Lawrence has recently
been taken out of foster care due to him turning 16 years of age, and
has been residing in a residential housing scheme for the last five
months. It's a kind of 'halfway house' which helps youngsters make
the transition between foster care and living by their own means. The
halfway house provides a stable and secure living environment and
helps its residents to find work or a suitable college course and
assists in finding permanent accommodation outside of the welfare
system. Lawrence's current halfway house is called Elm Tree House and
is more geared towards residents with mental health and disability
issues, but it was the only one in the area which had an available
place so that's where Lawrence ended up. It's not a bad place by any
means and like most of these types of residential housing schemes,
the aim is to get their residents to eventually move out and learn to
live an independent life.
Having only attained
five GCSEs in high school, Lawrence is struggling to find a job and
has no real interest in further education. There's plenty of advice
and support for people like Lawrence, both within the halfway house
and from outside agencies. One regular visitor is a lady called Gwen
who's an Agency Liaison Officer, which basically means she's the go
between for a number of housing schemes and social welfare agencies.
Lawrence has had several meetings with Gwen and those she liaises
with. He missed one opportunity of getting into a new halfway house
that better suited his needs because they were looking for someone
with a bit more 'vibrancy' and 'energy' (whatever that means). Gwen
told him not to feel too disappointed and was confident that she'd
find him something better than his current housing sooner rather than
later. Then, a couple of weeks later, Gwen
brings in a lady called Vera to meet with Lawrence. Vera works at
another halfway house in the suburbs which is (according to Gwen)
more suited to Lawrence's needs. “What you need is an environment
that will help you come out of yourself, give you some self pride and
proper goals... achievable goals.” Gwen told him. “I understand
you're very creative... you got an A in Art didn't you?”
“Yeah...” Lawrence
half-heartedly replied. “...but with a D in Maths and a U in
English, a GCSE in Art isn't much use.”
“You need to turn
that pessimism in to optimism young man... focus and what you can do,
not what you can't.” Vera said. She and Gwen had a lot of paperwork
charting Lawrence's history within the welfare system. Vera leafed
through to his education welfare records. “Tell me about school,
how did you get on there?” she asked. Lawrence shrugged and said it
was OK, before adding that he didn't turn up much. “I can see!”
Vera replied, pointing out that he had 83 unauthorised absences in
year eleven and 65 in year ten. “Often left the grounds part way
through the day...” she read. “...easily led astray, victim of
bullying, lacked concentration in academic classes...”
“But he is very
creative.” Gwen interjected. “He often attended the after school
art class didn't you.”
“Yeah but only
because I'd get picked on on the way home.” Lawrence replied.
“I'm sure that wasn't
the only reason.” Gwen smiled. “You should see his sketch books.”
she said.
“Oh there's no need.”
Vera replied in a friendly tone. “I'm sure they're very good.”
she added. She explained to the boy how the halfway house she's
proposing is more focussed on underachieving and under educated
youths, and that it'll give him the life skills and self confidence
he's lacking. “Of course you have to be willing to participate...
you can't just wonder off if you don't like it, but we can look at
other options if you're not happy there.”
It all sounded OK and
after a bit of form filling his transfer was arranged for the very
next day. Lawrence packed his bags and
waited for Vera to collect him. As he waited he got chatting to
another resident called Sharon who was sorry to see him go. “I know
you're not a 'crip' like the rest of us...” she said, using a term
to describe her disability that Lawrence would never use. “...but
it's been nice having you around.”
Lawrence thanked her
and said that he hoped he wouldn't be there for too long. “I wanna
get my own place and stand on my own two...” he stopped himself and
glanced nervously and her crooked feet. “Sorry.” he said.
Sharon told him not be
silly and assured him that he's perfectly capable of standing on his
own two feet and living a normal life. Again Lawrence thanked her and
confessed to feeling a bit nervous about the transfer. “I'll come
and visit... make sure you're settling in.” Sharon suggested before
asking where the new halfway house is.
Lawrence routed the
transfer form out of his pocket. “Ash Leigh... Buckley New Road.”
he read. “It's on the other side of town.” he added, knowing that
it's probably too far for her to pay a visit.
“I'll get the bus.”
she said. “Look I'd better go in... can't stand out here talking
all day on these.” she grinned, looking down at her crooked legs
and crutches.
Lawrence bid her
farewell and waited alone for ten or twenty minutes until Vera
arrived. “All set?” she asked, taking his bags. Lawrence smiled
and nodded, said his final goodbyes to the staff at Elm Tree House
and followed Vera to her car. They drove through the town centre,
through the suburbs, out the other end and eventually down a long narrow lane to a
large detached house. Its setting is more rural than Lawrence
expected and suspects that it's not on any bus route. Vera tells him
that the place looks a bit deserted because the others are all on an
excursion. “So it'll be just us two for now.” she said as she
took his bags out of the car.
He
suspected nothing untoward as he entered the house and was shown around
the main reception room, dining area and large kitchen before being taking upstairs to
one of the rooms. Vera suggested he takes a bath before they do
anything else, claiming that when the others get back he won't have
the opportunity as they'll all be clambering for it after their
excursion. He feigned interest and asked about the excursion. “Oh
just an excursion...” Vera said as she turned on the bath taps and
poured what seemed to be half a box of bath salts into the tub.
“...it's good to get out and about.” she smiled.
Lawrence sensed that
she was being deliberately vague, but still suspected nothing suspicious about Vera or the place she'd brought him to. Then after a
few minutes soaking in the hot soapy water, Lawrence found himself
screaming in excruciating pain. He leaps out of the water and in his
naked state, bangs on the bathroom door yelling for help. Vera
unlocks the door and finds him scrunched up on the floor, writhing in
agony. She stands him up and says, “Move your hands... lets have a
good look at you.” Lawrence reluctantly moves his hands. Vera
gently touches his smarting skin and tells him that he needs a few
more minutes in the bath.
“What?!” he gasps,
his skin still smarting. “I'm not getting back in there! It's full
of acid or something.”
“Nonsense!” Vera
states before single handedly putting him back into the bath and
holding him there. “Just relax!” she says as he yelps and writhes
in the water. “It's perfectly harmless... even if it does sting a
little.”
In strained tones, he
asks her what she's doing as the solution engulfs him from the neck
down. She doesn't reply. She simply holds him in the water and holds
his gaze before dragging him out after a couple of excruciating
minutes. Once out of the water, he gasps in pain and she gently
touches his smarting skin. “That's better.” she says. “Rinse
yourself off in the shower.”
The relief the warm
clean water brings him is nothing short of heaven. The stinging
sensation almost immediately subsides, but it's replaced with a new
sensation as he runs a hand over his forearm. “What?” he gasps as
he feels not a single hair. He looks and sees, he checks elsewhere
and finds nothing but smooth hairless skin all over his body. He
senses Vera's presence behind him and as he begins to turn he begins
to say “What have you done to me?” ...but mid sentence, he sees
her outstretched hands in such close proximity that can't see what
they hold, and not a nano second later he feels a collar click into
position and lock around his neck. A pair of instinctive hands
immediately grab at the collar and try in vain to force it apart as
he's tugged out of the shower and out of the bathroom. “What are
you doing you crazy bitch!” he yelps. His naked body is still damp
and dripping as he's pulled along the corridor, dragged down the
stairs and pulled on his side into a room.
“This
is where you'll be staying... if you're good.” Vera says.
“And if I'm not?”
Lawrence growls from his vantage point at her feet.
“If not, you'll be
staying outside in the kennel.” Vera told him. “Now stand.” she
instructed.
Lawrence was already
halfway to his feet when the instruction came so he didn't stand
through obedience, but he did stand. He nervously glances around the
room; a small cage sits in one corner, a toilet and basin is in the
other. Just as his eyes pan around to see a clinical looking desk and
what appears to be a range of cosmetics neatly arranged on its
surface, he is instructed to sit. His eyes pan down to the stool and
widen to the size of saucers as he realises that it's no normal
stool. “You must be joking!” he says as his jaw begins to drop.
“You can either sit
and start your training, or you can be taken to the kennel and we'll
try again tomorrow.” Vera replied.
There's
no way that Lawrence would willingly sit on a stool like that and he
tells her as much, adding a torrent of obscenities for good measure.
As a result of his outburst, Lawrence finds himself being wrestled to
the ground, rolled onto his belly and with her full weight on his
back, Vera swiftly straps a ball gag around his head. He writhes and
growls as she drags him out of the house, across the yard towards a
small barred cage with flat tin roof. He tries to kick and punch her
as she bundles him into the kennel, but in the few seconds it takes
for Vera to barge him in and slam it shut, he didn't land a single
blow. He growls at her through the ball gag as she tells him that
he'll more than likely be a bit more willing tomorrow, “...but if
you're going to act like an animal, I'll treat you like one.” she
said before walking back to the house.
After trying to force
the kennel's gate open and trying with
all his might to push its caged walls apart, he tries to force its corrugated tin roof upwards, but
it's pointless. He takes a breather and looks around. It's twilight
and he knows there's nothing but open countryside for at least a few
miles in any direction. Even if he could shout he probably wouldn't
be heard by anyone but Vera. He tries again to force the collar open, then the gag but finding what can only be a small padlock on the back of his head, he
knows his gag is secure. A length of heavy duty chain hangs limply from his collar
and he follows it link by link to where it's padlocked to one of the
half inch steel bars that surround him. He looks down at his body;
naked, hairless and peppered with a variety of small cuts, grazes and
blossoming bruises. He sighs and grunts through his gag as he tries
to fathom what's going on and why he didn't see this coming. He looks
around the kennel and wonders how he's expected to sleep in such a
small space. Lawrence isn't tall, being a modest 5'5”, but with
little more than 3' x 4' of floor space and barely 4' of headroom,
this confined cage is far too small for comfort. It's four walls are
made from welded steel bars running both vertically and horizontally.
Each ½” bar is approximately 3” apart and without a hacksaw or
some big bolt croppers, he's not getting out of it. Lockjaw feels
like it's beginning to kick in as the twilight fades. He's soon
plunged into darkness, the only light he sees is coming from what he
believed was a bona fide halfway house across the gravel covered
yard. The wind picks up and he shudders. With no solid walls, no
clothes nor a blanket, he's completely exposed save for the tin roof
above his head. He huddles himself up, wrapping his arms around his
shins and clutching his knees close to his chin. As
the temperature continues to drop, he fears that he might not survive
the night.
He's woken shortly
before dawn by a crescendo of birdsong. It's cold, but not cold
enough to put him out of this new found misery. He rubs his jaw which
has been held open for god knows how many hours, before trying and
failing to find a weakness in the four caged walls and corrugated tin
roof of his abode. He soothes his skin that bears a clear imprint of
the metal mesh floor that he'd slept on. He recalls the events of the
previous day; leaving Elm Tree House and being driven by Vera to this
place, being told that the 'others' are out on an excursion, hence it
being empty, being shown to a room and being told to have a bath. He
should have suspected something, he thinks; an empty house in a
remote rural setting, no sign outside, no reception desk, no staff
nor residents. In hindsight he now realises that the clues are there as
he looks towards the house... but hindsight, as always comes far too late. “I bet there's no 'others' either.” he
tells himself. “Just me and that crazy bitch!”. In all honesty
though, Lawrence suspected nothing until Vera put him back in
the bath, which he now understands had one purpose and one purpose
only... to remove every last strand of hair from his body. “But
why?” he thinks as he recalls her telling him not to wash his hair
in the bathwater and instructing him not to even get it or his face wet. “I
should have suspected something then.” he told himself. “But
what?”
Dawn turns to daylight
and after a few hours, his head turns to the sound of Vera's feet
crunching across the gravel. Lawrence growls defiantly when she asks
him if he slept well, then begins to yelp in horror as she sprays him
and his kennel with a powerful cold hose. He had no choice but to
excrete in the corner and it was that that Vera sprayed before
turning the hose on him. She leaves him alone, telling him that
she'll be back after lunch. The sun rises high in the sky as the
hours slowly tick by. Vera does return. She places a plastic dog bowl
on the gravel outside the kennel before unlocking the door and
letting it swing open. Without saying a word, she walks back to the
house as Lawrence timidly crawls out of the cage. The first thing he
tries to do is straighten his back and legs and with a little effort,
he eventually manages to stand. He may be free from the confines of
the kennel, but he's not free from the collar which is firmly
attached to the kennel, and in turn, the kennel is firmly attached to
the ground. “This ain't no dog kennel.” he thinks as he tries to
budge it and realises that it's simply far too sturdy. His eyes turn
to the bowl on the gravel. It appears to be filled with porridge and
looks edible enough, but his mouth is filled with a ball gag. He's
tempted to launch the bowl and its contents across the yard in
defiance, but if that's the only meal he's going to get today, he'd
better leave it be. He sits. His stomach churns, yearning to be
filled but all he can do is stare at it.
When he sees Vera exit
the house and approach him, he stands. His eyes glance to the item in
her hand; a length of plastic tubing with a large funnel attached to
one end. Vera tells him that he can either feed himself, or she can
feed him “...using this. It won't be pleasant but it will mean
you'll eat.” she says. She raises a hand to his ball gag, removes
the ball and thus turns it into a ring gag. She explains that the
tube will go down his throat and the food will be forced down the
funnel, before giving him the option of feeding himself. Desperate to
have the ball gag removed, he nods and she produces a small syringe.
Vera tells him that he's made the right decision “...but before
your gag comes off, you need some of this.” she says, holding the
syringe aloft. Lawrence gulps and is fully aware that he's absolutely
no idea what the injection is as he nods to accept it. “Now stay
very still... and if you lash out, you'll go back in your kennel and
we'll try again tomorrow.” she says. “Do you understand?”
Lawrence
nods once more before raising his chin and allowing her to plunge the
syringe into his neck, not once, but twice, on either side of his
windpipe. Vera tells him to turn and he turns. “Keep this up and
you'll be out of here in no time.” she says as she removed the
small padlock the keeps his gag secure before stepping back, well out
of his reach. He looks at her with the gag still intact. She tells
him he can do the rest himself and he franticly fiddles with the straps and
buckles before finally unfastening them and pulling it off. Just as
it took a few moments for him to straighten his back, it takes a
little while for his muscles to work properly and enable him to close
his jaw. As it begins to move, he tries to say “You bitch!” or
something similar, but nothing comes out. He tries to cough and clear
his throat, but nothing. He speaks but all he hears is the almost
silent sound of his breath being expelled. “What have you done?”
he mouths. His fingers slip beneath the hefty metal
collar and come to rest on his windpipe. He fixes his eyes on Vera's, moves his lips and silently says "I can't speak."
“Eat.” Vera repleis
before turning and leaving.
He shovels the porridge
into his mouth using his hands, desperate to fill his stomach. It's a
meagre portion and he puts his dignity aside before licking the bowl
clean then tossing it towards the house. Naked. Ashamed. Chained. He
sits himself down, leans up against the kennel and waits. The lack of
body hair is entirely apparent as the wind caresses his body... but
that's the least of his worries. He stands and tries to spy a road, a
path, a car or a person but in this desolate place, there's nothing
and no one except Vera. He sits and waits. Vera appears after a while
and he stands, ready to defend himself if need be. She says nothing
as she approaches and he silently speaks at her. Let me go. What are
you doing? Why are you doing this? What is this place? These are all
the things he tries and fails to say as she picks up the empty dog
bowl and returns it to the house. Frustrated, he tries to clear his
throat and make even the slightest sound but he can't. “What's the
point?” he thinks. “Even if I could shout there's no one but Vera
to hear me.” He slumps against the kennel and tries to think of a
plan, but all he can really think about is how he could have avoided
this.
He recalled the
meetings with Vera and how she suggested a more suitable halfway
house. She gave him options, advice, choices, pamphlets... seemingly
everything but the slightest hint that she might be planning
something sinister. It all seemed so above board and he racked his
brain for the slightest thing that might have given her away, or that
he could have done different; chose a different halfway house for
instance... but he figures no matter which he opted for, he'd have
ended up here. “I could have just stayed at Elm Tree House.” he
said to himself. “It wasn't a bad place.” he thought.
As the sun begins to
set, Vera returns and asks him if he's ready to try again. He gulps
and nods. If she takes him into the house then she'll have to release
the chain, and that's when he can try to over power her and make a
run for it. It was a good idea. Possibly futile as she's already
easily over powered him. But it's not one he'll get to try as she
doesn't release him. She returns to the house and comes back carrying
the stool. “Sit.” she says as she places it on the gravel.
Lawrence looks at the
stool and the look on her face. She's not joking. She really does
expect him to willingly sit on a stool with a sizeable butt plug
firmly attached to the centre of its seat, but he can't. He wont. He
kicks the stool towards her and ignores the pain it causes. He sneers
at her. She raises an eyebrow, picks up the stool, tells him to get
in 'his' kennel before taking the stool indoors. She returns a moment
later. Lawrence stands proud and defiant, but he's never been so
scared in all his life. His naked hairless body is spattered in
grazes and bruises from being dragged down the stairs and across the
gravel. “Get in your kennel.” Vera says for the second time, only
this time she's wielding what looks suspiciously like a cattle prod.
Lawrence gulps as she activates it. He wastes no time bundling his
slight frame through the small entrance. He silently screams as she
prods it on his thigh, forcing him to the back of the small cage. She
slams the door shut and locks it. “Forecast for rain tonight.”
she tells him in a trivial tone of voice.
“Fuck you!” he'd
tried to yell as she turned her back and walked away. He cursed
himself as tears began to stream down his cheeks. He cries himself to
sleep as the twilight envelops his draughty abode.
The clanging of the
rain on the low tin roof wakes him abruptly. He huddles himself up,
shivering as the driving rain cascades noisily around him. The rain
keeps him awake all night but ebbs soon after sunrise. Lawrence wakes
mid-morning and after defecating in the corner of his tiny caged
kennel, he endures the hose. He tries and fails to speak and fears
that the injections she'd given him will render him mute for life.
Again a bowl of porridge is placed on the gravel and he's released
from the confines of the kennel. He eats the meagre portion and again
licks the bowl clean, but doesn't toss it to one side this time. He
knows he's going to be offered the stool again and wonders which is
worst; the stool or the kennel. At sundown the stool is brought to
him and as he reluctantly prepares to impale himself on it, Vera
advises him to lubricate it first. He mouths something and she says,
“You've got a tongue haven't you?” Swallowing his pride, Lawrence
gathers some saliva, spits it onto his fingers and begins to smear it
around the plug. “I said you've got a tongue!” Vera barks.
Lawrence gives her a look that might kill before he kneels over the
stool and prepares to apply some saliva to the sizeable plug using only his mouth... but something inside him won't let
him do it... he can't. He looks up at her defiantly before standing.
He turns to his kennel, crouches and shuffles inside.
He
spends four nights in the kennel before he succumbs and puts himself
on the stool. Once seated, Vera produces a pair of handcuffs and asks
for his wrists. He offers them freely and she cuffs them together
before raising them above his head and securing them to the back of
his heavy metal collar. “Where's all this obedience come from I
wonder?” she says as if talking to a naughty puppy. “Are you
thinking, I'll just go along with it until I get a chance to
escape...?” she asked. He blinked but otherwise didn't respond.
“That's exactly what I'd do if I were in your shoes.” she said,
before grabbing his foot and wrestling a high heeled sandal onto it,
one that has an ankle strap with a substantial metal clasp. She clips
it shut and a small tell-tale keyhole in the clasp suggests that
Lawrence won't be able to remove this shoe himself. He struggled less
as his right foot was forced into the other sandal and it's strap is
secured and locked around his ankle. With his feet perched on 4”
heels, the stool felt far more uncomfortable and awkward than ever,
but it didn't feel that way for long. Vera raised her foot to his
chest and pushed him backwards, sending him crashing on to his back.
He wriggled and writhed, screamed without making a sound as the
gravel cut into his back. His legs flailed, unsure where they should
be due to him still being attached to the stool. With his hands
cuffed behind his neck, there's nothing he can do except calm
himself. “It's best that you don't struggle.” Vera said as she
knelt over him. He brain was too full of adrenalin for him to fully
comprehend what came next. It hurt. It hurt a lot and then it hurt
again. The stool was unceremoniously pulled from his anus and the
handcuffs were released from his collar. It was only as he struggled
to his knees that he realised what had caused such intense pain.
Tickles of blood ran down towards his belly and the pair of silver
bells that dangle from his nipples tinkle with every movement. With
the shoes strapped to his feet, he doesn't bother trying to stand. He
settles on his knees and looks up at his captor. She smiles and
menacing smile. “You've done well today... but I don't think you're
ready to be house trained yet.”
Meanwhile,
Lawrence's friend Sharon visits the halfway house he'd supposedly
been transferred to. In spite of her obvious hardships, she's a
determined soul and when she says she'll do something, she'll do it.
After getting the bus to Buckley New Road and walking the 200 yards
on her crutches to the building with the large Ash Leigh sign, she's
surprised to find an old people's home and not a halfway house.
Regardless, she goes in and checks with the Ash Leigh staff, asking
if they've got a young lad called Lawrence with them and if there's a
halfway house also called Ash Leigh nearby. It's a 'no' on both
counts so she returns to Elm Tree House and checks with the staff
there. She tells them that Lawrence told her where he was going to
and that she'd seen it written on his transfer form “Ash Leigh on
Buckley New Road!” she says. “But I've just been there and it's
an old people's home... and they wouldn't have transferred him to an
old people’s home!” she exclaims. “Something fishy's going on.”
she suspects.
The staff agree that he
wouldn't have been sent to an old people's home, “...not for
another 50 years anyway.” they jovially add before suggesting that
maybe she or Lawrence are in error. They check his transfer details
and assure her that all the paperwork is in order, but since details
such as the address is confidential, they can't check it and even if
they could, they wouldn't be allowed to reveal it to another
resident. Sharon reiterates that she knows what the address was as
she's seen it on his transfer form, and restates that it's not a
halfway house but an old people's home. “Like we said Sharon...
either Lawrence got it wrong or you remember it wrong.” the staff
reiterate. “Wherever he is, I'm sure he's coming on leaps and
bounds and you've got nothing to worry about” they insist. Sharon
still thinks it's weird that the address on his transfer form turned
out to be a home for the elderly, and she's certain she remembers it
correctly. But then again, who knows? Sharon settles in her room and
like the staff, she assumes that wherever Lawrence is, he'll probably be fine.
After
the sacrifice and shame of willingly putting himself on the stool and accepting the handcuffs, Lawrence feels utterly disheartened as
he crawls back inside his kennel. Only this time he crawled in to the
sound of two tiny tinkling bells. He folds himself into the corner as
the entrance slams shut. Vera walks away as Lawrence gently touches
one of his throbbing nipples and the heavy gauge ring that pierces
it... it hurts. He's tempted to rip the piercings out but fears the
pain it would cause and leaves them well alone. His attention shifts
to his footwear; a series of thick black leather straps encircle each
foot, the vertiginous stiletto heels and stiff sole force his toes
upwards and the ankle cuff with a metal clasp and a tiny little
keyhole ensure that they can't be removed without a key. He can't
imagine being able to stand in them, let alone walk... but he can
imagine that he'll probably have to wear them for some considerable
time.
After another chilly
windy naked night in his cage, Lawrence faces the hose before being
released from the confines of the steel kennel. The sandals force him
onto his knees, effectively rendering him lame, but after a few
minutes the gravel proves too sharp so he forces himself to stand
using the kennel as support. He looks down at himself; hairless and
naked save for the shoes on his feet, the collar around his neck and
the two tiny bells hanging from his nipples. He tries to make a
sound, manipulating his windpipe to clear his throat but to no avail.
His bruises have faded to a custard yellow and his cuts and grazes
are also healing, but his body aches from head to toe since he hasn't
had a proper night's sleep in almost a week. He hasn't had a proper
meal in that time either, surviving off a single small bowl of
porridge a day. The feeling of hunger is perpetual, as is the breeze
that constantly licks his naked body. Vera brings him a bowl of
porridge when the sun is high in the sky. He eats and licks the bowl
clean before sucking every morsel of food from his fingers. Once
finished, Vera takes the bowl and leaves him alone until the sun
begins to sink. Then she returns and asks him if he's ready to begin
his training. Lawrence hangs his head, gulps and nods.
Lawrence's bells tinkle
as he's led across the gravel. They can't weigh very much but it's
enough to tug on his nipples just enough to make them hurt as the
tiny tinkling bells swing to and fro. He's unsteady on his feet as
each foot is strapped into a high heeled sandal, but Vera shows
patience and lets him move at his own pace. This is the point he
anticipated making a run for it, being led between the kennel and the
house... but he's not running anywhere in his stiletto heels. He
feels steadier on his feet once inside the house since its floor is
flat and level. He's taken into the room he was dragged to on his
first day here and told to sit. He doesn't want to but knows what the
alternative is, so he reluctantly kneels over the stool, lubricates
its plug with his saliva before slowly lowering himself onto it.
“That wasn't so hard was it?” Vera says once he's settled.
Lawrence doesn't reply.
Lawrence just sits,
silent and still, casting his eyes nervously across the items on the
table in front of him... each is familiar yet all are new to him. He
can his darkened reflection in a flat screen monitor on the wall.
Vera leans over and switches it on to reveal a typical YouTube
playlist page titled 'beginners make-up tips'. She taps on the screen
and the first video begins to play. “Watch and learn.” she tells
him, before leaving him alone. He doesn't pay much attention to the
video. It plays as he scans around the room. If he is sleeping in
here tonight, he expects he'll be sleeping in the small cage in the
corner as there's no bed. Other than the cage, the toilet and the
washbasin, there's nothing else but the the table he's sat at and the
stool he's sat on. He turns back to the video and watches as base
layers and foundation is explained. With his body stripped of hair
and stilettos strapped to his feet, he's starting to work out what's
happening to him. The video ends and the next one automatically
plays. He reaches out and touches the screen which allows him to
stop, pause, rewind and skip the videos. He tries to access something
other than Youtube, since it's clearly a large touch-screen tablet
with internet access, but the device has restricted access which
he'll have to try to somehow bypass. He tries to access the settings,
tries to guess the password but it could be anything.
He gives up when Vera
returns and informs him that he won't be able to access anything
other than his training videos. Lawrence suspects she's monitoring
him from another room. She reiterates that he should watch the
videos, “...and when you're feeling confident...” she says,
moving a few of the cosmetics closer to him, “...you can start
practising.” she adds as she presses a button on the monitor which
activates its built-in camera and effectively turns it into a mirror.
The button toggles it between mirror and screen mode. Vera returns it
to screen mode and skips back to the first video, taps the screen to
play it, then leaves Lawrence alone again. “She honestly expects me
to just sit here and practice putting on make up!” he thinks. “She
can't do this!” he defiantly tells himself... but he knows full
well that she can, and she is.
No
more than two minutes pass when Vera is forced to return. “And
there was me thinking you'd learnt to be obedient.” she sighed as
she looked at the cosmetic items he'd swept aside and thrown to the
floor. If he could speak, he'd have told her to go and fuck herself,
but instead he tried and failed to yell 'let me go!' as she dragged
him off his stool, out of the house and back to the kennel. It didn't
take too much effort to get him inside, since she had her cattle prod
to encourage him. After a cold drizzly night, Lawrence awoke at dawn
and waited. He waited and waited, but no one came. As the sun got
higher and his stomach churned with hunger, he began trying to force
the cage open but knew full well his efforts were futile. Being
sprayed with the cold hose was unpleasant but at least it removed his
faeces from the corner of the tiny space... but so far today there's
been no hose, no bowl of porridge and no opportunity to stretch his
legs or straighten his back. As the sun began to sink the hunger
became unbearable. It felt as if his stomach was trying to digest
itself. Vera came to him at twilight was some water and said that she
hopes he's learnt something today. “Maybe you'll show me a little
more obedience tomorrow.”
After some forty hours
in the kennel, it seems to take an age for Lawrence to straighten his
back after being hosed and released. He aches and writhes on the
gravel before slowly rising to his feet. He is led back to the house,
back to the room and back to the stool. Shame floods through him as
he settles himself up on it. Vera turns on the screen and plays the
first video. Lawrence watches but his mind is racing. He knows he's
got to get out of here, the only question is how. The second video
begins to play which is a beginners guide to eye liner. The third is
about eye shadow, the fourth mascara, the fifth and sixth concentrate
on the eyebrows, the seventh on highlights and blusher and the final
video is about applying lipstick... then the first begins to play
again. All the items he'd defiantly thrown on the floor the day
before yesterday are neatly arranged in front of him. Part of him
wants to repeat the same act but a bigger part tells him to comply.
After watching the three minute guide to applying a base layer and
foundation, he stops the video and switches the screen to 'mirror'
mode.
With
nervous hands, he finds the item he needs and begins to apply it.
“Why is she forcing me to do this?” he asks himself as his skin
tone becomes even and free of blemishes. His heart sinks as he finds
the eye liner, then watches the next video in the play list. It looks
simple enough but in practice it's incredibly hard to draw a line so
close to one's own eye. Vera enters and tells him that practise will
make perfect. She passes him a pack of make-up wipes and tells him to
remove the disastrous attempt at applying his eye liner and to start
again. Lawrence tries and fails, tries and fails and tries and fails
again. Each attempt looks as bad, if not worse, than the last and
Vera accuses him of not even trying to do it properly. He looks up at
her with pleaful eyes, as if insisting that he is trying his best.
She checks the time on her wristwatch and tells him he's got an hour.
“If I don't see an improvement, you'll be sleeping outside again.”
she states.
Lawrence gulps and
glances at the cage in the corner. Apart from the fact it's indoors,
it doesn't look much better or bigger than the kennel. He hangs his
head before turning to face the screen once more. This simple act is
filled with shame and humiliation as he carefully rotates himself on
the plug and feels it shift inside him. He cleans his face with
make-up wipes before re-applying his base coat and foundation, then
trying again to apply his eye liner properly. After numerous
attempts, Lawrence sees little or no improvement but Vera thinks
otherwise. “It's not what I'd call a good job but it's certainly
getting better.” she tells him. “Now clean it off... then you can
eat.” she says, placing a bowl of porridge on the floor by the
cage.
Lawrence removes his
eye liner and foundation before cautiously lifting himself off the
stool. It hurts more lifting himself off it than it does lowering
himself onto it, and the plug on which he'd been perched now has the
tell tale signs of where it's been. Starving, he gets on his knees
and shovels the porridge in his mouth using his fingers before
licking the bowl clean to get every last scrap of the measly portion
inside him. Vera returns and suggests he cleans his stool before
getting on it again “It won't taste very nice like that.” she
bluntly adds. He uses kitchen towels to wipe the plug clean and drops
them into a waste paper basket. Then he tries his best not to gag or
vomit as he smears his saliva around it using only his lips and
tongue, before going through the shameful act of lowering himself
onto it.
He spends the next few
hours trying and failing to apply his eye-liner as well as is
demonstrated in the video. Vera tells him he's definitely getting the
hang of it but Lawrence can't see it himself. All he sees is a pair
of uneven dark rings around his eyes, making him look like he's been
punched or something. Vera tells him he's done enough for today and
suggests he cleans his face and his stool. Then she opens the small
cage and he crawls inside, curling himself up before it's locked
shut. “You've done well today.” she says as she prepares to
leave. “Keep it up... if you know what's good for you.”
Being confined to the
cage indoors is a relative luxury compared to the kennel out in the
yard... but in the tiny confines of his cage, it's far from
comfortable. His body frequently seizes and every movement causes the
bells that hang from his nipples to swing, tinkle and throb. His feet
have been locked to the shape of his high heeled sandals for days now
and he wants nothing more than to flex his toes and arch his feet. He
awakes after the best night's sleep he's had since he arrived, but it
was still a very long way from a 'good' night's sleep. Vera releases
him from the cage and he enjoys the luxury of defecating in a proper
toilet rather than in the corner of his cage. He also has the luxury
of brushing his teeth and washing his hands and face rather than
being sprayed with a high power hose... then he is told to sit. “I
hope you cleaned it properly.” Vera grins as he kneels over the
stool and prepares to lubricate it.
He conjures enough
saliva to allow it to go in easily and retches as he begins to apply
it using only his mouth, lips and tongue. Then he stands and
carefully lowers himself down. The worst part is when it's going in
but once he's settled he can almost forget about it... almost. The
presence of the plug in his anus makes him constantly feel like he's
about to shit, doubly so whenever he moves. He spends the morning in
front of the screen practising applying his eye liner. Vera regularly
checks his progress which means he has to carefully turn to face her,
then turn back to face the screen without raising himself off the
stool. “I'll never get the hang of this!” he curses as once again
he flinches and blinks and makes a mess of his make up. “It'd be
easier if I didn't have these on!” he presumes as one hand always
follows the other due to the pair of cuffs that link his wrists
together. The task is now proving more frustrating than humiliating
and he hasn't even tried applying the eye-shadow or mascara yet!
Lawrence spends three
long days trying to get the knack of doing a single narrow line on
each of his four eyelids. He does notice an improvement and Vera
suggests he moves on to the eye-shadow tutorial. Whilst far easier
than the eye liner he still manages to fuck it up, which means
removing it and starting all over again with foundation and eye liner
first. He is permitted to take a break once every hour or two which
means lifting himself off his stool, stretching his legs and walking
around his room for a while. Even after so many days, he's still very
shaky on his feet which have been strapped inside his shoes for a
good week... but he is becoming accustomed to them. Just as he's
becoming accustomed to being naked, hairless and handcuffed. He
cleans the plug until it's spotless before wetting it with spit and
lowering himself down. This is something he'll never get used to, but
once settled, he begins applying his make-up again with foundation,
eye liner and eye shadow. It still looks like he has two black eyes,
but the more he applies his eye make-up and the better he gets, the
less it looks like an injury. After progressing onto mascara and
learning to get it right, the next lesson is grooming, or preening as
Vera calls it. The video tutorial demonstrates how to pluck and shape
one's eyebrows and just as the previous tutorials had, the video made
it look far easier than it is. Not only did the removal of each hair
sting and smart, he struggles to get his eyebrows evenly matched.
He's left with two very slender eyebrows by the time Vera is
satisfied with them, which he learns to define further using an eye
brow pencil. Vera leaves him to practise but monitors him from
another room. She returns when she sees him using the eye brow pencil
on the table top rather than on his eyebrows and sees that he's
written 'will I be able to speak again?'. He looks up at her with
pleading eyes, fully expecting to be sent out to his kennel... but he
needs answers whatever the consequence. He tries to clear his throat,
tries to make a sound other than a grunt or squeak but he can't.
Vera doesn't say
anything at first. She takes a sheet of kitchen roll and wipes the
table top clean. Then as she turns to him and says, “It's best that
you're seen and not heard.” Lawrence hangs his head as she leaves,
then he turns to the screen and looks at himself; his skin is
flawless, like that of a porcelain doll. His eyes are deep and smoky,
his eyelashes long and lush and his eyebrows are slender and
perfectly defined. Only his lips look like his own as he's yet to
progress onto the final tutorial. “Maybe it doesn't end there?”
he ponders as he looks down at himself. He can barely recall what it
felt like to wear clothes, although he longs to do just that. But
that thought leads him to wondering what he'll be allowed to wear, if
he's ever allowed clothing again.
As a reward for his
continued obedience, Vera allows him an hour or so out of his
vertiginous heels. This comes as a great relief but it's painful at
first. He finds himself walking on the balls of his feet as putting
his heels down feels like he's over stretching his calf muscles.
Before donning his shoes again, Vera gives him another lesson;
trimming, filing and finally painting his toenails. He makes a mess
at first but eventually gets it right, then he puts his feet back
into his high heels sandals and clips the clasp shut, knowing that
they won't come off until Vera allows it. It's only as he takes his
first steps after some respite from wearing his shoes that he
realises just how accustomed he's become to the support that his high heeled shoes
provide.
As the days pass,
Lawrence completely looses track of time. He's no idea if it's
Tuesday or Saturday, not that it matters since he spends his days
repeatedly applying, removing and re-applying his make up. When he
arrived his hair was already too long and highly unkempt but with a
proper wash and condition, and a bit of a trim it's starting to meet
with Vera's approval. “It's such a lovely shade of brown.” she
says as she instructs him how he should brush it. But that didn't stop her
from deciding that he should go blonde. He thought wearing make-up
made him barely recognisable but the first time he saw himself with
blonde hair, he really did feel like he was looking at someone else!
However just as Lawrence had got used to seeing himself wearing make up more often than not, he soon
got used to being blonde and struggled to recall how he looked as a
brunette. Then he cursed himself for thinking about himself using
feminine terms such as 'brunette' and spent a moment reminding
himself who he is and what he is. Lawrence faces his feminised reflection ans tells himself that what he
sees is nothing more than a cosmetic mask that can be
easily removed. “When I get out of here...” he begins to think
before fantasising of returning to a normal life; sleeping in a bed instead of a
cage, sitting on a chair that doesn't fill his anus, enjoying the cosy comfort that clothes provide, not having to paint his face over and over again not having a metal collar and chain hanging around his neck.
Lawrence anticipates that one day things will be normal again, but whether that day will come sooner of later, he has no idea. In the
meantime, he knows that has little choice but to conform to Vera's demands...
otherwise he risks a cold and lonely death in that kennel outside.
He does feel a little
guilty for trying so hard to get his make-up to meet with Vera's
approval, and he'd be ashamed to admit it but he did feel a little
twinge of pride when Vera described it as 'flawless'. Having mastered
the technique he begins to learn the difference between the various
styles in which make-up can be applied; natural, dramatic, glamour,
sultry, sassy and so on. Vera begins to request a style and Lawrence
sits at his dressing table and tries his very best to deliver. If
she's happy she'll tell him to remove it and try a different style,
if not, he's told to remove it and try the same style again until
she's satisfied. He learns to manicure and paint his nails, however
Vera insists they remain relatively short as she doesn't want him
wielding a weapon of any shape or form.
After a few weeks of
being confined to his room, Vera decides to allow him a little more
range. With his chain in one hands and the cattle prod in the other,
she leads him around the ground floor of the house before leading him
up the staircase and back down again. “I'm impressed." Vera tells him. "You've really taken to wearing heels." she says in a complimentary tone. "However it's one thing walking in heels...” Vera added, “...but you need to be elegant.”
Lawrence gulps and
looks at her meekly. He's not sure how to be more elegant but he will
try his best. He nods and feels ashamed of just how obedient he's
become, but he knows he's had little choice. Vera opens the front
door and leads him outside. Instinctively he covers his genitals but is instructed not to. He gulps and relaxes his arms as he carefully descends the few steps and steps onto the gravel. Worried that he'll stumble and fall onto the uneven and gritty surface, he glances across the yard towards the
kennel he's spent so many nights in, and fears that she might be
leading him there. Instead she walks him around the the side of the large detached house to a large well
kept garden. Vera doesn't rush him but she does encourage him to try to walk elegantly with his back straight and head high. Fearful of displeasing her, Lawrence does his best to comply to Vera's wishes.
When Lawrence was confined to the kennel he'd become hardened to the elements, but after a few weeks indoors he's softened somewhat. Vera leads him along a winding garden path and his naked and hairless body is soon peppered with goose pimples, causing him to huddle his arms around himself when the wind picks up. “You're not cold are you?” Vera asks him. Unable to verbally respond, Lawrence replies with a simple nod. “Maybe you need a night in your kennel to harden you up.” she suggests, causing Lawrence to stop and abruptly shake his head as he mouths the word 'no'. Vera says nothing. She continues walking and he has no choice but to follow.
When Lawrence was confined to the kennel he'd become hardened to the elements, but after a few weeks indoors he's softened somewhat. Vera leads him along a winding garden path and his naked and hairless body is soon peppered with goose pimples, causing him to huddle his arms around himself when the wind picks up. “You're not cold are you?” Vera asks him. Unable to verbally respond, Lawrence replies with a simple nod. “Maybe you need a night in your kennel to harden you up.” she suggests, causing Lawrence to stop and abruptly shake his head as he mouths the word 'no'. Vera says nothing. She continues walking and he has no choice but to follow.
Maybe
his silent response was a little too abrupt as instead of leading him
back inside when they reach the front of the house, she leads him
across the gravel towards the dreaded kennel. Instinct kicks in and
Lawrence grabs his collar and chain and tries to pull himself free.
Vera turns and with a look of determination on her face, she launches
the cattle prod at him and sends him crashing to the ground. He knows
he's not a big guy but he's not that little either. He can barely
believe how she so easily drags him and bundles his flailing body
into the kennel before slamming it shut. “It was going to be one
night for saying 'no' to me.” Vera says as Lawrence snarls at her
through the bars. “But after that little outburst, let's make it
three.”
Lawrence silently
curses his captor as she leaves him outside in the kennel where he
began. Then he cursed himself but struggled to fathom why. Was it
because he didn't put up enough of a fight to begin with or because
he's since decided to play along and obey her? He doesn't know, but
what he does know is he'd rather be in there than out here. For all
he knows it could be September by now and with no clothing, no
blanket and no shelter other than a tin roof... he fears that he
could die if he spends the entire night in the caged kennel. Then he
has his darkest thought and considers if that might be the best
outcome. He's so cold that he barely sleeps although he does get
maybe an hour after sunrise, but that is abruptly interrupted when
he's woken with the hose. He knows he's being punished because he's
neither fed nor let out of the kennel that day. All he gets is a
drink of water at sundown before spending another naked night
outdoors.
The next day he's
already awake when Vera gives him his morning blast with the hose.
That's a little better than being woken with it, but not much. She
also lets him out of the kennel but he's still firmly attached to it
via his collar and chain. It's an overcast day and by mid-morning it
turns to drizzle, so he wisely sits in the kennel to take advantage
of it's roof. His bowl of porridge is delivered mid afternoon which
he eats in a matter of seconds. He's been so hungry and putting even
the small portion in his stomach is a gift greatly received. So much
so that Lawrence barely noticed the large wooden trestle that Vera
had brought from the garage and placed on the gravel by his kennel.
He did notice her wielding what appears to be a large pair of bolt
croppers as she approached though. “Out.” she instructs.
He's
reluctant partly due to the drizzle but mostly due to his fear of
what she's going to do to him next. Lawrence does as he's told and
crawls out of the kennel, his little bells tinkling as he does so.
Vera tells him to face the trestle and lean against it. He nervously
does as asked. Vera steps to his front, looks him in the eye as she
takes hold of the short length of chain that binds his wrists
together. First she lifts his hands a little, then she pulls them
toward her before lowering them down to the ground and bending him
over the trestle. “This isn't going to be good.” he thinks as
he's put in a most compromising position. Vera drives a long steel
peg through one of the chain links and deep into the ground. She adds
three further pegs to make sure his handcuffs are firmly pinned to
the ground before stepping behind him and spreading his legs apart.
Now he's getting really worried and begins to wriggle and writhe his
way out of such a vulnerable position... but he's not going anywhere
and he knows it. He feels an all too familiar sensation as Vera
slowly and steadily pushes a plug into his anus. He struggles and
grunts, wriggles and whimpers as it slides inside him, but eventually
calms himself, if only to stop the bells that dangle from his nipples
from tinkling and tugging. Then he feels a pain that far exceeds
having his nipples pierced.... it far exceeds any pain he's ever
known but its swift. In spite of them being tight shut, floods of
tears stream from his eyes. He peels them apart as his whole body
shudders. It takes a moment for his vision to clear and when it does
he sees something that he can scarcely comprehend. A rage ensues and
he tries and fails to wriggle and force himself free. He growls and
grunts and screams as the seriousness of the situation dawns on him.
He doesn't want it to be true but he knows it is... that bloody
fleshy lump on the gravel is his scrotum and a steady trickle of
blood drips from where it once hung. He can't help but struggle and
growl as Vera tends to the wound. She advises him to stay still
because she needs to stitch him, otherwise he'll bleed out. “Maybe
it would be better if I did!” he thinks as he gradually calms
himself down.
Vera cleans the wound,
stitches him up and applies a lint patch, then leaves him bound over
the trestle. Lawrence plans his escape and plots her gruesome death.
He's cursed her for many things but this eclipses them all... she's
pure evil. She must be! She's even left his testicles on the gravel
as a constant reminder of what he's lost. He spends the rest of the
day bound over the trestle in the yard. The drizzle comes and goes,
sometimes turning to rain but the weather is the very least of his
problems. As the daylight drops and darkness approaches, Vera returns
to check his wound, change the lint and release him. She doesn't even
need the cattle prod to get him into his kennel, but it's a painful
crawl through its entrance. She locks it shut and he curls up on his
side. “All being well, we'll continue your training in the
morning.” Vera says. Lawrence offers a single grunt in response
before whimpering himself to sleep.
After his third night
in the kennel, Lawrence was spared the hose. Vera releases him from
the kennel and leads him across the gravel. She notices him glance at
his discarded gonads which lay exactly where they fell. “You won't
miss those.” she says. “You never needed them anyway.” she
added as she led him toward the house.
He was led into his
room where Vera inspects his stitches before removing the plug from
his anus. After the excruciating pain of being castrated, he didn't
even realise he was still wearing the plug so it's removal came as a
bit of a shock. Vera unceremoniously removed it and sat him on the
toilet before applying a clean patch of lint to his wound. Lawrence
knew there was no way he'd get back what she'd taken from him and he
hated every bit of her for doing what she's done, but he felt like he
was in a dream world... he lacked the will to do anything other than
what he was told to do. He's tried to defy her and fight back but
that's just made things worse. If he hadn't lashed out when she was
putting him in the kennel he might not have lost his balls... he
doesn't know what he's going to do but he does know that he's not
going to risk losing anything else.
He knew that something
was missing as he lowered himself onto the stool and actually
settling on its seat was a sore, tender affair. Vera gave him
something for the pain which he washed down with a glass of water.
Then she turned on the screen, put it in mirror mode and suggested he
tends to himself. He wasn't prepared for what he saw. He looks like a
vagrant or crack addict with his blonde hair looking like it's been
dragged through a bush and what's left of the make-up he'd applied
three days previously smeared around his eyes. He Brushes the knots
out of his hair and removes his make-up before before starting from
the beginning and applying a base layer of foundation. He makes a
mess of his eye liner because his hands are far too shaky. His eyes
drop to his his hairless groin and his limp penis. A solitary tear
drops onto his hairless lap as he considers the emptiness beneath it.
He fears where it might end as he considers how far he's come since
leaving Elm Tree House. He wonders how long it's been since this
ordeal... three weeks, four, five or six? Maybe more.
Lawrence casts his mind
back to when he first met Vera. She was one of many people who Gwen
brought to Elm Tree House and he began to suspect that Gwen might be
in on it. Maybe all the people that she brought to meet the residents
are just like Vera; all looking for a waif and stray to use and
abuse. A halfway house for kids coming out of foster care is an ideal
place to find them and Lawrence can't imagine anyone going out of
their way to find him or the others he'd seen being transferred to
alternate homes. He wonders if the entire staff of Elm Tree House are
part of it before dismissing that thought... but he can't help but
wonder about Gwen and the people she brings. Maybe they're her
customers and people like Lawrence are the product she provides.
People like him with no family and few friends, no ties, no strings
could easily disappear and no one would bat an eyelid.
The routine remains the
same for the next few weeks. Lawrence sleeps indoors in the small
cage in the corner of his room, he spends his days applying and
re-applying his make-up and is occasionally led around the house and
garden. It could be as long as two months since Lawrence has worn
anything more than his collar and high heels sandals. He does his
damnedest not to let it show that he's chilly when he's walked around
the garden and tries his very best not to silently scream 'fuck you!'
when Vera compliments him on how elegantly he's learned to walk in
high heels. He longs to defy her at very least in some small way, but
more than anything else, he fears the consequences and wisely remains
completely and totally obedient. His wound is checked daily and
according Vera it's healing well... but as far as Lawrence is
concerned, it's a wound that will never heal. He makes sure he
doesn't piss her off and tries his very best to apply his make-up
properly, and in return for his continued obedience, she gives him a
new collar and leash to wear. It's neither heavy nor cumbersome like
the one he's become accustomed to. Instead, his new metal collar is
covered with soft white leather and decorated with diamanté
rhinestones, much like the collar a cat or small dog might wear.
“That's much nicer.” Vera says after she's ensured it's locked
and secure. Obediently, Lawrence nods. It does feel much better than
the chunky metal one he's worn for so long. However in spite of his
obedience, deep in the back of his mind he's still looking for an
opportunity to escape from Vera's domain. All he has to do is bide
his time and the opportunity will arise. And if he doesn't have the
backbone to kill the bitch himself, he'll make sure she spends the
rest of her life in prison for what she's done. “And that Gwen
too!” he thinks, before wondering if she really could be behind his
abduction.
His chain of thought is
broken when Vera enters his room. She tells him to stand so she can
have a good look at him and he prises himself off the stool. Even in
his four inch heels she's still a little taller than him and her gaze
alone can strike the fear of God into him. She looks him up and down
as she walks around him and tells him that he's coming on
exceptionally well. “It's hard to believe you're the same boy I
found in that halfway house.” she says. Lawrence has a million and
one questions he'd ask if he could. But even if she hadn't rendered
him mute, he's fairly certain that she wouldn't provide any answers.
Her outstretched finger points towards one of the bells that hangs
from his nipple. She flicks it to make it tinkle and smiles before
placing her palm over his left pectoral. “It's hard to tell if
they've started growing or not at this stage.” she says, causing
Lawrence's jaw to drop open. Vera notices his reaction and says. “You
didn't think I'd take your balls and not give you something in return
did you?”
Lawrence manages to
emit a barely audible croak which could be interpreted as either yes
or no. But other than that he stands silent and still in front of
her. “Down.” Vera says. Lawrence knows exactly what he's expected
to do on hearing certain words. Words such as sit, stand, eat and
down, they're all self explanatory really. He slowly, gracefully and
obediently lowers himself to his knees before looking up at her...
Meanwhile, back at Elm
Tree House, Sharon sees Gwen in the corridor and asks if she's seen
or heard how Lawrence has been getting on at his new halfway house.
Gwen says she hasn't seen him but is certain he's getting on well.
“I'm sure I'd have been contacted if he wasn't happy or if there'd
been any problems.” she assured. “Now if you'll excuse us Sharon,
we've got a meeting with one of your new house mates.” Gwen smiled.
Sharon shuffled aside and let Gwen and her colleague continue. She
watched as they sauntered down the corridor and overheard Gwen
saying, “I'm sure this one's exactly what you're looking for... but
if not there's plenty of other homes we can try.” Gwen's colleague
said something about the process being easier if their files had
photographs. Gwen agreed and said, “Yes but the right temperament
is equally important.”
awesome cant wait to read what happens next
ReplyDeleteGlad you like it... although I don't have any plans for a sequel (whilst acknowledging that it's left wide open for one)
DeleteThanks for the story. I do enjoy your site.
ReplyDeleteJennifer
Wow P.J. - you certainly have shown a new side to your personality. Are you Lawrence or Vera in this scenario?
ReplyDeleteOn another subject - why don't you invite advertising. You could make good money with the readership
you must have.
First question... not telling :)
DeleteSecond question... it's an adult blog so can't monetise it the 'normal' way, but mostly because I don't really like blogs with adverts. They both annoy and distract me :)
You are certainly showing a new side of your soul in this story PJ.
ReplyDeleteI am not sure I liked it or not, but in any way I got quite fascinated by the subject, while reading about this pour 16 years old boy, meeting the real world after so many years in a foster home.
It would be interesting to know, how Lawrence's life developed after this fatal meeting with Vera.
Hope he murders the bitch!
ReplyDelete...and gets away with it!
DeleteDefinitely not one of your best stories too gruesome for my liking but keep up the good work anyway but please try not to leave it too long between stories as I love & miss reading them.
ReplyDeleteBella storia,scritta bene fino ad un attimo prima che subisse il taglio delle palle,sono rimasto disgustato e inorridito,non sopporto la crudeltà .non ho capito l'ultima parte,confusa e senza un finale !
ReplyDeletethis is another very grim tale. I think i had planned a sequel in which his friend Sharon does manage to rescue Lawrence. It would have all been very heroic, especially since she relies on crutches to walk and Vera would have got her comeuppance. Lawrence and Sharon lived a long, independent and happy life together :)
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