The light grey van marked “Southside Heating and Duct Repair” pulled to a halt outside of the small suburban flat. A pair of men, dressed in workmen’s coveralls, ballgags and shades got out, one carrying a toolbox.

“Just like that.” The one with the box said. He was a weather beaten man of forty, his dark beard showing streaks of grey. “Take it nice and slow, just a couple of workmen here to fix up the place. Nothing suspicious.”

His partner, a light haired man in his early twenties nodded, just couldn’t quite hold his jitters as they went to the front door.

“Alright.” The first man said, moving over to the doorbell while his partner got into place in front of the door, one hand in the pocket of his jumpsuit. “Just like I’ve been training you…” He rang the doorbell.

“Yes? Can I hel-“ The pretty blonde woman who opened the door had just enough time to say that before the younger man had forced himself through the door and onto her. His freehand came out of the pocket, holding a folded cloth pad. It was pressed to the woman’s face while his other grabbed her wrist and pulled her towards him.

“That’s it.” The older man said, watching from the door. “Hold her close. Keep that pad pressed firmly…make sure it’s covering both the mouth and nose…watch it! She’ll shake her head, try and shake it off…” The frightened woman did just that, though it did her little good. Her frantic screams were muffled by the cloth pad and the hand pressing it over her mouth and nose.

After a moment, the effects of the drugs soaked into the pad, fueled by her frantic struggles, started to have an effect. She swooned, kept from collapsing only by the man holding her tight. “Ease her down…slowly…keep the pad on…she’d not all the way out yet. You’d be surprised how quickly they spring back once you stop giving it to them…not too much though; we want her to wake up sometime…”

The older man looked over the unconscious blonde and nodded. His partner removed the pad, pocketing it again. With a weary sigh, he wiped his brow. “That was easier than I thought it’d be…” He said.

“They’re real easy…” the older man agreed, “…when everything goes according to plan. It’s when it doesn’t that things get tricky.” He bent down and unlatched the toolbox. He flipped the lid open to reveal an assortment of coiled lengths of rope, rolls of tape, several ballgags and padded blindfolds. “Now, show me you’ve been practicing your knots.”

The trainee nodded, grabbing the first coil of rope and started hogtying the unconscious woman. His actions were, to the veteran’s eyes, slow and more than a little sloppy, but good enough to secure the captive once she regained consciousness. A large ballgag shoved between her teeth and a blindfold over her eyes completed her bondage.

They’d just finished when they heard a voice come down from the upstairs. “Mom? Who was at the door?” A young woman called down.

The older slaver nodded to his student grabbing some more rope from the toolbox. “Let’s see you deal with the rest of the family…” He said. The trainee nodded, getting the chloroform rag out again. Stepping over the unconscious mother, they headed to the stairs. “And when we get them back to base, we can start training you in breaking in new slaves…”