Little Big Man

LITTLE BIG MAN – a serial novel by Travis Creel

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE: ENTER A V.I.P.

Previously: The Russians have split the 12 remaining Tops into three color-coded tables. Their plan is to force the Tops to choose one of the tables for demotion. Alex (Blue) and Matti (Red) are at separate tables; most of Alex's other friends are at White. While they have deduced that the competition will result in one entire table being Bottomed, they believe the competition centers on a complex, oft-repeated video. The video actually contains subliminal messages designed to get them to vote against Matti's Red table. Meanwhile, Latronius conducts a stealth campaign against Alex (and Blue), hoping to effect his downfall. It seems to be working but after Latronius is called to a meeting at an inopportune moment, Alex is able to clear his name.

Facing a day of chastity Thursday, maroons are encouraged to vigorously use Bottoms today (Wednesday) in public spaces to provide maximum intimidation. One maroon says that if intimidation is the goal, he has a suggestion. The Russians are all ears.

Alex has an uncomfortable moment with Rhode Island, who confesses a strong attraction to him. To his horror, he gets an erection when `Rhody' touches him, and Rhody nearly jerks him off before a maroon intervenes. This creates a crisis for Alex, who still insists he is not gay.

When the video stops being shown and their color-coordinated tablecloths disappear, the Tops suspect that something has changed. Unbeknownst to them, it has: the Russians discover that the terms of their agreement with their largest client have been altered, and that the losers of tonight's competition are to retain their virginity – but will be gelded instead. And their client wants to `play a role' in choosing which ones.

ALEX: WEDNESDAY, JUNE 15, NOON – INDIAN OCEAN

The Bottoms and Eunuchs, unseen since Monday night, were back with us at lunch. At which, curiously, we had paper plates and cups and plastic utensils. That should have been a clue.

Maroons were there, too, behaving badly. Some were holding their crotches in a suggestive fashion. Suddenly, Joey peeled off his top, revealing his powerful, hairy chest. A moment later, he was joined by three other nearby maroons.

"Something's going on," I said.

The whole room was now focused on the four maroons as the rest of their clothes joined their tops in a heap on the floor. And soon they were hard.

In a flash, they moved as a tactical unit, yanking Nebraska out of his chair mid-meal. Joey tossed him over his shoulder like a sack of peat moss and carried him over to an empty table, where Nebraska was slammed down onto his back. Two maroons grabbed Nebraska's legs and pushed them up over his head, exposing his asshole. The fourth maroon, whom I realized was Nelson, grabbed a tub of butter from a nearby table and passed it to Joey. Joey dipped two fingers into the butter, picking up a generous dab and smeared it over Nebraska's exposed anus.

The inevitable occurred. Joey plunged his cock into Nebraska.

I couldn't believe what I was seeing. We knew the Bottoms were at the disposal of the maroons whenever they wanted, but this had always occurred in the privacy of their cabins. They had never before raped a Bottom in front of us.

Joey was plowing into Nebraska, white cock pummeling white ass, pounding him relentlessly as the others cheered him on. Everyone in the room had stopped eating – we had lost our appetite. The other three maroons were hard as a rock, and Nelson tapped Joey on the shoulder. Joey pulled out – still hard, evidently without shooting – while Nelson replaced him inside Nebraska's rectum.

Poor Nebraska was too stunned to do much other than grunt, and even this was silenced when a moment later Ezequiel – the maroon who had put a stop to Rhody jerking me off this morning – climbed onto the table, knelt over Nebraska's face, and pushed his cock into his mouth, while Joey, behind Nebraska's head now, kept pressure on Nebraska's feet to make sure his legs were spread wide for Nelson's thrusts up his ass. Nelson increased his tempo, sawing away at the helpless Nebraska's rump, until he, too, pulled out, only to be replaced by the fourth maroon, an Asian named Jay.

Another group of maroons showed up and start stripping. They approached a table of terrified Bottoms and selected North Carolina as their victim. They forced him out of his seat and bent him over the table where he'd sat, pressing his stomach flat against his plate of food. Butter went up his ass, followed by a cock. As nearby Bottoms scuttled away, one of them, Montana, was grabbed by a biker-type named Cody, and pulled over to the side of the room.

• (Cody) Get me some butter, I'm going to do this bitch over here. I don't want to wait in line.

There were three simultaneous fucks going on. Moments later, four more maroons entered the room, already nude and already hard. This was a group of four of the largest maroons on board – including Latronius and the enormous Polynesian Tupu. All of them black. They grabbed Alabama – my heart sank a moment – bent him over a table and began fucking him.

The orgy in the Dining Hall was clearly an organized effort, and they were operating in teams of four. A couple of Bottoms – New Jersey and Missouri - tried to run – a mistake, as they were quickly grabbed and thrown over the back of a chair. Their cowardice was rewarded by being sodomized without butter.

A fifth group of maroons entered, and then a sixth. They selected Hawaii and Pennsylvania as their victims. Every maroon on the ship was now participating, and their targets seemed random.

Meanwhile, the first group evidently grew tired of Nebraska. Two of them grabbed Nebraska's arms, and two grabbed his legs, and they swung him and tossed him to the side of the room where he landed hard on the floor. But they were still erect, suggesting they had stopped short of breeding him. They decided to take out their aggression on California, who had only been a Bottom since Monday night, when he had lost at Rock Paper Scissors. California was dumped on his back in the same spot occupied by Nebraska moments before, buttered up, and penetrated.

Minutes later, North Carolina was also tossed aside – literally – and the maroons assaulting him replaced him with Kentucky. I could see all the Bottoms thinking – are they going to do ALL of us? Or will I manage somehow to escape?

The four hulking black maroons, done with doing Alabama, grabbed his limbs and tossed him straight up in the air. He was so light that he nearly reached the ceiling – and they let him fall to the floor, where he landed with a painful grunt. They kicked him about a bit – being nude themselves, they weren't wearing shoes, but Alabama was still getting brutalized. They pulled him up to his feet and each of them took a solid punch to his gut. Then Latronius delivered a smashing blow to his genitals. Kicking him into a corner, they walked over to our table, to my horror.

Rhody started to panic and protested.

• You can't – we're Tops! We're off limits. You can't –

• (a maroon named Marcus, laughing) We're not going to fuck you, boys. We just need your table.

He lowered his arm to the table and with a sweeping motion, cleared off the dishes in front of four of us, driving them onto the floor. The rest of the table was `cleared' in a similar fashion. The floor was covered with food, plates, and utensils – and with Bottoms being tossed around like beanbags, I now understood why they were paper and plastic.

Latronius and Tupu arrived with Iowa in tow. Although all four of these maroons were Black, they were apparently not discriminating by race – Iowa was as dark as they were. Like California, Iowa had only had been a Bottom since Monday night, and clearly was unprepared for this.

The beefy maroons deposited their victim on the table in front of us. South Dakota and Noisy started to back their chairs away but Marcus stopped them.

• No, don't move away. We want you boys to have a front row seat.

• (Latronius, to Iowa) On all fours, cunt. We're going to fuck you doggy style.

Poor Iowa had no choice but to comply and get on his hands and knees. Latronius planted a foot on Nevada's thigh as he climbed up onto the table and positioned himself behind Iowa. The fourth member of the group, whose name was Robinson, handed him some butter and Latronius greased Iowa up and plunged his enormous cock into the handsome Black's butt. Iowa screamed – he was not used to getting fucked at all, which only made Latronius laugh.

• Yeah, you scream, boy. But you'll be screaming with joy by the time I'm done with you. I saved my seed for you, Black bitch. I'm going to breed you, boy.

He pushed in and out of Iowa ruthlessly, making Iowa howl with every thrust. A moment later, Robinson climbed up in front of Iowa and pushed his cock into his victim's mouth.

The two of them worked on Iowa from both ends. Iowa's head was directly in front of me, and I could see the tears streaming down his face. Robinson was making it hard for him to breathe, and pulled out a couple of times to make sure Iowa didn't choke to death. Latronius, however, gave him no quarter, and fucked away as ruthlessly as I have seen anyone fuck – and over the course of the last week or so, I had seen a number of ruthless fucks.

With my position by Iowa's head, I was in full view of Latronius' face; his eyes were glued on me every time he plowed into the young black man's backside. At one point, he even pointed directly at me and then pointed to Iowa's ass, as if to suggest that I should trade places with his unfortunate victim. He was fucking me vicariously, I knew. Let that be the only way he can fuck me, I prayed.

Latronius was good to his promise, his quickening tempo urgently, and then he clearly shot his load into Iowa's ass. He pulled out and was replaced by Marcus. Tupu – who probably had the biggest cock of the four – was Iowa's next challenge, and it came orally.

Robinson and Tupu, however, stopped short of dumping their loads into Iowa's mouth, so that they could take their turn breeding him. Iowa's ass had to suffer the invasion of all four cocks, and all four shot their loads into him.

By the time this spectacle was over, it was clear that the mass rape was winding down. A dozen or so Bottoms were crumpled over or sitting quietly at various edges of the room. Some were still in the final stages of their gang rapes. And several – about half? – appeared unmolested. I spotted New Mexico among those, and Maine. But Ohio was lying on the floor near the kitchen, collecting himself. He must have been one of the last ones chosen. The four Eunuchs had been left alone.

Iowa was tossed to the floor as unceremoniously as the other Bottoms had been, landing on a variety of spilled food and liquids.

The maroons then ordered the unmolested Bottoms to clean the room, informing them where they could find brooms and mops. Those who had been fucked were inspected for cleanliness – those with food stains, including Iowa, were held in the room. The Eunuchs were ordered to wash them – with their tongues. They were told if they did not do a good job, they would be subjected to similar treatment at dinner time.

The twelve of us Tops were held to watch this humiliating spectacle, as the remaining Bottoms were released to their rooms and ordered to shower.

Finally, we were released. I felt dirty and headed immediately to the shower myself.

And then I realized I was hungry.

DMITRI: WEDNESDAY, 15 JUNE, (TWO HOURS EARLIER) – OFF THE COAST OF MOZAMBIQUE

We were in a state of shock after signing off with Abdul. We dispatched Ricky to tell the captain to make a port of call at Mamoudzou, and Ramses and DeJuan to inform the enforcers, as we would have to restrict the boys to their cabins and secure the drapes to keep our cargo from being detected.

Our plans to have the Red Table Bottomed were now irrelevant. Four Tops would be gelded now, destined for the Royal Family, leaving only eight from which we could choose our slaves. Of these, the Family was demanding the first, third, fifth, and seventh selections. In the past we had claimed our four first and given them the rest.

• (Boris) This is a disaster. Mississippi could get gelded tonight, or they could claim him in the draft before I have a chance to. If we let them get away with this, we can't prevent either situation from occurring. We could all lose our top choices.

• True. So we have a back-up plan.

• (Yuri) Yes? What is your back-up plan when they get to choose ahead of us?

• (Boris) And who among us gets to choose first? We only get choices two, four, six, and eight. I want Mississippi, Yuri wants Wyoming, you two want the Dakotas. Whoever gets choice two can probably have his boy, but which of us gets stuck with number eight?

• Do not panic, my friends. Most of us still have three to choose from. Boris, you have Mississippi, Illinois, South Carolina, in that order. Sergei, you have South Dakota, Delaware, Nevada. I have North Dakota, Wisconsin, Minnesota. Yuri, you have Wyoming and Rhode Island – add Oregon as your third choice; you can bulk him up to your standards if you put him on a training program – he's not that far away.

• (Boris) Then?

• Then, when the Prince Regent arrives, we ask him to geld one from each group, so that we each still have two choices available. So on Friday, when the Family makes their selection, we choose the one remaining for that person.

• (Yuri) I'm confused. What do you mean?

• Suppose they choose South Dakota as their first pick. Sergei's boy. Our first pick is then the other boy on Sergei's list – Delaware or Nevada, whichever one is left. If they choose Mississippi as their first pick, our first pick is Illinois or South Carolina. Each time they make a pick from one of our lists, that person gets to make the next selection.

• (Boris) That should work. IF we each have two of our choices still available. But what if I have only one left after tonight?

• Then we choose him at the first opportunity.

• (Boris) And if the Family chooses him before we have a chance to?

• The plan isn't perfect. But Abdul said the Prince Regent wanted a `role' in determining which of them become Eunuchs. I think that leaves room for negotiation. I think there's a good chance we can persuade him to spread out the pain among the four of us.

• (Sergei) (smile) Well, it will be the boys who will be feeling the pain.

ALEX: WEDNESDAY, JUNE 15 – AFTERNOON, INDIAN OCEAN

We were all shaken by the events at noon. We'd seen Bottoms fucked before, including by us, but it had always been a structured, almost clinical event. Lose a competition, into the stocks you go.

This was different. This was wild, uncontrolled, orgiastic gang rape. This was enforcers randomly choosing guys and brutalizing them without warning. The raped were also punched and slapped and kicked and slammed down onto tables. There was no rhyme or reason as to why some Bottoms wound up crumpled in a ball on the floor and others were just innocent bystanders.

That was the point. It was the Bottoms' lot not to know what would happen to them.. Their status was the lowest of the low. They had no control over anything. The gang rape was clearly carried out in front of us as a reminder that tonight four of us would join their ranks.

Was this a portent of things to come? The way ravished bodies were tossed aside like sacks of coal bordered on the brutal. Was this a turning point – the beginning of an escalation of violence? Could the next phase involve fatalities?

Matti tried to reassure me: They had promised not to kill us, and (once the façade of Little Big Man had been exploded) they had never lied to us.

But misdirection, yes, they had employed that multiple times.

If this was misdirection, misdirection from what? They'd separated us into red, white, and blue tables, but then stopped that. They had us obsessing over that video, then stopped running it. This smelled more like incompetence or indecision than misdirection. And one thing the Russians had never displayed was either incompetence or indecision.

The remaining days of the voyage could be filled with wanton rape and beatings, including for the four of us who would become Bottoms tonight. How many days of such incidents could there be? That depended on when we landed – which depended on WHERE we landed.

I ran a mental map in my head. We could still go to Russia if we went through the Suez Canal and the Bosporus to the Black Sea. But it was far more likely we were headed for the Arabian Peninsula. But where? Jeddah? Aden? Aden was in Yemen – dangerous, but we were dealing with dangerous people; it was conceivable. Or would we sail around to the Emirates or Qatar? Aden we might reach by Saturday but the other places not until Sunday, I would think. Which would mean at least three more days for tonight's losers to get well broken-in as Bottoms before . . .

Before what I didn't want to think about – the end of this journey. Rhody had forced me to think about it. It was bad enough realizing that after tonight either he and I would be Bottoms, or Noisy and Del and Nodak – or Matti. Two chances out of three that either Matti or I would become a Bottom. And not able even to go to each other's rooms any more.

But, after we landed – how could we help but be separated? Three, four more days at most, and he would be gone from my life forever. As would all the friends I had made on this voyage. They felt closer to me than anyone back at Superior. My life in Wisconsin barely existed. Rhody, Noisy, Del, even Nodak – they were my friends now. And Matti was my brother.

Did I really say that? My brother? I had killed my brother. Would my actions tonight, wittingly or not, metaphorically `kill' Matti? Make him a Bottom? As much as I dreaded the thought of Latronius' cock – and many others – up my ass, better me than Matti.

No one wanted to talk about what had happened at lunch or its implications, Matti and I included. I also didn't want to tell him about the incident with Rhody – there was nothing to be gained from that. He would misinterpret my erection as evidence that I WAS gay – which I'm not. He might even be jealous of Rhody, and I didn't want any tension between them.

We spent the afternoon together on the sun deck, though it wasn't really a sunny day. There were some Bottoms with us – those who had escaped molestation - and it was one of those, Maine, who first spotted land this time. But there was water to the left and to the right of it – an island, not the mainland. Perhaps it was an uninhabited island and they would allow us to remain outside.

No such luck. We were banished to our cabins, with secured drapes preventing us from seeing out – or being seen. Another port of call. Two major questions: Where? And why?

Where? We weren't near the Arabian Peninsula. Madagascar would have been more massive. I racked my brains to create a mental map of this part of the world – fortunately, geography had always been a keen interest of mine. If we were east of Madagascar, this might be Mauritius or Réunion. Unlikely that we had gone that far east, but it was possible, especially if we were headed toward the Persian Gulf. The Maldives were too far out, the Seychelles too far north to have reached yet. Which left the Comoros as the most likely place. That was my guess. But only a guess.

DMITRI: Well done, Alexei. Our port of call was in fact Mamoudzou, on the island of Mayotte. Mayotte is part of the Comoro Island group, but is a French territory, not part of the nation called Comoros.

ALEX: But the most critical question was: Why? Was this, in fact, our final destination? Was this journey to end unexpectedly, here and now? Were Matti and I to be separated permanently, NOW? Would I ever even see him again?

Calm down, Alex, it's unlikely. They probably just need supplies.

Or perhaps they're selling more of us as slaves. Assuming that's what occurred in Equatorial Guinea.

I lay down on my bed and watched a video – I don't remember what, it doesn't matter, it was just to take my mind off my dreadful thoughts – and it wasn't working. I imagined Kentucky and Ohio and Alabama and New Mexico being led off the ship in chains – to what kind of future life? And was I slated for that same future life, with or without the integrity of my asshole?

Before I knew it – less than half an hour – we were moving again. If they were selling Bottoms, could they really do that in half an hour? In Equatorial Guinea it had taken them overnight. And if we were taking on supplies – could that have been done in that short amount of time?

No, it was more like it was a scheduled stop where someone got off the boat. Or someone got on.

DMITRI: WEDNESDAY, 15 JUNE, AFTERNOON – MAMOUDZOU, MAYOTTE

The Prince Regent was waiting at the dock. Abdul had instructed us to have some strong porters available, as the P.R. had several packages he wanted to bring on board. The four of us had wondered why he would need to bring so much luggage when he wouldn't be on board for very long.

It wasn't luggage. He brought only two suitcases and a hanging bag with him, along with an assistant and the assistant's suitcase. The Prince was dressed in resplendent white robes trimmed in a complex red and gold pattern, and a keffiyeh. The assistant wore a gray suit.

The `packages' were three large boxes, eight feet high, with a square base about four feet on a side. They looked enormously heavy – but weren't. Whatever was inside was not a solid oak cabinet, but something much lighter than that. It wasn't so light that it could be carried by a single person, however. So six of our enforcers loaded them onto dollies, and then onto the Fundamental Experience.

• (Prince Regent, referring to the large boxes) Abdul says these should go in the gymnasium.

• (Boris) What are they?

• (P.R., smiling) You'll see.

He was about my age, an inch or two over six feet, with the typical large beak nose associated with his family, which in my humble view detracted from his handsomeness. He was, nevertheless, quite good-looking, with sparkling brown-black eyes and a well-trimmed black beard covering most of the lower half of his face. The assistant was in his fifties, less fit without being fat, bald on top, graying on the sides; he looked like a typical accountant, complete with narrow-rimmed glasses with nearly circular lenses.

We took the Prince and his assistant up to Boris's suite as the ship pulled out from Mamoudzou. The transfer had been done efficiently, and it would not throw us off schedule. The Prince introduced his assistant, who turned out not to be his assistant but a doctor.

Boris reacted in a manner that I recognized as false obsequiousness:

• Oh, I'm so sorry. Abdul should have told you. We have three doctors on board already.

• (P.R.) I prefer to bring my own. He will assist in the transformation.

• The transformation?

• You have four virgins who need to be transformed into eunuchs, do you not?

• (as if he saw the wisdom in this) Ah. Quite right, we do. . . . Apparently.

I shot Boris a look of warning. That last word was a definite jab at the fact that the Family had changed the conditions of delivery at the last minute.

The Prince saw that but reacted without offense.

• Yes, I regret that this was not communicated earlier. As coincidence would have it, each of my three brothers has a son who will come of age – seventeen – this next year. When a prince comes of age, it is traditional to present them with a virgin eunuch in celebration – their first slave. We thought it prudent to acquire four virgin eunuchs rather than three.

Yuri took the helm, as diplomatically as he could.

• Your Majesty. Forgive me, but there is something I do not understand. I can understand your need for additional virgins, beyond the four that we normally procure for you. But why do you just not purchase eight virgins and then have four of them neutered after you arrive home? Surely you perform that procedure from time to time on some of your slaves.

• Of course we do. And I would be willing to do just that. But my brothers insisted that these be purchased as eunuchs. So we must have them altered here on the ship.

• (Boris) We would have been happy to have provided that service for you.

This was Boris's way of saying, "So why did you have to come here in person?" without being so blunt.

• (P.R.) Yes, I understand, Boris. But there is another reason I wished to be here.

• And that is?

• Have you ever been in New York on New Year's Eve? Do you know why Times Square is overrun with people?

• Because everyone wants to watch the ball drop.

• Exactly. That is why I want to be here. To watch the balls drop.

ALEX: WEDNESDAY, JUNE 15, AFTERNOON – COMORO ISLANDS (I think)

There was a knock on my door. I went to the palm pad to admit Matti – and it wasn't Matti. It was Rhody. Shit. After what happened this morning at the railing, he was about the last person I wanted to see.

• Hi, it's me.

• So I see.

• Can I . . . come in?

• . . . Uh, yeah, sure.

I welcomed Rhody in and invited him to sit in one of the chairs, while I climbed up on the bed and sat in a cross-legged position.

• I think I need to stand.

• Sure, whatever.

• Wisconsin, we need to talk about what happened this morning.

• . . . Do we?

• Yeah, we do. I'm sorry if I upset you. This is all very . . . confusing.

• You can say that again.

• I mean, the last week has made me realize that – well, I guess I am gay.

• No. Doesn't mean that at all. We're just young, we're horny naturally.

• Maybe for you. For me, it's more than that. I realized that the first night, when I overpowered Maine and fucked him. I liked that – I really liked that. I hated myself for liking that, but I liked it. And I've liked it every time I've fucked a guy since. Sometimes I get hard just thinking about fucking a guy.

• . . . I see.

• But it's even more than that. I feel drawn to these guys. Like Maine – I'd like to see him again if we ever get out of this.

• Big `if'.

• I have feelings for him. But at the same time. . . I have feelings for you.

• Oh? . . . (projecting nonchalance) What kind of feelings?

• I think I love you, Wisconsin.

• (Uhm . . .)

• . . . Well?

• You can't possibly, Rhody. We've only known each other for what – ten days?

• You can fall in love in ten days.

• I don't think so.

• You've never fallen in love in a short time like that?

• No.

• Never?

• No.

• Maybe you just didn't meet the right guy.

• Maybe I just didn't meet the right WOMAN. You might decide you're gay, Matti might decide he's gay, but I haven't decided that. So far as I'm concerned, I'm straight.

• Matti'? Who's Matti'?

• Minnesota.

• You know his real name.

• Yes, we actually know each other from before the contest. Fluke, really. In a diving competition between our colleges. And then we find out we both entered Little Big Man and then we both win our state contests.

• Sounds like destiny. You're in love with him, aren't you?

• No, no, of course not. We're just good friends.

• That's the real reason you're embarrassed about my being attracted to you, isn't it? He's the one you want. I'm sorry – I'm in the way and I apologize.

• No, no, Rhody, that's not it at all. Look, I like you, okay? I really do, you're a very good friend; yes, I'm closer to Matti because we knew each other from before, we even became very good friends before, but I do want to be friends with you. I can be friends with two people.

• But just friends.

• Just friends.

• Despite what happened this morning.

• That was an accident.

• Was it?

• Yes.

• . . . (raised eyebrows)

• You don't believe me?

• I believe you believe that, Wes. For me, it wasn't an accident.

• . . . I get that. It's okay, Rhody.

• Chris. My name is Chris.

• I think I'd rather call you Rhody.

• Call me what you want. But I want you to know. I'm really Chris. When they split us apart, when this thing comes to an end and they separate us – when you, at some remote moment, happen to remember me – I want you to at least know my name. You can remember me as Rhody, but then some small part of your brain will remind you that Rhody is a guy from Providence named Chris.

• A very nice guy from Providence named Chris. Yes, I'll remember that.

• (Very long pause; almost whispering) Thank you.

• Rhody, you okay?

• Yeah, yeah, I'm fine.

• You sure? You look a little –

• I'm fine. I'll be fine, maybe now I'm a bit, uh – but I'll be fine.

• Okay.

• I guess I should leave.

• You don't have to.

• . . . I think I do.

• Okay. And Rhody? Chris?

• Yes?

• My name is Alex.

I'll be damned if he didn't tear up when I told him that.

Rhody left and I thought about our conversation and the one this morning and what his stocky, well-built body looked like with a pretty generous piece of meat hanging between his legs. And before I knew it, I was sporting a boner.

Damn, damn, damn. What the hell was going on?

DMITRI: The Prince was on a first name basis with us, more or less. He called me Dmitri; I called him Your Majesty'. He knew us all, but myself and Boris the best. I had a good relationship with him – he even considered me a friend. He knew Boris could be prickly – no pun intended – and that was the case when the Prince expressed interest in checking out the stock' ahead of tonight's event. Boris pushed back:

• Fine, Your Highness, you want to see the balls drop. But what did Abdul mean when he said you wanted to play a role in which boys got the chop? Why can't we determine that?

• Boris, were you not planning to demote four of your virgins tonight?

• Yes, of course, you knew that. Only now we have to –

• And were you hand-selecting them, or did you incorporate an element of chance in this selection?

• Well –

• And have you chosen, round by round, which are the winners and which are the losers?

• No, we haven't, it makes it more suspenseful for the boys – and fun for us as well.

• So why shouldn't the same be true tonight?

• First of all, Your Majesty, this round is different – from the eight remaining Tops we are going to pick the four we want to take home with us, so the stakes are higher. Second, we were trying to rig the results tonight so that the right four boys got themselves fucked. Then we could be assured of having the boys we wanted – at least until you changed the rules.

• I believe in chance, Boris. I believe in destiny. I believe that mysterious forces are at work – you may call it God, I may call it Allah, others may call it Fate – I believe that if one leaves an element of chance, that Fate will play the deciding hand; what was meant to happen will happen. The right four boys will lose their testicles tonight, no matter what you or I do. It is not for us to play God. We should let things play out for themselves.

• So what – we have them draw straws? Short straw goes under the knife?

• (Smiles). You'll see. I will give you good odds, my friend, but the ultimate decision is not up to either of us. Without my intervention, each boy has a 2/3 chance of remaining whole. Under my plan, the ones you favor will increase their chances by ten percent. After that, God – Allah – Fate – will decide.

I, of course, did not believe in any of those things. I believed in chance and that chance was random and unbiased, not `deciding' anything. I believed in probability, though, and probability of 2/3 was better than nothing.

The Prince then wanted to `inspect my future property' – and to see some of the Bottoms put through their paces.

I informed the Prince that all the boys would be in the Dining Hall during the dinner hour and suggested that he observe them anonymously from the Control Room, where the closed-circuit cameras would display all the activity in the Dining Hall.

• (P.R.) But they'll be seated at their tables. Hardly the best vantage point for me to see their bodies.

• (Sergei) Oh, Your Majesty. I think you will get the chance to see their bodies. It should be a quite interesting dinner hour.

[COMING UP NEXT: CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO: A QUITE INTERESTING DINNER HOUR]