The Birthday Gift

“So who do we have this time, Lawrence?” I asked as I brought a steaming cup of coffee to my lips and took a sip. Lawrence, ever dutiful, walked to the first monitor and flipped the switch on the TV. 

“Four items today, Mr. Striker.” My effeminate secretary told me as he flipped over the first page on his clipboard. “All for the same client – an unknown, but payment was upfront.” I nodded my consent – I didn’t like unknowns, but a paid job was a paid job. “Item one; Benjamin Granger. Turned eighteen yesterday.” On one side of the screen, a profile photo of this Benjamin Granger appeared. Average height, no muscle tone to speak of, sandy blonde hair and a babyface that had the good fortune not to be ravaged by the unfortunate skin conditions of his teenage years. The other side of the screen was divided into two; stats and information that the client or the intel guys thought would be helpful on the top, and a CCTV feed on the bottom. On it I could see Ben lying naked, restrained and unconscious on a mattress in one of the storage rooms.

“And what are we treating Mr. Granger to today, Lawrence?” I took a sip of my coffee. Very little interested me about this one. 

“Sot.” Lawrence replied, his lack of interest not hidden at all from his voice. Standard Obedience Training, or S.O.T. for short, the standard package deal we offered. “He’s marked as the clients top priority though – must be important.” 

“Oh, very well.” I said, sighing. “Give him to...” I pondered my choices. S.O.T.’s were pretty boring for my veteran men, but if he was the clients top priority, I couldn’t leave him up to the newer or less talented ones. “Adam. Give him to Adam.” 

“Yes Sir, Mr. Striker.” Lawrence said, scribbling down Adam’s name on the paperwork for this Benjamin Granger before flicking the page over. “Next,” he said, walking to the next monitor and flicking it on. “Item Two; We have a Miles Holborn. Nineteenth birthday is just around the corner.” 

“Well, he shall have to have a gift then!” I said – I was willing to guess that all four items would be young. “What sort of gift do you think he’d like?” 

“A nice new bone to chew on.” Lawrence answered, dryly. Ah, P.O.T., Puppy Obedience Training. That was a bit more interesting. Miles’ profile picture was that of a fluffy, brown haired boy with piercings in his lips, nose and ears. The top of a tattoo could be seen over the top of his t-shirt. “The piercings are to remain, where possible.” Lawrence answered my question before I had chance to ask it. “Though a few changes are to be made.” He went to hand me the papers for Miles, but I waved them off. 

 

“Give him to George. I’m sure he’ll be thrilled.” Both puppies and the excessively pierced held no interest to me, but George would no doubt be thrilled to have both. I looked briefly at the CCTV of Miles, who was sleeping soundly inside the cage that would be his home for the foreseeable future. “Next.” 

Another monitor flicked on, and I smiled as the normally perfectly composed Lawrence suddenly looked very flushed. The profile of was a very muscular young man with crew cut black hair and olive toned skin. He may well have marched right off an army base and into Lawrence’s bed. “T-this is Paul Tyler. Item number three.” Lawrence looked at the monitor for a moment, chewing his bottom lip, before looking back to his keyboard. “Modified obedience training, for this one, S-Sir. The client has some special requests concerning the handling of Mr. Tylers... ‘Possessions’. Nothing too complex though!”  He reassured me.

I simply stared at Lawrence for a long moment, and he stared back, fidgeting and biting his bottom lip and trying to pretend like I didn’t know exactly what he was thinking. Behind him, I could see that Paul Tyler had already been restrained, and was hanging unconscious from the ceiling with his arms in metal shackles. Lawrence gulped and licked his lips, and just as he was about to open his mouth and ask me something, I spoke. “Fine.” I said. “You can have him, Lawrence.” It was that adorable surge of joy lighting up Lawrence’s face that reminded me why I kept such an absurdly camp little man on my staff – He was just so wonderfully sadistic when it came to the muscle bound ones. “And lastly?” I said, trying to get him to move on. 

“Lastly,” he replied, turning on the final monitor. “Item number four; Alex Winters. I.O.T.” I felt my eyebrow damn near shoot off the top of my head when I heard that. Intense Obedience Training was not cheap. A mop of chocolatey brown hair sat atop the head of Alex Winters in his profile photo. Though his age display on the stats said he was eighteen, he may well have just come skipping off a school playground for the way he looked. Perfectly smooth, marble-like skin, made to look even paler by his dark hair. An innocent little smile, almost like he was waiting to be told that he was allowed to smile properly, and eyes so large and brown that they looked like great dark pools in his face. 

“I’ll handle that one.” I said – I often did take the I.O.T.’s, or at least micromanage them, but I had a personal interest in this young mister Winters. I’d make sure that every single step was done properly. After staring a moment more at the young man, I turned to Lawrence and asked “And what of the client himself, what can you tell me about him?” Just because the client had chosen to remain anonymous did not mean that we didn’t know who he was.

“Jamie Barrows.” Lawrence replied. Good, intel had done their jobs properly, it seemed. “Same age as his purchases. Affording it via his obscenely rich parents, naturally.” Lawrence saw my eyebrow rise once more, and answered the question he knew I was thinking. “Daddy doesn’t know, as far as we can tell. How he intends on hiding the transfer from his Dad – and their accountant – is beyond me, but hey, we already have the money. It’s not our problem, right?” 

“Right.” I answered. Perhaps Mr. Barrows Sr. was just so disgustingly rich that he honestly wouldn’t notice this much money disappearing. Or maybe he was so consumed by whatever work made him so rich that Barrows Jr. was entirely off his radar. It wasn’t completely outside the realm of reality that Senior had given Junior the money as a gift, perhaps to make his own start in the world. It didn’t matter. “Our only concern is getting the job done and getting it done right, and it looks like it’s time to begin.” I nodded towards the first monitor, where Benjamin Granger began to stir.   

 

Please rate and review!