As he twisted his wrists against the leather straps, Billy Douglas realised that he’d gotten mixed up with some real bad dudes. They liked the feel of crunching live parasites between their teeth whilst sticking expired chocolate biscuits into other peoples cavities. Some real high end business-suit-during-the-day-zippered-shut-gimp-mask-by-night-type cats.
Billy had gotten bored of his solo sweat sessions and answered a classified ad one day. This one promised pleasures beyond that which were on offer anywhere else. Intrigued, Billy had sent an anonymous email. At this point he would’ve been content had a man or a woman answered, so long as they were over the prescribed age. He got a reply within twenty minutes.
It read: “Mr Billy D. Would you like to meet for a coffee or something else?”
Well, thought Billy. Something else could quite possibly be a suck session, so of course!
But back to the steel table that he was currently strapped to.
There was an old woman standing over him now with a bowl of what smelled like a mixture of barbecue sauce and cough syrup. She appeared not to be clothed.
A dull voice slowly slid into the room like a snake.
“I see you’ve met my mother. You can call her mother soon, too. If you’d like? She’d like that… She’ll never break character, either.”
This was the one who had called himself Blake. He was standing at the head of the table now, looking down into Billy’s eyes.
“Would you like a… basting, Billy?” Mother said.
Her voice was deep. Was that an Adam’s apple?
“No. No, I’d like to go home. Please.”
“But Mother can stuff you like a turkey, if you’d like?” Blake offered.
Jesus, Buddha, Allah, help me, thought Billy.
“Or perhaps Father could offer you some wine? Have you said hello?” said Blake.
Billy twisted his head up. In the corner of the room atop a tall stool sat a smiling, lipsticked old man. Again, minus any clothes. A bottle of red wine at his feet. A nearly drained glass in his hand. The glass was smeared with his kisses, and there were several pairs of panties wrapped around his wrists.
“Hello there, Billy. Fancy a drop, my boy?”
“Why? Why would I want that?”
“We thought that you wanted this, Billy. That you were committed to the team.”
“I was. I am, still. But this…”
It was then that Blake lifted the pig mask from his face.
“Billy. We’re in the middle of a global financial crisis, and you don’t have any previous call centre experience. How else do you expect to get a job here?”
Mother put her bowl down.
“Billy, I honestly think you could make manager if you tried hard enough.” She said.
Meanwhile, Father had apparently fallen asleep, but he seemed to be smiling with approval.
Broke and horny, Billy finally submitted. He eventually made team leader.