“So you are willing to sign a contract of slavery to last for three months?”
I gulped. “Yes”
“You accept that we can do anything we want to you?”
I let out a breath. “Yes”.
“You know we make films here and will use you in them?”
“Yes, I accept that.”
“You understand that you will be losing your anonymity and that once any film is out there we won’t take it off the web because you get upset or are worried by the consequences?”
“Yes, I accept.”
“Ok, sign here. This is the contract of slavery and these are a series of 20 blank model release forms. We will fill in the details and dates as and when we need them. Hand over your passport and all your cash and personal possessions.”
I did as I was asked.
“Ok, let me show you around.”
Bob was about 50. He was heavily built and a bit on the fat side. He was wearing jeans, a t-shirt and a pair of old sneakers. He got up from behind the desk in the small room where we were sitting. There were filing cabinets on one side and a row of computers on a shelf on the other side. The screens were humming. I knew he used these to work on the various websites he helped run.
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