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260 Words
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It is trying, getting through the day, listening to troubled patients who aren’t troubled. But the dollars roll in and my bank account is well stuffed. Plus I have my thoughts of Douglas Michael Harper naked and well bound in my spare bedroom. The coffee was adequate, the toast perfect and while I took my time dressing, a good portion of my apartment was cleaned. Since I begin office hours late in the morning, letting the hurly burly of rush hour diminish, a well supervised Douglas had time to make the kitchen spotless and straighten up the main bathroom. I watched, quite entertained, his hobbling ankle strap made many tiny steps necessary which comically caused his balls and p***s to flop about. In kneeling to swab the kitchen floor, wrist restraints adding a frustrating degree of challenge, he knew to keep his knees as widely parted as possible, letting that burgeoning hairless scrotal sac swing about heavily. I do think he has been trained to amuse.
I was impressed and thus as the dreary day ends I think of him lying on the new hospital bed in my spare bedroom, the Segufix system mandating almost total immobility. Diapered and blindfolded, there is nothing for him to think about but me and what I will do when I return home and find he has soiled himself.
There is no doubt, for I watered him quite well before leaving, assuring that a full bladder will result in a diaper in need of changing and of course harsh words and punishment for his slovenliness.
- Writer
