the skin would come off – and the output wouldn't fill the tiniest measuring spoon. After each orgasm, Harry would lap up the white cream from wherever it fell, unless it was on my cock – THAT he was not allowed to touch.

I waited until the Mayer brothers – Patrick, Lander, Xander, and Dane – had detached me from the milking machine before making my request. I decided to approach Lander.

• Remember the tattoo you guys gave me?

• Do I! It was beautiful. A shame you got it removed.

• If it makes you feel better, the removal was not pleasant.

• Great. Thanks.

• Can you still do tattoos? Down here?

• What – you want it back?

At this point, Lander's brothers got interested.

• Do you have the equipment?

• (Patrick) We could probably get it.

• (Xander) You want your tattoo back?

• Not the same one. Do you do requests?

• (Dane) Actually, Patrick, I don't think we could get tattooing equipment.

Patrick and Lander looked at him with a Whatchu talkin' bout, Willis?' kind of expression.

But Xander was smiling. I saw him mouth something to the other brothers, then they, too, started to smile.

• (Xander) The bottom line is, you want something written on your body.

• Yes, but not kana telling the world that I'm a champion cocksucker.

• (Lander) What do you want it to say?

• I want it to say Paul Eton Richmond" inside a heart. And I want Paul to have one that says Dai Omi, San Fran' inside a heart. So that we can find each other back in Alphaworld.

• (Patrick) You want a permanent message.

• Yeah. One that will last beyond Betaworld.

• (Patrick) We'd have to get approval. But if headquarters says okay, we could do that. Only, like Dane says, it wouldn't be a tattoo.

• I don't understand. What else would it be?

• (Dane) A brand.

THE DORMITORY – ED

• Bend over, Ed.

That wasn't Mac's voice. I turned around, wondering who was ordering me about this time. And was astonished to find it was Hamish's slave, the one usually seen walking around on all fours with a puppy-dog tail protruding from his bum. This poofter was no position to tell ME what to do.

• Don't be ridiculous. You're Hamish's bloody poodle.

• More like a Rottweiler. A horny Rottweiler who wants to hump more than your leg.

• Ha. A Rottweiler who takes it up the ass from his Master.

• Sometimes. But not so much since he gave me free rein to fuck anyone I choose. And I choose you.

• You're choosing a forty-nine-year-old man when there's a twenty-year-old available.

• Oh, I've fucked Augie already, and I'll do him again. But I haven't fucked you yet. Besides, you're not that far from my age.

• Come off it, pooch. You have no authority over me.

• If you doubt my authority, ask Hamish. Of course, I could tell him you refused and see what he does. He might decide to create father-and-son jockstraps, a limited edition.

• He needs to keep me alive.

• Does he? He didn't keep Leo alive.

• This is an alternate universe, and it's ending in five days. Go ahead and kill me, I won't be dead for long. That's the only thing keeping me going, knowing that Leo is still alive in the real world.

• Oops.

• What do you mean, `oops'?

• Didn't they tell you, Ed? The Twelve don't exist in Alphaworld anymore. This is the only existence you've got.

• Are you saying that Leo is –

• Dead, yeah. Really and permanently dead. I understand it's a blow, but everybody agrees he was a little shit, anyway. What did you call him? A nancy boy.

• Leo is really . . .

• And you will be, too, if Hamish decides that you're a head too tall. So unless you want to risk a date with an axe, bend over and take what's coming to you. Which, you can see, is quite large. But at least I won't knock out your teeth afterwards.

What could I do? I bent over the bed and let the ruddy Rottweiler roger me.

ST. MORITZ, SWITZERLAND – JESÚS

Germán entered my office.

• (Germán) Just got a transmission from the island. An odd request. Branding equipment.

• Branding equipment? Sounds like fun. What prompted that?

• Believe it or not, Omi. He wants to be tattooed. But Dane had the bright idea of saying they couldn't tattoo him, but they could brand him.

• I'd imagine that would talk him out of it.

• It didn't. He agreed.

• Why? What's so important that he wanted it permanently on his body?

• His lover's name. He's afraid he'll get back to Alphaworld and they won't know each other.

• What does Hamish think?

• He's heartily in favor. And he thought of a way to make it humiliating as well as painful.

• Excellent. Have Falcon program in some equipment for them to use.

MILES'S CELL – MILES

Piers is dead. His last day on earth – or, at least, on Beta-earth, and how did he spend it? Being fucked and beaten for twelve hours. And then, late last night, beheaded.

When Al, Stan and Theo escaped, I was so glad for them. Down here, they were doomed to castration and execution. Al had escaped too late to avoid castration, but at least he was alive. Or so I hoped – the fact that the three of them had been up top for nearly two weeks without being recaptured was a positive sign.

Unfortunately, that was bad news for the rest of us. Damaso, Arif, and now Piers had met the knife – and the axe. Piers was the last of the left-siders, aside from Seth's boyfriend Abe, who was apparently special and needed to be kept alive for something yet to come.

Which meant that if the need arose to execute a left-sider, there were no left-siders left. There were, however, myself and Jordan. The interlopers, whom I had unwittingly – stupidly – entangled in this mess, through my association with Sean.

Since Vic's appearance underground, my relationship with him had changed drastically. I had only dated Vic at Sean's instigation. I was so wrapped around Sean's little finger – and his middle leg – that I was putty in his hands. Date Vic, sure. Pretend to be his boyfriend, sure. Use the secret beetscrew' search engine to discover' Stimulever and enable my friend Nick to hack them, sure.

Sean claimed that Stimulever was evil and needed to be brought down. Their website was inaccessible except to an expert hacker – like Nick. When Sean discovered that Jordan knew about Flight 12, he told me to involve Jordan in the attempt to pressure Stimulever. I thought I was doing good. Now I realize that he was part of Stimulever – and this was very confusing. Was he working against Stimulever while also working for them? Some kind of double agent?

It was becoming clear that my relationship with Sean was a fraud. He didn't really love me, he was using me. The man who truly loved me – and was worth loving back – was Vic. If I got back to Alphaworld, I was going to move in with him. But that was a big if.

My principal source of news is Jordan – whose principal source of news is Barry, who's infatuated with Jordan and enjoys beating the hell out of him. Today, Jordan informed me that, given the absence of remaining left-side passengers, he and I were slated for castration when the next two Twelve members arrived, on the 29th and the 31st. Execution to follow subsequently. He didn't know which of us was to go first.

And, because Sean had removed us from Alphaworld, our Beta-lives were all we had. Which meant that unless something changed, we'd both be dead by New Year's Eve.

I got confirmation this evening directly from Barry – while he was plowing the shit out of me.

THE THRONE ROOM – ABE

Yesterday, I'd been everybody's pussy. I couldn't believe that, after that twelve-hour marathon, I'd wake up completely undamaged this morning. How many cocks had gone up my ass? How many blows had my buttocks absorbed? And here I was, feeling bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.

Until I thought about Seth. Last Christmas we'd not really known each other, but we'd spent it together, both of us distant enough from our parents to not want to spend it with them, even though Seth's were barely an hour away in Sandusky. We'd made sweet love and given each other gifts.

How had Seth spent this Christmas, I wondered. He was up there with two past lovers – Ian and Sean. In the presence of such temptation, was he celibate? I always sensed that part of Seth was still in love with Sean. Maybe Sean would use his charms to sway Seth back to him. He was smooth, that was for sure. He had been smooth with me.

I had known all along that sleeping with Sean was wrong. And I can't believe that I let him charm me into cheating on Seth that last time – November 23rd, the night of the Pearl Jam concert. By then, I knew that Sean was not a good man and that Seth was. The moment that crystalized that realization had occurred less than two weeks earlier. I was in Sean's apartment at the time.

FLASHBACK: SEAN (CLEVELAND) – November 11, this year

Things were going well with Abe. He was open about both his feelings for Seth and his guilt over cheating on him. The relationship with Seth was strong, which we needed, and there was tension, which we also needed. I had to be careful to be a distraction and not more than that. I couldn't be someone he fell in love with. I had to be – not quite an asshole, but not a prince either.

The opportunity to be a bit of an asshole came when he was with me, stripped to his skivvies, about to go the full Monty – and his phone rang. I saw him glance at it, assuming he would ignore it – who takes a phone call when they're moments away from sex? But then he lurched to pick it up and walked out of the room, wanting privacy.

Seth?

He returned, minutes later, to gather his clothing.

• Sorry, can't do this.

• What's wrong?

• That was my mother. She wants me to come home.

• To Indiana?

• It's my father. He's going downhill fast.

• You hate your father.

• This might be the last time I see him.

• Like you care? He treated you like shit the last time you saw him.

• He's still my father, Sean. I have to go.

• Well, then go, if you really want to. But . . . think about what you're missing.

With that, I grabbed my cock and waved it about. A bit of crassness to add into the lack of empathy. I made it clear that the benefit to him was my cock and not much else.

I wondered how Seth would react to the situation.

FLASHBACK: ABE (CLEVELAND / MADISON, INDIANA) – November 11-13, this year

• Hi. I'm just calling to let you know that I'll be gone for a few days.

• Oh? What's up?

• I'm driving out to Indiana.

• You're going home? Something happen?

• Yeah. My father has reached a critical point. He doesn't want to go on. He wants to see his children.

• . . . Abe, do you think he's thinking of . . . ?

• I'm trying NOT to think about what he's thinking. I just need to go.

• I'll come over.

He must have dropped everything and left immediately, because he was there in twenty minutes. I opened the door and there he was, his huge arms just waiting to take me into them.

• Babe, I'm so sorry.

• I feel so . . . guilty.

• Why should you feel guilty?

• I haven't been home in three years.

• Well, things have been a bit rocky.

• But he wants to see me. Me and Gretchen and Kate.

• That's a good thing, isn't it?

• It is, and it isn't. I guess it means I matter to him. I didn't think I did; he basically disowned me for being gay. But he wants to see me, Seth. And all this time – when he's been suffering – I let him and Mom go through this by themselves.

• Not by themselves, your sisters were nearby.

• Yes, but I wasn't. I was too stubborn and too selfish. I didn't think he'd want to see me – or maybe I just wanted to think that. Maybe all along he wanted me there.

• Well, he wants you there now. So go. Make your peace with him. . . . Abe?

• Yeah?

• Do you want me to go with you?

I looked at that big, handsome face and started to cry. I did want him there, and hadn't known how to ask.

I called Mom and asked if it would be okay if Seth came. She hesitated. I heard background mumbling – I think she was conferring with my sisters – and then said yes, he could come, but keep a low profile. I interpreted that to mean no PDA's and keep Seth away from Dad. I told her we'd stay in a hotel.

The next morning we hopped into Seth's car and drove to Madison. It took about five hours, not much longer than it would have taken to fly, what with all the pre-airport time and the fact that we'd still have to drive for an hour or so after landing in Louisville or Cincinnati. Madison is a quaint, quiet city on the Ohio River, full of beautiful Victorian houses, one of which I grew up in. My grandfather, an Armenian immigrant, had wound up here when he accepted a teaching position at a nearby college.

Seth waited in the car while I went inside to check the temperature. My father was in his room, asleep; it was okay if Seth came in. Kate and Gretchen were anxious to meet him, lacking the homophobia Mom and Dad had drilled into them from an early age. It hit me with more guilt – I hadn't been in touch with my sisters, either, and I was missing out on a relationship that could enhance my life if I let it.

Seeing my father was shattering. He could barely coordinate his movements. He saw me and a crooked smile punctuated his face.

• Abe. You came.

• Of course I came, Dad.

I was a half-second away from adding `How are you?', which would have been the stupidest sentence I'd uttered in my entire life.

• Abe, help me.

• Do you need help getting up? You want to go to the bathroom, or –

• Help me die.

• . . . What?

• Your sisters won't do it. Your mother – I couldn't ask her. You're the only one who . . .

The only one who could do it. The only one who was distant enough, cold enough to end a life. Who disliked him enough to not have it burn through his conscience forever.

• Dad, it's illegal. I could go to prison.

Fuck! Had I really said that? It was true, this was not Oregon, where doctor-assisted suicide was legal. But my gut reaction was self-preservation, not empathy.

He looked at me, his eyes welling up, whether from his hopes being crushed or in disappointment over my self-serving reaction I'll never know.

• Of course, Abe. I understand. It . . . It was my only hope, but I knew it was too much to ask.

• Oh, Dad.

And I burst into tears and fell across his body, hugging him for all he was worth. His limbs tried to reach around me, not altogether successfully, but I knew the intention. I think at that moment I felt closer to him than at any time since I was about six.

• I'll see what I can do.

Did I really say that, also? He nodded, knowing it was one of those obligatory semi-offers that wouldn't come to fruition. There being nothing more to be said, I left the room.

In the living room I found Seth talking to my mother and sisters about what kind of palliative care my father was getting. There were sedatives, they said; Mom had been taught how to safely inject them.

• I think he could use some now. He's pretty wrought up after seeing me.

• (Mom) Did you say something to antagonize him?

• No. Mom. It's just been emotional – for both of us.

• (Mom) I don't want to sedate him too often. I'll talk to him, calm him down.

• (Seth) Do you mind if I get something to drink? Don't get up, I'll get it myself.

After he returned, we chatted with my sisters for a few minutes and then left for the safety of the Hillside Inn, a hotel with lovely views of the Ohio River, where barges placidly navigated the smooth current. It was a sedative all its own, the perfect place for me to brief Seth on my emotional exchange with my father and his horrifying request.

The following day I visited my father for the second and last time. He was asleep when I entered his room. I sat with him for about ten minutes when suddenly Seth walked in, wearing a jacket and tie that I hadn't known he had packed. It woke Dad up.

• (Dad) Who are you?

Moment of panic. He looked suspiciously at Seth. Was he thinking what I was afraid he was thinking?

• (Seth) I'm Dr. Herrick.

• (Dad, confused) I have my own doctors.

• (Seth) Your son called me in. In regard to the request you made yesterday.

He produced a syringe – from where I had no idea. My father brightened, looked at me, and smiled.

• (Dad) I knew you'd come through.

Seth pulled me aside and whispered:

• Bought this just in case. Found the sedative in the fridge yesterday. Hope I got the dosage right.

I didn't know where Seth developed the skills to find a vein, but he injected my father smoothly and without generating a complaint.

• (Dad) Thank you.

• (Seth) No one should have to go through what you're going through. I hope this eases your pain.

• You're not a doctor, are you?

• What makes you say that?

• You're Abe's . . .

Neither of us knew what to say to that, so we didn't.

• I hope you're happy together. Take care of my son.

Did my father actually say that?

• Could you send in my wife? I'd like to be with her when –

• Of course.

We left him resting peacefully and told my mother he wanted to see her, he looked like he was fading. She stayed with him for half an hour, and came back red-eyed but calm.

• He's gone.

She looked at me and Seth.

• Thank you. I knew that's what he wanted. I didn't have the strength.

Seth had the strength. He had the strength of Hercules.

• • • • • • • • THURSDAY, DECEMBER 27 * * * * * * * *

THE DORMITORY – HARRY

• On your knees.

This couldn't be good. When we were given orders, only two things could follow – sex or punishment. In my case, sex being out of the question, this could only mean punishment. But being positioned on my knees wasn't a usual precedent for punishment. What could it be? Bondage, possibly. But what seemed most likely was that Barry, Hamish's dog, was about to piss on me.

• Open your mouth.

Or in me.

He stroked himself to a full erection, which confused me, as that was unnecessary, even counterproductive, if he was about to urinate.

• You've gotten off too easy, bitch. Time you got fed a little cock.

Was he serious?

• Suck it, fat boy.

I couldn't believe my eyes. I looked hungrily at the thick sausage in front of me – was he really going to allow me a taste of it? Or was this to be just another cruel joke, crushing my dream yet again? Cue Lucy, with the football.

I opened my mouth and in slid his thick, rigid member. It felt wonderful, it smelled wonderful, it tasted wonderful. I pulled my head back and licked the shaft with relish, then opened wide and let him invade my oral cavity.

• Work it, bitch.

I did. I didn't know what I was doing, but I let my fantasies go and caressed that cock for all it was worth, letting my lips encircle every inch of that shaft, wrapping my tongue around as much of it as I could, trying to keep my breathing steady and not gag.

When he started to fuck my throat, gagging was impossible to avoid. And yet I relished it. I was being abused in the most sexual of ways, I was being treated as a sexual object and not as an object of ridicule. Barry was victimizing me brutally, and I wanted to be brutalized. His cockhead jabbed my throat time and time again, creating a wonderful panic as I struggled to breathe through my nose.

I was being mouth-raped, and loving every minute.

THE THRONE ROOM – HAMISH

• Dammit, Perce, where's Barry? I'm horny.

• There are plenty of asses to choose from, dear. You haven't done Vic in a few days – he's the body type most like Barry, though a little overdeveloped for my tastes.

• I don't want to fuck Vic. I want to fuck Barry.

• Well, Barry is probably off fucking Vic – or somebody else. You gave him free rein, told him he could fuck anyone he wanted, he's taking advantage of it.

• Yeah, well, that decision is about to be rescinded.

THE DORMITORY – HARRY

Suddenly he pulled his cock out of my mouth, disappointing me by not cumming in it.

• Oh, God, thank you.

My voice was so raspy I don't know if it was intelligible. The only thing better would be if –

• Bend over the bed. I'm going to do your fat ass.

. . . would be if he said THAT.

What had happened? They had held me out of the orgy only to give me my own private baptism the next day? And why Barry, and not Uri, or even Hamish himself, if such a monumental change was being effected?

Maybe Barry was acting as an independent contractor. Maybe this was him showing his independence, a minor rebellion against Hamish. After all, how would Hamish find out?

Another possibility raised its head: Jordan. Jordan knew how much I wanted this. Jordan was close to Barry. Maybe Jordan had engineered this in some way. If so, I would have to thank him as –

Aaaaggh! Fffff! Deep breath deep breath deep breath. Pain permeated my anus as, without warning, Barry thrust his cockhead past my sphincter. I gasped, several times, listening to Barry laugh.

• Oh, yes, whale boy. You wanted this, and you're going to get it, like it or not. I always think virgins should be taken without any lubrication at all, makes it all the more memorable. I'm going to –

• Aggghhh!

• Push in another inch without telling you first.

• Oh, oh, oh, oh god, it hurts, it hurts, but sir, I like it, it hurts good.

• It hurts good. Well, that's a good thing because we've got a long way to –

• (a new voice) What the hell is going on here?

I knew that voice. Hamish.

FUCK ROOM F – PAUL

We were on adjoining tables. Dai was face up, I was face down. This was confusing, as we both wanted our tattoos in the same place, somewhere we could read them easily. But there was no arguing with the Mayer brothers, and no changing the position we were in – we were strapped down firmly, unable to even squirm. Dai had the twins – Lander and Xander – while Patrick and Dane were attending to me.

While Patrick seemed to be the oldest brother, it was Dane who was doing the talking.

• Okay, boy, I'm going to place this brand on your ass where everybody can see it.

• I won't see it.

• Don't worry. Other people will tell you what it says.

• Get it over with.

• We will. One letter at a time.

What? I had envisioned a single event, one single branding for the entire message. Sure, they'd have to construct a complex brand that had the heart and Dai's name in it, but surely they could wangle that. And wouldn't one letter at a time require a whole series of brands, making it more complex?

It didn't matter, they were going to do what they were going to do. I only hoped we could trust them to brand us with the right message, and not trick us and burn into our skin something embarrassing, like the tattoo reading `Champion Cocksucker' in Chinese characters Dai had gotten years ago .

Szzzzz. (Gasp!)

• That was the letter P being burnt into your lovely right buttock.

It was a tiny letter P, from the feel of it. But why the letter `P'? I didn't want my name decorating my body, I wanted Dai's, so I could find him.

Szzzzz. (Gasp!)

• And that was the letter R.

R? P-R? What were they writing?

Szzzzz. (Gasp!)

• O.

That was followed by another P and an E.

• Five down, twenty-eight to go. Twenty-nine with the arrow.

The arrow?

FUCK ROOM F – DAI

I watched as they began to brand Paul's ass. It looked like they were going to use up quite a bit of his right buttock, and hoped it didn't ruin its appearance. It was such a lovely ass; would it still be as lovely with a message carved out on it?

I didn't have much time to consider this as my abdomen – arguably a place more sensitive than Paul's ass – received its first letter: an L.

An L? Were they doing this out of order? There was an L in Paul's name, but it came at the end, not at the beginning. I suffered in pain as eight more letters were seared into my abdomen, just above my pubes. They were not spelling out `Paul Eton', I was sure of that.

Fuck, why did I trust them to do what we asked them to?

And then they shaved off all my pubic hair.

FUCK ROOM F – PAUL

To my relief, they did what we asked them to – in a way. They left us each with messages that could help us find the other. But they took a more painful method than tattooing – and more letters than were strictly necessary.

My message said, "Property of Daisuke Omi, San Francisco". And that was accompanied by an Amazon-like arrow pointing directly to my hole.

FUCK ROOM F – DAI

The first line of my message said simply: "Look Below". Underneath was an arrow pointing down to a message which would be obscured if I had pubic hair any more – which, maybe I would when we were restored to Alphaworld. Anyway, the message, just above my cock, said, "Insert into Paul Eton, Richmond".

Now we just needed to trust that our Alpha-selves could still read the messages, and would follow up on it, meet each other, and hopefully fall in love all over again.

THE THRONE ROOM – HAMISH

This was a disaster. Mancini had to remain a virgin, and now Barry's cock had not only raped his mouth but had pushed an inch or so into his ass. Would this destroy the physics? Was the fact that Barry had not shot his load inside Mancini enough to technically keep him a virgin for the purposes of The Project? I had no idea. I would be contacting Switzerland at the next hour.

I dragged Barry out into the hallway and had him wait while I retrieved a collar and puppy tail dildo, both of which I fitted him with as I made him crawl on all fours, wagging his tail, back to the Throne Room.

Then I rephrased the question I had posed when I found Barry inside Mancini:

• What the hell did you think you were doing, Barry?

• You told me I could fuck anyone I wanted.

• Not Mancini!

• You didn't tell me that. You said anyone.

• Dammit, Barry, you knew that Mancini had to stay virgin.

• I thought maybe that had changed when you said I could fuck anyone except Abe.

• Well, not Mancini!

• You should have made that clear, Master.

Oh, really, Barry? You're going to make this MY fault? Not on your life.

• How do you think I should punish you, Barry? What privilege should I withhold?

He thought long and hard. He could read my face and saw I was serious about this – he was in trouble. I could read his thoughts: "If I say something too small, he'll spit in my face and double or triple it. It has to be a privilege I really want to keep."

• Jordan, Master. Forbid me from fucking Jordan. Or playing with him. After Abe, he's my favorite. That's the thing I'd miss the most.

I stared at him. I'd already decided on a punishment – and Murdock was indeed factoring into my thinking.

• Adena arrives Saturday. When he does, Murdock is to be gelded, then executed Sunday. Onslow arrives Monday – it's our last day here, so King will be gelded and executed the same day.

• Tell me what to do to keep them alive. I don't want them to die. Especially Jordan.

• Fair enough, Barry. I'll give you a choice. Option One: Murdock gets the axe on Sunday and King on Monday. With no Alpha-lives, their deaths are permanent and they no longer exist - anywhere.

• What's Option Two?

• We keep them alive until near midnight on New Year's Eve. They'll have to face the axe then, but if it's within the proper window, they can survive when The Project launches.

• I like that option.

• But Barry – for that option to apply, you have to give up something.

• I'll give up fucking Jordan. I'll give up fucking both of them.

• You'll give up fucking anyone, Barry. If you want them to live past Monday, you'll have to surrender the thing most precious to you.

• Oh, my god. Not my balls! Please, not my balls!

• No, Barry. Not your balls.

• Thank God.

• Your cock.

• . . . You're not serious.

• Your cock or their lives. Your choice.

I smiled as wickedly as I could.

[COMING UP NEXT: CHAPTER FORTY-THREE – MORE PERIL ABOVE GROUND]