Oskopit

Oskopit

©MCVT 2017 May 21, 2018

A White Dove's flight to freedom.

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Adult content: 100% fiction, hist, inc, cast, null, slavery, prost, tg.

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"There are only two or three human stories, and they go on repeating themselves as fiercely as if they'd never happened before."

Willa Cather, O Pioneers!

Part 1 - The Russian Sky

As soon as I was old enough to carry, I left my mother's side at the hearth and joined Papa to learn to farm. I was his oldest son; he called me Sergei after his papa - a big, strong man who could do almost anything!

Our farmland on the Russian steppes was almost flat but for a few rises and two streams that ran through it with woods on both sides. Neighbors lived so far away we could only see the smoke from their chimneys on a calm winter day.

The sky above my childhood home was the most beautiful in the world - changing by the hour and through the transient clouds, rain, hail and snow. The clouds foretold the coming changes. Papa taught me all about the signs to watch for.

Brilliant, winking constellations gave way to blazing pink and lavender clouds at sunrise. Those colors greeted Papa and me as we brought the fresh, warm milk from the barn to Mama in the mornings.

After our early meal, I cleaned and fed the rabbits. Our herd had the kind with soft fur and bred them with an old buck from the meadow - big, meaty animals with strangely spotted coats - but warm, thick fur. The rabbits were my favorite - always quiet and gentle animals that were excited to see me in the mornings and happy for the grains and grass. The little kits were cute - the rabbit stew was good on cold evenings.

Evening sunsets were molten red and gold as the day faded behind the western hills like the last celebration of the day. Papa taught me to look at the horizon near the sun and straighten my arm out. If my fist filled the space between the sun and the horizon, it was time to go home. But I didn't need to measure the sun from the horizon. By that time Papa and I were ready for our pottage and sleep.

Sometimes my hands and arms ached from the work. I was proud of my pain - I was more like Papa every day. Except for a beard, I had his dark hair and eyelashes and smooth, pale skin. Though small, my muscles were bigger and harder everyday.

The demand of every season is clear to a farmer, and Papa explained to me about the winds of early spring pruning the trees and the floods renewing the strength of our fields. He taught me how roots brought up minerals from deep below the earth for the next year's crops; "Nature is strong, it keeps itself healthy with its own ways. Watch and learn."

With a handful of dirt, he showed me the worms and bugs that meant the soil was healthy and strong to grow the best crops. Those bugs were helping us by being there though Mama hated them in the house.

Papa told me about the droughts and losses his great-grandparents had survived and the great plague decades ago. Those remembrances were my bedtime stories.

My family couldn't read or write - no books or papers in our house only the deed to our land and my parent's marriage certificate - these were kept on the mantle in a box.

We learned from the old stories - wisdom by repetition and reasoning. What we could see and copy; what we heard from old tales were our schooling - we farmed and kept our livestock the same as they'd done for at seven generations.

Life on our small farm was simple - the same every day until Uncle Franz came and told us about great changes that were changing things.

Uncle Franz lived closer to St. Petersburg where something new was always happening.

The world was changing - new ideas were upsetting the old ways around the world. Papa only told his older brother Franz that whatever they were doing didn't matter. Russians still needed their bread everyday - and there'd always be a market for our wheat and rye.

Uncle Franz married into a family of blacksmiths and woodworkers. They made and repaired carts, buckboards and made all kinds of leather strapping for horses and carriages.

Franz was no farmer, like Papa. Mama said that Uncle Franz had too much time on his hands and was frittering his life away - he should work the land like his father.

Yet Franz learned his trades well. He bred the finest horses in his area and had a reputation for riding the fastest, sleekest horses in his province. His thighs were strong as tree trunks and his arms bulged with muscles from his work - he wasn't at stocky like my grandpapa, but wiry like Papa.

Franz had dark hair, thick eyebrows and a lean look about his face - very serious deep-set eyes that were as blue and clear as the Russian summer sky.

He let me and Pavel ride his horse when he came to visit, so I really looked forward to his sporadic visits.

As I look back, those were strange, confusing times - my early childhood occurred in a time of turmoil in the world and our nation - it came closer by the day. I didn't know that, but somehow I sensed my life would be different from the men before me in my family.

Instead of working a small farm like his family, a peasant-turned-madman changed everything for me and millions of Russians forever. It wasn't through famine, or the coming war, but through the ritual.

We never met the man, only heard of him and met his followers. He wasn't any politician - well, maybe he was. To my parents, he became our beloved leader.

That man was Kondraty Selivanov - he founded the Skoptsy faith. There were other sects breaking off the state church in those times. "Dissidents" they called the newly formed groups - heretics, but Selivanov was riding on the changes brought about by the Protestant Reformation and the building anger toward the Tsarist regime.

Big changes were happening in Russia. At first, Mama wondered who would lead our country without the divine blessing of the ruling families - God chose them to lead and made their lives comfortable so they could guide us with divine wisdom.

But my parents followed Kondraty Selivanov after Franz explained how the state secretly partnered with the church to interpret the holy texts to keep people poor and hungry so they rulers could stay fat and lazy. The idea that royalty weren't any more than we were stunned Mama and Papa and yet the idea of greater sharing of wealth appealed to them. It had always worried Mama that we lived so far from any formal religious institution that we couldn't be christened and calling a priest for a mere child's eternal soul was verboten!

Because Selivanov was very clear about his teachings we had to change our lives, but not so much. No fighting, no lying - things like that, but we were isolated farmers, not drinkers or smokers - we led a peaceful life. We didn't need any artful schemes - we served the land so it would serve us in return.

Selivanov taught us that we didn't have to give all our money to the state church to go to heaven - we could become "White Doves; God's Lambs" through the radenie ritual and it guaranteed our place in the afterlife - we'd be with God forever.

Selivanov was born a farmer like us, and later became Jesus Christ on earth again! This made his new ideas more believable to Mama and Papa. Seeing one of our own - another peasant, become Jesus Christ gave them hope for true and everlasting salvation from the pain of earthly existence.

Like all martyrs, Selivanov suffered government persecution by confinement to a monastery for insane people. That brought more members to our sect and more surety that he was Christ - hadn't Christ endured pain, humiliation and imprisonment as well? Members of our faith could become Christ as well, through castration. Men and women! Members of our sect enjoyed the fruits of the spirit, according to Selivanov's teachings. His word became law in the Skoptsy communities across Russia.

The Skoptsy sect became bigger and spread to distant parts of Russia where the government couldn't bother us - but they didn't have enough of an army to deal with religious dissenters either. More people joined and we all had better lives for a while. Our church opened an orphanage, and helped people. They arranged for Dad to get new tools and another plow horse. We had meetings every week to praise a new god - one who actually noticed our lives and knew our needs.

My mother gave birth to me in October of 1820. She had my brother the next year in December. Dad was proud - sure, but Pavel's birth meant it was time for his castration to build the 144,000 of the heavenly troupe.

The ritual at that time was to take the men into a separate room during one of our Skoptsy services. The women stayed separate, praying and dancing in the spirit.

With a crude knife and on a rough wooden bench, my father's lust-inducing testicles fell into a bucket on the floor. Then hot oil was poured on the scar while the other brethren shouted praises in divine fits of ecstasy. Heaven guaranteed as his sinful power plopped into the bucket along with those of the other men enduring the ritual that day.

My father rode home in the back of the wagon, my Uncle Franz explained. He said angels visited Papa and he was speaking with them all the way.

Uncle Franz had already become a White Dove after he lost his wife and children on the trek to Siberia with the members of his group of Skoptsy. He came to help us while Papa recuperated, but mostly he just prayed and recited some of the lessons he'd learned from Selivanov.

Mom strapped my brother Pavel on her back and she did her best to get Dad's chores done while Papa stayed in bed with a fever that lasted for several weeks.

Two years later, the removal of Papa's penis would occur, completely ridding him of the sinful fruits from Eden - all lust and desires of the flesh excised as it explains in the gospel of Matthew.

Every seven days, we prepared for church services. That meant bathing after we cleaned the mud off our shoes and rubbed grease and ash on them. Brother Pavel and I were always excited - that was the only time we left the farm and we could meet other kids. It took us a long time to go to services, and sometimes it was cold, but Papa heated rocks by the hearth to slip under the straw where we sat in the back of the wagon.

That autumn, I must have been five, and Pavel four, so we did things together. On a Saturday afternoon we bathed together in a big tub on the side of the house.

We stood in the tub half-filled with well water. Mama would bring the warm water and soap and give us a good scrubbing, like every week. As we stood there, naked in the setting sun, we were cold - our peenees were hard, and I reached out to tug at his little bird, grinning. He looked so comical, his skin had goose bumps and his teeth were chattering.

Mama came around the house at about the time Pavel was reaching to give me a yank in return. I remember laughing when he touched me - I was cold and shivering, too.

But mom dropped the kettle of hot water on the ground and grabbed Pavel's hand and began yelling at us about the garden of Eden and the sin of lust. Pavel and I understood heaven and hell, but we didn't understand why Mama was so upset. Children were to be seen, not heard so we just stared at her, waiting for more teachings. Our ignorance and silence doomed us.

The very next day at church services my mother confessed to the group that Pavel had touched my penis and I was laughing. She begged for prayers and cried to God to root out the evil and lust from our innocent, young hearts.

More than anything else, Mama wanted all of us to be in heaven together. Everyone started praying and moaning, shrieks of supplication to the skies for our salvation. Didn't take long for the congregation to bring out the knife to remove the roots of sin that would nix our final, upward journey.

Papa cried as he held me down on the bench with the other White Doves. The men looked and felt like devils, stripping me naked and shoving me around. They didn't stop until I felt a rush of cold air on my open, stinging wound - then the hot oil! I screamed for mercy, but only saw smiling faces of the men above me. Papa was crying and his lips moved in silent prayers.

Mom was glad our lust was taken from us - I was still confused by this whole event. I didn't know what lust was or what sin I'd committed in the bath with Pavel. But I was sorry for whatever I'd done - it hurt like the fires of hell for a long time on my front.

Pavel passed out when they cut his tiny eggs from his body. They were so small they fell silently into the bloody bucket. The brethren put him in the back of the wagon and I lay alongside him feeling dizzy but hoped angels would come to speak with us as they'd done with Papa. That didn't happen.

Pavel whispered he was cold. Mama put her jacket on him, but died on the way home, his rough, brown pants bloodied with a big, dark stain.

Papa said that they dug too deeply for the root of his sin... My little brother and my only friend died while I watched his breath stop moving his chest. When we got home, we buried him in the cold earth of the steppes - still in Mama's jacket, wearing his darkly stained clothes and wrapped in his baby blanket. Didn't hear anything about the glory of heaven as we shoveled dirt and cried.

Our home felt empty without him and I was crying, sore and sick for a long time.

To insure our entire family would be together in the great beyond, the next week Mama was castrated. She was a full believer, though Papa wanted her to wait. He'd told her he couldn't lose all of us to the church.

The women of the church removed Mama's breasts, leaving big, red wounds that wept for days. Papa and I nursed Mama but her skin didn't want to heal over her rib cage, Papa went into a tearful, sad mood worsening by the day. One night he said he smelled the rot start in Mama's body. She didn't wake up very often and never spoke. Then, she died, lying alongside Papa in their bed - only three days after her castration.

Papa stopped speaking and stayed outside working all day. I tried to cook and wash like Mama, but I guess I didn't do a very good job. Papa kept saying he didn't have any reason to keep the farm anymore. He never answered me when I asked if we would move to St. Petersburg with Uncle Franz or get some help for him.

It wasn't long after that when I found his body in the barn hanging from a rafter in the barn. It took all morning, but I ran to the next farm. The farmer went for my Uncle Franz - he would send word through people in town.

The wife and children of our neighbor buried Papa alongside Pavel, Mama and our ancestors in the heat of the day.

Their oldest daughter came to stay me and keep the farm until my uncle came.

Franz and Yuri, Papa's brothers, brought two wagons and eight big horses several weeks later. The girl keeping me was sent home with a bag of apples and walnuts for her help.

My uncles had designs on using the farm to raise horses and set up a small blacksmith and woodworking shop in the barn. I went on with milking the cows, cleaning them and taking them to pasture and taking care of the rabbits. There was no way I could handle the oxen and plow the fields or swing a scythe at harvest time.

Yuri and Franz didn't even mention the fields, though the heads of wheat started hanging heavy on their tall stalks making silvery-tan waves in the breezes.

My uncles sold our livestock and rented out the fields. I came back from the barn one morning and saw them haggling with a neighbor over the price of my rabbits. That afternoon all my rabbits were gone - I felt like the last rope tying me to my family and our land slipped away and I was adrift under a blank Russian sky without a sun.

I tried keeping the weeds from overtaking the garden, and without Mama and Papa, it was hard. Every morning I went to weed and hoe, checking for bugs. Franz went into town often - he took the wagon and brought back more tools, bread and cheese.

Papa and Mama never treated Pavel or me like chattel because everyone on a farm works. I was beginning to feel like a burden to my uncles - as if they didn't remember I was there sometimes. But this was my home, and my farm, and I couldn't say that. I felt like a stranger - like an unseen slave boy tending what I could.

After they set up an anvil in the barn, my job in life was to take a sling and haul firewood my uncles cut in the woods. Farmers came by and left all kinds of tools and carts for repair. I watched and tried to learn, but my uncles never taught me anything - they just kept working.

The stalls that once held our milk cows now held horses. There was a big, black stallion fussy and loud creature. Those horses didn't like boys around them - they were used to another kind of life. Soon, my uncles sent me out of the barn. I wasn't allowed to watch them work the anvil and bellows - I was banned to the house, cooking, cleaning and washing. I cried, I felt so lonely as I completed my chores.

My uncles smelled bad. Now their stench became stronger inside, but I kept trying to keep all the sheets washed and their clothes clean, but it was impossible. We didn't bathe very often any more and I seldom washed clothes.

The three of us only went to church once a month now, and my uncles talked business with the men more than praying or praising. I sat with the neighbor family that had helped me after Papa died. Seemed like the church didn't want me around either. Maybe I was too sinful and my castration wasn't enough for them to know I wasn't a bad boy.

As we went into the fall of the first year they were living in my home, I gathered what few beets and turnips, cabbages and onions I could find and put them in the cellar like Mama had done. Winter was coming. While I scooped up the pottage one cool evening I asked Yuri if we could set traps for meat now that the rabbits were gone.

They talked over dinner. But they talked about carriages and transport, not meat or deer, maybe rabbits or squirrel. I figured I'd try to go down to the stream and fish - that wouldn't be enough. Maybe because I was used to my parent's ways - I was unsettled about our food supplies and most of my clothes were too small to keep me warm in the snow and blizzards. As the weather chilled and frost formed over the fields, I began digging through the clothing Mama stored in the basement - clothes from her childhood. I was so cold and my jacket wouldn't fit anymore.

That night when my uncles came into the house, stinking and laughing they stopped. I was wearing Mama's heavy wool coat with her ancient boots.

"Pretty boy! Aren't you the little coquette?" Uncle Yuri said.

Franz stroked my cheek, "Our little lovely! And all this time I thought you were my nephew."

I filled their bowls with cabbage and a few vegetables, heavily salted the way they liked and grinned. At least they noticed me, even if it was silly.

They talked for a long time that night about something very interesting. Through their work and word of mouth, they'd secured a very lucrative job hauling a wedding party from one of the big landowner's estate to the church on Christmas Eve, then back again for the reception.

No one else in our province had two large wagons and the teams to pull them. Along with one small carriage from the bride's family and a few makeshift benches in our wagons, there would be enough room for the party.

Finishing up my work, I wiped my face and went to bed in Mama's coat, but Yuri came to my little cot where I'd slept with Pavel.

"Why are you wearing your mother's old clothes?" "I'm cold, and my clothes are too small now."

"After Christmas we'll have the money for clothes. Come with me tonight - it's too cold for you to sleep alone."

Finally, at least Yuri noticed me! I snuggled in between my uncles on my parent's bed. Yuri slipped his hand under my head and pulled me closer. His hand stroked along my body and his hand found my groin, feeling my penis, kissing the side of my face he told me how beautiful I was, "So innocent and so tender."

"Your hands better not darken the boy with the sin." Franz barked.

"Calm yourself, brother. The boy needs to know there's still some good life without his seed. He has his whole life ahead of him."

Yuri sneaked his hand under the sheets and into my rough, open pants - they were too tight to tie shut.

"What a small kit..." His hands rubbed along my belly and he found my penis. "I'm going to show something - but it has to stay between us." He stroked my nipples very gently. "The men among the 144,000 do this. Some say it's a sin, but others taught me. It's a relief that men need - reminds us of heaven."

Though his fingers were cold, they touched lightly felt around my patch of scar tissue, then my soft, tiny cock.

"I miss mine. Should have waited till I could spill my seed in a woman..." He paused. "Franz convinced me, but we've been closer every since..."

Yuri spit on his fingers and slipped his hand between his legs. "Rub your cock when it starts to feel good." He whispered and kissed me.

Franz turned over to face us, and opened my leg, laying it on his thigh, "Relax boy and let Yuri love you like a saint - if it's with love, it can't be a sin..."

Yuri kept working his finger inside me. His calloused finger and rough nail scratched my hole. Then, he started kissing my face while his finger wiggled further. I kept quiet, not knowing if Franz might get upset, but the closeness of their bodies felt good after being alone for so long.

Finally, Yuri had his finger in me deeply and he turned my face to his and kissed me on my lips. I felt Franz' hand pulling on my nipples.

"Rub your cock, I'm gonna touch you inside where it feels good." His finger found a place I never knew I had, but it felt warm and tingly. That made me breathe fast, and I looked to Yuri's eyes.

He smiled. "That's your own paradise, my little fox."

My body shook and I gasped several times, then I heard Franz chuckling.

For the first time in my life, I had an orgasm - but I didn't know that. I knew nothing about my penis except that pee came out of it and I wasn't supposed to touch it. I named it "my paradise" in my mind. It was!

We fell asleep that night feeling something like a family.

Every night that autumn we slept together and my uncles told me about sex, and what I would miss - having a children and a family. The benefit was I would have all the brethren to love me and eternal life with them.

That was when I understood why my father hung himself - the ritual had taken his future away from him. Pavel, if he had lived and I would never be full men with children to inherit the farm. All Papa's simple, peasant dreams were gone - traded for eternal paradise - somehow that didn't seem a fair trade to me.

The eternal paradise my uncles described seemed like a glorious horse farm - though we had to endure through the mortal realm as a half-man first.

Yuri and Franz taught me other ways to love or to find relief from the travails of this mortal realm. They taught me to kiss, and to use my fingers in them as Yuri did to me, to suck nipples and to lick their bellies. Our evenings always ended with our fingers in the other's butts before we fell asleep. Franz would always groan loudly; Yuri's body shook before the liquid came out of the holes on their bellies where they used to have penises.

They smelled pee - it was always dribbling on their clothes.

But those were times I wasn't chattel anymore - I was whole, solid and real when we made love like saints.

Well, I was solid and real until in the morning.

Sometimes I wore a red velvet dress my mother must have worn when she was very young. With my dress on, I served them their bowls of pottage while they play acted I was a servant girl. I liked that game - they treated me well and gave me kisses.

My hair had grown long, dark waves that fell into ringlets around my shoulders; Franz especially liked my long hair. One night he showed me how men danced with women in St. Petersburg and described the music and the fancy rooms, filled with women in satin and lace - the men, too! He explained music and their instruments and the huge chandeliers with hundreds of candles. He said there was more food than the people there could eat, big fireplaces with logs that kept everyone warm without their coats.

My dreams were filled with new images of people prancing with each other in fine clothes of every color, like jewels in a big room - everything glittered like gold. Maybe heaven had dances like that - dances that went on forever...

Christmas Eve came, and my uncles early in the day with the wagons ready for the big wedding. Yuri and chopped evergreen boughs to decorate for the bride and groom and twined them around the wagons and benches.

When they left, I was lonely, but kept the fire going for their return. They would be cold when they returned. As the evening wore on, the winds howled. Peeking out the door, I could see snow blowing hard and I wondered if Yuri and Franz would stay overnight at the big house, or maybe at the church.

It was late, and I went to bed. Don't know what time it was, but I was sleepy and couldn't wait up to see if they brought me back little cakes or cookies in their pockets.

Just as the sky was pinking with the first rays of sun - they came back. The door slammed open, and they both came in screaming at each other, blaming each other for something. Their faces were red they were so mad and continued yelling! Franz clenched his fists; I thought they might start fighting.

Yuri grabbed me off my little bed, "Put on as many clothes as you can find. Bring that trunk up here with anything valuable. We're leaving now. Hurry!"

He shoved me toward the root cellar and began stacking things on the table - he put my parent's marriage certificate and the title to our land in his jacket and kept moving faster than I'd ever seen him move. Out the door, I could see Franz in the barn carrying armfuls of tools to the wagon.

"Where is the other wagon?" I asked. "Where's the big, black stallion?"

"Hurry! We've got to get out of here now!"

I put on my pants that I couldn't close; two dresses and the coat and boots of my mothers then tugged the trunk upstairs, my heart beating fast. Yuri started throwing things into the trunk - the candleholders Mama got as a wedding gift, the flatware, kitchen knives, a big pot and the kettle. He grabbed anything that seemed important to him and all the blankets he could find.

Wrapping a blanket around my head, he sat me in the back of the wagon beside the trunk and between Papa's pitchfork and all the metal tools from the barn, three bags of grain and we left. The snow was still falling, but more lightly and the winds had calmed. With only a lantern to guide Franz we left in a trot. Yuri told me to find a place to stay warm and sleep - but I couldn't sleep. This was all too strange, I started missing my home, my little bed - pictures of every part of the farm came to my mind bringing memories of my family.

Franz pushed the horses as fast as he could, snapping his whip over their heads and yelling. We seldom stopped for the next two days - only to feed the horses and let them drink.

On the third night we pulled into a grove of black walnut trees on the leeward side of a rocky outcropping. After building a fire, we watered the horses with melted snow and fed them grain.

"What happened?" I whispered to Yuri. "When will we go back?"

He glanced at Franz. They shot each other some hard looks.

"Never!" Franz screamed at me, making me scared.

Putting his arm around me, Yuri explained softly as I sat between his legs. "We were on our way to the church in the storm - it was hard to see Franz ahead of me." He paused and took a deep breath. "I was behind him with the parents of the bride and groom. Well, it happened so fast..."

He took another deep breath. "We'd heard their howls all evening - there were wolves, must have been around forty of them. They came out of the woods charging us after we left the house. They spooked the horses. When we were about a mile from the house and less than a half mile from the church I thought I could see the lights from the stained glass windows..."

Yuri's eyes began to tear. "The pack came closer - they came out of the woods from the south - all of them at once...

"The largest of the wolves jumped on the back of the big stallion leading my team and the others followed him. Our team didn't have a chance - wolves surrounded us. I started whipping at them... the horses were in their strapping - bucking and trying to get out of their leads.

"The stallion bucked, and one of the wheels of the wagon slipped into a rut." He sighed.

"My wagon fell over - everyone was screaming, but there was no place to hide - no place to run. I cut strapping and let the horses run. The pack was on the wedding party - Franz should never have stopped, but the bride and groom heard the screams and cries from my wagon..."

"He did stop, and the bride and groom ran to their families... The worst thing he could have done - he should have left. Hopeless..."

Franz stepped near. "Everyone on his wagon fell to the ground into the pack. My god, the blood on the snow - the wolves were everywhere. No one had a chance. Then, the bride and groom and their friends stepped into the blood trying to beat back the animals, but the wolves had tasted blood and wanted more. The pack tightened in around them..."

Yuri continued, "His team was jumping, but ready to run. I got into the wagon with him and we left. Didn't stop till we got home and we can't stop now." Franz said.

"We left all the families to the wolves - on Christmas Eve, on their wedding night." Yuri said, his eyes filling with tears.

Franz took my face in his hand and forced me to look at him. "We have to leave Russia. We'll be hung if they catch us, and there's no one to take care of you - we'll sell what we can on the way to the sea. I've heard that there's land in a place called America.

"They call it homesteading - we can get land, stay by ourselves and live in peace. If anyone asks, we're from Stavropol."

"Stavropol?" I asked. That was a place my Papa made jokes about saying the people there were dumb.

"Yes - Stavropol. And we're not Zotov anymore - our last name is Lvov. You've just become Dasha Lvov. Practice saying those words until they come naturally to you."

"I'm not a girl!" I said back to him.

"You're a girl because people will be looking for two men and a boy. Wear your dress and act like Dasha until we're in a safe place again. Do I need to beat that into your thick Mongol head?"

Dasha was my grandmamma's name - their mother's name. "Dasha Lvov..."

We ate a few raw turnips I'd slipped into the pockets of my coat and woke before dawn toward the south and away from death.

"Dasha Lvov from Stavropol..." I chanted again and again in my head.

Part 2 - Changing Skies

Heading southward, my uncles sold what they had for food along the way. The weather warmed in those months. Yet it was a cold journey - we seldom spoke as we foraged through the woods for anything to eat or for firewood.

We sold the horses and the wagon when we came to the city where the Po River met the Adriatic. Lots of different people buzzed around the docks. I looked to the city. It was very old; lots of buildings in ruins, but a lot of fancy houses, too - very different from my home, but they looked like they must have taken years to build. I'd never been away from the countryside - everything was new and so strange!

Franz, using gestures and as many words as he knew, secured us passage to England on a freighter with tall masts and white sails. So many ropes holding everything in place -how did they keep them straightened out?

They told me I had to sit on our last trunk of our last valuables from home and left me on the dock while they negotiated their work and the arrangements, I guessed. Still in my mother's coat and her boots, with my long black hair matted, I felt odd among the workers hauling carts and driving teams unloading. The piers were busy with men with wagons and horses and mules.

For the first time, I felt the crisp, cool salt breezes. So different from the land, but my Russian sun was the same - brilliantly colored skies in the morning and angry furrowed clouds in the afternoon.

The breezes were heavy with the smell of fish and nearby stalls selling food reminding me I was hungry, and I was excited about being on a boat and going to America.

The air was cold that day, but the sun was warm on my skin. While Franz and Yuri were speaking with the captain when a stranger stopped nearby and asked me something. He spoke words I couldn't understand but smiled often.

He must have had enough money that he didn't have to work. His clothes were clean, his shoes were polished and very smooth and his wavy hair was combed neatly and shone brightly. He smelled faintly of flowers. No beard or moustache and his hands were exceptionally clean. I figured he looked like one of the men at the fancy dances Franz told me about in St. Petersburg. But I was mystified - he was speaking to me?

Following Franz' lead, I pointed at my chest saying, "Dasha."

He smiled when he saw I couldn't understand him and pointed to the north, "Polish?"

I understood he asked if I was from Poland. "Stavropol." I grinned, lying.

He left but returned quickly and handed me several odd things wrapped in a bit of paper.

I nodded, thanking the man who seemed delighted, and I looked at the dates. They looked like big, brown bugs - I'd never seen a date before and inspected them closely. He made a motion for me to put them in my mouth.

Carefully touching one to my tongue, I beamed. So sweet! Taking tiny bites, I nibbled on them while he chuckled.

Franz espied the man talking to me and was beside us in a moment. Franz' presence alone was frightening - he was broader and taller than the dapper man. Franz had a full, bushy beard and long, dark hair, looking more than coarse compared to the other men standing nearby. My uncle only gave the man an evil look - squinting his eyes and pointing his finger meaning the man better leave.

The gentleman lifted his hands in something of surrender and walked away but I could see him in front of a shop watching my uncles and me.

Yuri and Franz huddled together nearby and had a conversation. They were talking about lust and fruits of evil. They almost started yelling, but they quieted themselves in the chaos, on the docks not wanting to arouse the attention of the local gendarmes.

Wondered what all that was about as I popped the last date in my mouth and squished the sweet, pasty fruit all over my tongue.

If heaven had a taste, it would taste like dates.

A woman selling flowers stopped by with a basket full of beautiful, colored blossoms and gave me one - it smelled like the lilies Grandmamma planted around our home. I missed her when I smelled it. Yuri stayed with me the rest of the day, and let me keep the flower.

We sat in the cool, damp air of the night while Franz worked until late - Yuri and I were almost the only ones left on the dock. It was so late, the sounds of laughter, music and lights poured from the seaside cafes and bars were busy with sailors and seamen.

Yuri explained that we would be like the sailors - months at sea. We'd be glad to dance and celebrate after months at sea with only the ocean, seabirds and a gang of men working to keep all the ropes straight and the canvas catching the wind to move the boat over the ocean.

My uncles grunted as they stepped carrying our trunk. The gangplank heaved as we stepped toward the ship in the dark. For the first time in my life, I was on a boat gently rocking on more water than I'd ever seen in my entire life. My feet weren't so sure when I stepped - as if the boat was trying to trick me.

Inside we went down a very narrow passage to a small room. Franz and Yuri warned me I was to stay in our cabin - there were dangerous men on the ship so I had to keep the door locked while they worked. All day I would alone in a dark, tiny room with one bed, a hammock and our trunk.

They left to eat. When they came back, Yuri brought me a cup filled with hot, boiled potatoes and a thick slice of bread. Jumping out of the hammock, I hugged him.

"Can I sleep with you tonight?" I asked as I stuffed my mouth full of bread.

"Sleep with Franz. He's already in bed." Yuri strung the hammock and got in it.

My days were dark in the little room, but I listened to the cries and creaks of the wooden freighter rocking on the waves and the snapping of the sails. We sailed through the Adriatic then the Mediterranean meeting warmer weather but bigger waves rocked the ship at times.

Sometimes Yuri sneaked me upstairs when he was on watch at night and showed me the stars. Occasionally we could see a few lights along the shore. Everything was magical and interesting with Polaris watching over us as the breezes caressed our faces. In the darkness before dawn, I locked myself away before the other sailors woke.

During the days, I heard men's voices nearby but I couldn't understand what they said. Franz told me that we were hauling ten slaves for auction. I could hear their moans - but they seldom spoke to each other - but their chains rattled constantly.

We went around Spain and Portugal meeting only two short storms. Yuri drew me a map on my palm and explained where the countries were. Then, we moored in England.

Franz had learned enough Spanish to learn a lot more about our trip. We'd stop back in a place called Lisbon to drop off and pick up more cargo, the set west to the islands. From there we'd stop in Hispañola, a bigger island, then to New Orleans.

"New Orleans is in the south part of America - it's on a big river filled with boats from everywhere around the world." Franz explained.

He figured out that it was bad luck to have a woman on board, so I'd have to stay months inside the little room because I didn't have any boy's clothes and Franz was clear that he didn't want anyone inspecting me. He called me a stowaway - but I felt like I was in prison most of the time - like a slave without chains.

Stormy rains rocked and hit the ship so hard as we crossed the Atlantic, we all three slept together tied into bed. It felt good to be between them snug and secure while the ship shook and trembled under the big waves.

Part 3 - New Home America

We stopped several times through the islands to drop off and pick up cargo - closer to New Orleans every week. I heard the men haul boxes and trunks and load more, but the slaves were still there. Their chains rattled through the days and nights - sometimes they were taken onto the deck, not often, but more than me.

It was late summer, and I stayed nude inside the little cabin, sweating and dreaming about being on the land again with my uncles - I remembered every lesson my Papa taught me and looked forward to a pen of my own rabbits, maybe chickens or ducks for the rich yellow part in their eggs dripping off dark rye bread.

Mostly I dreamed of hot bowls of pottage on cold winter nights until Yuri told me that thinking about food would only make me more hungry.

"We're all hungry - think about paradise. No one is ever hungry there..."

Nights, my uncles repeated the words they'd learned about the masts, the sails and the ropes that held them in place. Then, they'd kiss me and finger each other until they leaked and fell asleep. Yuri told me he loved me sometimes, but I knew there wasn't a place for me in their love for each other.

The differences between Yuri and Franz were becoming clearer to me though they both looked very much like my papa. They both worked hard, yet Yuri wanted to use his mind to work - Franz used brute force. They got along well, like more than brothers - as if they were another part of each other's spirits.

Finally, we dropped anchor outside the port of New Orleans - our sea journey was over. Yuri took me on deck that night and showed me the cafes and bars along the waterfront past the docks.

"Our new home will be several months north and west of New Orleans." He held me close to him and pointed over the city to the left. "Tomorrow, you'll wait on the pier until we're unloaded and we load the hold again. Don't speak with anyone and keep your eyes down. Remember we're from Stavropol my pretty little Dasha Lvov."

A sailor from Zagreb taught Franz and Yuri some words and explained a lot about the boat to him. My uncles now spoke a patch-worked language with gestures - no longer the comfortable, familiar sounds I knew.

Before dawn, I sat near the gangplank on the trunk in my red dress and boots, covered with my coat. All day I watched my uncles and the crew haul barrels and boxes down the gangway to the waiting wagons.

The bosses yelled at the stevedores, wagons came and went with there fittings jangling, and I saw in the distance a line of huge barges filled with big cubes of fluffy white square clouds - bales of cotton. There were so many people yelling and scurrying about it seemed very confusing to me yet things seemed to get where they were supposed to be.

Manacled, the slaves were marched out of the ship looking like skeletons - all had their heads down, and their feet shuffled. Their hair made odd black shapes around their heads. Some of them glanced at me; their faces sad and gaunt. There were only eight left alive after the crossing.

On the pier, a man took a buggy whip and hustled the long, lanky black men along, cracking the whip above their heads, though not hitting them. He walked them away from the docks into the streets of the city.

Bits of bread and cheese were enough to keep me on the trip along with my imagination. I longed for sweet, clean air and the quiet of nature; my animals around me and the sky changing above me. All the new sounds and ideas lured me from those thoughts often. We were closer to our own soil every day - only a few more months of travel up the big river and across the wide prairies in our own wagon.

The Sailor from Zagreb, Mr. Prvoš, came down the gangplank with my uncles, laughing and smiling. They got paid!

The captain followed them in his fancy clothes, asking Franz to stay on with him to do all the ship repairs. Franz kept shaking his head.

"I'm no sailor; I'm a smithy and a proud Russian horseman!"

Prvoš took us to eat in front of the vendors. We sat on the trunk and drank sweet water - all we wanted, and rolls filled with spicy meat mixed with all kinds of vegetables I'd never seen before.

It was good! Yuri watched me and smiled, then gave me the rest of his dinner, "Eat, my sweet little dove - you're almost a skeleton."

While they ate, Prvoš gave my uncles what they needed - leads on shelter and work. He was staying in a big house divided into small rooms - a boarding house for men.

"They got a bathtub, and right around the corner from the cathouse." He wiggled his eyebrows. "Beautiful women, every one as enticing as an Egyptian maiden! Music and drink - a real relief from being on that damned ship for so long."

"Cat house?" Franz asked.

"Yeah. Bordello - prostitutes - are you from so far back in the woods you don't know what a cathouse is about? They got black, white, and all kinds of women doing anything you want." He winked at Franz.

Franz looked at Yuri for a moment.

"We're Skoptsy." Yuri said softly.

Prvoš looked puzzled, "You mean `stopsky'? Like pull out before you spill your seed in a woman? You don't have to stop, they'll rinse after you're gone." He explained.

"We don't have time for that now." Yuri chimed in. "And we need a bath before anything else."

Prvoš hailed a wagon and we rode a long way through the narrow muddy streets passing lots of people in carriages with fancy horses that had feathers stuck in their harnesses!

Passing the different shops and cafes and so many different people on the streets was a sparkling mystery unfolding in front of me. Music came from the bars lit with lanterns and candles - I could see people dancing and drinking. They were laughing and talking - I wondered if my uncles would ever be like them. But they were too serious about life.

The dank air of the city reeked with decaying wood, like down by the stream where I was raised. Huge old oaks had streamers of gray hair hanging from them - Yuri said that was a kind of a moss plant, but it wasn't green like the moss that dotted the buildings or the lichens on the trees in Russia. Aromas of spices, fish and seafood spiked the smell of the rot.

The language most people spoke on the streets sounded like ducks quacking to me, but I listened for the sounds and watched what they were doing to try to understand my new world.

When we passed the slave blocks, Prvoš explained to Franz that they used smithies to attach and remove the manacles and chains from the slaves. "Auction every Wednesday - big crowds of plantation owners coming in to bid. We'll come down tomorrow and see if there's any work with the auctioneer or the buyers."

Franz nodded, more interested in the wagons, horses and tack, but he could sell his skills at an anvil as well.

He and Yuri never talked about it, but we didn't think people could be slaves. We were slaves to the Tsar before we became Skoptsy - they said it was a sin to hold anyone underneath you. Each man was born free to live the will of god.

But this wasn't our homeland so we weren't going to correct their ways. We had to stay in the shadows in case there were other immigrants who knew about the reason we left so suddenly. Franz whispered that the news about wedding night and our escape was probably all over Europe by now.

In the boarding house, the men lugged the trunk up the stairs of the boarding house after Prvoš negotiated a good rate for us.

"No visitors, no drinking, fighting or gambling on the premises. Clean up after yourselves. Fresh sheets every Friday morning." She winked at me and handed me three thick towels for our bath. The lady with the keys was suspicious and eyed me, thinking I was a girl.

"We need to get him some clothes - grew out of everything we own..." Franz was brief.

"This was all we could find along the way." Yuri added. "He's a fussy one."

"Would you rather run naked?" She laughed, took our cash and gave us the key to a small room. "Some boys are like that. Send the boy to me tomorrow morning - I'll pull the rats out of his hair and see if I have some pants for him."

She touched my hair, "Been so long since we've had a child in the house." She looked at me, "Tell me if any of these ruffians upset you - I won't allow it my sweet."

Upstairs, Prvoš dumped his duffle bag in his room and went to the bath.

We waited until he went out for the evening and found a pump with a handle and several buckets, a large tub and a pipe to pour the dirty water down! Looking out the window, I could see a small ditch that carried the water to a dirty, wide stream.

Picking up the big bar of yellow speckled soap I handed it to Yuri - it had been so long, I wanted someone's hands to caress me.

Both of my uncles stripped off their filthy clothes. Franz began washing them while Yuri scrubbed me in the big tub. The soap got in my eyes and burned but I could see my uncles' bodies fully in the dim light.

Their bellies were flat and muscular; groins were covered with thick hair, and in the middle was a scar where their male parts were cut away. In the middle of the scar was a small hole where they peed. That was all they had.

They finished bathing as the sun went down leaving us in the dark. We wrapped ourselves in the towels and went to our room. There was a big bed, the size of my parent's bed and a hammock lay in the corner, ready to be strung between two big nails on the walls.

Yuri said he wanted all of us together in the bed. Franz complained that it was too hot. Though I wanted to sleep with them, it was incredibly hot and sticky; I got the hammock and one small sheet.

About the time they were finished pleasing themselves, I heard Prvoš in the hallway going to his room, singing loudly and bumping into the doorway and the walls in the room next to us.

Other men came and went through the night; I fell asleep after a big day.

Early in the morning, Franz was up, hanging their damp clothes in the sun coming through the window to dry. They dressed in their best - but they'd look like the rabble in comparison to the most of the men on the street. They were both in a good mood, and told me to put my red dress on - the landlady offered coffee and bread for breakfast.

Prvoš came to the table, red-eyed and grinning, "That girl, Mattie Lucille, what a hellcat! I swear she was gonna suck me inside out through my..."

Franz shot him a look then glanced at me. He shut up quick.

The landlady brought huge cups of coffee with milk and honey. There was a plate of rolls on the table. I ate two and sipped my hot coffee carefully feeling very much like a new boy in a new land and ready to learn everything I could about this curious place.

The landlady smiled at me, "So many people have left things here - they've had to leave quickly for one reason or another. In the attic I have a box of old clothes. If your boy wants to help me look through them we may find something for him - a few stitches here and there might get him ready for work."

After a few moments of thinking, Prvoš translated for Franz and Yuri. That caught Franz' attention and he nodded.

Yuri jumped in, "He's a very modest boy. Let him change in another room."

"Surely, but we need to get those rats out of his hair first." She patted my head and pushed a pot of jam toward me.

Yuri showed me how to break open my roll and fill it with the fructified sugary treat. That was a heavenly taste - I liked New Orleans!

After my uncles and Prvoš left looking for work, the landlady sat me in front of a window in her bedroom looking out on the city and prattled on about the buildings, occasionally pointing to different places and tugging the knots out of my hair.

Some of it I could understand by the way her voice changed when she described things. I could see the cross on top of the church, and saw the masts of the ships at the dock in the distance.

When she was finished, she tied my hair back in a ribbon and took me to a mirror! My pale skin made my lips appear redder, and my eyes darker. I never noticed how long my eyelashes were, or how my hair curled in little wisps at my hairline, but I smiled.

I was clean and felt shiny and new. Then we went upstairs with a candle. She opened a small door, and we entered the dank darkness of the attic. Digging through a musty box of clothes, she pulled out several pair of pants and some smaller shirts. She found a several pair of small shoes - they were scuffed and gray with mold, but we took them all downstairs.

After the landlady washed the clothes and hung them over the fence in the back, she took a small knife and grabbed my hand as we stood on the back porch. Like an artist, she pared away my long finger and then my toenails and scrubbed my hands hard. When she was finished, she rubbed my feet and hands with some kind of oil that smelled sweet.

Leaning back, she looked at me, "Beautiful boy. Absolutely beautiful - but so thin. No bigger than a twig. Are you still hungry?" We went to the kitchen and I ate more rolls with jam while she watched, smiling.

The next day during breakfast she motioned for me to come into the kitchen and asked me to put on a pair of trousers we'd found. I slipped them on under the skirt of the dress. They kept falling down, but I held them in the front, and she took a few stitches here and there until she had them marked for cutting them down to size for me.

Every day I went downstairs while my uncles found work hauling or handling horses - different tasks by the slave auction or the docks. I had a new pair of pants and a baggy shirt. My shoes were too big, but I brushed them and cleaned them and coated them with hog fat till they shined.

I helped the landlady with chores, like working alongside a black woman who did the laundry. Everyday I swept the entire veranda and weeded the flowerbeds in front of the house. I really liked working with the slave-lady, helping her wash dishes in a big full of bubbles, then drying them and putting them on the table for the next meal.

Sometimes, she let me knead bread with her - we tied the dough in little knots. She let me make one that looked like a boat. It puffed up and looked more like a funny box than the ship we lived on for so many months.

Then I got to eat my boxy looking roll with honey on it!

Helping everyday in the boarding house, it wasn't long before I knew most of the men who lived there. Some came and went quickly, but most of them smiled at me and patted my head.

They were like my uncles - looking for work and a new start though they drank and gambled most of their dreams away on the weekends to start again on Monday.

An older man in a suit sat in a rocking chair on the front porch some afternoons - I didn't see him too often - but more as the days passed. He always smiled at me and spoke to me, but I couldn't understand much. But he continued to greeting me and saying things when I passed. I heard him speak to the landlady about me one day at breakfast.

That day the landlady kept taking me out to him, "Learn a few words every day so I can tell you what you need to know!"

She didn't seem angry with me, but she was insistent about me talking to the man. He must have been a teacher of some sort, he said words and waited for me to repeat them - when I said the word, copying him as close as I could, he'd smile.

He taught me the French patois used in New Orleans by most people, and we walked through the house with him pointing at different things and repeating their names until I could say it right, then he taught me letters.

We started by writing different letters in the powdery dirt at the bottom of the back stairs. I liked that! Letters made words if you knew their secret sounds! Then all the letters came together and made a word and words make sense of things. If I didn't understand something - I could use words to ask, and understand what it was about. Language was a lot more than I thought, or my family had ever realized.

My life fell into a pattern as we went through my seventh year. My uncles worked everyday and I helped the landlady until after lunch when I sat on the lap of the old man learning the words. Sometimes we napped in the heat as the sun set behind the house.

One day, as I climbed on the man's lap, he asked me if I was wearing a dress when I came with my uncles.

"Yes. That was all I had to wear. Uncle Franz says we have to be careful with our money." I said.

"Is there some other reason? Do you like wearing a dress?" His hand went to my groin. I pushed it away.

"It feels better than these pants."

"Would you let me touch you? I remember how good it felt when I was young."

I was sleepy and leaned against his chest while he simply laid his hand on my groin, pressing lightly.

Then he stopped.

"We'll go see Mr. William tomorrow."

That night at dinner, Franz proudly announced he was leaving for a month to work on a plantation with the owner, getting his tack and wagons in order and teaching some of his slaves to work their horses for racing.

Yuri was smiling. He'd stay working with the auctioneer at the slave market. They both found work from their visit to the slave market with Prvoš.

The next day, they went to the big open market and bought used clothes. I didn't want any when I saw some of them had blood on them. It reminded me of Pavel's death.

Franz left the next morning with a kerchief tied around bread and cheese from the landlady. Now, I could sleep with Yuri every night!

The next day, Franz left for the plantation and Yuri left for work at the slave auction - washing down the blocks and cleaning the merchandise. He never said much about what he did - I guessed he did a little of everything.

The old man came downstairs and told me we weren't going to write in the dirt, we were going to see Mr. William.

"Why are we going to see him?" I asked, curious about meeting a new person.

"He's like you, and may have work for you. Would you like your own money? You know if you beg on the streets, you could get hurt. Most people have a houseboy to clean their verandas and keep the gardens... You're a special boy - maybe he has a special job for you."

Franz and Yuri told me that they would have to work for a year in New Orleans to save enough for passage up the big river, then more money for supplies. They figured it would be four more years after that before we could homestead our own land. Maybe I could help us get to our new home faster if I worked - but what could I do but clean and sweep?

We walked around the corner to a big house painted blue and white. I felt important walking up the stairs with a dignified man wearing a suit. We knocked on the door again and again; finally someone opened the door, but just a crack. Suddenly it opened wide.

"Professor Montclair! What a delight! Come in, come in!" A tall, dark man swung his arm widely gesturing us toward an open door off the foyer. "And who is this beautiful child you have with you today?"

We walked into a sunny room, with deeply colored rugs and lacy curtains; tables with shiny figurines and there were pictures on the walls - in gold frames! The pictures were of naked women with big breasts - one had a fancy fan - her hair looked like mine! Dark ringlets with a red ribbon!

The men sat and talked for a few moments. I still couldn't understand all they said, they spoke so fast and used a clipped code but I heard the word "tortue." Maybe someone in this house had a pen of birds.

"His uncles call him Sergei or Dasha - but they call him their dove - their Russian colombe. But I wished he was my tortue... Very innocent child." Professor Montclair said.

I heard footsteps above us, and looked at the professor. "This is like, well it's a boarding house for women." Was all he said and held me on the fancy seat beside him - it was dark green velvet so smooth and soft to my fingers. Everything was so fancy I was afraid to touch anything and stayed still looking at all the beautiful things.

After a few more sentences exchanged, "Coupé?" Mr. William leaned forward and motioned me to come to him. I walked over to him and stood between his knees.

"Yes, he's been cut - the same as you and Goldie."

Mr. William gathered me against him and looked into my eyes, saying something very softly then his hand went to my groin. He pressed lightly inspecting my cock and underneath.

"How old are you?" He asked almost in a whisper. I just stared at him - not understanding what all this was about.

"He can't be more than eight - look how small he is." The professor answered Mr. William. "Came into the boarding house wearing a dress - looking like a dirty little Bohemian princess. But look at him - he's a jewel of a boy. Thought you and Goldie could teach him a skill." Professor Montclair lifted an eyebrow. "His uncles are saving to homestead. Couple of odd birds, they are - no drinking, no women - always working and they have this strange smell..."

Mr. William only nodded and caressed my face with his hand while he called someone named Goldie.

Mr. William was a tall, slender man with brown skin and hair in tight waves he pulled back and tied at his neck. He smelled good, and smiled easily and wore a suit in the New Orleans heat, like Professor Montclair.

Goldie came in - she was beautiful, wrapped in a shiny robe with thick, frizzy yellowish hair that looked like a halo around her head. I got a big smile from her shiny, red lips when she came in.

"This is Goldie - she works here - something of a specialty... One of our best." Mr. William smiled at me then looked at Goldie. "Take him to the kitchen and find him something delicious - looks like he's had little more than bread and water for months."

Walking alongside Goldie toward the back of the house, I saw several dark-skinned women laughing and talking while they were cleaning. When we got to the kitchen, I was amazed. It smelled scrumptious! Bread was baking, and a big pot of something wonderful was stewing on the stove. There were cookies in a jar, and a bowl of fruit on the table!

Goldie must have asked one of the women to make a breakfast for me. Soon there was a plate of sausages, eggs and a hot roll on the table. Goldie sat and brought me to the chair next to him.

Quickly, I grabbed the roll and tore it apart, grabbing a sausage and breaking the egg yolk with it to eat.

Goldie's head was shaking, "No, monsieur. No! No! No!"

I put the food down, maybe the food was for her not me.

A small white cloth on the table was snapped in the air, and placed on my lap. While the women watched and smiled.

"Watch me!" Goldie said and pointed to his eye, then the plate.

The women in the kitchen chuckled and Goldie put my knife in my right hand, and the fork in my left and showed me how to cut the sausages into little pieces, then put the fork back into my right hand to take the little pieces, one at a time into my mouth.

"Oui, oui!" One of the women handed me a cup of fresh, creamy milk and I got another big smile from Goldie. From there Goldie took me upstairs to a small bedroom at the end of the hallway. Then she motioned for me to take off my clothes. I stalled while she dug through some drawers and started stacking clothes on the top of the chest.

Goldie wasn't very tall, but slender and short - very pretty with long eyelashes and big brown eyes flecked with yellow and black.

The day was warming, and Goldie threw the satiny robe on the bed. When she turned around, I was surprised. She had a cock, a very small one, and no balls. Moving closer, I had to inspect her - she was like me!

Her scar looked like mine, but it was decorated with tattoos around the edges, like clouds of flowers. The rest of her groin and chest were bare - there wasn't any hair! When she didn't move, I touched her groin with my fingertips, feeling her soft skin - she smelled like flowers and soap.

I looked at her face - "Skoptsy?"

She just shrugged his shoulders saying something like, "What ever they call it in Russia."

Sitting on the little chair in front of her vanity she pulled me to her, slipping my pants to the floor. The she looked at my scar, caressing my cock and kissing my head. The whole time she spoke softly to me. Goldie's voice was as sweet as a bird's song and her hands soft as if she wore gloves all day. It felt like she told me that everything would be all right.

Then, we stood and she opened a door to a closet filled with clothes - every color! She handed me a shiny pale green dress, cut very low in the front with long sleeves and lace with tiny bows sewed all around then helped me get into it, chattering the whole time.

Before she was finished dressing my hair, I ran downstairs grinning and stood in front of Professor Montclair and turned around for him to see. He applauded me and kissed my forehead.

Mr. William and Goldie smiled and nodded.

Part 4 - New Home Magnolia House

That night after dinner, Yuri sent me upstairs early and went to sit on the porch by the professor. I could hear them talking about Goldie and Mr. William.

"Mr. William is the majordomo for the house - yes, the cathouse, but it has a name. It's called Magnolia House. Very old and well respected house of pleasure."

Yuri didn't like hearing that after he figured it out, but after a lot of back and forth between them, Yuri finally understood that I would receive training in language, music, math and manners if I worked there. "You can sell the boy to the house to work until he is able to sell himself to some of the more, well - select clientele or work for himself. He'll get an education - make a good life for himself."

The professor had to explain that to that languages and math would help me get another job after my contract was fulfilled - and through my connections with the select clientele, I could work anywhere in the city. He carefully explained that he and Franz could sell me into slavery at the Magnolia but in more of a guild system. I would stay at the Magnolia House until I was twenty, and after that I could join my uncles on the homestead or stay and work at the house, maybe even open my own business.

"If you sell him to the Magnolia House, you'd have enough money for a wagon, a good team and passage upriver. Think about it. He's a very bright boy, and so beautiful - he'd have a chance to earn more money than you ever dream of... I would start negotiations at twenty-five hundred if he's a virgin and two if he's not."

There was a long pause until the professor told Yuri, "He was cut so young, you know he'll never get very big - he'll always be more of a girl than a boy. How is that going to help you on the prairie? Let Sergei use that to his advantage since he can't change it - you know that when he becomes an adult there are other medical problems he'll face."

There was another long pause.

"How much are you getting paid for this arrangement?" Yuri asked.

"Nothing - absolutely no money involved on my part. I want to see a boy do well despite other's mistakes."

"My brother will be home in several weeks. We'll talk again."

Everyday after breakfast, I went to the porch for more lessons with the professor. He taught me a song, and more letters and words!

Yuri was amazed that I didn't eat with my fingers, and started watching me and copying how I sliced my food, one bite at a time - I was teaching him! He even put his napkin on his lap, and began sipping his coffee quietly instead of making the long slurping sounds like a waterfall.

The professor had a letter and we started trying to read it together for my lesson. Some of the words were long, but I could start recognizing the short ones.

One afternoon, we started learning numbers. That was fun! We first used our fingers and I could count to twenty before the week was done. The next day, we counted all the knives, the forks and the spoons while the landlady laughed at us, but I could add, one by one! Then the professor told me to do it backwards - that was called subtraction.

Yuri and I slept together, but I noticed he became very quiet - I asked him why.

"It's about slavery - very bad business. Very bad." With that he explained how the slaves were treated like less than animals. He said that some of the slave owners were devilish men, hurting their slaves for no reason and using them in lewd ways. "We treated our horses better. Slavery is bad business."

When Franz came back, he was smiling and brought the landlady a big bag of sticks! She hugged him and thanked him and ran to the kitchen to make sassafras tea for us. Franz just stood there blushing he was so stunned at her hug.

We laughed at dinner when Franz explained some of his experiences on the plantation, and the new people he'd met.

"They want me to come back and oversee the slaves working the horses." He rubbed his belly - "The owner likes my work. So many beautiful mares, so many fine horses to train. They want to set up a racetrack. This America place - you can do anything here."

They talked for a long time about the races Franz had won then Yuri sent me upstairs. I went to the little hammock, knowing that Yuri had missed Franz, and waited. The sounds of them washing together in the bath, whispering and touching made me want to be with them, but Yuri made me bathe before dinner.

When they came in, Franz came to my hammock and started asking me what the professor was teaching me. I explained about the numbers and letters and words I learned. "I'm learning New Orleans patois!"

He asked me what happened when I went to the Magnolia House.

"They fed me and showed me how to use a knife and fork..." I wasn't sure if I should say anything more.

"Were they kind to you, like good Russian people?"

"Yes, very kind."

"Hmmm. We'll talk tomorrow. Sleep Sergei."

Franz took the professor aside before breakfast - they went out on the porch to talk, but didn't tell me anything. So, I ate and readied myself for more lessons, but I was excited.

I thought Franz would be upset about Professor Montclair taking me to the cathouse, but he wasn't. He and Yuri were smiling as they went to the slave auction and back to their regular work - another ship was in port from Africa - they'd be busy all day.

After my simple math, and a few more words, the professor took me around the neighborhood showing me the signs on the shop windows and asking me to read the words. That was easy, the bakery smelled like bread, and I knew what a saloon smelled and looked like. "Dry goods" stumped me. So did "Tailor," and "Botanica". But the professor was teaching me the easy way today - it was fun!

At lunch, we had jambalaya and rolls. I learned to use a spoon - the right way! Though we didn't have napkins at lunch, I pretended I had one, snapped it open and put it on my lap, grinning at the professor.

"Very good, little one." He chuckled. "Such a bright child!"

He went to a street stall and bought a small but bright yellowish globe.

When we sat on the veranda in the afternoon, trying to decipher more words from an old paper, I asked the professor what my brothers said about me going to work at the Magnolia House. He began peeling the orange - it smelled mysterious.

"They seem to like the idea."

He held me closely against him. "For being so young, you've lost so many of your family and so much more. Time you settled down and started building a life for yourself. Starting out may be hard, you're so young and you'll have a place beside me for as long as I'm on earth."

I washed before dinner, and put on clean clothes hoping for more information. But after dinner, I was told to go to bed early! But from our bedroom window, I saw Franz, Yuri and Professor Montclair walking around the corner to the Magnolia House.

Part 5 - No Skies

The next morning at breakfast, Franz told me I would be going to work until I was twenty at the Magnolia House - I'd get an education, and work for twelve years.

"You're working off your education and your room and board, but don't be afraid to put that education to work in another job after you're twenty." Franz said. "Don't cause any problems. If something happens, Professor Montclair and Mr. William will send word for me. Yuri and I are leaving for the plantation, work there until we're ready to homestead. Do you understand?"

"Am I a slave?" This was happening so fast.

"Yes. You're the property of Miss White - she owns you and the house and she's your master, but Mr. William is your overseer. Miss White handles the women, and Mr. William handles the men and manages most of the house. Don't cross him!"

"What happens if I can't do the work - will you come get me?"

Yuri looked worried, "Take your punishment and try harder. Do your best everyday - the professor says you can handle the work. You'll start with the simple jobs..." He wanted to say more.

"What will I be doing?"

"You have to learn the customs of the house first then you'll be a host. Serving dinners and drinks to their - uhm, guests." Franz used a stern voice then looked away.

Yuri explained that I wouldn't be beaten or punished in a cruel way - I'd have my own room, and I would be fed, clothed and educated to make a different life from my family. They both warned me of the evils of drink and gambling - but I wasn't interested in those things.

"Sergei, we can't give you much of a life - where we're going is a hard life. Very hard. We want better for our brother's child. Now, go to bed. You start tomorrow morning after breakfast."

The next morning Yuri and Professor Montclair walked me over to the Magnolia House and we sat in the parlor with two other very young women - not much older than me.

Although I was starting a new life, learning to read and write, and my math, I was saying goodbye to the last of my family. So, I crawled up on Yuri's lap and hugged his neck, kissing him, crying. He hugged me, but didn't say anything.

The young girls in the room were laughing at us when I kissed his cheek, but I didn't care. I loved Yuri - he'd always been kind to me. The Professor sat beside us and asked me to sit on his lap, "I'll be your Yuri until your heart mends. Come here my little dove, your uncle needs to work now."

As Yuri got up to leave, the professor said they would be around the corner, and that he would be at the Magnolia House everyday to keep an eye on me. Glancing at the girls watching us, "They don't know how to read, or count - I bet they don't know anything about using a knife or fork like you do. You're going to like it here, I'll make sure."

Wasn't long before Miss White and Mr. William came into the room with us.

Miss White was a big woman with huge breasts and a wide, flat butt - I tried not to laugh, but she was all business in a black dress and her gray hair waved and pushed into a bunch of curls in the back.

She had colors on her face - I'd seen some women on the streets that'd made their lips and cheeks redder. It looked odd.

"All three of you will be trained at the same time. Professor Montclair will handle your classes in the morning, Mr. William will direct your training in the afternoon and you'll be working from dinnertime until midnight. Do you understand me?"

A small, plain girl with black hair spoke up. "What kind of work are we going to do?"

"Before dinner, you'll wash and dress. When our guests arrive, you'll take their coats, and bring drinks or food... Running errands to keep our workers and their clients happy while they're here. Some of the men may tip you - give that to Mr. William, he'll hold your money for you. If you have any problems - if the clients call you names or hurts you, tell Mr. William - we don't allow that."

"Under no circumstances are any of our guests to touch you - a handshake or a pat on the head or shoulder is alright, but do not take your clothes off or let them touch you anywhere else." She was very serious. "When you've learned to speak like young women and gentleman, you'll be allowed to sit in the parlor with the clients and encourage them to buy a drink or take a repast."

"What kind of work are we going to do?" The girl asked again.

"Dear, we sell skin and smiles. Men and sometimes women come here to live a dream for a few hours. While they're here, we're part of their dream - we're the beautiful, loving people in their fantasies."

"Am I gonna get sexed tonight?" The lighter skinned girl asked. "My sister said it's going to hurt."

Mr. William smiled. "No one's going to hurt you or sex you tonight. We don't just sex here - we create the fantasies that keep our clientele happy and coming back. And for hurting - well, it might, but it might not. It's not time to talk about that yet."

Miss Williams butted in, "Okay - now each of you will take a different name - something that describes you and clever enough for your clients will remember. The names of the women in Magnolia House are famous in whispers all over New Orleans."

Professor Montclair spoke up with me still on his lap. "This is Dasha Lvov. I'd like for him to keep the name - that's all he's got left of his family."

"Hmmm." Miss White said. "Dasha salt, Dasha pepper, Dasha Love! How about Dasha Love?

I nodded and kissed the professor - I kept the name of my grandmamma Dasha Zotov.

The little dark haired girl was named Joy Fontaine, and the lighter girl was named Carmen Valentine. We were instructed that mister or miss would precede each name - always.

"Girls, come with me." Miss White took them away and left me with Mr. William and the professor. "Miss Dasha, go to the kitchen and get something to eat. Goldie will teach you how to take care of your hair today. Meet Miss Joy and Miss Carmen after lunch in the upstairs hallway for your serving lessons."

At lunch, the Miss Joy and Miss Carmen joined Goldie and me. With my napkin on my lap, I waited for the cook to bring my bowl of hot, spicy soup.

"Now watch how she serves you!" Goldie said. "She serves from the left side of the diner, and removes the used dishes from the right. Do you know your left from your right?"

Miss Carmen giggled - she didn't know any more than I did about left and right. We just pointed or said "that thing."

"You write with your right, and the other is the one left." Goldie grinned. Goldie was an easy teacher but I think the girls couldn't write yet, but they nodded in understanding.

Already, I noticed that fancy people didn't gesture or point like my uncles - they used words. Everything has a name - and there's a lot of names to learn.

We spent the afternoon walking up and down the hallway, pointing our toes and "gliding" smoothly with Goldie's instruction. Then we had to carry a tray and walk. The prostitutes opened their doors to watch and giggle as they prepared for the evening. Sometimes they applauded and complimented us as we passed.

Then the hard part came. We had to carry the tray on our fingertips with a short, wobbly length of a limb and keep the tiny log upright all the way down the hallway and back. The half-dressed women stood in their doorways and cheered us - even when we dropped the log and tray.

"The trick is not to look at the tray. Let your fingers will learn to balance it!" One of them told us. They'd all been through this training, just like us.

Then, Goldie told us to take our trays downstairs and bring glasses of water for the women. "We need fifteen glasses. Work together and help each other." He said and waited at the bottom of the stairs.

Miss Carmen and Miss Joy and I divided the glasses among our trays on the kitchen table and began. Miss Joy told us that if we didn't hold our skirts up, we'd trip on the stairs. It worked! We all made it upstairs with the water glasses - not a drop spilled!

Goldie dismissed the girls to Miss White's room for their hair lessons and I went with him. Once inside his room, he let me look around on his vanity - he had combs and brushes, makeup and a big mirror. In his closet hung a number of different dresses - and there was the green dress I liked. He pulled it out.

"I sewed more flowers on it. Do you like it?" He showed me.

"It's beautiful!" There were tiny roses made from ribbon sewed around the neck. I remembered the women in St. Petersburg that Franz described.

Then, she showed me the satin slippers that went with it - they were handmade and fit well enough when they were tied on with green ribbons that matched the tiny roses.

She took me through her routine - well most of it. "You're part of a beautiful dream for the men who come here - speak softly and smile." Gently washing me, he rinsed me with rose water. That felt so good, and I felt like I was in the middle of a garden.

"Remember! Please and thank you!"

I nodded, "Please and thank you."

"You're so sexy." Goldie told me as she tied my curls on top of my head and wet his fingers to make the curls stay around my face. "You're prettier than the other girls, but don't ever say that to anyone."

He thought for a moment. "All kinds of different tastes - we're all beautiful here."

"Where will I be working tonight - upstairs?"

"Probably not unless someone wants a drink for something to eat - they'll call you into the kitchen and give you a tray. The hardest job for the next month is dinner. Serving the clients and taking the plates away. Remember that the client's drinks are stronger - it makes them feel better. The women have to stay clear-headed - their drinks are weaker. Mr. William always puts them on the left side of your tray."

"It doesn't seem so hard." I replied.

"Wait till the dinner table's full of drunks and blowhards - it gets noisy and some men don't have any manners - but they love our dinners. We have the best chef on the coast. I've got to finish my rinses before I dress, so you run along."

"I can't stay with you?"

Goldie caressed my cheek and went on about his business douching her behind, explaining that men like her because she was small - they spilled their seed in her rear. "You're still a virgin, but you'll come to enjoy the feeling a man gives another with his cock - it feels like he's giving you his power." Goldie stopped and thought for a minute, "Men are supposed to spill their seed inside a woman. You know that, don't you?"

I said I'd never seen an adult cock, but I knew that's how men made children.

"It's not such an odd fantasy for most men - it's a very old one. For all time some men prefer children. Some men seem to be more comfortable with a boy. They can be very loving and gentle, but some aren't. We'll talk about that later. Just don't fall in love with anyone here, you'll have your pick of the richest and most powerful men in the city - and there's more coming every day."

She stood and washed her body and let me inspect the tattoos while she powdered and put rouge on his lips, cheeks and nipples. Then, she put a tight gold ring around her penis.

Then came the corset, pantaloons, and stockings. Seemed like a lot of clothes to wear in the heat, but Goldie explained that men enjoyed watching when she took them off. She a wonderful perfume she dotted on her neck - suddenly the room smelled like bouquets of honeysuckle.

She opened the chamber pot and leaned over it peeing. "When you pee, keep it very quiet. Our clients don't want to think they're in a barn full of mules!"

I laughed and peed along with her, leaning over holding my cock close to the pot trying to be slow and quiet. When we were done, she put the lid on the chamber pot and pulled a long, embroidered strip of fabric hanging from the ceiling. A soft bell jangled somewhere else in the house. "That calls the maid to empty the pot." She explained.

She straightened her bed and pulled a room divider to hide his bureau and vanity and sent me to the dining room. "I have two clients tonight. You stay in the foyer after dinner - Mr. William will direct you from there."

As the sky darkened, men were welcomed at the door, and shown to the sitting room where Miss Joy and Miss Carmen and I served drinks. Miss White had dressed the girls in blue and lavender - with their hair combed and faces rouged, they looked like angels.

The three of us were shy at first, but through the next month we were laughing and giggling with the clients who seemed quite pleased with us before they escorted one of the ladies upstairs.

One very short man looked like a bird - nervous with buggy eyes. He came every Tuesday evening after dark. Miss Joy could mimic him almost perfectly making Miss Carmen and me laugh, but Mr. William cut that short with a hard look. The slave women in the kitchen laughed and copied Ms. Joy's antics - opening their eyes wide and looking back and forth rapidly aping the bird-man.

During the days, we studied and practiced our pronunciation so we could present ourselves well. Mr. William made sure we sat up straight, "Head up and shoulders back!" He said making a good impression meant Magnolia House could charge more or our services.

Miss Joy still went in the kitchen and acted like the peculiar clients and made us laugh when Mr. William wasn't around. She was so funny!

After a month of dinners every night and classes every day - serving what must have been a million drinks, Goldie told me I had a client.

In the afternoons, I went with Goldie, and we lay on her bed while she explained how I was to please a man. She taught me how to undress for a client, and how to stand so my butt was rounded and pretty. Undressing my client was important, and how to speak softly and what to say to make beautiful dreams for the clients was very interesting. It made me wonder about my dreams, but it seems like I didn't have time for any.

She showed me a bottle of oil that smelled a little like flowers and showed me how to put some inside my rear then she brought out an ivory cylinder. "We're going to practice with this. This will make your first time a little easier - lie down and lift your legs by your ears. Feet to the ceiling!" She chuckled and explained she would help me dress and let me use her bedroom - my client was coming on Sunday morning and would stay till noon.

"Four hours is long time, so go slowly. Tease his erection and slow down with kisses. Kiss his chest and suck his nipples - gently at first. See if he likes it, but if you hear his breath come quickly, and his neck and chest get red - slow down."

Every afternoon, Goldie prepared me, and I continued working through dinner with Miss Joy and Miss Carmen. Joy had a client as well. We never talked about clients, but the women upstairs laughed and joked about them in the mornings when they were all gone.

Part 6 Sweet Home Embraced

Sunday morning came and I was tired, but woke at dawn. The cook gave me coffee and a small roll with honey today.

"Big day for you - are you ready?" Goldie asked.

"I think so."

"Keep smiling and remember they're lonely men - so many, so lonely in their ways. Just let them talk, then smile and give them a sweet kiss - that's a beautiful gift from a sweetheart like you." She hugged me against her quickly and slipped me a peppermint candy.

Goldie had four clients on Saturday night and was hurrying me through my douche and dressing. She pulled my hair back and tied it with a ribbon in the front, leaving my curls down around my shoulders. I cleaned my teeth with a splinter and rinsed my mouth while Goldie set out the tiny jar of oil by the bed.

"Use all of it - there's plenty more."

"Do you know who my client is? Does he have a big cock - will it hurt?"

"Miss White didn't tell me who will be here, but I'll be down the hall. You're going to have to handle this yourself. Only call for me if he gets rough or hurts you, but I don't think that's going to happen. Try to enjoy yourself."

We heard a knock on the door downstairs and Mr. William welcoming someone. Goldie ordered me to the parlor to meet my client while he finished straightening his room quickly, powdering the sheets.

Lifting my skirt, and pointing my toes, I went downstairs in my green dress and slippers; my stomach was feeling very funny. When I got to the sitting room, there was Professor Montclair!

"Are we going to have classes today? It's Sunday!" I hugged him around his waist.

"Today you're the teacher, and I'm your student my little dove. So lovely in green."

We went upstairs and he sat on the side of the bed. "Let me unwrap you like a gift." He said and I came toward him. "So sexy, so tender. Mr. William told me that this would be your first time."

I nodded and blushed.

His warm fingertips slowly took my clothes off my body, and he quietly opened the curtains so the sun was warming my body. He only stared at my body while he removed his jacket and shirt, his boots and his pants. We stood in front of Goldie's mirror in the sunlight, examining each other's bodies. I'd never seen a full, uncut man, and I reached out to his erection and caressed his balls.

"Yes, that's all yours this morning - and there's no need to hurry."

I walked around him, stroking him gently, and came back to his front, running my hands along his smooth body, feeling somewhat unsure - this is the first cock I'd ever touched and it seemed very big to me. He knelt in front of me and rubbed his hands and face over my chest and torso, then gently grasping my cock, he put it in his mouth and licked then he kissed my scar.

"You're a rare gem, a precious bit of a boy..."

He stood, picked me up like a baby and put me on the bed and held me against him, kissing me and holding me tightly. I kissed his neck, and held his face in my hands to kiss his lips.

"Kiss me like you love me." He said, "Even if it's only for a moment."

I used my tongue and gently explored in his mouth, unsure. But he pressed my head against him, breathing hard, I felt his tongue everywhere inside my mouth, teasing my tongue and tickling me.

He laid me on his chest. I could feel his erection underneath me making a wet spot on my tummy. All the while he whispered to me how beautiful I was and how sexy... How much he wanted me, and he whispered the things he wanted to do with my body. "...And such a bright little fox - so smart."

Moving downward, I rubbed my face in his few coarse hair on his chest and thought of Franz and his rough body. With his erection between my thighs, I crossed my legs and began licking and gently pinching his nipples. I could feel his chest move as he made soft moans and his hands went to my buttocks. His hips began thrusting, slowly and gently and he asked me to look at him.

When I looked up, he asked me if I was ready. I nodded and inhaled his musk deeply. It was hard to believe this polished, educated man thought I was sexy and wanted me. So many parts of me still felt like a dirty little farm boy - a stowaway, an ignorant immigrant...

Turning on my stomach, he asked me what I was doing. Lifting my rear, I gave him a coy look over my shoulder like Goldie taught me, but I really didn't know what I wanted.

He laughed. "No, my sweet, I have to see your pretty face when I fill you." He was smiling as he reached for the little bottle of oil. The rest of our time together, he was silent as he oiled me, lifting my scar to his face and licking and kissing me between my legs as his fingers played along my cleft, teasing me.

Tucking my feet between the rungs of the old metal bed lifted my rear. With his bent knees under my lower back, his fingers inspected me slowly and carefully.

One finger went inside me with the oil. I could feel his hot glans pressing between my legs. He watched my face as I watched his. He slipped a second finger inside me and my eyes shot wide open; he smiled. When his fingers found the heavenly place that made me gasp in pleasure, "That's how saints make love!" I whispered.

My body shuddered and my little cock was trying to fill, but it could only lay on my scar, fat and leaky. He took my feet and placed my soles on his chest near his collarbones and kissed them with his fingers still deep inside me, exploring.

Quietly and slowly, watching my face - he pulled his fingers out and glanced down to put his glans at my ass. Suddenly, I felt a flash of excitement, like lightening inside me - from my rear, up my spine and my face felt suddenly hot.

Holding my butt open with the tips of his thumbs stretching my anus wide, he focused his eyes on my face and leaned forward shoving the hot, purple tip of his erection inside me very slowly as he pulled his thumbs away.

I took a fast breath and gave a small, high cry. He stopped, still watching my face.

My heart was beating in my ears as I looked back to his face. His expression was serious. He slowly began pushing again and I felt his big cock completely fill me. There was some relief when he stopped, but even the ivory stretcher Goldie used wasn't as big as Professor Montclair's erection.

I felt his hands on my chest. He pressed downward forcing me to exhale. His hands held me for several moments then he removed them quickly. I inhaled suddenly and deeply, clearing my head to see him smiling and I felt him push himself further inside me.

He kept forcing me to breathe and exhale deeply while I felt him filling me further.

The sun was coming through the window heating our bed; sweat glistened in his hair and made his shaft shimmer in the light. He was so beautiful, and he wanted me.

Suddenly he grabbed his rod and stroked himself several times before he slid the rest of his shaft completely inside me. He wiped the sweat from his forehead and eyes and began with short, slow strokes, watching me closely. Then, his hands went behind my knees and he slowly leaned over, pushing my rear higher and his rigid cock deeper.

Leaning closer to my chest, I felt his breath on my skin and his thrusts shook everything inside my body. I had to breathe between his deep, bruising shoves, and each push forced a grunt from me. In the heat and the smell of him, it felt like he was becoming part of my body. He reached around my legs and held my head, forcing me to look at him.

"Oh, my love..." A desperate, surprised look came to his face, then a frantic pumping inside me started and within a few moments, his eyes rolled back, his mouth opened and he grimaced. I felt rush after rush of slippery wetness inside me. Then, through the sweat and the smell of a man, he sobbed several times and fell on me panting. After a few moist moments, he turned to kiss me, and unfolded my body, laying me alongside him. In the sunlight from the window he held me and rocked our bodies together.

His hand came to my nose. He pressed it shut and sucked the air out of me, smiling, "If I could eat you I couldn't get enough of you. My perfect little dove."

My professor was dozing lightly when I got up and shut the curtains, dampened a washcloth in the basin and began wiping his sweat to cool him. He grabbed the washcloth and pulled me onto his body and wiped the stream of his semen from my legs.

We napped for a short time - I woke him with kisses on his cock. He only looked down and smiled, stroking my hair. "Yes, my dear - love me for this moment and know it won't be this brief forever..."

Like a feather, I licked his growing erection and sneaked my hand to his butt. He looked down, smiled and opened his legs for me. Grasping his erection, I stroked and sucked while my fingers found his saintly spot. His body twisted a little, and he groaned. His hips shoved his cock deep to my throat, and I found the tiny knobs inside him and rubbed gently.

His hands came to my head in the middle of his excitement. "Look at me!" He commanded and his eyes watched me suck him as I felt his throbbing erection pulse with rushes of his cum, filling my mouth and throat. Swallowing as fast as I could, I kept my eyes on his. His skin burst with sweat, and we were enveloped in a cloud of the scent of his seed. He almost cried when I licked his little slit and sucked the last few drops of his power.

Later, when he'd calmed, "Will you let me come back next Sunday and love you?"

I nodded, running my fingers through the silver and black hair on his pale skin. "If you want."

"I'm going to be leaving." He said softly. "No more classes with me, I think Miss White is getting a retired gentleman to come in. Don't you try to seduce him like you did with me."

"Where are you going?" I was disappointed.

"My house is finished; I'll be on the other side of town - away from the river."

"Is it far?"

"I couldn't be too far from you." He whispered, and lifted my chin to kiss me.

We slipped down the hall and poured cool water over our bodies and went back to bed wet, dozing lightly until we heard the women rising for their day, and the clock chiming eleven thirty.

He carefully dressed, and helped me into my frock, then stood me on a small stool and kissed me deeply.

"Keep your Sunday mornings for me."

I grinned, and nodded.

That afternoon, Miss White told me I wouldn't have any other clients - only Sunday mornings with Professor Montclair. "He's made arrangements and says your studies come first." She was grinning.

Monday morning was another very bad day in my life. Yuri and Franz brought the last of our valuables in the trunk, and put it in the basement for me. They were leaving to homestead.

Franz spoke tersely to me, "I know you'll do your best. Make yourself into something more than a farmer."

Yuri knelt and held me against him, crying softly, and kissing me sweetly. "My little one, I'll miss you." Squeezing me hard, "You'll have a chance here - dream big - make a good life."

Kissing his neck, I told him I'd try - but I didn't really have any dreams other than going back to my family with Mama, Papa and Pavel - but that was all gone now. It felt like my uncles didn't want me on the prairie with them.

Then, they my uncles left. All my family, all the people who'd known me the longest were gone. Suddenly, I was on my own and shaky.

When Miss Joy and Miss Carmen came downstairs, they waited for our new teacher. I pulled out some scraps of paper Professor Montclair left with me. Now, I could almost read every word, and studied them. One of them sold some kind of medicine, and another described a fight on the street that happened last week down near the docks.

I explained them to the girls; they couldn't read but knew a lot more conversational patois than I did - and I still had a thick, clumsy accent.

Every Sunday morning, I gave my professor private lessons he wanted - he wanted to know all about my life. Then he gave me all the love and affection I needed from my week sleeping alone in a small room off the kitchen and working.

When I told him my uncles had left forever, he held me closely and kissed me, listening to all my fears and my heartaches. "My little dove, let me pleasure your tiny body. When you feel that bliss, let it fill your heart - your lover is with you, and he's a gentle man with a big heart for you.

He held me tightly against him, my lips on his and kissed me. His other hand sneaked between my legs and found my hole quickly. "Every muscle, every little patch of skin - your sweet cock and your scar - they're so beautiful to me... Beautiful enough for me to find a way to keep you close. Please don't be upset with me for helping your brother sell you into - well, your contract - I've made you safe and kept your nose in your studies."

He covered my head and face with kisses, finding the place that saints enjoyed and I trembled, and nuzzled my face in his neck. "Don't feel lonely, my dove. Every day I think of you and send my love..."

Several months later, the professor came by on Maundy Thursday at noon. Mr. William asked him to stay for lunch.

It felt peculiar for a moment, to sit beside him and be served by Miss Joy and Miss Carmen. He was very respectful to the women, and Miss White, and I used my best manners. I'd learned to lift my little finger when I drank my water. The professor liked that!

He asked humbly if he could take me to shopping for the afternoon. "If you would allow it, I know it would be an incredible imposition, Miss White, but this is important for his studies."

"He has to work dinner tonight, so have him back early." She wagged her finger but smiled at me.

Out in his buggy, we rode through town, up and down streets I'd never seen before. All along the way he asked me to read signs for him and asked me about the new teacher.

"He comes three times a week. Sometimes he spanks the girl's hands with a ruler. I don't think it helps."

"Probably not." He looked at me. "Today you're going to get a special gift, you can pick it out."

We went into a small shop - it was very quiet inside, and the walls were lined with books and papers - but so many books and all kinds of magazines and newspapers. I was proud standing beside the professor in my red dress and little slippers as he quizzed the young lady about the small boxes people used to keep their paper and pens in.

She brought out several, and smiled at me. "Your daughter writes! How wonderful! Maybe you'd like watercolors, too?"

"My dove is a writer - holds great potential. Now, sweet, which do you like?"

I blushed. My palms had never held coins or bought anything - I only helped the slave women at the market carry their bags on Fridays. There was no way I could decide - they were all beautiful little thin, hinged wooden boxes with a holder for an inkwell and a drawer to hold papers inside. One had gold lines, another was very shiny and black and the other was very dark red with brass trim.

Looking up at Professor Montclair, "I don't know."

"Let's ask the kind lady to help us decide." He suggested.

She showed me several books of paper, each with a beautiful covering and I pointed to the colors I liked. She brought a small square suede bag with a funny clasp, big enough to hold the books. Then she dropped in several pencils with a warning:

"Don't use your pencils as drum sticks, be careful. Use the sandpaper to sharpen the points." She showed me a pencil she used to figure receipts and stuffed a few other things inside.

Professor Montclair bought several newspapers, my writing books and pencils and we left. The clock in the square was chiming two, and I'd have to start with preparing for the clients soon.

We sat on the veranda and while the professor sharpened my pencils with a pocketknife, he told me that I needed to decide which book I wanted to write my diary in - he had to explain that to me.

In the other book, he wanted me to start writing down the first things I could remember from my childhood. Then he pulled a small card out of his pocket with lines and numbers and a few letters. He explained a calendar to me, and showed me he had circled every Sunday. That was easy to understand.

"I'm going to ask to see your writing on Sunday - one paragraph a day in each book. Can you do that?"

"I'll try." My hands couldn't stop rubbing the soft, smooth suede of the bag then I looked inside.

"Look!" I pulled out two bookmarks with flowers and butterfly wings glued on them.

"Good! One for each book. Use as much paper as you want and write as many of the details as you can remember about your farm life and your voyage. Write in your diary before you go to sleep and your Russian memories in the morning. I want to know everything about you."

In the late summer of the year I was ten, I had filled my books, and the professor brought more for me and encouraged me to draw what I had a problem explaining with words. I drew a map of my farm from so long ago, the barn, the rabbit herd and the faces of my Mama and Papa - I'd forgotten what Pavel's face looked like... That made me cry.

My professor also brought word lists with words I'd written wrong - mostly words that sounded like other words and new words and an explanation of what they meant.

Sometimes he would stay for lunch and leave the local newspaper for the women who could read. I found out most of the women and Goldie couldn't read - they were black or mulatto slaves.

Black and mulatto Slaves weren't allowed to learn to read or write, but I suspected some of them did in secret. The chef seemed to know everything but said little and Mr. William kept lists in his vest pocket.

The cook and the laundry lady and another very black woman were slaves, too. No one was ever chastised or punished like I thought would happen. Mr. William and Goldie didn't mind reprimanded me when I dropped or spilled - but never hurt me! This slavery thing confused me - and I couldn't reason it out. There was something else happening that the adults knew, but children didn't.

Part 7 Holiday Home

Christmas came and we sang songs together and welcomed a few clients. The entire downstairs was decorated with evergreen boughs and we had a few special treats, but most of the women from the kitchen were with their families.

I felt lonely without my professor, so I went to the kitchen to help Goldie make our dinner. We heard Mr. William open the door but I didn't think anything of it.

Professor Montclair came late - wet from the rain and carrying a box of treats for all of us. There were pecans, and oranges, apples and dates! A bottle of rum and brandy for the adults and a cigar for Mr. William!

"Tonight we're celebrating the birth of every sweet boy born! So, get the glasses out and have a toast!"

For the first time, I saw everyone in the house together. The women talking and laughing with only a few clients on Christmas day. Everyone looked beautiful in the candlelight. There was Miss Joy, teasing them and laughing - it felt like a family. Maybe we were.

Several of the women had little gifts for each other, and most of them gave Miss Joy and Miss Carmen and me dresses and shoes they couldn't wear any longer. I took mine to my tiny room beside the kitchen and put them away. The professor followed me and sat on my bed looking around with a sad look on his face.

"My dove, maybe you won't have to live here forever." He handed me a book and took me in his arms. "I didn't know how hard your life has been yet your spirit is still so pure - untouched. Read these and let me know what you think."

In bed that night, I sneaked a candle to my bedside and read the entire book he'd written using my words about my family under the Russian skies, my rabbits and my brother. Professor Montclair had rewritten my scribbling about my childhood, and made them into a story - it sounded so real, and true. He made my autobiography! A long name for my short life, but it was very interesting how he made the words like colors in a painting showing how my life happened.

As I read what he'd written about my Mama and Papa, I cried, remembering all the losses, one by one, and then leaving my home and losing my uncles. Then, being sold into slavery.

But there was no way these pages would help me out of my situation like he said - it was too sad.

The next Sunday, I ran to meet the professor, hugging him and thanking him for making my past like a story. Mr. William just lifted an eyebrow - hugging wasn't allowed in the sitting room!

When we went upstairs, I couldn't wait to snuggle against his skin - he'd made something beautiful of my ragged, borrowed and harried life. My lips needed to kiss him again and again. That tickled him - and he threw me on the bed and began taking my shoes off, then my dress.

Before he undressed, he washed my face and took the bow out of my hair. "I like you when you look like my Russian boy from the steppes - the one with the rabbits!"

My body needed his power, I needed to feel him inside me, "If I could eat you - it wouldn't be enough!" I told him.

We didn't go through our usual polite routine, but he took me from behind quickly and deeply - the pain filled my body, but I wanted more of him. "Please, cum. Please hurry." I was panting hard and shoving back toward him - I wanted to feel our bodies together as close as possible. Silently, with his hands gripping my hips holding me against him I felt the wonderful, hot rushes fill me while he groaned softly.

"Don't move!" He whispered and we stayed still until his erection was spent and I was filled.

When I felt his damp chest fall to my back, and his seed drip between my legs, I was satisfied, and slipped out from underneath him, kissing his cheek and thanking him. He only smiled with his eyes closed and asked, "What is your real name - the one your parents gave you?"

"Sergei Zotov." I whispered - "I my parent's marriage paper is in my trunk - I'm Zotov."

"Very handsome name. Why don't we call you Sergei Zotov?"

Sworn to secrecy, he listened intently while I explained about the night of the wedding party and the wolves... "We had to leave, and I only had my mama's clothes - so Franz and Yuri called me a girl. You can't say anything about it - my uncles will be killed." I stared at him, looking very serious.

"Good thing you didn't include that in your writing, but your brothers took care of you - they brought you to me. I won't say anything... But your name - how many do you have?"

"Sergei Zotov, Dasha Lvov, now Dasha Love..." I recalled.

"And my little dove... Now we need to find you another name - to give the boy in the story. This way, you're hidden and your brothers are protected." He stroked along my chest, and kissed my nipples. "I'll find you a special name to hide behind when we send your childhood out into the world."

"When can I come out of hiding?" I asked. "Since I left home it seems like I've had to stay inside - when can I put pants on and run outside with the sun on my skin?"

"Not long, I hope. You've been caught in a difficult situation - a eunuch, a slave and a prostitute for a few more years, and you like dressing as a girl." He gave me an understanding look. "Most adults can't manage their own lives as well as you're doing. For now, know that you are a rare, glimmering diamond among boys - and you've found a man who loves you."

After holding me for a long time, he said, "I'll speak with Miss White about taking you out. I love the sun on my skin as well." He paused. "Have you ever had a friend - another boy to play with?"

"Only Pavel, but he died."

"Keep writing, I see rays of sunlight starting to light your life."

That morning, we went to the bath and as he washed and poured water over my body, he caressed me saying all the sorrows would be washed away soon.

Maybe that was the baptism I never had - his hands were strong and gentle on my skin. When he sat in the big tub, I used the soap to make him hard and come in my hands. Soap and semen doesn't taste good together, but he laughed and we kissed in the sunlight through the window of a very clear day.

Part 8

Through the next months, though I didn't really want to do it, I wrote about the Christmas Eve and the next day when Yuri, Franz and I escaped - my home abandoned for fear of our lives. My pencil described the cold days leaving Russia to go to the Po River, then long, dark passage on the ship, wearing my red dress and my mama's boots that had kept me safe and warm. I penned about the muffled voices of the slaves and the clinking of their chains when they moved in the hold. Even wrote about the squeaks of the rats raiding the food supplies and the cook cursing them and the drunken sailors singing and moaning about their lives.

The pages of my book held descriptions of the curious relationship between my nullified uncles and their strange ways - some they'd taken from the church, some they'd pieced together in a new land and all the changing cultures. I admired them more for that - they could have abandoned me anywhere along the way or left me alone in Russia.

Though they sold me to Miss White into a sinful profession - but I was safe and fed. I could read and write and make sums quickly. The people around me appreciated me and I had a lover who wouldn't let me be sold again. There was no explaining how I had survived except that through poverty, deceit or plain ignorance, yet I'd been hidden - like a secret from the world.

Then, I was finished filling my diary and my professor handed me another diary and smiled. "Soon, my dove. Soon."

One Sunday, in summer, the professor took Goldie and me swimming in a lake north of the city. We laughed and played on the shore and ate fruit and sandwiches.

Goldie was beautiful in the sun with the droplets of water shimmering in her hair. We relaxed away from work for a few hours and I learned I wasn't afraid of deep water, the professor held me until I could paddle around.

We lay on a blanket in the sun and made love under the wisps of Spanish moss with the breezes on our skin. Goldie and I kissed the professor all over his body and made him shiver with pleasure and laugh. Goldie held my legs up while I was filled with the professor's seed, making me feel so full and happy between people I loved.

We went in the lake one more time to rinse, then we had to dress and leave. Though we were laughing and all the way back to work, I wanted that day to last forever.

In the fall of that year, Professor Montclair came on a Friday evening. He didn't come for dinner with the crowd of men coming with their pay, he took Miss White aside into her room and they talked for a long time.

I was a bit taller, and had to give up my favorite dresses - now I wore deep royal blue sateen with white slippers and a white bow holding my hair in a chignon. The Greeks and the Spanish men thought I was a girl, and fawned over me - I just smiled and let them talk nonsense while I brought more drinks.

Greeks and Spanish men weren't so unfamiliar, the professor brought books by for me to read - I don't know where the books came from, some were worn and faded, some water stained and the explained about wars and gods with supernatural talents. The name for those kinds of stories is mythology

Greeks and Spanish writers wrote the books so long ago. Incredible stories that made my mundane life serving drinks and food different - I was like a concubine or a mistress of sorts - concubines and mistresses were famous through all history with the men who loved them.

Slavery became clearer to me. There are many kinds of slavery; I was a slave learning a trade. My parents were slaves to an idea and the soil. Yuri and Franz were slaves to their secrets.

Minds are slaves to repeat the lives before them when they can't recognize opportunities and understand how to use those ideas to improve their lives. Physical slavery was the worst - it involved the spontaneous cruelty; the worst brutality and was driven by greed - and lies.

Strange things started happening again in my life - I wasn't sure if they were from an ancient Russian god or they simply wended through all time, but they kept happening in little ways and big ways across the earth.

New Orleans grew and filled with more different people like a field of wildflowers - all different and some had thorns! Some were poisonous and tricky, hiding their evil behind a blossom among thousands of other blossoms. There was talk about slave revolts and abolishing the whole slave system; fights broke out in the streets. We heard of violence on the plantations north, up the big river.

In some ways, I was lucky - yes, lucky to be a slave in a cathouse. My loving professor wanted me to stay hidden during the disruptions. His monthly payments kept me from having to deal with some of the men causing problems. Professor Montclair was greedy with me, but it felt good to know someone wanted me so much.

Six months after Professor Montclair spoke with Miss White, I was bought out of slavery - out of the Magnolia House!

After a month to find another boy, I was sleeping on my little room off the kitchen with him. He was a small a dark-skinned boy, and completely innocent boy who cried every night. Miss White called him Demi. His scar was new, thin and still bright pink - he'd been cut like me - his dark skin showed how crudely and quickly his tiny sac had been taken from him.

Demi wanted to run away, and I explained that he would be caught and punished, probably - but life on the streets of New Orleans is dangerous.

"Someone will find you and hurt you. We'll find your body in the bayou in the morning. Stay here, these people are kind and they'll teach you. Goldie will help you. Don't be afraid of Mr. William - he only wants to make sure you're safe. It's easy work, you can do it, and you might like it. You won't be hungry or cold here - no one will beat you."

My heart softened hearing his sobs. It took some convincing, but I gave him the touch of the saints and he calmed.

Miss White held a special dinner for Professor Montclair and me - everyone came with gifts and we all had wine! Even Miss Joy and Miss Carmen and Demi came to dine alongside us.

Mr. William stood and tapped his wine glass with a spoon, "And where will you be now, Miss Dasha? Staying in New Orleans?" He looked at the professor.

The professor smiled and put his arm around me, "School," He looked at me, "If you want."

Professor Montclair and Mr. William loaded my trunk on the professor's carriage and we left after kisses and hugs from everyone.

After a long drive, we came to a large two story brick building with a small house on the side set among large oaks. We went through a gate to the small house.

"Do you live in that big building?" I asked, unsure.

"No, that's my school. I live here - I hope you'll like it."

"Am I your slave now?"

"You're a free boy." He took me down from the carriage and set me lightly on the ground. "You can stay or leave - but I'd like for you to stay with me until you have a place of your own - until you can support yourself well."

From the darkness, a man appeared. "Ah! This must be your dove - Dasha, am I correct?" He said and grabbed the reins of the horse. He stuck his hand out to me, and I smiled.

"Yes, Miss Dasha..." I stopped. What was my name now? Was I Love, Lvov, Zotov or Montclair?

"Pleased to meet you, I'm Janus - like the god. I can see the past and the future at the same time." He laughed. "Wish I could."

"Delighted."

"Where do you want the trunk?" He asked the professor.

"Bring it in the back, we'll unpack later."

Janus left with the carriage as we entered the small house.

The professor lit a lamp and then another. "I just opened the school - and it's very full already. Our local gentry send their children - I may have to expand soon. I hope you can be comfortable living here..."

He took my hand and led me through the house. "A dining room, a sitting room, kitchen and two bedrooms upstairs and a pantry - that's all I have for now."

We heard Janus bring my trunk to the kitchen. We went to the back of the house and opened my trunk. I hadn't seen the things from my home in Russia for several years. Holding the lamp high, I took out the papers - the deed to my family's land, and my parent's marriage certificate. I was the first in my family to be able to read and understand them.

The candlesticks and a few pieces of serving ware, buttons... Digging further through a few bits of lace and ribbons - I found a soft baby blanket wrapped around a dagger. The dagger was as long as my forearm and blackened with age. Maybe it belonged to my grandpapa.

"Do you want to put the candlesticks on the mantle? Would that make you feel like this is your home for a while?"

I put them on the mantle, though they needed cleaning and we went upstairs.

My bedroom was perfect - a feather bed, fluffy and wide, a bureau and vanity, and in the darkness, I undressed, listening to my professor's boots hit the floor, and the wooden frame of his bed creaking across the hall. Seeing the dim light under the door, I went to him, naked.

"You own land?" He was sitting on the bed near the lamp reading the papers from the trunk.

"Yes. Remember, we had to leave my home on Christmas day."

Snuggling beside him, I asked if he would fill me.

"Only if you want me - you're free now." He kissed me.

"How did I get free? Did you buy me?"

"I don't have that much money. You bought your own freedom. Do you remember the story you wrote about your childhood?"

"Yes, you made it so good."

"It's being published by a magazine in Philadelphia. All the hard times you faced - every tear and every loss bought you out of the Magnolia House." He caressed my face. "Your sorrows bought your freedom."

He kissed me, "My dove, I want you to stay with me." He paused, "To stay with me, you'll need to make more changes. We are slaves to stigma and petty judgments now."

"In the next few days, I want you to decide if you want to live as a boy or a girl. No more hiding and no more slavery again. Then, we'll have your clothes made the way you want, and you'll start school with the other children."

"Can I be both?"

"Love, we live in a strict world when it comes to sexes - very black and white affair to most people. People have established rules that send people into hiding and death. Men who love boys are punished - mutilated and killed. You'd be left in shame on the streets or confined to an orphanage where the priests would ravage you and you'd be punished - horrid life."

"Ravage - you mean sex?"

"Sex and worse..." He held me close, "If you stay with me, you'll have to decide to be a boy or a girl. I need to know what to call you when we're in public. Inside our home, you'll always be my boy. But let's not think about all those problems now. Let's celebrate our sainthood and your freedom tonight."

We kissed, and moved so we could suck each other, and made the saints sing, falling asleep just like that, and I woke to take his seed in my mouth again the next morning.

That Saturday morning, I woke in a different home. Comfortable, small but nice. The darkness of the night before didn't reveal the bookshelves in the study - the bookshelves were filled with tomes of every kind.

As we toasted bread and made tea together, "What am I to do today?"

"I'm going to the market, we have guests coming, but I'd like to show you the school later."

"Do you have to teach today? It's Saturday!?"

"Love, I'm the head master. A few months before I met you, I bought this land and the buildings. That's why I was in the boarding house - the workers had to finish the repairs. Come Monday morning there'll be fifty children from the wealthiest families in New Orleans running up the walkway to their classes."

"Dress nicely for lunch today - we have important guests coming."

He went to the open market that morning and I was alone. I missed him, so I began preparing the house for guests. While he was gone, I polished the candlesticks and swept the carpets wondering who was coming. Then I dressed in a white frock, the one he liked and combed my hair and rouged my lips and cheeks.

The professor unloaded his purchases and started cutting up fruit, cheeses, wines and breads of all kinds for our guests.

"Can't cook, so we'll have a simple lunch." He filled bowls with fruit, and trays with bread then brought out plates, wine glasses and silverware - then brought in cut flowers he put in pitchers and vases around the room.

It seems that the professor didn't want any slaves - he explained that when we kept our lives simple, and took care of ourselves it was more secure, safer for all of us. Janus was a paid groundskeeper of the school, and I was a free boy. He was an Englishman, white, educated, wealthy and fully free, of course.

Soon enough someone was knocking at the door. Meeting people at the door, I welcomed them sweetly. Mr. William came! He escorted two women dressed in red, and several more men came in, all of them hugging Professor Montclair as old friends.

Then, a fancy carriage with several women in the most elaborate dresses with big hats! They had feathers and bows and little birds perched on top like the birds were flying.

Our little house quickly filled with people chattering and talking like they all knew each other very well. Mr. William and the others didn't seem to consider their social stations, but talked freely; laughing and gossiping like old friends. Black and white - every shade of mulatto, slaves and free people - every face was smiling.

The professor called me kitchen as he opened more wine.

"My love, all of these people are eunuchs - they were all boys at one time, and were cut. Some are like your brothers, and some have cocks - and none of them have testicles. Before you make any decision to live as a boy or girl, talk to them."

"Where is Goldie?"

"We'll discuss that later... See the woman in the blue dress with pale yellow flowers on the neck? She's a dancer and wants to meet you."

When I asked the woman if she was cut like me, that opened a floodgate of stories among the group, each of them telling me how old they were when they were cut, and who'd castrated them. One of the women in a red dress doted on me like a favorite aunt, "I became a dancer when I found my limbs would be longer, and I practice my grace and perform with the best - the theatre is often frowned upon as a profession... But so many liberated spirits among them - I wouldn't work elsewhere."

One man was a cartographer, another as a minister. Janus was there, and he was a joker - all the men and having a good time teasing the ladies. I stood beside Mr. William - he didn't say much, but he brought up some of the group of eunuchs who'd died. Everyone fell silent they remembered their friends but they didn't use any names - like they knew who they were talking about.

"Miss Dasha," Mr. William began, "There will be moments of great sadness in your life. When it happens, don't drink or go to the streets, but come to us - stay with your lover and enjoy what you have. Those dark times will pass, there is the peace of the eunuch, and there are moments of deep sorrow and the sorrows will pass." He told me.

The mood was somber, until the professor brought in more wine.

"Toast our new author - he's going to be in print next month! Look for the name - A. Nevsky." That was the name my professor found for my writing - my nom de plume that would protect my uncles and me. The story of my childhood would play out in the minds of readers across the new land of America and around the world soon.

There was applause as I blushed and got lots of kisses.

After they left, we cleaned and straightened together in silence, then bathed together by the glow of one candle.

"Tomorrow, write a letter to your uncles, we'll see if we can find them."

"Why?"

"They're still your family - the people here today don't have anyone except each other. Please, let's try to find them."

"Where was Goldie today?" I asked again.

"Goldie left the Magnolia House. One of her client's asked her to marry him."

"Really? That's wonderful!" I imagined my gentle friend in her own home.

"We won't see her again." He had a serious look on his face. "He killed her, then himself. He couldn't live with her, and they couldn't live without each other."

I was shocked and became very silent remembering Goldie's kindnesses to me - such a gentle nature.

That night, he brought oil and I sat on his lap, deeply penetrated while he held me against his chest and whispered, telling me how much he loved me.

Slowly I moved my hips to take him as deeply as I could; when he lifted me, I tightened my ass around him and felt him tremble. Now, I was the one watching his face as his color reddened in the light of the candle, and I knew it would be soon.

In the sticky heat that defines New Orleans, I kissed his neck smelling his scent and tasting his sweat. My hand moved to his chest, tugging his nipples as I savored my professor. I moved my hips more quickly, kissing him with the muscles in my rear until I felt his hips rise to meet mine and he grabbed me hard, pushing me deeply - so deeply it hurt, but I needed to feel him so far inside me.

My soul was salved with his semen and all the changes and confusion in my life left while he loved me - this was very different from my brothers' love and much deeper and more satisfying.

Sometimes I'd try to put my stiff little rod in him and take him the way he took me, but he'd start laughing saying I was tickling him in the most intimate way. Then I'd start laughing and couldn't keep myself in any condition to penetrate him. So, my lover brought a velvet ribbon to tie around my penis and sucked me until I thought my penis would pop off my body, then, I was finally able to feel his heat around my shaft and that thick band of muscles at his hole kissing me.

Our lovemaking had no limits our bounds inside on our bed - my professor loved my boyishness as well as my submission to him in every way.

I wrote my brothers a letter, not knowing at all where they went. Surely they hadn't forgotten me, but the posts were slow and unreliable. I resigned myself to wait, hoping they would find someone to read my words to them.

My professor took the deed to my family's land to a barrister to research the sale - I didn't want to go back every again - my life was so good in New Orleans. Yes, I surrendered to a different life - I wouldn't be a farmer like generations before me, and I'd never be a man either from the changes that Russia brought to my family. I didn't fit there anymore - my spirit was here now.

Every day I answered mail from my readers. Some sent me bits of herbs or a bird's feather in their letters -some made little drawings and told me of their childhoods. Glimpses of their lives made me sad and quietly upset at the horrors they'd endured. Some of them were cut like me but in horrid and vile rituals - I was surprised to learn some were born missing their scrotums and cast from their families.

As the summer came, I continued reading, visually devouring all the text in the books from the professor's study, and I powdered myself in the late afternoons to stay cool. The stories about boys and men enthralled me. Adventures of Oedipus were exciting and some of scenes reminded me of my own travels.

The stories about women and girls fascinated me - I lived as a girl, and yet I had no strong inclinations to act coy and tease men - I never needed to. Men had always come to me. That is the power of women - their softness and delicacy attracted men as something to overpower and control - in some ways like slaves. When Mr. William visited us they told us of the cruelty of slave-owners and they whispered about slaves organizing for an uprising on the plantations north along the river.

It's a funny thing - though I loved the way my muscles felt when I worked with Papa, they felt different now. Even when Janus and I worked a small garden into the back of the house, the sun and the heat brought us plenty of food, my muscles didn't feel strong and bursting with power itching to heave heavy tools like before. But maybe it was the atmosphere in New Orleans. The spring skies were gray, rain and storms washed through almost continually.

Each passing day in the heat and humidity, we were closer to our month-long vacation where I could be neither and be myself. Summers, my professor had the buildings maintained - decay and rot happen quickly along the waterfront.

With the help of the professor, I found my diaries from my time at the Magnolia House and began compiling my ideas. With help from Mr. William and Demi and the other slaves at Magnolia House, I added their experiences.

Tears came to my eyes as they explained the fates of other members of their families and the other boys taken and cut. Many had not survived and the ones who did had health problems and were often ill for the rest of their lives - they lost their spirit and themselves to their owners.

Professor Montclair said it was a clear abolitionist statement and under his direction, I sent the stories to a newspaper in New York and waited to see if they would buy them.

In the meantime, the farm sold in Russia. I was now a wealthy fourteen-year-old, with two published works and friends all over world, and I was still in hiding and had yet another name.

Yes, I was A. Nevsky - my pseudonym for the safety of my uncles, and now me. But I knew I wasn't Sergei Zotov any longer.

I wasn't Dasha Lvov.

I wasn't Dasha Love.

It seemed I was no longer a nephew. Gratefully, I wasn't a slave.

I wasn't a boy, I wasn't a girl and I'd never be a complete man or a full woman.

I did become real in a convoluted, round-about way - I was legitimate, free and whole inside myself. Since I had no birth certificate or any proof of my presence on earth, I became whom I wanted to be. No one could deny it! I chose my own name to fit my own life - my own spirit.

In a private ceremony, I was a debutante and an ingénue among our close friends before I became Mrs. Dovey Montclair.

Fin.