Little Big Man

LITTLE BIG MAN – a serial novel by Travis Creel

CHAPTER SIXTY: UNDER NEW MANAGEMENT

Previously: The owner of the winning diver is to take possession of the loser, a stipulation written into the new contract for LBM that Dmitri and the Prince Regent have just negotiated. If Matti wins, however, the P.R. will award him to Dmitri as compensation for losing Alexei, thus sparing him the dome. If Alexei wins, Dmitri, not needing two slaves, will sell Matti back to the Family. The P.R. suddenly declares that he will only sign the contract – at terms favorable to the Russians – if Dmitri agrees to sell Alexei in the unlikely event that he wins the contest, thus assuring that he gets Alexei either way. The P.R. offers eighteen thousand in slavecoin, which he says is `more than enough to purchase a top-of-the-line replacement'. Dmitri agrees, but stipulates that, beyond the transfer of the losing diver, any subsequent slave movement be extracontractual, treated as a personal transaction, the funds to be paid directly to Dmitri and kept off LBM's books.

Matti and Alexei, meeting for the first time since their disastrous encounter in September, reconcile, each resigned to his own fate, whatever it may be. Alexei, ordered to try to win by Ruslan, is beginning to doubt Ruslan's motives and wondering if he should trust him. The contest begins, and Matti emerges with a comfortable lead going into the last dive, but then inexplicably slips off the high-diving platform and falls flailing into the pool below, handing the victory to Alexei. He tells Alexei he was following orders. Oleg escorts Alexei away from the proceedings. "The boss doesn't want you to see this," he says.

Alexei is happy to leave. He doesn't want to watch Dmitri sell Matti back to the Family, who will conduct his rigged trial and put him up on the dome.

ALEXEI: MONDAY, JANUARY 16, EVENING – ST. PETERSBURG, RUSSIA

Matti's trial was today. If he lost, they would have gelded him by now. At this very minute, he might be staring down from eight stories above the rotunda, painted white to resemble the marble statue whose arms were folded around him and whose cock was firmly up his ass. The image that created in my mind has deprived me of sleep the last two nights.

"I'm a good slave. I do what I'm told." Those words will stay with me for a long, long time.

I had to consider what I would do now.

Matti would have given me some permutation of the so-called Serenity Prayer, with emphasis on accepting the things I couldn't change. Even Master had once referenced that prayer. They were right. I couldn't change Matti's fate.

And I had a few things to be grateful for. I was in St. Petersburg, and not a denizen of the Royal Palace. I still had Henri and Pyotr and Daniil, whom I was growing to like more and more. And I still had Master, who looked pleased that I seemed, by trying to win the contest, to have chosen him over Matti. And there was the chance of seeing Rhody again.

I realized, of course, that if Matti was on the dome, that the young prince would be without a slave. I had fretted that I might be the replacement. Or if not me, Nodak. But Nodak's naked body was strapped in next to mine on the plane on Saturday; we were both going back `home' to Russia.

On that plane, only three Men (aside from the pilot) accompanied us – Master, Boris, and the American who had seemed to know Ruslan. None of the business staff were there.

Nor was Ruslan.

That was another thing to be grateful for. I wasn't sure how I felt about Ruslan anymore; postponement of the inevitable reunion was a good thing.

Yesterday Nikolai arrived, directing me to show him to Ruslan's room. It looked like Ruslan might be gone for a bit.

Nikolai gave me a good flogging that night before Master's nightly fuck. There are moments when I can really get into a good flogging, and Nikolai was a master at flagellation. Let the strokes course my back and my ass. Let them cleanse me of my guilt. Let me accept the punishment I deserve.

If I deserve it. Both Matti and I were being good slaves. We both did what we were told. And now one of us was paying the price for it. And the other wasn't, except in terms of guilt.

My birthday is Saturday. Just my luck for my birthday to fall on a party night. I'll be twenty-one. Coming of age, were I still in America. Ironic. I'll never be a Man now – always a slave.

Master has said he's going to arrange something special for my birthday. We know what that means. Lots of cocks. But he said I won't be the only `guest of honor'.

Rhody. God, I hope that meant Rhody. I wished he was here this minute. Facing the void of losing Matti forever, I needed Rhody desperately.

DMITRI: TUESDAY, 17 JANUARY – ST. PETERSBURG, RUSSIA

The boy has taken it hard. He of course was wondering where the others were, and why Nikolai was here. I told him that there were still business transactions to be arranged, and that the remainder of my staff had stayed behind for a week to clean up some of the details, now that the contract had been signed.

Well, that wasn't a complete lie, I suppose. It depends upon what you meant by `business transactions'.

But for now I was going to keep Alexei in the dark as to what really happened on Friday night after I sent him back to his room at the palace.

DMITRI: FRIDAY, 13 JANUARY, 10:45 P.M. (FOUR DAYS EARLIER), ROYAL PALACE SWIMMING POOL

The Prince Regent and I sat on either side of the judge as he announced, to no one's surprise, "The winner of the diving competition is the blond slave."

Sasha, Oleg, and Ilya openly cheered – victory for our side. It was genuine – they all wanted Alexei to stick around, even though it was clear that Minnesota – Matti – was equally sexy. Boris, despite being offered Ohio as a replacement if he had lost Andrei, seemed pleased, and patted his slave on the ass in an unusual moment of reassurance. Andrei, of course, was ecstatic at avoiding the transfer.

I looked over at Alexei, who regarded me nervously. I gave him no reaction. He couldn't know what Ruslan and I were up to, and I didn't want his reaction at what was to follow to be visible to the Family. I called Oleg over and told him to take Alexei back inside.

Abdullah appeared furious, and displayed it by kicking Matti back into the water. The boy – the only LBM contestant I have ever considered taking home with me who wasn't blond – was clearly distressed. He was apparently aware of the fate that Khalid and Mustafa had slated him for. He looked like a prisoner condemned – which, under the informal agreement I'd reached with the Family, was exactly what he was.

The transfer transaction was formal – initially.

• (Prince Regent) Congratulations on your slave's victory, Dmitri. In accordance with the contract signed earlier tonight, I hereby transfer to you ownership of slave number 4387, the boy formerly known as Matteus Laukkonen, also known to us both as `Minnesota'. Boy, come forward.

Minnesota came forward, trembling, his eyes red.

• (Prince Regent) Boy, this man is now officially your Master. You are to obey his every command. He is free to do with you as he wishes, including selling you to a third party – or back to me. If he sells you back to me, your trial on Monday will proceed as scheduled and you will either continue in your current job, be demoted with or without your testicles, or be sentenced to the dome. Do you understand, boy?

• (Minnesota) Yes, Your Majesty.

• (Prince Regent) Present yourself to the man who is, for now at least, your Master.

Minnesota, trying to control his emotions, spun 180 degrees, dropped to the ground, and displayed his spectacular ass to me. My cock sprang to life, eager to plunder it.

I ordered him up, and I saw him cast an eye over to where my team was standing. He was looking for Alexei, I realized, but Alexei was no longer there.

It was show time.

• Thank you, Your Majesty. I accept the slave formerly known as Matteus Laukkonen as my own, and proudly take ownership of him.

I said nothing further. The Family was waiting for the shoe to drop. It didn't.

• (Khalid) And . . . ?

• And what?

• (Khalid) And in accordance with our agreement, what else?

• (as I pretended to look over the contract) That seems to be it. Alexei won the contest, so Minnesota – 4387, as you so cleverly have named him – is now my property.

• (Prince Regent) What my brother is referring to is that you agreed to sell 4387 back to us for six thousand in slavecoin.

• Oh, that? I have changed my mind.

• (Khalid and Mustafa) WHAT?!!

• I'm going to keep him.

• (Khalid, outraged) You can't do that! We agreed!

• Is it in writing?

• (Mustafa) Verbal contract.

• (amused) Did we shake hands on it? Is there any record of this `agreement'?

• (Khalid) Dmitri, stop playing games with us. Not only that, you promised to sell us your boy.

• (Prince Regent) That was what we discussed, Dmitri. I would purchase both boys for eighteen thousand – a considerable overpayment.

• (Khalid) You said you agreed. We all heard you.

• Your brother said that eighteen thousand would be enough to buy a top-of-the-line slave. I agreed – it would. I never agreed to selling Alexei.

• (P.R.) Stop playing games, Dmitri.

• (Mustafa) We'll give our business to the Chinese.

• No you won't. We have a contract, Mustafa. We signed it this evening. But relax. Your Majesty, you are right, I am playing games with you. I will not leave you empty-handed. Your son needs a slave, I will provide you with one.

• (Khalid) That was not amusing, Dmitri.

• (Prince Regent) For once, I agree with my brother. This is not a situation for teasing. So you will sell me my Alexei, yes?

• No.

• (Khalid) What do you mean, no? You just said you would. Stop these fucking mind-games, Dmitri. Do you think we are yo-yos you can play with on a string?

• (smiling) Of course not, Your Highness. I intend to replace your slave. But not with Alexei or Minnesota. But I will give you someone else whom I know you find equally attractive.

• (Prince Regent) Ah, my delectable flutist!

• (Khalid) The flutist is an acceptable substitute.

• No, not Andrei.

• (Khalid) So you're going to give us Alexei after all?

• (me) No.

• (Prince Regent) So, you're not selling Minnesota back to us. You're not giving me Alexei. And you're not giving me the flutist?

• (me) That is correct.

• (Prince Regent) And yet you say you are providing me with a slave that I will find equally attractive to Alexei.

• (me) That is correct. And you're not going to have to pay me a kopek.

• (Prince Regent) Dmitri, you are my friend, but really you are trying my patience. Where is this slave?

This was the moment I had been waiting for ever since Ruslan unveiled his idea to me. I stood up and walked toward my three assistants. And then announced:

• Ilya, strip.

He looked blankly at me. I slapped him. His mouth gaped open as wide as a fish taking in water.

• I said `strip', boy.

• Boss, what is going –

I slapped him again.

• Take off your clothes. Every damn one of them. Now!

The Prince Regent, understanding, called over one of the trusties – the Irish one that Ruslan said was named Declan – and soon the big slave was quietly making his way behind my group of assistants.

The P.R. then advanced toward Ilya.

• (Prince Regent) You stripped for me in September, remember, boy? You all did.

• And I remember, Your Majesty, how much you liked his body. You said that if he was a slave, you'd buy him. And then asked me if I would sell him to you, as a joke. It is no longer a joke. I am not going to sell him to you. I am going to give him to you.

• (Prince Regent, grinning) Get those clothes off, boy! I want you naked in thirty seconds.

• (Ilya, outraged and panicking) I don't have to obey you! I said it before: You're not my king. I'm not one of your subjects. (to me) And I don't have to obey you either. You may be my boss, but you can't sell me.

• Oh, I'm not your boss any more. You're fired. You have a new career – one that doesn't involve free will. Or clothing. Now strip – or else.

Ilya opted for `else', and made a dash for it – running straight into Declan, who grabbed him and twisted his arms behind him. Ilya tried to kick his way free, but unsuccessfully. As Declan held him, the P.R.'s small black and white slaves unbuttoned his shirt. Two other trusties, having rushed over to assist, tugged the shirt off his shoulders, down his arms, and off him completely, as Ilya struggled uselessly against the big man holding him. Soon he was bare-chested, his under-developed and hairless pecs gleaming in the lights surrounding the pool. Meanwhile, the two small slaves had turned their attention to Ilya's feet, removing his shoes and socks.

I had often seen Ilya naked at parties, but seeing him writhing as the Prince Regent's slaves were pulling off his clothing was turning me on so much that I had to open my zipper and let my engorged member breathe the open air. That the P.R. and his brothers were experiencing similar reactions was evidenced by the noticeable bump protruding from their robes just below waist-level. I resisted the temptation to grab my cock as one of the trusties unbuckled his belt. Ilya was struggling mightily but futilely as the trusties yanked his trousers down and off his legs, then shredded his shorts. It took more than thirty seconds, but Ilya was now entirely devoid of clothing. I had never before perceived Ilya as an object of desire, but seeing him there, helpless and nude, my lust was skyrocketing – as was my cock.

But I had to control myself – and explain my choice to the Prince Regent.

• This lad attempted to embezzle over a million euros. We knew he had done it but couldn't prove it in court. Having him quietly disappear into slavery is the perfect solution. Especially here.

• (P.R.) Present yourself, boy!

Ilya failed to comply.

• (P.R., to Declan) Convince him.

Ilya promptly found an Irish knee colliding with his balls. As my corrupt assistant doubled over, Declan pushed him down onto all fours, shoved his head against the hard cement surrounding the pool, and yanked his legs apart to expose his hole.

The Prince Regent stuck a finger up Ilya's ass.

• (P.R.) Oh, yes, very tight. And such a lovely rump. Abdullah, come here and take a look at your new slave.

• (Abdullah) Yes, father.

• (P.R.) Are you happy with him?

• (Abdullah) He looks very fuckable, father.

• (P.R.) Then fuck him.

Abdullah was only the first to fuck him. He was followed by his father the Prince Regent, then Khalid, Mustafa, Rashid, Boris, the diving judge, Sasha, and Oleg. Finally, even the three trusties took their turn. I conspicuously restrained myself. I just watched Ilya as he was being gang-banged – I wanted him to see just how sexually excited I was by watching him take cock after cock up his treacherous little ass.

The problem of what to do about Ilya was finally solved.

DMITRI: SATURDAY, 14 JANUARY (THE FOLLOWING DAY), MORNING – ABDULLAH'S SUITE

• Your Highness, may I have a few words with him privately?

• (Abdullah} For what purpose, Mister Malenkov? Ilya is my slave now.

• I have no wish to interfere with that. But, with all due respect, you have been a slaveowner for two years, while I have been one for thirteen, with eight personal slaves of all different types. And Ilya is a special case. He's going from having power over slaves to being one.

• Have you dealt with that situation yourself?

• Not personally, no. It's extremely rare. But I do know Ilya, and a few words from me might ease his path – and yours.

• Very well. I was just about to bring him up. You want to speak with him before I do? That won't undercut my authority with him?

• I'll make sure that it doesn't.

The Family had held Ilya overnight in a slave cage in one of the underground floors, to spare Abdullah the task of breaking in a new slave at midnight, when everyone was tired from the day – and to give Ilya some calming-down time to adjust to his new circumstances.

Abdullah left for his bedroom, leaving me alone in the great room when trusties delivered Ilya to his new Master. He was stiff from being in a cramped cage for several hours, and was not comfortable walking, his hands tied behind his back and a ball gag in his mouth. He was surprised to see me rather than Prince Abdullah, and I saw a flicker of hope in his eyes.

• Ready to get out of here, Ilya? Had enough of this?

• Ymm, Bmmm.

• (to the trusties) Untie him and remove his gag.

A minute later he was freed and standing in front of me.

• Omigod, thank you, Boss.

• I hope you are ready to move on with your life and this experience has taught you a little humility.

• After being fucked a dozen times? Yeah. A little overkill, Boss.

• I had to punish you for what you did, Ilya. Did you think I'd really sell you?

• I remembered the Prince saying he'd buy me if I was a slave. So yeah, I – whew. Harsh lesson, Boss, but I learned it, I assure you. I'll help you get your money back. Can I get my clothes now?

• Something I want to know first, Ilya. Why Grigory? Why frame HIM?

• I needed a fall guy. It had to be one of the servants who was here at night, when Latronius was here. Grigory is the only one with computer skills. And he was a potential threat – he could have told you I had him edit that audio tape of Alexei saying Pyotr fucked better than you did. And his name, Boss. Grigory Mendeleev. Initial letters spelling out Grime – it was perfect.

• So why report the embezzlement in the first place?

• Deflected attention from me, didn't it? Sasha was suspicious, he said something looked funny, asked me to look into it. He was nice and let me take all the credit for `discovering' the theft. I had so many layers of nested subsidiaries lined up that it would take you months to trace where the funds were. By then, I'd be safely in the Caymans. In fact, I was going to go there after this, directly from here. I still can. I won't touch the money, I'll show you how to untangle the accounts, you can get it all back without months of work and expenses, and I'll be out of your hair forever.

• Oh, you'll be out of my hair forever. Also out of your own hair forever – at least, below the neck. Because I HAVE given you to the Prince Regent, Ilya.

• What?

• Now get down and display your ass, slave.

A pause.

• Yeah, it's real.

• . . . Fuck you, Dmitri.

I punched him in the gut and nodded to the trusties, who seized him and threw him down to the floor. They turned him around and forced him into the display position.

• I am going to do you a favor, Ilya – the last one I will ever do for you – and not report that to your Master. Because I want to give you a chance to succeed. Imagine what would have happened if Alexei had said `Fuck you' to me, or even to you. The amount of skin on his backside would have been negligible after Ruslan and I were done with him. Do you understand that?

• Yeah.

• (after kicking him in the ribs, hard, with my boots) Yes, Sir.

• (bitterly) Yes, Sir.

• You're in a unique position, Ilya. I understand your bitterness – it is rare for a man who is used to fucking slaves to become one himself. But most slaves these days have become slaves involuntarily, and they've had to adjust. You've seen how Alexei has adjusted – and how Jackson didn't. As a result, Alexei is still with me, with a good chance of being renewed for a second year. While Jackson's head is mounted on a wall in the basement of this palace. Think about which of those situations you'd rather be in.

• . . .

• If you say, `Fuck you' to your new Master, I guarantee your balls will be off within hours. And it wouldn't be long before you found yourself being hugged by a marble statue with its cock up your ass while you look down at the rotunda floor below, contemplating the fact that your life expectancy is measured in weeks.

• . . .

• But you have an advantage that others don't. You know what to do. You know the slave protocols. You know what is expected, and the consequences if you fail. The consequences here are more severe than in my household. But in every interaction with your Master – or with any other Man – imagine how Alexei would behave in that situation.

• . . .

• You need to think of Alexei as a role model. It will be hard for you – thinking of a slave as someone you admire, when you know slaves are worthless. But now YOU are worthless, boy. No one cares what you think or what you feel. There is only obedience – and consequences if you fail to obey. You exist only to be ordered about, to be fucked, and to suck cock. Can anything good come of it? Yes. You will encounter many slaves here who are happy in their role. The boy you are replacing – the boy I now own – is one of them, or so I am told. Your Master was pleased with him – you have a tough act to follow. But you should be aware that prior to him, your Master's slave was a virgin eunuch presented to him on his seventeenth birthday. That eunuch is not here anymore, and he wasn't sold. What do you think happened to him?

He didn't answer. I kicked him sharply in the ass.

• That was a direct question, boy. Use your fucking brain.

• Yes, Sir. Sorry, Sir. I think he's probably dead.

• That is correct. And that was the first thing you said that was proper for a slave to say. For most new slaves, the job is easy. You don't have to think, you just have to do. But you, boy, you will have to think in order to do, because your brain is wired to be in charge and you're going to have to unscramble it. Like I told Alexei on his first day. There is only one rule: obey.

• . . .

• You've noticed I've stopped using your name. Your name is part of your past. You will probably never hear it again. You're just `boy' here, or the number they'll tattoo you with. Now, get up on your knees and open wide.

His ass having been ravaged last night, I decided to use his mouth as my parting gift to him. As a cocksucker he had a lot to learn – ironic for one who demanded one from Alexei so frequently. You'd think he'd know what to do. But I admit I didn't give him much opportunity to show much skill, other than the skill of deep-throating me, which was far from developed. No matter. I fucked his throat without regard to his ability and only to satisfy the longings of my own cock.

He didn't like it one bit, but that didn't matter anymore. He was just a slave, after all.

RUSLAN: FRIDAY, 13 JANUARY, 11:00 P.M. (THE NIGHT BEFORE) – RUSLAN'S GUEST ROOM

Using the binoculars Dmitri had given me, I watched with satisfaction as Matti `slipped' on the last dive, handing Alexei the victory. And then watched Abdullah do his part, acting upset and kicking the boy back into the water in a seeming fit of rage.

Of course, this was all part of the plan. Matti was to tank the competition (without knowing why) and Abdullah was to pretend to be upset over it. That way, if anyone suspected a conspiracy to throw the competition, no one would accuse Abdullah of being part of it.

Abdullah didn't know all the details of the plan, but he did know that somehow Matti was not going to be sold back to the Family. And, while not happy about losing the boy as his slave, at least with Dmitri he would be spared the dome, and he was anxious to keep Matti alive.

I watched with glee as the switcheroo was pulled and saw the horror on Ilya's face as he realized that he, and not Alexei or Andrei, was to be Matti's replacement. The fool resisted and had to be forcibly stripped and then forced to the ground to present his ass to Abdullah.

My only regret was that I was not one of the dozen who fucked him. I was pleased to see Declan plundering Ilya's rounded white rump, happy to see the big Irishman bury his bone deep up the traitor's backside. The sight of Declan with a hard-on gave me one, and again I wished that I could find a way to prevent him from being dispatched when he attained his fortieth birthday, less than three years away.

The orgy over with, a pair of trusties hauled Ilya away, while Dmitri, Sasha and Oleg escorted Matti back to the palace. Dmitri must have gone straight to his room to throw a fuck into Alexei, for only Sasha and Oleg arrived at my room with my new slave in tow.

Yes, my new slave. As Dmitri had said several times, he did not need two slaves. But he also wanted to make me a slave owner, and, my IAMSO membership having been approved, this was the perfect moment to effect that change in status. Of course, I had asked him to keep Matti and give me Alexei – the ultimate goal – but he refused, saying he wanted to hold on to Alexei for the remainder of his contract year; we'd re-evaluate things then.

Phase One of Plan Ruslan was now complete. Matti was now safely in our hands, Alexei would remain in St. Petersburg, and Dmitri was indebted to me for solving "the Ilya problem."

I was in my bedroom when they entered. I heard Sasha say, "Boy, this is the room of your new Master." I expect he was confused, wondering why Dmitri wasn't with them – wasn't this his room?

I waited until I heard Sasha and Oleg leave, and then emerged into the great room. As I was hoping/expecting, he was on all fours, displaying for me properly.

In the tradition, I planted my foot on his back and pushed him prostrate onto the floor, then planted my boot squarely on his ass, as if planting my flag on a newly-conquered land.

I then ordered him up and he turned to face me. The look on his face could not have conveyed more astonishment.

• Yes, boy, it's me. You belong to my boss, Dmitri, but he is giving you to me. Are you pleased?

• (bewildered) Yes, Sir. I mean, yes, Master.

• You'll have to be punished for that slip. But that can wait until we get home. Earlier today, Prince Abdullah offered me a fuck of your sweet ass. I declined then. The moment is now, boy!

I ordered him to my bedroom, slung him over the side of the bed, and fucked him raw. It was clear he was not used to accommodating an instrument as thick as mine, and it did not go in easily. He grunted in pain, but as I thrust my bone into him he grew more and more responsive until his cries became almost those of pleasure. Almost.

After he cleaned me off, we showered separately – I in my gold-and-marble bathtub, and he in the communal slave shower down the hall (which, I had learned, had only cold water) and then we went to bed, I in the most luxurious bed I had ever seen in my life and he on the bare patch of floor beside it, where the carpeting had been cut out.

I considered tossing him one of my six pillows, but no, the first night of slave ownership was no time to be soft. Besides, he was used to such sleeping quarters.

RUSLAN: SATURDAY, 14 JANUARY – NEAR PSKOV, RUSSIA

One could have argued that it was not necessary for me to come to the palace at all. Most of the planning with Abdullah had been done over the phone in advance of the visit. And my presence at the swimming pool would only have been counter-productive.

But it was important for Abdullah to see me in person, and I think it was important for Matti that the first time he laid eyes on me with clothes on, it was not as his new Master. He had to get over the shock that I was a Man and not a slave before the additional one of belonging to me.

It was important for Alexei as well. I wanted to supervise his diving practice, and he needed to hear my order to try to win directly, in person, not via Zoom or at home before he left. It wouldn't have the same impact otherwise.

I wondered how Alexei was.

Oleg had taken him back to Dmitri's suite before the Ilya switch had occurred. So I could only imagine that he believed Matti to have been sold back to the palace, and doomed to the dome. I had wished I could have rushed to his room to tell him that Matti had been saved, but Dmitri was insistent that the boy remain in the dark for a while, wanting to observe his reaction.

I had told him to trust me, that both he and Matti could still escape the clutches of the Royal Family. I watched the doubt on his face at the practice session. And if he still believed that Matti was doomed, he probably hated me for failing to prevent that.

But I had prevented that. And everything had gone right. For now.

I had encouraged Abdullah to invite his uncles for a mid-morning fuck of his new slave, which served the dual purpose of strengthening his relationship with them and providing a diversion for Mustafa and Khalid while I quietly exited the palace with Matti – they never knew I was even there.

Dmitri would depart later in the day with Alexei, as well as Boris and his boy, but Sasha and Oleg came with me and Matti. And we flew not to St. Petersburg, but to Dmitri's dacha here at Pskov – the one he had offered to give me if I would help out with Little Big Man Europe.

There were two reasons for taking Sasha and Oleg with me. It was important to present Matti with a household in which he reported to more than one person, as Alexei did in St. Petersburg. (A side benefit – Oleg could cook, in case Matti couldn't.)

The second reason was the psychological effect on Alexei. If Sasha and Oleg went with Dmitri, it would draw attention to the absence of Ilya, raising questions in Alexei's mind. He didn't know that Ilya's transgressions went as far as embezzlement, but he might remember the moment in September when the Prince Regent had admired Ilya's body and jokingly asked Dmitri to sell him. And he knew I had some plan to spare Matti – if I did so, Abdullah would need a replacement. Alexei was smart; unlikely as it was, he might put two and two together. And Dmitri didn't want him to know that Matti had been saved.

Harsh, cruel even, but that was Dmitri's intent.

And now I had to turn my attention to Matti. He had to realize that, while I had rescued him, he was still a slave, and – in what Oleg says is an American expression – I'm the one who wears the pants in the family. In this case, literally.

DMITRI: THURSDAY, 19 JANUARY – ST. PETERSBURG, RUSSIA

Alexei was having a rough week. Nikolai was here and I asked him to step up the intensity of the nightly discipline; tomorrow afternoon, he would fuck Alexei in an especially awkward position – with his ankles tied behind his head. Pyotr, Ivan, and Daniil had all worked him hard, and I was strict in demanding perfection in the performance of his job. This was all a test to see how he would manage his slave duties while coping with sorrow.

On rare occasion, when I want to know what's going on in Alexei's head, I'll have a heart-to-heart conversation with him, `off the record'. But a master can't do that too often; the slave mustn't feel that the master is his friend. So on other occasions, I use Henri.

Henri is a natural extrovert. He's always been less formal with my slaves than I would like, and chats with them as if they had quasi-equal status. I disapprove, but Henri needs the social interaction and I have to keep Henri happy. He's too good a chef. And it has its uses – it gives the slave an occasional outlet for expression, which might release some tension which could otherwise build up and explode in some undesired direction. So sometimes I exploit the relationship to gain information about the slave.

I had a word with Henri and asked him to get a sense of how Alexei was feeling – toward me, toward Ruslan, toward the palace, toward life. He said that Alexei seemed not to blame me for Matti's fate – after all, I had strongly implied that he should lose the competition, which would have saved Matti. His bitterness was directed at the palace – and at Ruslan. He was suspicious of Ruslan's motives in ordering him to try to win the competition. But he realized that this gave him a new opportunity to prove himself to me, and he wasn't going to compound his misery by making things worse with me. He also knew that work was a good way of keeping his mind off of things that were upsetting him.

And so he threw himself into work. Even Ivan was impressed with his meticulousness in fulfilling his household duties. He appeared cheerful, as if he was enjoying the work. And in bed, he was more than responsive, pushing his ass back eagerly to meet my invading cock, being extra eager taking my fuckstick and balls into his mouth. He was making every effort to be the kind of devoted slave I wanted, as a means of making up for losing the very thing he most wanted.

When Ruslan and Matti got here, there would be a whole new dynamic to work out internally, with two slaves and two masters in the household, and only six other servants and staff members. But we'd deal with that later, after their arrival.

First we had Alexei's birthday party to organize.

ALEXEI: SATURDAY, JANUARY 21, EVENING – PLAYROOM

There were guests for dinner. Horst, Yuri, Nurbek, Anil, Misha the Bald, Semyon the Fat, and the two FSB men, Tcherepnin and the sexy Bobrovsky. Nikolai was still here. Ruslan had not returned yet, nor had the three staff members – Sasha, Oleg, and Ilya.

I counted up the dicks – including Master and the four resident servants, that was fourteen partygoers. But Master had said I wouldn't be the only `guest of honor', which would decrease my case load. The presence of Yuri, Nurbek and Anil supported my conjecture – and fervent hope – that the evening's other bottom would be Rhody.

And, oh yes, for dessert there was a cake – a big rectangular one, decorated with fancy piping around the edges, a pair of marzipan buttocks, and the cheery inscription `Who Gives a Fuck About Your Birthday, You Worthless Piece of Shit'. (In Russian, but they were all too happy to translate for me.) A single candle protruded from the marzipan asshole. I sliced the cake and served it to the guests. Fifteen pieces, fourteen Men. One left – for the birthday boy? Yes indeed – only it didn't go into my mouth. It got the suppository method of feeding me. As if I needed reminding that I was a worthless piece of shit. Well, some of them did let me lick their fingers after they had pushed the cake up my ass.

At nine o'clock – the preparatory enema being more than usually necessary, the four servants – Pyotr, Henri, Ivan, and Daniil – appeared in Master's bedroom. Each grabbing one of my limbs, they carried me triumphantly down to the playroom, whistling the traditional "We're Off to See the Wizard" to get me in the mood.

But before the sex, there would be another form of play. My world went dark as a hood was fitted over my head, and I was bound to the St. Andrew's cross. Ropes were tied tightly and painfully around my cock and balls, and I felt an extra pressure as weights were suspended from them. Alligator clips were attached to my nipples and clothespins pinched me everywhere.

And then I heard them leave.

I seemed to be alone for several minutes. Then I heard the door to the playroom open, and a voice said

• Over the sawhorse, Rodion. . . . Help me tie him down, Anil.

That was Nurbek's voice. Under my hood, I smiled. Rhody – thank God. This was a good sign – this would be the third time Rhody and I had been together in the last two months. It suggested that there could be more.

I had so much to say to Rhody and I hoped that, as my birthday present, they would let us talk afterwards, as Nurbek and Ruslan had that night when Rhody had taken the `ultra' punishment to spare me.

I needed to tell him about the royal palace, work out my feelings about what happened there. How Master had forced me to choose between him and Matti. How Ruslan had ordered me to try to win, telling me Matti would be safe, and how I felt betrayed when I won and yet Matti wasn't safe. How I was sure that Matti was on the dome, gelded and condemned to death, and how he was there because he had been a good slave and did what he was told. How since arriving home, I had thrown myself into devotion to Master because, having lost Matti, I didn't want to lose everything else I had now.

That `everything else' includes Rhody. If I'm sold, I won't have Rhody anymore. I can't lose them both.

I needed to tell him all this. But over the next three hours, neither of us said anything. Cock after cock penetrated me in one end or the other. I recognized most of them by their style of fucking and/or the size and shape of their cocks. That included Bobrovsky, but he kept talking the whole time, mostly in Russian, but occasionally sprinkling in English phrases like `oh, yeah, baby, you like this', which he must have heard in some American porn movie. It seemed like everyone I saw at dinner had his dick in me at some point. But no Ruslan, no Sasha, no Oleg, no Ilya. They evidently weren't back yet.

In addition, I was suspended upside down and whipped rigorously on back, thighs, and chest, as well as ass, and I think the candle from my birthday cake was dripped over my body, mostly on my cock and balls. I was pissed onto and into, and punched in all the non-critical areas of my body. With the hood on, I couldn't see what they were doing to Rhody, but assumed he was getting equal treatment. I could hear the implements striking his body but the sounds of the impact were distant, as if he was on the far side of the room. I couldn't even hear his grunts for the blows that really had impact, although Rhody was tough and not as vocal as I was when the pain got intense.

Finally, I heard the men slowly clearing the room and felt hands untying me. The hood I was wearing was laced in the back to tighten it, and I felt the hands loosening the cords but leaving the hood in place.

• You may remove after I leave.

Master's voice, of course.

• Do not misinterpret what I going to say. You still slave, you still worthless piece of shit. But this week I am please. This week you good slave. I say this, but do not let this make pride. Pride is enemy of good slave. Only humility earn reward, and reward cannot change humility into pride. Is clear?

• Yes, Master.

• Is no longer birthday, but I going to give present now. You may fuck him.

Ordinarily, I would have leaped at the chance to have active sex. But not now. I needed Rhody, but it was not his body that I needed, as stimulating as that would be. It was his ear, and his kindness.

And, I'm sorry if this hurts you, Rhody, but I need to talk about Matti. That's what's tearing me apart.

[COMING UP NEXT: CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE - THE BIRTHDAY PRESENT]