Saturday, November 16, 2019

'Bringing Up Baby Edward', Segment Three


Waiting Room Antics - Michael Devereau

“Nurse Reinholdt will drive you home. Your wife called and said she’d be out late. She’s with her lover... the father of her baby.”

Of that I am aware. But for some reason the receptionist, aspiring psychiatric nurse Abbie, takes glee in announcing such to all present in the waiting area.

“Did you enjoy your enema Mr. Devereau? You squirmed quite a bit.”

I’d like to call the pretty young girl a bitch, with a streak of sadism antithetical to her prospective profession. But what would that do?.. other than to extend her joy of tormenting the subordinate male. Besides, as intended, physically I am composed, feeling as weak and docile as a lamb. After a month of chastity and denial I have been permitted to discharge, male juices ebbing from my locked penis onto my blue plate... formerly the prompt for supervised ecstatic eruption. So I merely nod despite the emotional agitation, silence ingrained, and the girl smiles and points to a chair next to a woman waiting to see Dr. Michelle.

“The videotape was amazing. You must know it was your wife... doing that.”

Yes, I do... and I glumly nod, hoping the subject matter, the source of my emotional turmoil, will drop. Trained to come on a woman’s command, tonight such came from a videotape of my wife... and her lover. 

“Nurse Reinholdt will be through in a few minutes,” gladdened the exchange ends.

In seating myself I begin to reach for a magazine. I note Abbie’s hands go to her head, gesturing for me to assume the position of respect mandated while waiting for my masturbation nurse. My hands obediently go to the back of my head. There will be no reading, nothing to divert my thoughts.

“So your wife has a child by another man. I’m told that can be exciting for certain men... men like you,” the woman so casual in inducing conversation by way of my wife’s cuckoldry.

“She’s expecting, yes,” my voice low... possibly interpreted as timid in politely replying but not wishing to extend the conversation. 

Yet the woman must continue.

“So a baby. You have others? Children of your own?”

“Ah... no.”

“So that explains it. Impotent. And every woman strives for motherhood. So it’s destined for your wife to take a lover... and to keep a man like you to assure occasional oral attention... and that there’s a nice comfortable nest for her... her and the baby of course. It’s instinctive. Gracious of her to... ah... arrange appointments for you here.” 

Her words inflame. I am not impotent. And I am not kept. Or am I? And what does the woman know of my oral capabilities... and the degrading yet invigorating appointments?

“You’re not dressed for the weather. Short sleeve shirt, light slacks, no socks. Do you have a jacket or coat? It’s freezing out,” the woman becoming irritatingly maternal... though the change of subject matter is welcomed. 

Dare I tell her that wife Nicole deprives me of such essential covering to assure I don’t stray after my appointment? That what little clothing I have is carefully locked away... controlled... covering granted only while working the yard or required for fulfilling obligations outside the house such as this evening?

I am saved from further embarrassment when Nurse Reinholdt steps into the reception area, donning a heavy coat.

“Come Mr. Devereau. I will take you home... but there’s a stop to make. Your wife has suggested you need special training.”

This spurs more, the woman naturally loquacious.

“Training! A man his age should... ah... by now have the necessary skills to...”

“The subordinate male should always strive for perfection,” Nurse Reinholdt gratefully interrupts. “Even the best tongue work can be improved,” my gratitude quickly turning to chagrin as she reaches to take my hand.

“Come. It’s cold out. I’ll walk you to the car. Stay near me to keep warm.”

Half a head taller, her firm grip evidences her superior strength. And I am to indeed be walked... like a child. The woman smiles as I humbly stand... a knowing smile.

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