'Maternal Care', Segment VII

“Slide forward,” Nanny releasing the wrist cable ties, “hands behind.”

In Derrick’s lightheadedness, he complies. He was feeling less drowsy, then the haziness returned. Something in the mush that his Nanny spoon fed him?

“Good boy. So obedient,” the double ‘D’ clamp returning to tether his arms behind his back.

Nanny stoops, unbuckling the Posey ankle restraints.

“Did you enjoy your dinner?”

“Rather bland Miss Nanny.”

“Well that’s all you’ll be getting here. Now stand for me.”

Derrick slides further forward off the makeshift high chair, bare feet finding the lush carpeting. The soft warmth brings a not before experienced frisson, abetted as his Nanny’s arms encircle his waist to steady him. Her firm hug brings a thrill as well. Why? 

“How about we try your new penis ring, Derrick? Holding and guiding you about by your balls seemed so acceptable to you. How about if I hook my finger through your new ring... would you like that?”

“I... I... don’t... well...”

With his stammering reply, Nanny ignores his reservations, indeed hooking the sizable loop... with care... and playfully jiggling about. Penis raw and sore after being skewered, just a touch more ketamine in the evening pablum has been enough to return her charge to a state of quiescence.

“Feel good?”

“I’ve not... you know... had a woman do...”

“Yes, you’ve sheltered yourself, Derrick... as your wife suggested... not permitting yourself to address your true needs... to subordinate yourself to governing women. Come, come, bedtime.”

Nanny steps, letting her arm loosely follow behind, no stress on the penis ring. Even in his stupor, Derrick realizes how precarious is his situation. In being ringed there... well... the fear of damage greatly outweighs the concern over pain.

He follows... carefully.

“I’ve prepared the spare bedroom for you. I’ll be in the next room.”

Intended to be a nursery for a child never conceived, the spare bedroom adjoins the master bedroom. Though mind addled, Derrick knows the room is devoid of furniture. And so in being led up the stairs and down the hall by his penis, it comes as a surprise to enter and see that in the empty spare bedroom is now a large platform bed, oddly centered, no other furniture except a not before seen chest of drawers. Hanging over the bed, from the ceiling, is what appears to be a trapeze bar, familiar foam lined cuffs of nylon at each end.  

“Now boys tend to wet the bed... so I have your diaper ready.”

“A diaper, Miss Nanny!” the fawning form of address bringing a smile to she in charge. 

The words express surprise but the voice is subdued, the ketamine working its magic.

Laid out on the bed, Derrick gawks in seeing a triangle of absorbent cloth... a diaper indeed. Yet beneath lies a garment of rugged leather, attached straps and buckles imposing.

“Designed for institutional use... in long term care facilities... for the insane... and mentally incompetent. Buckled and locked in place... it’s not to be removed... not without the key... or sharp tools and a lot of effort for the defiant,” Nanny explains, always jubilant in introducing a boy to the horror of near twenty four seven confinement.  

“But... but... Miss Nanny... I don’t need...”

“I’ll decide what you need. Being diapered means you will be dependent... more in need of your Nanny. It brings the utmost empowerment, and I so much thrill in being empowered... as you will come to be thrilled in ceding to me. You’re so much going to look forward to coming home to your Nanny.”    

The penis finger gently yet firmly tugs toward the bed. A finger of the free hand points. Derrick knows to either mount the mattress or suffer as the ring finger slowly increases tension. Finally he cedes indeed, scrambling to first kneel and when the finger releases, sit upright, buttocks pressed to the cloth liner.

“Stay,” comes a softly spoken command as Nanny releases the wrist restraints, “now lie back, hands to the corners of the mattress.”

Derrick again asks himself about the preparation, straps at each corner at the ready to return his arms to bondage, cable ties quickly clipped to the straps, hands widely parted and over his head. 

“Now more protocol... I’m impressed that you so readily lie for me, but you also need to lift your feet, bend at the waist so I can cuff your ankles,” Nanny pointing to the above bar.

Derrick complies, bringing Nanny to wonder... is it truly the ketamine that brings such seemingly eager compliance... or is her boy naturally subservient... as wife Margaret has postulated? 

Nanny reaches above, cuffing each ankle, the feet held high and widely parted.

“Good boy,” Derrick’s foggy mind amazed as within seconds the diaper beneath is folded over his pubes, his defoliated groin and buttocks covered, the absorbent cloth pinned in place. 

Next comes the thick leather, assuring the diaper remains always in place. Derrick notes that it is  stiff and heavy, apparently lined with strips of metal to inhibit cutting. Nanny buckles at the waist, adhering a small padlock. Next straps about the thighs are buckled and likewise locked.

Nanny has diapered and locked away a grown male in less than a minute. The woman has many times done this, Derrick concludes.

The ankle cuffs are released from the bar. Derrick knows to lower his feet and legs. As he suspected, similar straps at the lower end of the mattress await. When secured, Derrick lies in four point restrain.

“Don’t fear, you’re on camera. I can see you whether I’m in the living room watching a movie, or next door in the bedroom,” Nanny pointing to cameras mounted high in each corner of the room.

Yes, such a conspiracy. While CEO Derrick Mason spent his day at work, ending with a stultifying meeting with lawyers, his Nanny was busying herself preparing a defacto nursery.

How long has this been planned? How much input from his deceased aunt, the termagant no doubt laughing in her grave?  

She was always inquiring about children. Derrick supposes the conspiracy, the apparent bonding of his aunt and wife, began with frank womanly discussions concerning Derrick’s lack of sexual prowess... his aunt consoling by suggesting revenge... first anointing wife Margaret with money, then power over the corporation and he as CEO, and freeing her of any connubial obligations. After all, you can’t have sex with a man locked in a diaper... treated as a child.  

“Night, night, Derrick. And feel free to soil your diaper. It’s quite absorbent. Feel good... nice and snug?” the question voiced as one would speak to a child, comforting before the lights dimmed.

As Derrick nods, berating himself for not expressing appall, the lights dim indeed. The door closes. For Derrick a day from hell ends. But has it really been so daunting? Feeling his trapped penis swelling, the question brings confused thoughts.