Probation VIII

This concludes posting of the 'Probation' segments.

As a reminder the entire story is available at...

http://www.lulu.com/content/e-book/probation/19234364

Next week, 'The Arrangement'. A short story to be fully posted on the blog.

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Footsteps! At last.

It must be Miss Abby. Yet whomever descends remains silent. There comes a dreaded thought ... the house is unlocked, as instructed, and throughout day workers entered and left. Have they returned? Peter’s sense of relief is incomplete. Who is it?

The footsteps thud the concrete floor then tap on the tiling which surrounds his kneeling form. More shame comes. He smells and he knows the entire basement reeks of his bodily wastes. Glad to be hooded, his hang dog look is best cloaked.

He feels motion about his Posey cuffs and gripping hands, then hears one click then another. As suspected, he can be easily bound, the steel poles rife with eyelets. The footsteps move away. Dare he speak?

There comes a rustling sound. A paper bag emptied. Then finally a voice.

“Obediently waiting for me... but you’ve soiled your diaper.”

Peter’s heart leaps with joy. It is Miss Abby.

“I’m sorry Miss Abby. I tried... tried so hard.”

“This is why you need me... need to learn discipline. You smell disgusting.”

“Yes Miss Abby, I’m sorry.”

“You’re fortunate. I know how to take care of boys... bad boys who can’t control their various urges.”

With the words Peter feels hands at the small of his back. He hears another click, this one bringing freedom rather than bondage. The tightness of his canvass diaper eases, the lock opened. Another leap of the heart.

“I had my brother in diapers for years... up until he went to college. The power exchange thrilled. At a time in life when the male hormones surge, his penis was under lock and key... unless I wanted it on display. I think that is best for you too Peter.”

The strap is lowered, the waist band loosened. Peter feels and hears the clinging garment fall to the tiling. With it comes the stronger smell of his urine soaked feces... his sense of shame grows.

“Sloppy, sloppy, sloppy little boy. And there’s a rule when you’re bathed... knees parted as far as possible. Always.”

“Yes, Miss Abby,” Peter immediately complying.

The footsteps move away. Peter hears running water, then the hiss of a spray.

“You’ll feel more open... more vulnerable posing for me like that. It’s important for boys like you to feel that way. Now I’ll give you a quick rinse first. Think we’ll both be better off.”

The footsteps return. The filthy cloth inner liner is pulled away. Though the odor grows stronger the sense of relief overwhelms.

“Thank you Miss Abby, thank you.”

The words of gratitude can barely be heard as a dousing spray of water, warmed perfectly, gently begins the long awaited cleansing. It is divine, Peter’s hooded head lowering with the odd revelry. There can be no doubt the woman long cared for someone so harshly encapsulated. Her actions bring incredible joy to flesh long subjected to irritation. When the spray tenderly laps at his genitals, Peter senses the twinges of male celebration. It’s embarrassing, but it feels so good.

“There’s special needed attention before I soap you, Peter. Little boys don’t have hair... so I stopped at the drug store. Afraid there’s going to be more bad smell for a while.”

Peter hears snaps of rubber. Then indeed comes a powerful chemical smell as gloved hands palpate to smooth a thick lotion over his entire body.

“Depilating cream. We’ll lather you up once a week for while. In time the follicles will surrender. And bad little boys have their little balls coated as well... so be good for me.”   

Deed completed, next come more pleasant sensations as Peter feels soft wetness about his pubes.

“Used to shave my brother regularly. In addition to keeping him in diapers, I’d let him have some fun... every Saturday. Mother worked retail, long afternoons and evenings in the store. So it was then brother Bobbie was allowed to show off for me. Kept totally chaste, only out of his diaper for his bath, when I cuffed him I’d let had him run about the house naked. His penis would stand nicely for me. In reward I put him in make up. Such a girly boy was he... very pretty. And in being shaved down here, silk panties felt especially good to him.”

A razor whisks about as Miss Abby speaks. Again, with the speed and tenderness, Peter realizes the woman has many times before offered intimate care, the ultra sensitive scrotal flesh unscathed by the threateningly sharp razor.

The words and actions bring conflicting thoughts. The woman is reliving times considered to be enjoyable... the tenderhearted care of a psychotic younger brother. Peter oddly benefits, in no way endangered, instead being attentively cared for. But what of her psychosis? What is expected of him? What is the ultimate goal of this governing woman?

“Yes, Bobbie developed DPD... dependent personality disorder. Over the years, couldn’t make a decision... couldn’t do a thing without the assistance or concurrence of his big sister... that included eating and bathing. And going to the bathroom? He’d just piss and crap in his diaper... the big baby.”   

“What happened to him?”

“Eventually I had to work. In graduating college there was no time to bathe, powder and put him back in diapers. So I found a nice gay couple for him to serve. He’s homophobic, so there’s just enough sexual tension to keep him on edge. He’s been trained to serve as housemaid.... in full make up, pedicure, prancing about in heels. And most fascinating, he now prefers to stay in his diapers... ostensibly getting very flustered in being stripped naked and changed by one man while another watches. But deep within, I know he senses a thrill. It’s in his psychological make up.”

Peter feels his penis firming. Why? The actions of her hands? Her words? Though casual and aloof, such describe a shocking fate. Miss Abby also notes his engorging manhood.

“You’re becoming erect for me, Peter. Why is that?”

“I... I... I don’t know,” the priapic reaction adding to the embarrassment.

“I believe I know why. You enjoy a woman’s maternal care. As I said, Peter, we have complementing penchants.”

Peter is left in silent thought as Miss Abby moves to retrieve the spray hose. More relief, more sense of tranquil calm comes as Peter’s entire form is rinsed, the depilation lotion and much body hair flowing to the drain.

“When did you last masturbate? I know sex is out. Little perverts like you have difficulty with girls... need to get drunk just to talk to them.”

“I can’t remember precisely.”

“Too bad... it was your last orgasm... and you can’t even remember. I kept my brother chaste for years. He’d put on the nicest stands for me... like his penis was trying to touch the ceiling, ha, ha, ha.”

Abby positions a low stool. For some reason Peter is heartened when the rubber gloves are removed and his entire body senses the softness of soapy hands and a soft cloth.

“My adult baby boy. You have nice skin Peter.”

“Thank you Miss Abby.”