'Chained', Segment V

Jamie sits in the refurbished kitchen of the surprisingly large house. Built for the manager of the logging company which owned the land some one hundred or more years ago, Josie explained that he had a number of children and since lumber was readily available, size was not a consideration.

“Spent a lot of time and money in refurbishing the place,” Josie explains offering another spoonful of Viagra laced pablum. “Everything modernized, plus added some features... for keeping a girl. You noticed the shower last night.”

“It’s large, Ma’am.”

“Yes, so I can step in and bathe a girl. Hygiene is important when kept.”

“I can feed myself, Ma’am... you know without...” rattling his wrist shackles.

“Yes, you can. But not right now. In good time. Need to get you in the right mind set,” offering another spoonful.

“After breakfast I need to feed Rex... soon to be one of your many tasks. And you can explore the house. Shuffle about as best you can. Then I have something for you to read and study. And then there will be some training.”   

“Will I... you know... have clothing, Ma’am?”

“In time. But for the training I need you nude. I’ll make sure the house is warm in the meantime,” Josie highlighting his nakedness in reaching reach to diddle a nipple.  

With that there comes the sound of barking.

“That’s Rex. He knows it’s feeding time and wants to remind me. A herding dog. Protective... and well trained. Keep in mind, Jamie, should you be naughty and decide to wander off, Rex will encourage you to return. I’ve got some things ordered for you that will preempt that. But Rex is good back up.” 

Josie rises from the table, going to prepare a bowl of dog food.

“Go... Jamie... enjoy your freedom. But don’t leave the house. Your sore feet won’t take you far... and Rex is very vigilant.”

Well bound, Jamie cannot push back his chair, instead turning in his seat and awkwardly managing to rise to his feet. He finds Josie to be correct, last night’s two hundred yard scamper to the house on gravel brought scrapes and much tenderness. He hobbles forth on the tiling, the soft comfort of the living room rug a much sought destination.

At the doorway he turns to gaze at his captor. Josephine Collier as a college cohort is obviously his mother’s age. Dark hair, short and cut to the jaw line, it is apparent in having for the most part rebuilt the house, that she is not only skilled but a woman of determination. And strength, manning hammer, saw, an assortment of other tools. It seems the stack of firewood in the livingroom plus the huge pile outside the front door resulted from hours of wielding an axe and felling trees of substance. In wearing slacks, such are tight, but not effeminately. Such are filled out with muscle, buttocks, thighs and calves well developed... in an athletic manner. 

Taller then him, shoulders broad, Jamie felt the strength of her hands and arms as the woman gruffly sponged down his nakedness, gratefully reigning in her power as she paid particular attention to his male package. Yes reigning such in to the point he again hardened for her.

Such embarrassment.

With the thoughts he looks down at his shorn pubes berating himself. He ceded to her, letting her have her way.

Yet, had he a choice in the matter? So many locks, cuffs and chains.

The woman is not gorgeous. But oddly Jamie senses odd attraction. Is it her strength? She has bested him. And oddly he begins to feel twinges, thinking of the soft soap, the warm chamois, skinning back his foreskin, the inspection and surprisingly gentle cleansing. Yes, thinking about it excites. He blushes anew. It was not wanted. Or was it?

Josie turns from the kitchen counter, bowl of dog food in hand. She notes Jamie’s look. Her eyes lower to his pubes. Well aware that, though it’s only been some two days since he probably last touched himself, the libido of a teenaged boy is rampaging. She smiles, knowing that he is slowly hardening, the Viagra breakfast taking effect.  

“Thinking about touching yourself?” Josie inquires, her comely smile broadening.

“I... I...” embarrassment glowing, Jamie turns to move onward.

“No, no. Let’s finish what’s started,” Josie pleasantly suggests.

Jamie ignores, chains rattling as he begins to step away.

“Stay!” the command forceful. “Turn back.”

Once again, Jamie realizes he has not much choice in the matter. He obeys, berating himself anew in feeling himself further hardening.

Why is this?

“You’re acclimating quite quickly, Jamie,” Josie coos. “Just let it happen. Penis in full blossom for me. It’s a phenomenon that’s becoming more and more understood... to bond with your captor. Now I’m going to feed Rex. Only takes a moment. I want you at full stand by the time I return. Last night I had to lend a finger. This morning? We’ll see.”    

Jamie is aghast. But deep within he knows his erection will soon be fully raging. Her words? Her presence? He is bonding with his captor in physically exhibiting strange attraction.

Why? 

Then he thinks of baring himself last night... to be shackled... sensing twinges. Later, after the ordeal of being run to the house, lying to shame and bewilderment he became fully erect, the trauma notwithstanding, the sole grazing finger bringing a brisance... and an erection of stone.

What is happening to him?

Jamie maintains his place as directed hearing Rex the dog bark in greeting his breakfast. Then with a short gust of cool morning air the door opens. Josie returns.

“Very obedient,” Josie notes.

Indeed, peering downward, Jamie is chagrined to see his penis is rock hard.

“And a nice tribute for me. Go. Shuffle about with that nice stiffie,” Josie repressing a chuckle. “And think about what you’ll find attached to the banister going up the stairs.”  

'Chained' Published

 I have published the referenced story on Lulu.

42,000 words. $5.43

https://www.lulu.com/shop/chris-bellows/chained/ebook/product-v657e5.html?q=chained&page=1&pageSize=4

Be sure to give yourself access to explicit material.

The last segment to be published here will be on August 5.

Enjoy.

CB

'Chained', Segment IV

Josephine Collier enters the many measurements into the website... a German engineering firm catering to the kink community. Not only are the circumferences of wrists, ankles and neck required, but the diameter of the outer most portions of the hands, feet, head and base of his scrotum. 

To be ordered will be bands of tungsten steel, anodized with decorous reflective material. The engineering such that the metal will be industrial in strength yet decorous in appearance.

Miss Josie’s slave girl will be both pretty and readily bound.

With the order, requiring weeks for fabrication, will come a special tool, well designed, more or less a giant set of pliers or vice grips which, with effort, will crimp closed the open loops when slipped over the hands, feet and neck. There will be no tool to reverse the process, opening the hardened steel for removal.

That notion brings wetness. The permanency of the bondage excites. Other than utilizing an acetylene torch, when pinched closed and bolted, thin and also decorative, the bands of one half inch in thickness are not to be removed. 

Jamie is never to deny his... soon to be her... station in life.

Entering credit card information and a box number at a post office miles down the state road, Josie next goes to the waist line measurement. She becomes giddy in her thoughts of corsetting her girl. In the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, ladies sought the ideal of an eighteen inch waist. Such brought constant discomfort... even suffering... along with permanently shifting about some internal organs in order to achieve.

All to attain male attraction. Such savagery.

Well Jamie... to become Jami... will not have an eighteen inch corset. But with his current waist line of twenty four inches, forcing him/her to a twenty inch diameter will be achievable... painful yes... but achievable.

The garment is ordered. And such will bring attraction... to her owner.

Every desperate breath will garner thoughts of Jamie’s position... her servitude.    

Items of bondage and indenture ordered, Josie rises from her computer, best to check on her girl.

To the spare bedroom, she has left the shackles in place for the night. Jamie needs to acclimate. And he needs to understand control.... feminine control. Thus in bedding him Josie has decided that a degree of sleep deprivation will soften his mind... make her charge more malleable to her protocols.     

She quietly opens the door of the dim bedroom and peers within. Jamie sits upright on a comfortable mattress, wrists and ankles remaining fettered. But the addition of a thick foam lined prosthetic collar secured by tight cords to the posters right and left assures that he will neither lie down nor even lean to one side or the other.

Awkward, but one can slumber in such a position... eventually. 

“Having trouble sleeping, Sweetheart?” Josie inquires in a matronly tone, noting the eyes are open.

“Can I please lie down?”

“And how are you to address me?”

“Please lie down, Ma’am?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t want you to lie down.”

Jamie will need to understand feminine caprice. He will do things and be positioned at his captor’s whim. She is not to explain... need not explain anything.

Josie steps forth to the side of the bed, Hands reach to the shackled wrists, grasping and testing to assure such are well secured and, most importantly, the limited length of the chain leading to the waist chain is such that Jamie cannot touch his penis. There will be no masturbation... no unsupervised masturbation.

“Do you want to fondle yourself?” the blunt question bringing Jamie to blush.

Words come not with the embarrassing question. Jamie struggles to shake his head.

“You became quite erect when I showered you.”

“You... you... you know... you touched me...”

“Yes, you need to be washed everywhere. Being uncircumcised, smegma can be unhygienic.”

Josie smiles inwardly. Cuffed wrists temporarily released from the waist chain, she bound Jamie’s arms high to a bar in the large stall shower, hosed him down then swabbed every inch of his nakedness, both cleansing and getting to better know her boy... soon to be girl. Every inch of his young flesh.    

Then came the razor. A facile task after many years of nursing, preparing patients for intricate surgery, all hair to be removed. The limited growth on his slender legs brought amusement.

“We’ll spend more time with hair removal, Jamie. Tonight was quick... to get you to bed.”

Yes quick, but also giving rise to both inspection and establishing that his body is no longer his.

“You don’t have to do that, Ma’am.”

“Hair is unsightly on a girl... and can be unsanitary. Now go to sleep. If you’re a good girl, in a couple days you can sleep lying down,” a hand reaching to the golden locks to tenderly tousle. 

"Chained', Segment III

Josie Collier sits before a roaring fire sipping a glass of Merlot. As she thinks of the day’s events, particularly the culmination, a booted foot slides forth, the toe gently prodding the left bare buttock of her captive.

Such amusement. With young Jamie finally ceding, he removed everything, completely baring himself to her. She took her time, more inspecting and examining his nakedness than locking him in restraints. Right ankle, left ankle, the connecting chain just long enough to allow him to shuffle and prance... but of course not fully run. That would auger thoughts of freedom... that he could move about without sensing a woman’s control.

Left wrist, than right wrist, that connecting chain is shorter. There will not be... cannot be... any ill considered arm motion... such as throwing a punch. Unnecessary... more for emotional bondage than physical... there is a chain encircling the waist. Attached at the front is a very short chain leading to the chain of the wrist restraints. At the back a slightly longer chain hangs vertically, attached to the ankle chain.

Jamie can move... slowly... cautiously... but feel a woman’s power with every step.  

Well chained, Josie released the cuff attaching him to the SUV. She then tweaked his nipples in a demonstration of his helplessness and gave the command to prance the final two hundred yards to the house. She followed driving the SUV, bare buttocks... so cute and girlish... rippling in the headlights.

Young Jamie entered his new world well bound and without a stitch.

More twinges come as Josie thinks about it.   

An arm lowers, a hand grasping the shunned shirt, tossing into the blaze. Jamie needs warmth. What could be more ironic than to be comforted by a bonfire of the last evidence of living as a male.

“Are you awake, Jamie?”

“Yes.”

“That’s ‘yes Ma’am’ in your new home. I’m no longer your Aunt Josie.”

“What... who are you?”

“That’s ‘who am I, Ma’am’. More or less your owner.”

“Owner?”

“Yes. I’ve always had this thing... slavery... having a girl serve me... sexually and otherwise.”    

“But I’m not a girl.”

“For now. But that will change. How you think... how you act. You no longer have to maintain pretenses, Jamie... of being a boy... being a man. It’s just the two of us. No one knows you’re here. No one will look for you. You’ll be trained... conditioned... to serve.”

“I don’t want to do that. I’m not a girl.”

“We’ll make some... let’s term them adjustments. Your hair is already long. Not much more needed there. There will be some modifications... nothing extreme. I won’t tattoo you... or brand you.”

Josie pauses to smile, seeing her charge shudder, the threat of permanent marks striking fear.

“But something to remind you... always... of your role. I see you’re not circumcised. We’ll need to change that.”

More quaking... more glee for the new owner.

“Don’t worry, I’ll use something to quell the pain. But not entirely. It’s best that you watch what a women of resolve and determination can do to a boy. And feel the loss of course.”

Some ten years as a surgical nurse, Josephine Collier is too well aware of the simplicity in trimming the male foreskin. 

“It will temper your masturbation habit... for a while. Thereafter you’ll learn to bring yourself off differently... while I watch... and supervise.”

Having learned that young Jamie is sexually retarded for a boy in his late teens... no girlfriends... instead finding the opposing gender to be ‘strange’... engendering a new and different method of achieving gratification will be an effort... but not impossible. It’s like rewiring the pleasure centers of the mind. After all, an astute Josie Collier single handedly rewired the house.

“But such will be a reward... for good behavior... for obedient behavior.”

“Why me?”

An appropriate question. Josie hesitates, sipping her wine while contemplating a reply.

“Your mother. She was more than my roommate in college. She served me... sexually and otherwise. And as I said, you look like your mother.”

“You’re sick!” captive Jamie becoming insolent.

“No, I’m wealthy. That makes me eccentric. And being otherwise homeless and impoverished, makes you in need... of a woman’s care and guidance.”  

Josie tosses underpants and socks into the fire.

“You can go back to Brookline, Jamie. Just not to your home. The rent was past due when your folks got into the accident. There’s no inheritance to be had. I had to contribute to the funeral expenses. Things weren’t too promising for you when your mother and father were alive. And now?”

Slacks join the blaze.

“And if you were to go back, you’d need clothes. What you were wearing is now keeping you warm. How are your feet by the way?”

“Sore.”

“Prancing barefoot on the dirt and gravel can hurt. Your choice to leave. I’d lend you a skirt and blouse. But I have no shoes that would fit.”

“What about my running shoes?”

“The first things thrown on top of the logs. Much too masculine for you. So you’d need to get to the main road barefoot... in a skirt and blouse... then find a ride and talk your way back toward Boston. But best spend the night and try in the morning when it’s warmer.”

Josie hears whimpering, reality setting in. Homeless and orphaned, young Jamie is coming to grips with his level of dependency on the woman who had him strip naked and then placed him in bondage. And that dependency is total. Everything he needs is now hers to bestow.

“Roll over on your back, Jamie. Show me your penis... what you think makes you a man.”

Jamie hesitates. He knows he is in no position to defy. But her words come not as a command... but more an invitation.

“May as well begin to acclimate to exhibiting yourself to your superior,” Josie prodding with her boot.

Reluctantly, Jamie rolls. Josie smiles in hearing the clatter of the many links... all locked in place by her hand. Then she finds shyness was not the entire source of the delay. The tip of Jamie’s uncircumcised penis glistens, the foreskin partially retracted, the shaft somewhat engorged.

His ignominious display of pending erection brings thought. Something has spurred sexual excitement!

She has the right boy... girl!

“My, my, Jamie. Good thing that waist chain is tight. Otherwise I’d need to take precautions. Furtive masturbation is prohibited in this house. I’m sure you’re too bashful to tell me what prompted this,” arm extending, fingers going to gently fondle the underside of the firming penis.

“I’m sorry, Ma’am.”

“Oh, don’t be sorry,” noting the oh so slight grazing of her finger brings full erection. “You’re showing respect for your captor. A good first step. Devotion will follow. And I don’t think I’ll be needing to lend you a skirt and blouse for any trip back.

“Let’s get you measured, fed and bedded.”

'Chained', Segment II

The SUV turns onto a narrow road. It’s rough. Though paved, the shoulders have crumbled, potholes from the previous winter not repaired.

“Not much incentive to keep these side roads maintained,” Josie notes. “Tax dollars are tight up here. And few people to complain about the bumps and cracks.”

Jamie assumed that Collier Preserve was nearby, having left the state highway. His assumption proves wrong... more miles pass at a snail’s pace. 

“No one lives within miles,” Josie narrates. “The logging company had a power line put through years ago. But for that you’d be living off the grid. Cooking over a wood stove. Bathing in the pond... when not frozen over. But the seclusion is good... for the soul. You could run around naked and nobody would notice.”

Another mile or two, the SUV turns again, passing through a delapidated open gate, a crooked sign, the lettering for ‘Collier’ quite faded.  The road is a mess... and narrow, the trees and brush encroaching on the right of way.

‘Someone lives here?’ Jamie thinks to himself.

Further and further the SUV creeps, Finally in reaching the top of an incline, some two hundred yards ahead a house comes into view. The condition of the structure is surprising, presentable as opposed to the crumbing gate, Collier sign and decrepit right of way.

“I’ve spent a lot of time on maintenance... finally got the place looking like it’s lived in,” Josie pulling to a stop. “Maybe it’s best... no.... it will be best... if we set the right ambiance for you here at Collier Preserve,” Josie opening her door and stepping out.

She goes to the back, releasing a latch to lift the broad hatch door of the SUV. Reaching within there comes the rattle of chains. It’s a gambit she realizes. But Jamie is slender, a boy a few inches shorter... and many pounds lighter. He’s mentally not prepared to engage in conflict... certainly not hand to hand combat. Plus all the carpentry, in addition to harvesting and splitting firewood for the winter, has added bulk to a frame one would never consider overly feminine.

All she has to do is shackle one wrist... in a quick surprise move. After that... everything falls in line.

“I have something I want you to wear for me Jamie... come.”

Another reference to wearing something for a woman who he’s known as a distant aunt, visiting his deceased mother once or twice per year. More curious than annoyed, Jamie opens his door and steps to the rear. In approaching, Josie extends her left arm as if offering something. When Jamie reacts, extending his in turn, Josie grabs it and in one swift continuous move, her right hand comes from behind her back and snaps in place a cuff about his wrist.

She smiles in noting it is slim, almost effeminate, Jamie behind his age group in terms of masculine development.

“What... what is this?”

“Something appropriate to introduce you to your stay at Collier Preserve.”

Jamie stares at the cuff, his eyes following the attached chain to the back of the SUV. The links are not large but the shiny steel is for sure not to be snapped.

“So Jamie, you and my car are now one. I can get back behind the wheel and more or less drag you to the house. Or you can let me properly dress you,” giving the latter words a sarcastic enunciation, “and you can take your first hike.”    

Josie, sensing twinges in discussing Jamie’s masturbatory habits, now feels moisture in her loins. She senses the thrill of power.

“But it will also be your last hike. Girls don’t enjoy hiking... remember?”

Josie steps back, arms akimbo, letting Jamie assess. Realization is required. She of course does not want to drag Jamie behind. She needs him to realize that he must take the first step on his own volition. Subsequent steps will readily fall in place.   

Jamie gives the chain a tug. Some ten feet slide from the back of the SUV. Then the links become taught. Tugging again, Jamie understands that he and the SUV are one. Anything more than a walking pace and he will indeed be dragged.     

“What... what... do you want me to wear?”

Josie smiles, stepping to the back of the SUV she opens a box. There comes more rattling.

“These,” holding up a more elaborate set of shackles.

Though flustered, Jamie’s mind races. Already partially mobilized and for the most part at the woman’s mercy, she could easily add the restraints, his ability to resist limited.

“But you’ve already... you know... got me hooked to the car.”           

“As I said, I want you to hike. And I want you to hike completely naked,” the firm words uttered matter-of-factly.

Jamie’s mouth opens... eyes widening. The kindly woman, thought to be taking him under her wing at a time of grief, is now commanding. Jamie’s mind becomes more focused, the funeral, the shock of his parents untimely demise, cast aside. The present becomes more clear. Josie further clarifies.

“No one knows you’re here. No one knows you left the funeral parlor with me. You have no living relatives, and while I’ve been kind enough to introduce you to your new life your parents friends have spent the afternoon feasting at your parents’ repast. Certainly not thinking about you.”

Josie leans into the back of the SUV right hand grasping a cutting tool.

“This is a box cutter. You can either strip for me, or I’ll tear your clothing to shreds and you can trot along while I drag you to the house. You’ll find I am a person of rituals. And one of the most important is that you submit to me... and do so by either being naked or wearing what I want you to wear. The ritual begins here and now. You’ll enter my house with nothing. Other than these,” left hand rattling the set of shackles.

Speechless, Jamie stares at the mass of metal. 

“The sun is setting and it’s getting cold, Jamie. You may prefer to do this in the dark. But it matters not. No one will see you but me. And you’ll soon acclimate to that. So let’s begin now. If I have to use the box cutter there could be damage to more than your clothing,” presenting the sharp blade to his face.

Yes, Josie fully understands that she could physically overwhelm the boy, rip his clothes to shreds. But she prefers acquiescence... the mental and emotional response to her power and control more important than demonstrating her physical strength.

“You’ll need to... you know...” Jamie holding up his cuffed right wrist.

“No. That stays for now. Unbutton your shirt, slip out your left arm then slide the shirt up your right arm and onto the chain. I’ll take care of it after you’re naked and better shackled. Begin your new life, Jamie. You’re going to learn to like being in chains. That means you’ll be safe... and protected... and all the worries you’ve had to think about... where and how to live without your parent’s guidance... all the challenges you’ve faced in your young life and will be facing... are no longer of consequence. You just have to serve... me.”      

More pause. Josie lets the boy mull over his situation... the temperature plunging with the disappearing sun. Cold will counter continuing indecision. 

Jamie focuses... the present challenge is all that needs consideration. And thereafter?

Yet there is the concern of baring himself to a woman for the most part unknown. He has not even exposed himself to his mother in the past few years. But how is it his shyness can remain? 

There comes to mind visits to his doctor’s office, mother insisting on annual physical examinations. Disrobing, the young nurse handing him a dressing gown, smiling at his bashfulness, did such not bring a quirky thrill? Did such not prompt a busy hand when returning home?

Glumly, Jamie concedes, fingers going to the buttons of his shirt.

“Good girl.”

'Chained', Segment I

New story, inspired by some books written by author Sam Beattie. Well done stuff, Female Dominant/male submissive, non consensual D/s. Heavy bondage. But the theme of each book is repetitive.

I suspected that 'Sam' must be female, her descriptions of the male protagonist being fondled she terms as 'abuse' (guys getting off don't think of it that way) and the forced cross dressing scenes are described in a level of detail which most guys lack.

Sure enough my suspicion was confirmed when I encountered a story written under the nom de plum 'Samantha J Beattie'. Similar theme, similar writing style.

Well, enjoy.

CB   

***** 

Chained

Copyright 2023

by Chris Bellows

“Do you know who I am, Jamie?”

“You’re my Aunt Josie.”

“Yes, your mother referred to me as your aunt. But we weren’t truly related. We are... were... close friends. Went to college together.”

The remembrance brings pleasant thoughts to Josephine Collier... ‘Aunt Josie’. Yes when Josie terms the relationship ‘close’, it was more than an emotional bond. Many nights of entwined nakedness, dormitory room locked, the halls quiet as most classmates dated on weekend nights.

“We packed your things quickly. Did you tell anyone at the funeral where you were going?”

“No. I don’t know where. I didn’t know you were taking me back to the house.”

“It’s a long drive. Northern Maine. Since I was at the funeral it’s more convenient for me to take you now rather than come back.”

Josie returns to silence. She can’t help thinking that ‘taking’ Jamie has been so easy and so unnoted. Neighbors and friends are at the repast. Few if any know Josie, she won’t be missed. And they will conclude that Jamie’s absence is due to unfathomable grief and the need to be alone.

Once clear of the Boston area, the drive goes smoothly, little traffic. Josie decides to leave young Jamie to his thoughts, the tragic death of his mother and father... a car accident... for sure still overwhelming his mind. So overwhelming that he has not realized he’s essentially been kidnaped.

Yet, that’s not entirely the case, Josie’s subconscious counters. There are no living relatives to care for Jamie. Legally she could apply to be foster parent and probably be so appointed without objection. But why go through the time and legal expense... young Jamie left to the vagaries of the welfare system while living in some state run youth hostel in the interim.

No, the six hour drive to the seclusion of the Maine forests are best for him, she further justifies to herself. He’ll be away from an empty house... memories not to burden. And beyond the clutches of government bureaucracy.

“It gets cold there... colder than Brookline,” Jamie jarred from silence by the roadside sign ‘Welcome to Maine’.

“Yes it does.”

“Didn’t pack any winter stuff.”

Josie smiles. There was not much packed at all. What little was thrown into a small canvas pouch was more for show than for covering.

“You’ll have what you need... at my house. I have some things for you to wear for me.”

To wear... for her? The phraseology Jamie finds curious. Josie notes the perplexed look, her arm reaching, a hand going to the youthful golden locks and gently brushing about. The boy looks so much like his deceased mother.

“You look like your pretty mother, Jamie.  And you’re  going to look very pretty for me.”

*****

Nearing Bangor, Josie knows there will be fewer places to stop, gasoline stations and fast food restaurants sparse. She pulls off the interstate highway.

“Need fuel. And while we stop, why not walk over to the McDonald’s and get a burger or something.”

Pulling to the pump, Jose grabs her wallet and exits the SUV. Inserting first her credit card then the nozzle she slips a ten dollar bill from her wallet.

“Come Jamie. Get some food,” waving the bill. “We have three more hours so be quick about it.”

Jamie exits the car. He is glum. Such tragedy. But he is also in need. He takes the ten dollars and turns to the nearby restaurant. Soon out of sight, Josie opens the rear door, grabbing the small bag of clothing. 

‘There’s no going back,’ she thinks to herself. ‘Not for me... and certainly not for Jamie,’ tossing his clothing into a sizable rubbish barrel.           

Jamie returns, not noting the missing bag. While eating, the pump clicks off. Josie returns to the driver’s seat. Back to the interstate.

“Not much around,” Jamie notes, munching on his cheeseburger. “Except trees.”

“That’s why I like it up here... and you will too. And there will be more trees... and less ‘much’,” Josie quips.

Two more hours, and Jamie finds Josie to be correct. There is nothing. Finally pulling off the interstate, the SUV continues north on a state road, two lanes.

“You have a girlfriend, Jamie?” Josie needing to know just who and how much he will be missed. 

“No, not really.”

“You like girls? They must like you,” the long blond hair for sure to be found attractive.

“They’re... you know... kind of strange.”

Josie mulls over the observation. Spoken as would a boy of prepubescence... though not the case... young Jamie for sure must have the urges of surging hormones.

“So no one to call... no one to write to.”

Jamie shakes his head.

This may be easier than she imagined. The family home was rented. Jamie’s mother, being an old friend, frequently fessed up to being near broke. So an estate administrator won’t be seeking the prospective heir to a small fortune. Instead with limited funds, he’ll merely tidy things up quickly. There will an assumption concerning Jamie’s whereabouts... that someone took him under their wing... but no driving need to find out whom. And more importantly where.

Northern Maine. State parks... vast acres of logging land. Some camp sites. And much seclusion.

“So no girlfriend. You must masturbate,” Josie deciding to be more and more brazen as she approaches Jamie’s new home.

“I... I...” Jamie in shock, words not coming.

“Don’t be shy about it. All boys do it... though it’s not healthy.”

And girls too, but disclosing that would tend to bring a degree of comfort. She does not want that.

A few miles in silence, letting Jamie percolate.

“Does your penis spit stuff... when you masturbate?”

Stunned, Jamie can do no more than nod.  

“Well, we can’t have you spewing that nasty stuff in my home. At least not wherever you want. So we’ll need to... guess I’d call it... monitor your habit.”

Jamie bows his head. Josie does her best to cloak her smile. Deeper and deeper into the woods.... deeper and deeper into her clutches.

“So when you do that, your penis gets hard... and you stroke it. And you think about things.”

Another sheepish nod.

“What is it you think about?”

No reply. It seems even if Jamie could formulate the words, such would not pass through his tight throat.  

“You’ll be telling me. There will be much time at the Collier Preserve... much time together.”

More miles pass. An apoplectic Jamie notes there is now nothing other than fir trees. Nothing to prompt a change in the sordid subject matter. Finally his search for conversation leads to the unfamiliar term ‘preserve’. He inquires, his voice barely heard.

“A preserve is land a person owns, Jamie, but eventually gives to the government... kind of as a park. In my case when I die. But it remains wild... no development. I inherited it... more than one thousand acres. Beautiful... untouched since they logged it over one hundred years ago... and will forever remain unlogged.”

“But you can use it... like for hiking and stuff?”

Josie smiles, detecting the boy’s affinity for the outdoors.

“Most girls don’t enjoy hiking. But you’ll enjoy the view from the house.”

Jamie is perplexed again. His Aunt Josie infers something. Whether or not girls enjoy hiking... how is that pertinent?   

Silence resumes. Jamie feels a chill, wrapping his arms about himself to bring warmth. It’s mid September. In Brookline, Massachusetts the temperature remains most comfortable even though autumn nears. Here in northern Maine, having driven some three hundred miles, the setting sun brings cold.

“I can’t remember if you threw a jacket in the bag,” he comments.

“It doesn’t matter. I’ll have something to cover you... at the house,” Josie smiling that whatever was in the bag is no longer of consequence.

“How long... you know... will I be staying here? I was supposed to start at the community college.”

“You won’t need to think about college, Jamie. Anything you need to know you’ll learn from me... and some books and instructional videos I have.”

“What kind of books?”

“Cooking... etiquette... cosmetology... stuff girls like to learn.”

Again the inference.

“What’s cosmetology?”

“Beautification. You’ll learn to look pretty for me.”

More confused than concerned, Jamie responds... as would a boy.

“Think I’d rather go hiking.”

“No you wouldn’t. You’ll hurt your feet.”

“These running shoes are pretty comfortable.”

“I’m sure they are. But you’ll not be wearing them. Sort of a house rule.”

Josie again smiles to herself... wonting to add... ‘you won’t be wearing anything of your choosing’.