Plzeň Towers: Pt. 03

For full context, please see Parts 01 and 02 of this story

After supper, the three servants clear up the dishes and depart, leaving you and Jack alone.

For the first time in what seems like ages you think of him again as Jack, as an individual separate from the persona of Master. It disturbs you and you switch back. You don't want to know him as Jack.

This brief interlude affects you more than you realise because it is really about your own twin personas: the good boy and the bad boy, the angel and the devil, the pure and the corrupt.

You try to think of something else, anything at all.

'Do you have many vinyl discs, sir?' you ask him.

You are now sitting on separate sofas, facing one another.

'Some here and some at home,' he replies.

'At home?'

He nods his head and lights a cigarette.

'I have a wife and kids,' he says, out of the blue.

You are speechless.

'We are separated, but most of my things are still there.'

You nod your head.

'And we have remained friends throughout. And we occasionally make love.'

He draws heavily on the cigarette, inhales, and blows the smoke across to me.

'Any more questions?'

You shake your head.

'No, sir. Thank you, sir.'

You pick up the record sleeve for the Sibelius symphony. The disc is still on the turntable. The second side is playing again.

'If you could run away from here, taking anyone with you, who would it be?' he asks.

You immediately think of Sami. Then you feel guilty about excluding Luca. Then you remember Elia and feel sad for him. Then you realise that the Master may also want to be considered.

'Could I, sir?' you ask.

'Could you what?'

'Really run away with one of you?'

The Master frowns and considers your question.

'Damn you, Tomáš, you get me so fucking hard cause you're so fucking cute.'

He takes another drag on the cigarette.

'Yes,' he says. 'You can take anyone you want.'

He smiles knowingly.

'IRL,' he adds, 'I believe that's the expression.'

Your eyes widen, but you're convinced it is a trick, a bluff. Besides, Sami would want to stay here, wouldn't he? So would Luca. So would anyone with any sense. Not because it is such a paradise here but because you know that any relationship...

You don't complete the thought.

The Master has stood up to remove the record from the turntable and place it back in its sleeve.

You wonder what time it is. There is no evidence of a clock anywhere and the Master wears no watch.

You are to sleep here tonight, in bed next to the Master, and are nervous about it. You feel that for a variety of reasons you won't get much sleep.

'If you take Sami, he will fuck you. If you take Luca he will love you. If you take Tobias he will manage you.'

The Master puts away the disc in the cabinet underneath the record player and returns to the sofa.

'And what about Elia?' you ask.

'Slave six?! He's a slave! He's not ready for being given away.'

'Your choice is Sami, Luca or Tobias.'

'But really, sir, is it an honest choice? Or are you just kidding with me?'

'Try it and see. Choose one of them.'

There is a pause in the conversation.

'Or do you have your heart set on slave six?'

'No, sir, not at all, sir. But I am a little confused. You will give away a servant but not a slave?'

'My servants are already free men. They choose to stay with me for their own various reasons and I keep them with me for mine. The slaves are different. Their bodies and services are for sale as I see fit...'

'Like Elia with the minister?' you ask, instantly regretting your remark.

'He told you that!?' thunders the Master. 'The disloyal bastard!'

The conversation is broken now as the Master presses something on the table at the side of his seat. He lights a fresh cigarette. As he takes in the first pull of smoke, Tobias comes into the room.

'Tobias, find Elia, wherever he is. Place him in the cellar... No, wait, the cellar is too good for him.' The Master ponders his options. 'Take him to Room 2 for an hour with you and Sami, please.'

'Yes, sir,' replies Tobias, who turns and leaves us alone.

'Room 2, sir?' you say.

'Don't ask me now, we are talking about more important issues.'

'Yes, sir. Sorry, sir. Thank you, sir.'

'Tomáš, you don't need to be so formal all the time. This is your night, remember.'

'But I like to remind myself, sir, that I am only a slave, your slave, sir. I would hate to delude myself that I am anything special, sir.'

The Master shrugs.

'Have it your way then. But your continued submission keeps me constantly hard; I hope you know that.'

'Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.'

'It is not a compliment, fool! It is bloody painful.'

You go quiet.

'Would you like a nightcap? We have only brandy though,' offers the Master.

You consider it, not really liking strong liquor.

'Yes, please, sir. Thank you, sir,' you say, eager to see how much it might make you suffer having to pretend to enjoy it.

The Master rises from the couch and goes over to a cabinet on the other side of the room, to the wall opposite the windows. He reaches down and takes out a bottle and two brandy glasses.

'This should help you sleep, if nothing else,' he suggests.

'Thank you...'

'Shut up, Tomáš,' he barks. 'Just listen.'

As he pours and delivers the drink to you he continues explaining about the servants.

'The slaves I am strongly attached to,' he starts, 'whereas with the servants here there is no attachment at all because I love them completely, each one: Sami, Luca and Tobias.'

You frown a little as you try to make sense of what he is saying, yet have the good sense to remain silent.

'I love the slaves too, you must know that, otherwise I couldn't have them here. But with them it is different. They - you - are all imperfect. While there is imperfection, there is attachment.'

He extinguishes in the ashtray what is left of his cigarette. He takes a sip of brandy. You follow suit and are surprised to find that the taste is quite pleasant. It is obviously a very expensive brand.

'So you can have Sami, Luca or Tobias for yourself, if any of them wish to join you. I won't feel bad about it and, I trust, neither will they.'

'What if I wanted them all?' you dare ask.

He goes very quiet and stares at you for a long time. He has noticed that you didn't apply your usual form of honorific address to him.

'Take them!' he says. 'Take the whole building while you're at it.'

He rises swiftly from his place and goes back to the drinks cabinet. Instead of more booze, he takes out a round metal tin about the size of a dinner plate. He walks back and puts it down in front of you.

'Open it,' he orders.

Tentatively, knowing that you have gone too far, you take off the lid. It is filled with wads of 5,000 Crown notes, wrapped by elastic bands and folded up together.

'All yours too, if you want them,' he says.

You know it has gone too far and you want to stop this now. Instead, however, you branch off to something that has been bothering you all evening, on the principle that it is best to be hung for a sheep as a lamb.

'Is Luca really my safe word?' you ask him directly, keeping eye contact all the time.

He smiles, thinks and laughs softly.

'Who told you that?'

'Luca.'

He looks pensive and another smile comes to his face.

'Always the romantic!' he sighs. 'We never have safe words here! Luca was... not playing a game with you, but probably in his own way he was trying to protect you.'

You are glad that there are no safe words. It means it all makes sense. It is like the real world in miniature now, just as random and haphazard, just as dangerous. And who was it who told you there are no safe places? You vaguely recall a conversation about the safest options.

'Can I please have Sami, sir?'

'At last!' cries the Master. 'Took you long enough.'

He presses the button next to him.

''Before he comes back, do you want him all to yourself or do you want me as witness?'

While you are thinking this over, Luca appears.

'Yes, sir?'

'Luca,' says the Master, 'can you take over from Sami in Room 2 and send him here, please?'

Luca nods and leaves.

'Well? Witness or not?'

You look puzzled and confused.

'What is the matter? You have chosen Sami. You now have to put your proposal to him. You can't just sweep him up in your arms and take him home!'

'I thought I could, sir. I am not ready for another fucking, sir.'

'Tell him that, not me.'

'I could not tell him no, sir.'

The Master chuckles to himself.

'It seems like you have not thought this through.'

You realise how stupid this makes you look. You want to start again, go back in time.

'He'll be here presently. Better have your answer ready: witness or no witness?'

'Could Luca...' you begin but the Master shuts you off.

'Luca is fucking busy now, moron, doing Sami's work.'

'Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.'

'Anyway, do you want this money or not?'

'No, sir. Thank you, sir.'

The Master raises his eyebrows. Then he stands up, picks up the tin and returns it to the cupboard.

'Witness!' you say.

'Right. A sensible decision at last. Fuck me, that was hard work.'

Maybe it is midnight. Maybe it is ten o'clock. Maybe it is eight o'clock. Maybe it is two o'clock in the morning. You have no idea.

You hear a light click as the door opens and then a louder click as it closes.

Sami is here. Sami is still wearing only his briefs. His feet are bare. There is blood on his face, about which he apparently knows nothing.

'Thank you for coming so promptly,' says the Master. 'How is Elia?'

Sami looks down. He pauses.

'Compliant,' he says.

Your heart is thumping.

'Go wash your face, then join us,' says the Master. 'Would you like brandy?'

'Yeah,' says Sami, touching his cheek and looking at the blood on his fingers.

You sense a distinct air of insolence about him. You realise that he was enjoying himself downstairs and is resentful for being called away.

You feel stupid, unnecessary, embarrassed beyond belief. You see how once again your dick has brought you to a point of despair. For the third or fourth time this evening you want to die.

There is no sign of blood when Sami comes back in the room. He sits down beside the Master and knocks back the slug of brandy which the Master has prepared.

They are both facing you. It is the worst interview ever.

'Slave number seven wants to run away with you,' the Master blurts out.

We are straight into it without polite preliminaries.

Instead of laughing, as you might well expect, Sami looks extremely thoughtful, almost as though he is trying to remember something.

'Do you want to run away with him, Sami?' asks the Master.

Sami picks up one of the Master's cigarettes and lights it.

'Can you support me?' he asks you, his brown eyes piercing into you.

You shake your head.

'No, I don't think so,' you reply.

Sami frowns.

'Well, do you love me? Is that it?'

You start to shake and stammer.

'I... I... I don't know,' you say.

'So why me and not one of the others then?'

You take a deep breath.

'I like you. I want you as a friend. I want to get to know you. I want to be in bed with you. I want to submit to you over and over and over again.'

The Master stands up.

'I'm going for a piss. Carry on, boys.'

All throughout this exchange Sami hasn't taken his eyes off you. Now he rises and joins you on your sofa. He takes your hand.

'I enjoyed fucking you very much,' he tells you. 'I know you liked it too. That made it extra intense for me. You really gave into it. Fucking marvellous, mate!'

You feel like breaking down in tears from the relief. But, you being you, your relief is short-lived because you immediately see all the ramifications of what Sami is saying to you.

His acceptance of you is ten times more painful than rejection.

It is hard to breathe. It is like a knife in your throat to even think of talking. You are sure you are having a heart attack, your chest is bumping and pumping so loudly

Perhaps it would be better to pass out.

'Blood,' you whimper, 'You had blood here.' You touch your cheek.

'Oh, that was Tobias. He had a nosebleed. He has leukaemia.'

He said it as though leukaemia was no different from a common cold.

'Not Elia then?'

'No.' Sami winks at you. 'Not yet.'

'What is in Room 2?'

'That is our milking machine. Elia is on about his fifth extraction by now.'

He sits back, still holding your hand.

'Luca can supervise it alone, once the victim is strapped in.'

An hour. That's what they said. How many orgasms in an hour? Your cock shrivels to the size of a pea.

'I've just thought of something else,' comments the Master, stepping back into the room and pausing at the bedside table to open a drawer and remove something.

He goes back to his place on the sofa.

Sami is still sitting beside you, his hand in yours. It is a gentle grip, barely any pressure.

'I love my cock,' begins the Master, 'but, because it is a perfect organ, I am not attached to it.'

He leans towards me.

'Do you understand?'

You don't understand. You want to hear more. But you want to hear something that you do understand. You neither nod nor shake your head. You stay quiet. You maintain eye contact.

'I am my cock,' he says, 'My cock is me. There is no other entity.'

You don't understand but you don't feel confused. You want to hear more, knowing that the Master is right about something, at a very deep level, at a place beyond words.

'My heart and my mind are both enraptured by Sibelius, for example. My cock doesn't give a fuck about Sibelius. My cock doesn't give a fuck about you or Sami or my wife or my sons or anyone else.'

Your eyes are wide open, watching, waiting.

'I am my cock,' he repeats, 'I don't give a fuck about you.'

You are hard now. The truth is making you hard.

The Master takes the last swig of his brandy.

He reads your mind, senses your state of arousal.

'Cock to cock,' he intones, 'Heart to heart. Mind to mind. Body to body. Spunk to spunk.'

He stands and bids you both to stand.

'I shall sleep on the edge of the bed; you two can sleep in the middle. I want ten minutes naked with Sami and then the rest of the night is yours.'

Sami speaks, quietly, just for you.

'Fall sleep,' he tells you. 'In the night, I might rape you. Once more you will cry out for mercy.'

You melt into bed, your blood racing. You have never felt so desperate for sleep. Your cock is keeping you alert, uncomfortable, but you use it to your advantage, not focusing on its desire for release but on its warmth and vibrancy, allowing the feeling to spread out into the rest of your body. You recall the Master's words and think of yourself as nothing but cock. The discomfort subsides, the energy dissipates, until there is only the rapturous sensation of submission. Your toes curl.

For the next ten minutes you lie there listening as the Master and Sami make love. You deliberately don't look in their direction. They are at the far end of the bed, with a huge gap between you, room enough for two or three more bodies.

You hear them kiss. You hear the Master moan. You hear Sami utter the same grunt he made earlier, when he was on top of you.

Your mind drifts off to strange random things. Your job comes to mind and you think about how you will feel on Monday morning.

'That's enough,' says the Master, 'Thank you.'

Whatever they are doing, it is over. It is your turn now.

You close your eyes and wait, your dick pressed hard and painfully between your legs. You want to touch yourself but can't bear to, knowing that everything now is outside your control. Maybe you should weep and win their sympathy, postpone the event.

You want to run, as far away as possible, to the far end of the world, leaving behind everything, to live like a hermit in a cold hostile land or as a wandering nomad through a devastated desert. Anywhere but here. Anything but this.

His hand strokes your shoulder and you flinch. You didn't hear him move across the bed. He puts his hand around your throat and pulls you towards him.

The first kiss is a shock. It feels more of an assault than the rape earlier, too shockingly intimate. You gag at the feel of his tongue entering your mouth.

'Sit up!' he says. He makes you raise yourself until you are sat upright against the head of the bed.

He stands over you.

Now his cock is in your mouth. He holds your head, fucks your throat. You squeeze your fists around your thumbs, distracting yourself, trying not to gag, knowing he won't stop.

He is using you for his pleasure. You are nothing to him but a hole, an empty space. He is fucking a thing, not a person. His fingers grip your head, pulling you back and forth.

You want to serve him, let him turn you into his vessel.

He stops. He kneels down, looks you in the eyes, scrutinises your face, examines your features.

His head is glistening with sweat.

Where is he? Is he in there, behind those dark brown eyes? Does he exist? Does he care? Could he love you?

'Had enough?' he asks, smiling.

You know at that moment that he could do anything to you or with you, or take anything away from you, as long as you got that smile.

You reach out to hold him, dreading rejection.

His smooth shiny skin is like the body of an alien.

He leans forward and rests his head on your chest.

'You tickle,' he chuckles, enjoying the feeling of the hair from your chest on his ears.

He moves away and slowly pulls you down until you are lying back in the bed. He adjusts the covers and gets in beside you. You are turned facing the Master, who is watching. Sami lies next to you, his arm around your waist, his hand stroking your belly.

You close your eyes and murmur contentedly, not sure what you have done to deserve any of this.

'Good boy,' whispers Sami, 'My good little boy.'

His cock is smooth and warm against your skin. And for the first time you begin to get the scent of him and nothing else, the mix of his sweat and skin and smoke.

You fall asleep knowing that later you will be awoken. He will wake you, take you and make you his own

***

Yet when you do wake later, you are stirred not by the actions of Sami but by your own need to urinate. You lie there for five or ten minutes, turning on to your side, drifting in and out of sleep. Eventually the discomfort is too much and you decide to get out of bed. Your best option, without disturbing either Sami or the Master, is to crawl down the centre of the bed.

It is not until you enter the bathroom that an automatic night light is triggered and you can finally see your surroundings. Alongside the double shower cubicle, three frosted glass doors indicate what must be the toilets. You used one before bathing earlier, but can't remember which door you opened. This time you turn the handle of the central door. Instead of a toilet, however, there is another spiral staircase behind it. You shut this door and open another, relieved to find what you are looking for.

Only after you have washed your hands in the sink do you decide to venture further afield rather than return to bed. You splash your face with water, anxious not to make sounds that might wake the sleeping men, and then you dry yourself with a towel.

You wonder where Luca and Tobias might be, and about the state of Elia, and what Sami might do if he wakes up and finds you missing. You hesitate. You even consider opening the door into the servants' bedroom.

But, eventually, just as with your need to urinate, you know that you cannot restrain yourself from opening the middle door and climbing the spiral staircase. The stairs also go down, but your curiosity takes you up.

It is cold on the staircase, a sharp contrast with the warmth and cosiness of the rooms you have just left. Also, it is pitch black after you have made one turn of the stairs and you have to feel your way slowly and carefully each step up. Like the other spiral staircase, this has stone steps. The treads are icy cold beneath your bare feet.

After maybe five revolutions of the staircase, you see light above you and realise that there is a window. As you approach the light, the steps end, and you are at the top, looking out over the city. The sky is glowing with the first fingers of dawn. You shiver, but remain there for a minute, gazing over the rooftops.

On your way down, you cannot understand why it is taking you so long to get back to your bed. But it is simply that the night lights have gone out and you have missed the exit to the bathroom.

You begin to feel frightened because now you realise that you have gone so far down that you must be at least on the ground floor level, if not lower. Several times, the steps widen at a point where a door is set into the side of the wall. You turn the handles each time you find one, but all of them are locked. It is only when you reach the very bottom of the stairs that an old wooden door with a cold brass handle opens for you and leads you into a dimly lit corridor.

The door scrapes against the rough stone floor and sends out a sound that fills the space. In the gloom of this claustrophobic environment, any tiny noise is magnified.

'Who's there?' a voice cries out.

It is the desperate cry of a frightened man. You peer down the corridor, trying to work out his location. There are two doorways further along the corridor, facing one another. Your first impulse is to turn and go quickly back upstairs.

'Who is it?' says the voice again.

You hear the sound of metal dragging across concrete. Then a light appears, glowing from the left hand doorway. Then comes the rattle of a door against its frame.

'Help me!' it cries, 'For God's sake, help me!'

You creep nearer and see that the doorway is the entrance to another prison cell, this time with a barred metal door. There is a shadow falling across the corridor, cast by the figure behind the cell door.

A tall thin lad with long straggly hair is staring out at you. You cannot see his features because the light, from a candle, is behind him.

He reaches out his hand to touch you, but you recoil.

'Thank God!' he says, 'You have come to save me at last.'

He is naked except for some sort of loin cloth around his waist. There is a strong animal smell in the air. You notice rough pieces of furniture, books, scraps of clothing, plates and bowls, all the detritus of a long-term prisoner.

'Who are you?' you ask, thinking it might be Elia even though it can't be because of the drastic change in appearance.

'I don't know,' says the young man, 'I was never given a proper name. They call me Eight.'

'Ate?' you repeat, not understanding.

'Slave number eight,' he says.

You look him up and down. His loin cloth has come loose. You can see more of him now, his dark handsome features, his lean firm body.

'Here!' he says, pushing himself towards the bars.

He is wearing some sort of contraption under his loincloth, a crude homemade chastity device.

'Please! You have to help me. I am not allowed to come. Please!'

He cries out so loudly that you feel sure the sound will carry up the staircase.

'How long have you been locked in here?' you ask him.

He shows you his leg. A long metal chain is attached to it by a shackle.

'They put this on me in August,' he tells you, 'On my birthday.'

'August!?'

'What month is it now then?' he asks you.

You shake your head, horrified.

'Tomorrow is the first of November,' you tell him.

You look around, up and down the corridor, as well as over his shoulder.

'Who has the keys?' you ask.

'Over there!' he tells you, pointing to a place on the wall behind where a set of keys is hanging from a large metal ring.

You move to pick them up. There are three keys. You take the largest key and move to open the cell door.

'No!' he protests, 'No! You have to help me come! Give me the smallest key!'

His face is contorted with anguish.

'Please!' he yells. 'It has been three months!'

You hesitate.

He sticks a bare foot through the bars and wiggles it at you provocatively His toes stretch and contract like little animals. He grabs hold of the bars and shakes them as much as he can.

Suddenly, he stops the rattling and looks at you.

'You are pretty,' he says. 'What is your name?'

You are caught now, not knowing what to do.

'Tell me your name,' he says, 'Tell me your real name.'

The name you say is not Tomáš but another name. You have already worked out that because of the blue pyjamas you are wearing he won't think of you as a slave. Yet you don't want to give yourself away as being Tomáš, scared of the Master's reaction, afraid of being made to swap places with this wretched creature.

'Thank you,' he says, 'Oh, thank you, sir!'

You have reached in and unlocked the device. Then you place the ring of keys back on its hook on the wall.

'I am going to leave you now,' you tell him.

But his hand is already working his cock even before you finish the last syllable. He walks away from the bars and lies on his bed, the actions slower and calmer now. He is intent on enjoying himself thoroughly.

The sounds of his moans of pleasure follow you as you make your way back along the corridor and up the stairs.

'Where have you been?' whispers Sami, as you crawl back into bed.

Your heart is pounding as you tell him that you went to look at the view from the tower.

He makes you lie face down and climbs on top of you, pulling down your pants. He doesn't penetrate you but instead enjoys the sensation of frottage upon your buttocks. You lie there hoping for more, fearing it, praying for it, longing for the chance to sacrifice yourself to the pain.

It takes him five minutes and he grunts loudly as he comes. He lies on top of you for a while and then once more reaches round for a kiss. Finally, he slides across to his place in the bed.

You are just about to turn over when you become aware of the Master moving towards you.

'My turn now, little one,' he says, climbing on top of you. 'Sami has got you nice and ready.'

The Master is larger and heavier than Sami. The weight of him excites you.

'I have a surprise for you tomorrow,' he says, 'A reward for being such a good boy.'

Your cock stiffens at the last two words. You try to wipe what happened downstairs from your mind.

You think only of the Master's kindness to you, of his powerful frame using your weak body as his plaything, of Sami's smile, of Luca's bright clean teeth, of hot water, of shaving and cooking and painting, of the strong coffee. Your mind goes everywhere but down there.

Except that you wish you had kissed his feet and licked them.

You come quietly, hoping that the Master has not noticed. He is doing to you what Sami did. You are glad. You feel that you have served them well tonight. You want more of the same.

The Master holds you tight as he comes. He cries out your name. Sami moves round and strokes you both, kissing each of you in turn.

The Master rolls on to the other side and the three of you lie there for half an hour. Occasionally, one of them touches you, fondles, strokes or squeezes you. The best part is when Sami runs his fingers through your hair.

It is light now, and a slow burst of sunlight fills the room, spreading out across the ceiling.

'Shower time,' says Sami.

'Me too,' says the Master.

And for the next fifteen minutes you are left alone in the gigantic bed.

The door clicks open and Luca enters with a tray of coffee for all of you. He is not yet dressed in his uniform, merely in his boxer shorts.

'How is Tobias?' you ask him, not yet brave enough to ask about Elia.

'He's fine!' he says, chirpily.

Once he has set down the drinks on the table and poured one for you, he comes over to the side of the bed.

'Should I get in with you?' he asks.

You feel awkward. Your body is wet and messy. Your breath is not fresh.

'Just for a cuddle?' you ask, shyly.

He smiles and joins you, not bothered about the damp sticky feel of the sheets.

'We can shower together in a minute,' he says, 'when the others have finished.'

'What was your slave number?' you ask him, 'before you became a servant?'

He looks at you curiously but openly.

'Seven,' he says, 'the same as you.'

He blinks a few times. You are lying side by side facing each other.

'Is there a number eight?' you ask, cautiously, listening out for signs of the Master's return.

Luca raises his eyebrows, looking a little startled.

'There used to be.'

You are puzzled and nervous.

'So what happened to him? Is he Sami or Tobias?'

'Why are you asking?'

You take a chance, envisioning having to spend three months in the cell, forbidden to masturbate, reliant on the kindness of strangers.

'I met him,' you murmur. 'Earlier this morning, I found the secret staircase.'

'Oh, fuck!'

Luca is not so much angry as scared.

'Does the Master know?' he whispers.

You shake your head, afraid to speak.

'Don't tell him, for all our sakes,' he pleads.

He closes his eyes tightly.

'Damn!' he says.

You sense that he is truly afraid.

'The shower is free,' comes Sami's voice from around the corner into the bathroom.

Luca kisses you and slips out of bed.

Sami enters, a towel draped around his waist, and pours himself a cup of coffee.

Seconds later the Master enters and does the same, although he is now fully dressed.

You are conscious of needing to speak longer with Luca and hope that he stays true to his promise of joining you in the shower.

Luca has disappeared into his bedroom. From your shower, you see him emerge from the room and go over to the door leading to the secret staircase. He puts a key into the lock, turns it and then returns to his bedroom.

He comes back out totally naked and gets into the shower with you.

'You can wash my back this time,' he jokes.

You squeeze the shampoo on to your hands and oblige him. His skin feels nice against your fingers. You pummel at his shoulders, anxious to relieve the tension that you have created for him.

The water is spraying down on both of you. You love the feeling of it on your face. You are also glad to wash away the evidence of sex from your time in bed.

'Why is he down there?' you ask discreetly.

'Did you talk to him?'

'Not much.'

'Did he tell you his name?'

'Only that he is number eight. He said he didn't know any other name.'

Luca shakes his head in disbelief. Then he frowns.

'Tell me exactly what happened, everything.'

Barely above a whisper you recount the tale of your excursion into the bowels of The Tower.

'Where is the key now?' he asks.

'I put the keys back on the hook.'

'Good,' says Luca. 'That's some consolation at least.'

'But who is he?' you ask, urgently. 'What is his name?'

Luca shakes his head and looks grim.

'I can't tell you,' he says. 'Don't ask me again.'

He can obviously see the fear in your eyes.

'Listen,' he says, 'don't worry about it. Let's talk about something else.'

He turns you around and begins to wash you. The water foams and feels good on your body. He pushes his soapy fingers between your legs and cleans you gently there. It should be highly arousing but you don't want sex, just answers.

'Did Sami fuck you?' he asks.

'Yes.'

'Right the way in?'

'Yes.'

'Did it hurt much?'

'Yes, but not as much as I feared.'

Luca laughs.

'He's rougher than me but smaller too,' he says.

You turn to look at Luca.

'Has he fucked you, Luca?'

Luca bites his lip.

'Well?'

Luca casts his face downwards.

'Sami has fucked everyone here, every slave and servant, the Master himself, and even the chef,' he reveals.

'Is he allowed to do that?' you ask, astonished.

'No, not really, but the chef persuaded him. It was their private arrangement.'

'Does the Master know?'

Luca almost screeches with laughter.

'The Master knows everything! Surely you realise that by now, Tom.'

As frightening as the admission from Luca sounds, you are secretly delighted that he has called you Tom. It sounds special. No-one else has called you Tom.

During your absence from the main bedroom, Tobias has been in with the breakfast things. There are English muffins with butter, jam and cheese as well as more coffee and even a pot of tea.

'No porridge today, lads!' says Sami, tucking into the feast.

He makes himself another coffee, this time topping it up with hot milk from a jug.

'Our Sunday treat!' sings the Master joyfully. 'Our Sabbath surprise!'

He looks in your direction.

You freeze, for a split second only, then carry on pouring yourself some tea. By the time you have finished preparing a plateful of food, the conversation has moved on. You remember what Luca said about the Master knowing everything.

'Tomáš!' says the Master.

Your blood runs cold.

'Yes, sir?' you respond.

'How many of us are there here in The Towers?'

You perform a quick mental calculation.

'Twelve, sir, including yourself,' you say.

The Master narrows his eyes.

Twelve?' he asks. 'How do you get twelve?'

Your heart is in your mouth.

'Eight slaves, sir, three servants and yourself, sir.'

You have spilled out the truth without thinking.

'Eight slaves, you say.'

'Yes, sir,' still not realising your mistake.

'Alright,' says the Master, 'Name them.'

You have not noticed that Luca is standing ashen-faced by the door to the bedroom.

'Wilhelm, Pavel, Henryk, Johan,' you begin, proud of your skill at remembering them all in the right order.

Luca coughs to clear his throat.

You look at him and realise your mistake.

'Go on,' says the Master.

'Patrik, Elia, Tomáš,' you finish, hoping to bluff your way out of it.

The Master goes through the names again out loud, counting them out on his fingers, deliberately prolonging the agony.

'Seven!' says the Master.

'Oh, yes, sir. Sorry, sir, I miscounted,' you tell him.

'So seven slaves, three servants and me,' says the Master. 'How many is that?'

'Eleven, sir.'

'But I know for a fact that there are twelve of us, Tomáš. Whom have you missed? Think hard.'

Your face is bright red. It would be red anyway due to being exposed to public scrutiny, but the fear that he knows about your clandestine visit down the staircase makes it worse.

Your mind is blank, a white sheet of fear.

'Help him out, Luca,' says the Master.

If at that moment you had been standing not sitting you are sure that your knees would have buckled.

Luca clears his throat.

'There is Mo the chef, sir,' he says.

The Master smiles at Luca and turns to smile at you.

'There you are! You forgot the most important one of all.'

Everyone laughs.

Breakfast is resumed.

But fifteen minutes later, once the food is finished and the breakfast tray has been removed, the Master says:

'I have always known that thirteen is my lucky number. We must find slave number eight, mustn't we?'

The room falls silent.

By now, Tobias has left to take the dishes for washing; Sami has gone back to his bedroom. Only yourself and Luca remain sitting with the Master.

In the distance, a bell rings. It is the call for the first round of chores.

'May I leave, sir?' you ask. 'It is time for my chores.'

'Chores are for whores! Are you a whore, slave number seven?'

He has a vicious look on his face. You are terrified. The tone has changed. No longer the honoured guest, you are the worm beneath his feet.

'I am a slave, sir, your loyal...' but the words ring false to everyone, especially to yourself.

You fall from the settee on to your knees and wait.

'Luca, leave us,' orders the Master.

He slowly rises, looks at you both and goes off towards his room.

'You need to play this very carefully now. I hope you understand. You are not the one who sets the rules here. You obey or disobey. Is that clear? If you obey, you get the pleasure of being a good boy. If you disobey, you get punished. Is this crystal clear?'

You take a deep breath.

'Yes, sir.'

'Then get up off the floor. No-one has told you to supplicate yourself.'

You don't know what to do next: to stand or to sit. You stand, head lowered.

'Remove those pyjamas, slave,' he says next.

You slip the top over your head and then lower the pants. Your dick is rising.

'Tomáš, Tomáš, Tomáš,' purrs the Master. 'You just can't help yourself.'

He leans over to stroke you, and then to cup your balls in his hand. Your cock wobbles in delight.

'When were you cut?' he asks.

It is the one question you were dreading most of all.

'Sir, I found the secret staircase and went down to the place where...'

'Shush!' says the Master tenderly. 'I didn't ask you that.'

His hand is still holding you. You feel a slight pressure as he gauges their weight.

'Well?'

It is the very last thing you want to talk about. No words come out. You would rather get punched, slapped, your balls ripped off.

The room now is bright and airy. It is a beautiful day outside: cold, clear, crisp and sunny. The light fills the attic, casting shadows and exposing hidden features at the same time.

'Well?'

You keep quiet. You can't lie. You can't tell the truth.

The Master gazes up at you, his blue eyes cutting into you. His expression is inscrutable.

'Wait there,' he says.

He gets up from the sofa and goes over to fetch something from a drawer.

'This is not a punishment but a reward,' he says, 'It is the highest reward I can bestow.'

He stands behind you and attaches a thin strip of leather around your neck. It is a collar. Your cock responds ecstatically. It bounces up and down. Unseen by you is the line of six stars which are embedded in jewels on the outside.

'No chores for you today or any other Sunday,' he says, not while you wear this collar.

Your head is pounding, an ache is building inside.

'No clothes either, today or any other Sunday.'

He takes you by the hand, leads you to the door, kisses you on the forehead and escorts you out of the room.

'Let's show the others,' he says. 'You are our first.'

Meeting the cold air in the corridor where the staircase leads down to the first floor makes you shiver. On entering the slaves' dormitory, however, the air is warmer, the room stuffy with masculinity.

Two slaves, Pavel and Patrik, are in the process of cleaning the room.

'Good morning, boys,' says the Master.

The two slaves stop what they are doing and bow their heads.

'Carry on!' he says. 'Tomáš is here to watch you work.'