When I lifted him out of the box he was wet with snot and pink all over, thrashing in my hands like a newborn. Only I wasn't a doctor. He wasn't a child. And I certainly wasn't about to hand him over to anyone.
The slave had spent hours packed tightly into a wooden crate, his knees hugging his head like a contortionist. Oh how I had itched to pry the lid off and take him out, instead of loading him into the luggage compartment of my private jet and waiting out the 2 hours between Stockholm and my Knightsbridge apartment.
But he wouldn't have been ready to play with, in Stockholm. He had just stepped off stage and was doubtlessly still reeling after a pair of thugs sacked his head in an alley and threw him into their boot. He needed the 2 hours of raw wood scratching at his bare ass and shoulders. He needed time to give up on the idea of his entourage or anyone else coming to his rescue. Most importantly, he needed a chance to come to grips with what was done to him after he was dragged out of that boot and strapped into a buzzing metal chair.
The slave had spent hours packed tightly into a wooden crate, his knees hugging his head like a contortionist. Oh how I had itched to pry the lid off and take him out, instead of loading him into the luggage compartment of my private jet and waiting out the 2 hours between Stockholm and my Knightsbridge apartment.
But he wouldn't have been ready to play with, in Stockholm. He had just stepped off stage and was doubtlessly still reeling after a pair of thugs sacked his head in an alley and threw him into their boot. He needed the 2 hours of raw wood scratching at his bare ass and shoulders. He needed time to give up on the idea of his entourage or anyone else coming to his rescue. Most importantly, he needed a chance to come to grips with what was done to him after he was dragged out of that boot and strapped into a buzzing metal chair.