A Gift From James

“Alice, what was the name of that Chinese woman from San Francisco with the specialty in handling certain males. I think I will require her assistance.”

Laitai

Mother was older than her years. Early childhood in China had been harsh under the Communist regime. The body can withstand only so much hardship and mother found herself very much incapacitated in her early sixties despite having lived in the United States for the past twenty years.

So when the phone rang on that eventful Thursday night, I answered it on her behalf, as a dutiful daughter.

The voice introduced herself as Dr. D, a noted psychologist from Chicago who had met my mother at a seminar sponsored by the American Society for Behavior Modification some ten years ago.

I explained my mother’s circumstances and sensed the disappointment on the other end of the line, when her unavailability was comprehended by the firm but pleasant interlocutor.

“Do you know of someone with your mother’s talents?” the smooth but seemingly desperate voice inquired. “I realize it’s short notice, but with this assignment I can afford to be generous,” the voice added.

I paused and contemplated. Mother had adequate support from many local family members. I had always desired to put to work all that she had taught me from the old country. After a moment of thought, I divulged my background and training.

After I explained who I was and how I could help, Dr. D’s relief was palpable. An airplane ticket would be forwarded immediately, she informed me as her pen recorded my address.

“Please be in St. Paul on February 3, Laitai. I think you will be intrigued and I assure you that your talents will be most useful.”

I hung up and briefly explained the call to mother. She smiled with her recollection of Dr. D and encouraged my participation. I then went to my bedroom and began to carefully pack my large collection of bamboo canes for shipment to St. Paul.

James

I had become accustomed to the hours of black, static filled nothingness over the weeks. But the addition of the tubes and the new position dictated by D was a challenge.

My arms were pulled back and up which forced my head down. But with my thighs and buttocks resting on my calves the overall posture seemed tolerable.

With the catheter, I felt the constant need to urinate though it obviously wasn’t necessary. The inflatable butt plug, feeding into my colon the described fluids was indeed inflatable. D had given it that last firm squeeze and its presence was felt despite the weeks of stretching.

But it was the esophagus tube that was most uncomfortable causing me to constantly swallow as if something was stuck in my throat. The slow infusion of liquids could also be felt...at both ends. The room temperature nourishment felt cool upon initial inducement to my stomach and colon then slowly warmed as my body heat absorbed it.

After several minutes I was able to put aside these discomforts. Whether it was the static of the tape, which over the weeks had become oddly soothing, or the sedatives D had mentioned, I did not know.

I did find myself anxiously awaiting the distant voice. It would break the monotony and this time I was certain I would be able to comprehend it. I knelt attentively anticipating the first sound.

D

Watching James passively kneel in his cage, exposed and completely subject to my whim brought back memories from my youthful sojourn in the psychiatric hospital.

I was just out of school and although the job was demanding, it paid better than normal nursing. And the duties fit nicely into my own psyche and make up, particularly on those evenings when some troublesome young male would be dragged in by the authorities after an arrest for drugs or a problem with alcohol.

Typically, the more senior personnel worked days, leaving me at night as the tenured staff member to coordinate the induction, admission and processing of the liquored up or high prisoner.

It was like delivering a fly to a spider’s nest.

The induction room was a bondage aficionado’s heaven with straps, cuffs, straight jackets, and innumerable other restraint devices. I had orderlies under my authority. There was no unruly brute too strong or too large to be brought under my control. And the biggest and strongest became the most fun. For those I would merely stand and bark orders while the recalcitrant lad would be stripped, inspected, and I mean inspected everywhere, and made to succumb to my treatment. If I liked what I saw, I later reserved days of special ‘one-on-one counseling’ after his initial submission.

I suppose that’s where I developed my penchant for the leash.

James’ extreme bondage and sensory deprivation aroused me. The reminiscences sent me over the edge.

I retrieved the portable phone and called Robert.

While waiting for him to arrive, I completed the forms for a joint bank account. I also found an old power of attorney concerning one of my patients. It was a simple matter to retype it for James’ signature. Within a few hours, James would sign whatever I wished, but as a challenge I gave myself modest powers. The cat enjoys playing with the mouse.

Meow, James.

James