Simon was aware of his head feeling cold now, but somehow cleaner. He felt relieved that the humiliation of his shave had passed. This was not to last. The jock, Mark, came back and swiftly held his arms behind his back.
“What are we going to do with this geek, now?” he asked the other jocks, laughing.
They called out different numbers, which must have meant different pre-arranged possibilities. At last they seemed to agree on Number Three.
“Right, number three it is,” says Mark and dragged Simon over to an upright chair and strapped him to it. He tore off Simon’s boxers and thong, and went over to a smaller table where there were a number of syringes. He picked up one and turned to Simon.
“This might hurt a wimp like you, but you are sure going to be grateful for it later, if you can remember anything about it.”
With that he advanced on Simon, and while two other jocks held him down, Mark emptied the syringe into a vein on Simon’s arm…