A Gift From James Page 6

  My last function was to place the headphones over his head and turn on the new tape. Whatever doubt I had concerning his receptivity to the subliminal messages had long past. The malleability of James’ mind had been exhibited nicely over the past few weeks. The question was how much I could interject in a short period of time.

  It was January 27. James’ good fortune brought about a myriad of new ideas. The first was our trip. The Canadian spa was only accessible by train. With James’ recently acquired extensive cash flow, why not travel in style? I brought the portable phone into my bedroom, not wishing to leave James in the initial moments of his long journey. I began a long string of calls.

  First. A call to an interesting establishment which leased private rail cars. This was simple, many opulent private cars of the late nineteenth century had been restored and were available for lease, particularly in mid winter.

  I chose two. A sleeper and a lounge car. The cost compared to James’ new income was a paltry sum.

  A call to Amtrak revealed a train left Chicago for St. Paul on the following Thursday, February 2. The private cars could be attached and a surprisingly pleasant coordinator suggested it was possible to hire a locomotive to take us across the border to Calgary.

  With a call to the spa, I arranged for our private cars to be connected to their private train departing Calgary on February 5.

  As the pieces fell together, thoughts of traveling across the countryside with James serving me as he approached his sexual Waterloo aroused me. By the time I called Alice, my fingers had worked under my uniform and were endeavoring to quench the sexual thirst my fantasies had developed.

  “Alice, be ready to leave early. We’re traveling in luxury and it’s all on James.”

  I took Alice through the set of events and the revised plans. She also became excited.

  “Alice, what was the name of that Chinese woman from San Francisco with the specialty in handling certain males. I think I will require her assistance.”

  Laitai

  Mother was older than her years. Early childhood in China had been harsh under the Communist regime. The body can withstand only so much hardship and mother found herself very much incapacitated in her early sixties despite having lived in the United States for the past twenty years.

  So when the phone rang on that eventful Thursday night, I answered it on her behalf, as a dutiful daughter.

  The voice introduced herself as Dr. D, a noted psychologist from Chicago who had met my mother at a seminar sponsored by the American Society for Behavior Modification some ten years ago.

  I explained my mother’s circumstances and sensed the disappointment on the other end of the line, when her unavailability was comprehended by the firm but pleasant interlocutor.

  “Do you know of someone with your mother’s talents?” the smooth but seemingly desperate voice inquired. “I realize it’s short notice, but with this assignment I can afford to be generous,” the voice added.

  I paused and contemplated. Mother had adequate support from many local family members. I had always desired to put to work all that she had taught me from the old country. After a moment of thought, I divulged my background and training.

  After I explained who I was and how I could help, Dr. D’s relief was palpable. An airplane ticket would be forwarded immediately, she informed me as her pen recorded my address.

  “Please be in St. Paul on February 3, Laitai. I think you will be intrigued and I assure you that your talents will be most useful.”

  I hung up and briefly explained the call to mother. She smiled with her recollection of Dr. D and encouraged my participation. I then went to my bedroom and began to carefully pack my large collection of bamboo canes for shipment to St. Paul.

  James

  I had become accustomed to the hours of black, static filled nothingness over the weeks. But the addition of the tubes and the new position dictated by D was a challenge.

  My arms were pulled back and up which forced my head down. But with my thighs and buttocks resting on my calves the overall posture seemed tolerable.

  With the catheter, I felt the constant need to urinate though it obviously wasn’t necessary. The inflatable butt plug, feeding into my colon the described fluids was indeed inflatable. D had given it that last firm squeeze and its presence was felt despite the weeks of stretching.

  But it was the esophagus tube that was most uncomfortable causing me to constantly swallow as if something was stuck in my throat. The slow infusion of liquids could also be felt...at both ends. The room temperature nourishment felt cool upon initial inducement to my stomach and colon then slowly warmed as my body heat absorbed it.

  After several minutes I was able to put aside these discomforts. Whether it was the static of the tape, which over the weeks had become oddly soothing, or the sedatives D had mentioned, I did not know.

  I did find myself anxiously awaiting the distant voice. It would break the monotony and this time I was certain I would be able to comprehend it. I knelt attentively anticipating the first sound.

  D

  Watching James passively kneel in his cage, exposed and completely subject to my whim brought back memories from my youthful sojourn in the psychiatric hospital.

  I was just out of school and although the job was demanding, it paid better than normal nursing. And the duties fit nicely into my own psyche and make up, particularly on those evenings when some troublesome young male would be dragged in by the authorities after an arrest for drugs or a problem with alcohol.

  Typically, the more senior personnel worked days, leaving me at night as the tenured staff member to coordinate the induction, admission and processing of the liquored up or high prisoner.

  It was like delivering a fly to a spider’s nest.

  The induction room was a bondage aficionado’s heaven with straps, cuffs, straight jackets, and innumerable other restraint devices. I had orderlies under my authority. There was no unruly brute too strong or too large to be brought under my control. And the biggest and strongest became the most fun. For those I would merely stand and bark orders while the recalcitrant lad would be stripped, inspected, and I mean inspected everywhere, and made to succumb to my treatment. If I liked what I saw, I later reserved days of special ‘one-on-one counseling’ after his initial submission.

  I suppose that’s where I developed my penchant for the leash.

  James’ extreme bondage and sensory deprivation aroused me. The reminiscences sent me over the edge.

  I retrieved the portable phone and called Robert.

  While waiting for him to arrive, I completed the forms for a joint bank account. I also found an old power of attorney concerning one of my patients. It was a simple matter to retype it for James’ signature. Within a few hours, James would sign whatever I wished, but as a challenge I gave myself modest powers. The cat enjoys playing with the mouse.

  Meow, James.

  James

  The noise diminished. Then came the voice. It was D. That I can remember.

  But what she was saying, I cannot.

  And strangely, D’s voice began to change into that of a little girl.

  Yes. Definitely. It was Eve’s voice.

  “I’ll let you out when that bump in you pants goes down. Look at your brother’s bump.”

  My mind wandered. I was back in the mink cage begging Eve to let me out. She noticed my youthful erection through my trousers. She was laughing and also ensuring that my sister saw it too.

  And as they taunted me, the bump became bigger and wedged against my underwear. To fix it, I needed to put my hands where girls shouldn’t see and that would cause more embarrassment. The thought of the girls watching while I righted myself made the bump bigger.

  And so the afternoon of entrapment continued.

  “Make the bump go away, James.”

  I couldn’t...and deep down, it seemed as if I didn’t want it to...

  D

  Robert was fantastic.

&nbs
p; I do think watching a naked James humbly bowing in the cage turns him on. And my tubing seems to have added a certain degree of spice for him. He seemed bigger and stronger than ever before.

  He left early, having to face a full day of work the next morning.

  I coated James’ nose and lips with the sticky evidence of our coupling then rested comfortably. My grand scheme had become grander and was falling into place so nicely.

  The next morning I played with James for no other reason than my own amusement. I turned off the valve to his catheter and emptied the contents of the collection bag. But instead of replacing it and turning the valve back on, I instead hooked up a bag of saline solution.

  James was forcefully receiving my nourishment, gastricly and anally. So why not demonstrate my total control over every aperture?

  I placed the saline bag on top of the cage with the others and fully opened the valve. I also increased the flow on the other two tubes.

  James would soon feel his bladder begin to fill along with his stomach and colon.

  I felt deliciously powerful.

  I ate a sumptuous breakfast.

  James

  The sensation of my catheterization tube moving brought me out of what seemed to be an endless stream of reveries. There was no voice. Just the static. Then I felt something in my bladder.

  Was I beginning to swell?

  Yes. My stomach was also enlarging. The cool drip seemed to be steadier. And my intestines!

  I could not speak with the gastric tube. What was happening? Then I heard D’s voice.

  “A little bladder irrigation for you James. Might seem somewhat uncomfortable, but it’s very healthy. Do you understand there is now nothing in your system that I didn’t put there? Everything inside you has been forced into you by me.”

  She began to gently knead and massage certain muscles. I began to thank her. With the esophagus tube, the words would not come out.

  “I’m going to release your right wrist. I need you to sign some things. Then I’ll let you empty yourself and you’ll have a nice day thinking about my gift and how you can serve.”

  She guided my hand downward. Whatever it was, I signed. And signed again. And signed again. I had no choice. But I pondered, if given the choice would I have refused?

  The static returned. I felt my bladder empty with a gush. My apprehension passed. With the relief my mind seemed eager to return to a far away land.

  D

  I left the apartment with the papers in hand.

  First I stopped at the bank and opened the joint checking account.

  Then I visited the lottery office with the winning ticket. James had endorsed it but I produced the power of attorney and an instruction letter from James. When the officials understood that he did not want a check but instead desired to have the funds wire transferred to his account every month, they were agreeable.

  No one asked if it was a joint account and I did not offer.

  Groceries were next. James would need oranges in a couple of days.

  Lastly, my storage locker.

  Years of collecting and experimenting had left me much equipment and with limited space in my apartment. And besides, I did not wish to scare off vanilla lovers with a wall draped with whips, crops, spreader bars, etc.

  So it was all in storage and whenever I visited, wonderfully kinky memories came to mind.

  I gathered up paraphernalia conducive for use in a train car including one of my favorites, a suspension harness. James would look deliciously sweet swinging with the swaying of the moving train. The familiar feeling of moisture between my thighs developed.

  I returned to my apartment. The nourishment bags would need to be replaced. Another subliminal message tape needed to be fabricated. I also decided to read a good book. James did need to be monitored and watching between chapters as my nourishment dripped into his stomach and bowels was soothing.

  James

  I was amazed at my own recollections. The mind sharpens when completely isolated and is not burdened even with the smallest of functions, such as moving a limb or digit.

  Eve had me back in the mink cage. This time my sister was not around. Mother had taken her to the dentist.

  Another game was being played and she tricked me into the cage again. I made certain the lock was not present and, before agreeing to step in, had searched everywhere for it. She assured me everything was okay.

  But again she took advantage and the lock appeared from some hiding place. This time I was doubly embarrassed. Not only captured by a girl, but allowing it to happen being fully aware of her penchant for this peculiar form of play.

  She began to laugh at my distress.

  “Is your bump going to show?” she taunted.

  And I hated myself when my young penis did indeed begin to engorge, and she laughed more.

  This time she just stepped back and watched with a smile and a look of curiosity. Too late, I found out there was no other part to the game. Just her looking at my forlorn face and my growing bump.

  After several minutes she made a suggestion.

  “Show me what’s under there, James. Then I’ll unlock the cage.”

  I guess I had deleted the incident from my memory, or tried to. I had not recalled it since childhood.

  “Show me, James. Let me see it.”

  I couldn’t move.

  “Show me what causes the bump.”

  Children get to know each other very well. And I knew Eve. She wouldn’t change her mind and release me. That I understood.

  She threatened to go out to the neighborhood and bring others to look at me. She knew the bump was not under my control and would remain until she returned.

  So finally, I yielded. Again I hated myself. But I unzipped my trousers and Eve stepped closer. Presumably it was her first glimpse of the excited male appendage.

  She made me hold it out and move about so she could see all sides and angles. I was ashamed but my little erection seemed to grow under her gaze and even more when she giggled...

  That night I masturbated again. There was no emission of sperm. I was too young for that. But stroking my penis felt good. And although I did not fully understand the strange phenomenon, I learned it was the surest way to make it go limp.

  D’s recorded voice returned and my long lost memory faded away.

  D

  I kept James in sensory deprivation all of Friday. On Saturday morning, in an uncharacteristic mood of compassion, I released him...but just for a while.

  I left the esophagus tube in place but disconnected it from the bag. The inflatable rectal plug also remained in place. Again, the tube was easily disconnected. He remained hooded and catheterized. As he slowly backed out of the cage, I cautioned him that his penis was still connected.

  I snapped on his leash. Holding the collection bag in one hand and the end of the leash in the other, I walked him about my apartment. He was grateful for the exercise and tried to lick my shoes despite the tube emanating from his mouth. I laughed. The subliminal messaging was quite effective. His desire to serve was overwhelming. Possibly stronger than my desire to feel that trained tongue between my thighs.

  “If you’re a good boy James, I’ll have a special treat for you tomorrow.”

  His docility told me I was about a day ahead of where I expected to be. That meant I could soon curtail the extreme sensory deprivation and switch to other training. I had purchased many oranges.

  James

  I had this insatiable desire to show my devotion. D was so kind to take me around the living room. My muscles were not as stiff and sore as I expected. The sedative was working but I wondered how I would feel after it dissipated.

  The tube in my mouth was annoying. I wanted so much to apply my tongue to D’s warm smooth flesh. And the catheterization tube could be felt. D amused herself by using it as a second leash.

  After several laps, she led me back to the cage. In just minutes I was back into the strange world of static and drea
ms.

  Eve again stepped into my thoughts. Another shocking recollection bubbled up from deep in my memory. Something that I had chosen or forced myself to forget.

  It was a week after she had wheedled me into exposing myself. After the incident, I felt timid around Eve, she having ordered me about so she could so carefully inspect my tiny erection. And she seemed to assume a newly assertive role with me. I avoided her as best I could but she lived close by and the neighborhood was small.

  It was a Saturday morning when kids are given much latitude while parents do chores. Eve encountered me exiting the back door of the house. When I think back, I believe she was waiting for me.

  “Are you going to show me Little Dicky again, James?”

  She asked in a loud voice. I panicked knowing that my mother was in the kitchen on the other side of the door I was just closing.

  Eve had taken it upon herself to name my underdeveloped manhood. She followed her question by suggesting she was going to tell the entire neighborhood about my exhibition and how excited I got when locked up in the cage.

  It was blackmail. There was no other way to describe it.

  Thinking as an adult, it would have been so easy to call her bluff, then merely deny the incident. Or simply retort by asking why she was so curious about my ‘bump’. Or why she chose to lock the cage, etc.

  But at that age, I suppose eleven, clarity of thought is not a strong attribute.

  I meekly forced a smile.

  “Yes, your sister will be quite ashamed, James, finding out that her brother likes to unzip himself. And your mother will probably find out...”

  I stepped away from the house very concerned about being overheard, which would probably augur a worse result than if Eve intentionally blurted out the story.

  We talked. Why could I not be more forceful? She was a little girl. I began to stammer and lose my words. Eve knew she had me.

  “Let’s go in back of the garage, James”