The Tied Man

I kept quiet.  I was trying to prove that I’d learned my lesson, but echoing that sentiment would be pushing it.

‘Anyway, I’ve found myself with a free evening, so I wondered if you’d care to join me for a drink?  Informal  – no need to get changed.’

I paused long enough to suggest I was actually thinking about it properly, but not long enough to look like I was formulating a refusal.  ‘That would be… nice,’

‘Wonderful.  Oh, and don’t forget your inhaler,’ Blaine advised as I wrapped my dressing gown around my shoulders.

*****

Blaine pushed the door of the viewing chamber open and ushered me in. I shut my eyes in readiness for whatever horror awaited on the other side of the glass.

Nothing.  The room beyond was in darkness.  Only the chamber was lit, and a bottle of Pouilly Fuissé and two glasses stood waiting for us.

‘It’s been a while since I’ve opened a bottle of this.’ Blaine handed me a glass.  ‘I thought I should serve your favourite – a small ‘welcome back’ present.’

I took a sip of a wine I used to adore and knew I would never be able to stomach a single drop of the stuff for the rest of my life.

We sat, she on the chaise longue and I on a bank of cushions at her feet like an obedient lapdog, and I thought that this might be all that was required of me.

But Blaine was nothing if not thorough.  As far as she was concerned, I still had a final lesson to learn.  ‘Here we are.’ The door to the room before us silently opened.  ‘My latest guests: Chester Hemingford and Ellis Simonette.  Chester’s the elder of the two,’ she explained, as if I my enjoyment might be hampered by not knowing every detail.

A tall, thick-set man held the door open so that his shorter, younger companion could step inside.  He had his arm firmly around the waist of a third man whose face was masked in shadows.

In the days since I had last seen him, Finn had lost at least a stone.  A  pair of beltless jeans hung off his hips, revealing the sharp ‘V’ of his pubis, and his collar bones jutted through the thin fabric of the t-shirt I had bought him in London.   He had been drugged to oblivion with something that had rendered him unable to stand unaided, and his left leg buckled under him with each step.  His eyes were dull and unblinking, as though a part of him was already dead.  Something was terribly wrong.

‘What have they given him?’ I managed to ask.

‘I’m not entirely sure.  Ellis injected him with some sedative or other.’

‘Oh no, Blaine, he’s so scared of needles -’

‘That’s all part of the experience, if you recall.’

Ellis half-carried Finn to the edge of the bed and sat him down, then paused to kiss his partner before disappearing into the bathroom.  When he re-emerged, he was carrying a small bowl of steaming water and a handtowel.  Chester opened out a roll of fabric onto the bed, before reverentially picking up a cutthroat razor.

As Ellis cradled Finn’s lolling head, Chester began to shave him with a barber’s skill, covering his stubbled face with foam before removing it with long deft strokes.

Once every trace of shaving foam had been wiped away, Ellis pulled the t-shirt over Finn’s head and yanked the jeans down over his skeletal hips without needing to unfasten them.  Then, with the same meticulous care, Chester used the razor to remove every last trace of hair from Finn’s emaciated body.

Finally, Ellis handed over a small pot of hair gel.  Chester used the contents to slick their toy’s hair away from his gaunt face and stepped back to admire his handiwork.  Finn could have passed for fifteen again, and that was when I knew who these men were and what they wanted.

‘Oh please, no,’ I whispered.

‘A little slower than usual, Lilith,’ Blaine observed.  ‘I’d expected you to work it out the moment you saw them.’

‘Please don’t make me watch this.’ This time the humility in my voice was entirely genuine.  Royce Garvey had scared me, but these two men were in an entirely different league.  Royce had been a drunken amateur; these men were sober, professional sadists.

Blaine stroked my hair maternally. ‘It’s for your own good, darling.  You need to understand that you can’t stop this.  There’ll always be a demand, and I will always be able to find someone to cater for whatever request I receive.  If you’d just let things be, this could have been some anonymous little juvenile delinquent, hundreds of miles away, instead of the man you appear to love.  That’s why I need you to watch.’