Chapter 1

 

The story I am about to unfold is more than a little bizarre, I will admit that freely. Nevertheless, every word is true-at least in so far as my brain is not playing tricks. Certainly the whole weird thing is as clear and vivid in my mind as if it happened yesterday.

It all happened in Turkey, the Turkey of some two centuries ago, when the Ottoman Empire was at its height and the powers of the sultan and his court were absolute and omnipotent.

I of course come from now. From the late Twentieth Century. I was a very normal schoolboy in Sydney, Australia and apart from the fact that I loved the ballet, did all the usual things a normal boy did.

I played football and cricket in season. I swam for my school and was also a fair hand at gymnastics and athletics. My grades were above average and, if I had wanted, I could have obtained a place at university. As it was, I wanted to be a ballet dancer and my mother, who was nothing if not ambitious for all her three children, despite her early opposition to such an uncertain career, finally embraced it wholeheartedly.

"Alright, Jamie. If you must follow such a strange career, you must study under the best. I will write immediately to Mr Romanov..."

I protested weakly that I could make my own moves but she shrugged that idea off as quite foolish. Anyway, I knew I would never dare approach the great man. His dancing academy had a world-class reputation and only the best in Australia (and from overseas too) were ever considered.

Actually I was quite shocked when an answer came back to report at nine o'clock promptly a fortnight's hence-with Mother. I was a little irked at this for at seventeen, I considered myself to be quite the young man and well able to take care of myself. Still, perhaps secretly, I welcomed Mother's support. She had always been there for us. She was (and is) a strong woman-she had had to be to bring us three up without a husband after my father had died of cancer when I was only eight.

We travelled into the city by train and arrived at the academy five minutes before the appointed hour. We were kept waiting in the street right up to the dot of nine. Mr Romanov was a stickler for punctuality and no strangers were ever admitted into his school except on his own terms. You will see why a little later.

At nine the door opened and a grim-faced angular woman in a black dress opened the door and silently ushered us in to the sombre grey lobby and thence into a small untidy office which opened directly from it. She gestured towards a couple of old and dirty wooden chairs which my mother looked at very distastefully but did sit down on.

The door had no more closed behind the woman than it opened again to admit Mr Romanov. He was in his early forties and as fit as when he had been a star of the Russian Ballet some twenty years earlier. A knee disability had put paid to his dancing career some ten years ago and now he spent his considerable talents making dancers of Australian boys and girls.

In his thick Russian accent, he introduced himself: "Romanov," he barked. "And you are Mrs Ellis-and Jamie?"

Mother nodded and held out her hand then prodded me to do the same. His grip was firm and his hand cool. His icy blue eyes stared straight into mine as if he was searching already for my commitment to dance.

"So you want to be a dancer, boy'?"

I nodded. "Yes sir."

He then proceeded to ask all manner of questions about my knowledge of ballet and of my previous training, interspersed with others about my sporting ability. Mother sat quietly, a small smile on her face-obviously she thought things were going well.

Then he came out with it. "Alright boy, stand up. Take off all clothes!"

I started to stand as soon as he uttered the first words but when he asked me to strip I stopped, half way out of the chair. My face turned crimson and I turned towards Mother for support. Surely he didn't expect me to strip off there, with her sitting not three feet away?

It's not that I'm a prude. Heavens, at school we had to shower with all the other boys after sports, but at seventeen, Mother hadn't seen me without clothes for years. And I wasn't in any case keen about taking off my clothes in front of Mr Romanov as a perfect stranger.

He just sat there watching my every move. He didn't look at Mother, at least until she coughed. "Perhaps if I was to leave, Mr Romanov...?" I just about choked. She was obviously prepared to have me strip naked in front of this man.

"No. If he is to be dancer, he must learn that body is thing to be shown; not perhaps stark naked as I wish to see it now, but very close at times. Body is thing of beauty. It is also instrument of dance. My students work naked to learn about muscles and how to control... And male students are seen by Miss Gregor naked all the time. If boy too much prude, best forget about study here..."

Mother prodded me then. "Take off your clothes, Jamie. And be quick about it if you want to be a ballet dancer."

I was still blushing but I finished getting to my feet and began to take off my clothes, folding each item neatly as I took it off and laid it down on the chair behind me. When I got down to my singlet and underpants, I paused. Surely that would be enough for him to assess me? It wasn't. He just gestured towards them so I stripped the singlet up and off my torso and then pushed the bikini briefs down off my hips and stepped out of them.

My blushes now came right down my neck as I stood there in front of his desk, knowing that my mother was sitting not four feet behind me and able to see the whole of my naked body-at least from the back while Mr Romanov's eyes roved up and down the front.

I am sure now that he wasn't interested in me sexually but back then I was still young enough to be scared shitless of gay men. I well knew that in the world of dance there is a fair preponderance of gays but I wasn't one of them. I had had my share of school girlfriends and had got as far as making love to three of them. I had never been interested in boys in a sexual way but I knew that some of my friends were and while none of them had ever propositioned me, I had an irrational fear they might some day.

Now, as I stood naked in front of this man more than twice my age and watched as his cold blue eyes raked up and down my body I thought all the worst things. I desperately wanted to gather up my clothes and run from the room.

"A good body, boy. You are good at gymnastics, eh?"

"Um, er, quite good, I suppose, sir."

"Must not dissemble, boy. Either good or not good, which is it?"

"Uh, good then." It was true but I wasn't used to praising myself. Mother had always taught us to be humble about our accomplishments. Strive for the best but don't boast about your achievements, she used to say.

He got up from his desk and came around it to stand next to me. I mentally shrank from what I knew he was going to do but I braced myself. I didn't want him to touch me but I knew he was going to. I wanted to look around to Mother and plead with her for us to leave but again I steeled myself. I wanted to be a dancer and this man was the best on offer.

He assessed me professionally, I suppose. He made me flex this muscle then that while a practised hand ran over my flesh. He didn't touch my genitals (for which I was eternally grateful) but it was bad enough having him run his cool fingers over my chest and belly, down my thighs and buttocks...

"And now dance, boy. Show me how good you are."

Again I choked. He wanted me to dance, like that? Stark naked, and with my mother watching?

It seemed he did. Oh well, I thought. I had come this far. And it must be nearly over. I recalled some of the short routines from my suburban ballet teacher's school and performed them as best I could without music and in that small office but I was far too conscious of my total nudity; of my cock and balls flying around as I ran this way and that. Perhaps now I should mention that I am rather well endowed in that department. My cock was already eight inches long (another two when erect) and my testicles were also large and hung heavily in a pendulous scrotum. You can imagine what they were doing as I leapt this way and that across the room.

"Rough," he said when at last I finished, "but we may be able to do something with him. Send him here beginning next Monday. He will live in for first month then may go home once a month for weekend. No contact when in house except in emergency. Total dedication required. Meals simple; exercise and work hard. No sex. Is acceptable?"

His short sentences, delivered in staccato bursts, were hard to follow but I certainly got the gist. I was about to say thanks, but no thanks, I would try something else when Mother stood up. "Thank you, Mr Romanov. Yes, that will be perfectly acceptable. Jamie will be here at seven in the morning on Monday, then..."

He grunted something, nodded shortly to Mother (ignoring me totally), then turned and marched out of the room. Immediately he left, Miss Gregor entered, catching me still naked. She didn't smile or even appear to be interested in my body but simply gestured to me to dress and then she would show us out.