The long Journey: Chapter 4

I sent the questionnaire off without much expectation even though it gave me something to look forward to and to my amazement I received instructions to report for the endurance test. I should wear jogging gear and take a pair of boots and socks in a small dark rucksack and be at Hounslow Heath at 18.00h on a certain day. A map gave the exact location. I was to wear no jewellery, watch, phone or wallet. On the day I was glad to pretend jogging as I passed the housing estate on the way onto the heath. I followed the path diagonally leftwards towards a line of bushes and trees. I looked behind me furtively to check no one was following. At the bushes the track dipped town to a gully along which the path and a small stream flowed. I was to wait there. I had taken the precaution of also bringing a tracksuit in a black sack which I secreted behind a bush well away from the path and then I waited. And waited. Without a watch I didn’t know how long except that the light began to fade. I had invested a lot in this so I’d have waited all night if necessary but soon after I heard the throb of a motor bike and I moved into the shadows. A biker got off, parked the bike, walked into the gully and stopped. I felt confident enough to move out and say Hi. “Follow me,” he said in a deep husky voice. He kept his helmet on and wore dark glasses but I noticed a firm jaw with about three days worth of jet black stubble protruding from the glasses and when he talked a row of regular pearl-white teeth flashed. He was carrying a hold-all and a can. “Follow me,” he said and thrust the bag into my hand. After twenty yards we came to a spot where a gap in the bushes afforded some cover. “Now if you want to succeed in this test you must do exactly as I say without hesitation. You will not only be judged on your stamina but also on your attitude. Bear in mind that we have shortlisted 200 applicants so you’ll have to be good. Now strip everything off and put on your boots and socks, put your travel pass in your boots and stow your gear in your rucksack. Hide it where only you can find it. Put this large stone on the path opposite where you’ve hidden your things as a marker or you’ll never find them later in the dark. Then stand to attention, eyes down. In fact do that every time you think you have completed a task. You have five minutes.” That last statement came out with a bark. Once I was standing he walked round me jotting notes into a book, prodding me twice. “Right,” he barked, snapping his book shut. “Cover yourself all over with the contents of that can leaving a two inch gap at eye level and neck level. Do it now.” It was axle grease and I was covered also in perspiration by the time I managed to rub the thick oil all over and into my hair. Ugh it was sticky and vile and my hair stood on end. When I was at attention he secured a one-inch collar around my neck, leather but reinforced by steel and fastened with a padlock and chain. “How are you feeling now?” I felt my cock start to stiffen. “Good, Sir.” “Now we’ll test your stamina.” He dragged me back along the path and up to his bike on the open field to which he attached the chain. He got on his bike, revved up and set off at a slow pace while I had to run behind, worried that I might slip and strangle myself or break my neck. He didn’t go too fast but he went round and round the field until I felt dizzy and my legs ached. He detached the chain and barked “Fetch!” I heard a rubber object hit the ground some distance away and ran after it. “No, not like that – get on your hands and feet and bring it back in your mouth.” I did it with difficulty and laid it at his feet. He patted my head (despite the glistening grease) and with the use of a ball stick he sent it off in another direction. This went on for ages by which time I was panting but exhilarated and I ran round him to show my appreciation. “You’ve done this before,” he growled, which I hadn’t.

Having retrieved the ball we went back to where I had stripped off and he got out a blindfold and secured it firmly while reattaching the chain. “Now, walkies; on hands and feet. Pay particular attention to the words I use. Hands and knees is not the same as hands and feet. If I say kneel you do so with your head bent and your hands behind your back. If crouching your hands must be at your sides and slightly forward so you can maintain your balance.” He said all this while we were moving and when he stopped I realised I could hear the murmur of voices, people enjoying themselves. As we approached he barked freeze on hands and feet. My instructor obviously knew them well and I waited patiently while they exchanged jokes and cracked open cans as though he had forgotten me. Then his phone went. “Look after this for me until I’m back, will you?” As he was leaving he bent down and hissed in my ear. “Do exactly as they say; they’ll be reporting on you.” All of a sudden one of them called out “Come on Miss Piggy” and yanked me into the centre of them where they immediately rested their boots on my back. I won’t list what unspeakable things they did to me; it is sufficient to say that when my examiner returned I was covered in small red wheals and muddy boot prints, stale beer and piss, cigarette ash and debris from the undergrowth stuck to the grease; I ached in some parts and was sore in others. “You OK?” The examiner asked. I nodded and he took me back to the marker on the path slowly on hands and knees. “Attention now, the last part of this test is verbal.” I groaned inwardly. I was so spaced out I was bound to fail. Finally, “Now check your bag is there.” Then he said they would be in touch whatever the outcome. He threw down a roll of kitchen paper and a bottle of water. “Don’t stay beyond dawn,” he advised and walked off. I heard the throb of the motor bike start up and die away. Silence; the others must have left. I crawled into the bushes and went to sleep, only woken by the dawn chorus. With the help of the brook and the paper towel I cleaned myself as best I could and made for home.