Social Services

Scott exited the van and I remained tied up in the rear as he disappeared from view, listening to the sounds of the cooling engine.

Eventually, after what seemed an eternity, he returned.  Opening the rear doors, he set quickly to work in unlocking me from the ring on the floor.  With a menacing growl, he warned "don't try anything or I will get nasty". 

I knew his capacity for violence, and my mind was racing in confusion.  Even so, I would have been helpless to resist, my arms chained up and my body cold in the late afternoon rain.  Barefoot, I struggled over the stones as I was marched towards the familiar outline of his cottage, Scott pushing me from behind as we entered the front door.

I walked into the front room of the cottage and stood there as Scott locked the door behind him.  I looked around the room and saw that everything was as I remembered.  An old sofa and armchair were either side of the open fire, the only real attempt at furnishing, the filthy carpet was stained by beer, and beer cans lay around the room.  The large neo-Nazi posters adorned two walls of the room.  A new TV and music system was the only signs that the room was used today.  Scott switched on the bare light bulb and closed the threadbare curtains against the world.

I stood in the centre of the room, gagged and cuffed, as Scott removed his coat and sat down in the armchair and faced me.

"Welcome home," he sneered before reaching down to his feet and taking a swig from the open can of beer.  I stared down at him, his white t-shirt and nazi symbols on display on his arms.

"You look pretty confused boy," he stated in a cold matter-of-fact tone.  "It's really quite simple.  Since I have been forced to work, I don't get my visitors any more.  Your colleagues leave me alone as it were.  And I guess the truth of the matter is that I miss your little brown face coming around."

He stood up from his chair, and pushed his face uncomfortably into mine.  "So I thought I'd bring you back, to work for me."

He stared into my eyes, and I could feel my nose wrinkling slightly from the stale beer on his breath.

"Obviously, our relationship will have to change from what went before.  But you'll get used to it.  And I'm afraid I am in no mood to take `no' for an answer from you."

He paused as his words sank in, my mind struggling to comprehend what he was suggesting.  I became conscious of his size.  Although he wasn't overly muscular, he was much taller than me and his physique was menacing to me.  I went to the gym, and had a good, compact body.  But I would be no match for him, and he knew this.

He sensed my appraisal of his body I am sure, for he bridled slightly and raised himself up to his full height in front of me.

He stepped back and sighed.  "Time to get you ready for your new life," he smirked.  "But before I do, I need to explain your future to you, so that you are under no illusions from the start."

He sat back down into his armchair before barking "Kneel".

I looked at him in confusion: somehow the word didn't register any sane comprehension in my brain.

He glared at me and - raising his voice - snarled "I said fucking kneel".

Slowly, I sank to my knees in front of him and shivered involuntarily from the situation.  I had never been a person for confrontation.  My strengths were in mediation and in caring for fellow human beings.  I felt immediately out of my depth, and scared of Scott's potential to cause me harm.

"Now listen carefully because I don't like repeating myself," he began, taking another swig from the beer can.

"I've decided to make you my slave."