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 The Estate (C)2004 d.  edwards/san francisco

   Chapter 53

   Delores leaned back, her blouse in disarray as she gently pulled John
off her now tender nipple, the cool air crinkling the damp flesh with a
pain that brought her into the present.  She looked down and tenderly wiped
the sprinkle of her recent tears from his face, watching him blush as his
eyes shyly averted from hers.

   ''This is just the start you know'', she murmured, speaking more to
herself than to him.

   ''This isn't something that's going to happen overnight, it's going to
take quite a while.'' His eyes looked up at her, round and scared now,
tugging at her heart.  His throat worked but she put a finger to his lips,
closing them.  Now came the words that stuck in her throat like ashes.

   ''You want what's best for you and Elena, don't you?'', she asked,
feeling the shock race through him and the tears begin to well up in his
eyes.  His breath shook unsteadily at the mention of his wifes name, making
her dislike for that woman congeal into a hard fist in her chest.  She
paused, testing her own resolve.

   'We can get through this, together, but you need to do everything I and
the staff ask you to do, OK?'', she jogged him slightly, coaxing a
reluctant nod from his frightened face, and she smiled, more to comfort him
than from any genuine feeling she had.  She began to button up.  'This is
so unfair.....' she thought, pinching the buttons of her blouse closed. 
'He still thinks Elena wants him back'.  She sighed, knowing that what
Elena really wanted was not the man on her lap but a more pliant, sexless
housemaid, a sexually neutered slave made to do her bidding where she could
watch and control his torment at her pleasure.

   Usually with the patients her staff had trained this wasn't too much of
an issue; the miscreants delivered to her often deserved much worse.  But
John.....was different, dangerously so to both Delores and himself.  She
now had to balance the demands of Elenas' requirements with her own
instincts to protect what she believed to be a man not deserving that fate,
somehow convincing the rest of the staff (and the Director, she thought
glumly) that Johns' progress was going smoothly, according to schedule. 
Her unusual request to work with him individually had alerted the Director
of something untoward, but Delores felt confident that the explanation
she'd given and her exemplary record had assured the older woman
sufficiently.

   She finished closing her blouse and began preparing John for the
evening, pleased at his now somewhat less sullen cooperation at being
swaddled, and not so pleased (but smiling privately) with his frown at
having a bottle coaxed between his lips.  The shadow across his eyes
darkened even more when he tasted the first trickle of milk, suspecting it
was not the formula he was used to.

   She smiled back at him...holding his eyes once more with hers as he
slowly drained the bottle.  They both lay there for a few minutes as the
bottle emptied, her thoughts now moving forward to the next few weeks,
worrying slightly at the thin edge she had to balance on.

   The sudden suck of air signaled the empty bottle and she sat up and
propped pillows around his bound figure, padding him in tightly, much to
his resigned discomfort.

   ''Close your eyes'', she said soothingly, picking up his pacifier and
nudging it into place past lips now used to such things.  ''Get a good
nights sleep and we'll start fresh in the morning.'' She leaned over and
kissing his forehead, she could taste the slight salt of her tears and once
again felt that warm surge begin to swell deep within her.  A slow breath;
she memorized his scent as his eyes closed to her caress, his own breath
mixing with hers.  A quiet moment together stretching out into longer
minutes as both their breathing syncopated and slowed.  He stirred, trying
to roll into her, his face nuzzling her thighs as he slid into sleep.  She
tucked a pillow under his head and stood up to leave, reluctantly, sighing.
The next weeks were going to be tough.

   Chapter 54

   He awoke that next morning to the sound of soft voices talking quietly
around him.  Gentle hands rocked his legs and arms awake and he tried to
stretch, flexing his arms against the bindings still holding them to his
side, stretching his legs against the sleeper until the material was drum
tight.  Giggles followed his efforts and he opened his eyes to squint up at
the faces around him, once again dismayed to see several young, pert women
watching his every move.  He groaned inwardly, bracing himself for another
day under their merciless hands.  A small ding in the background and one of
the nurses left to return with the first of his many warm bottles that now
made up his sole diet.  As Julie had described to them earlier that week,
he was now entirely reliant on bottles, both breast milk and simple
cereals, usually mixed into a warm pap that flowed easily through the
larger nipples designed for him.

   Hands lifted him up and almost without question but with an internal
groan he reluctantly accepted the bottle, turning his mouth upwards to
accept the dripping nipple between now well pursed lips.  This nurse,
Kathleen, he recalled, kept her hand firmly under his chin as she fed him,
pressing his cheek against her small breasts as her slim fingers felt his
throat swallowing steadily.  He had already begun to develop preferences
among the staff who fed him, finding some marginal comfort from those who
held him less as an infant; an offering that gave him some small refuge
from the inevitable process he was unable to resist.  He still suffered
considerable anguish from their relentless treatment though, and his only
hope lay in not fighting, in gaining their trust and hopefully surviving,
just surviving until he could somehow manage to get out of this place and
back to Elena.

   The bottle finished, they moved him onto a low changing table and began
unfastening his sleeper, rubber panties and overnight diapers, now sodden
and stuck firmly to his backside.  He had learned very quickly the
consequences of having a dry diaper in the morning, and had begun to force
enough urine into his diaper just before they changed him, giving him some
relief and pleasing the staff.

   Lifting his legs one of the nurses carefully peeled off the diaper and
several soakers, wiping him down, top to bottom before placing him on a
scale to weigh him.  The others busily marked their charts with his
progress as they chatted, words of their boyfriends, relationships and the
more intimate details of their lives piercing his ears, painfully reminding
him of his infant status to them.

   He began to fuss, angry now and frustrated, flexing against the bindings
as they continued to talk, shushing him in that gentle maternal manner
which just annoyed him more.  He was scowling seriously now as they made
quick work of re-diapering him and he stopped cooperating all together when
they held up a bright pink romper.  This part he hated, scared and angry
that he was helpless to stop them from putting him in those idiotic
outfits, his humiliation made all the more intense by the reactions of
everyone who saw him.

   His squirming was useless as they began working the soft flannel onto
his legs and up his torso, and in sheer frustration he slipped his control
and spat his pacifier onto the floor.  Their immediate silence froze him to
the table as the women watched him, their hands and faces silent.  He
immediately began to tear up, a tight sob caught in his back throat as his
head fell back in resignation to the inevitable punishment they were about
to administer.

   One of the women bent down and picked up his pacifier, wiping it off on
her skirt before placing it back in his now very cooperative mouth as the
others resumed putting his shoulders and arms into the romper.  He heard
the popping together of little snaps between his legs as he was once again
bound tightly in flannel.  Still silent, the tension was unbearable, and
his breath, now on the edge of panic was the only appeal he had to their
mercy.  They considered him quietly, watching his internal struggle and
with quick glances between them, came to a decision.  One of the nurses
leaned over him to whisper in his ear.

   '' We'll overlook that little bit of misbehavior but only if you
cooperate with us the rest of the day, all day.  Any struggle, ANY
hesitation, and we'll come right back here and give you a lesson you won't
forget, OK?'' she spoke quietly, with no hint of threat in the tone of her
voice, but John knew the meaning behind the words.  He nodded
apprehensively....' come back here?' he wondered...  not yet understanding.

   At his timorous nod the others began to move with purpose, putting
supplies into a large tote bag as another wheeled a large stroller over to
his table.  Kathleen come up along side him.  ''It's time to go for a
stroll'', she smiled, brushing the hair off of his suddenly pale forehead.