Sorry for the delays but exceptionally busy at the moment!

Chapter 5

At some time during the night he was fed a bottle of milk and he felt himself drifting down a deep hole from which there seemed no escape. His dreams were full of vivid pictures of children of all ages being put in nappies by their nannies, their mummies and even their siblings. They all seemed carefree and happy.

He awoke, the room was in darkness and he had no idea what time of day it was. His brain felt scrambled, full of daft thoughts about being a baby again. Slowly, his dream wafted away and the real nightmare of his life rushed back. He was securely pinned to his cot by a leather harness that jingled whenever he moved. His mouth was filled with a large baby’s dummy that he seemed to be enjoying. Worse than that he was swaddled in a nappy that was wet and uncomfortable. He went to tackle the straps that restrained him and realised that his hands were disabled by fiendish mittens that prevented him from undoing anything.

Andy tried to piece together the muddle that he was trapped in. He spat out his dummy and tried to gnaw through the straps that restrained his mittens. Amazingly one strap came away quite easily and in no time he had freed his hand. He then freed his other hand and finally was out of his baby harness. He felt weak, so unbelievably weak.

Off came the straps securing his feet and with some careful fiddling around in the dark, he managed to lower the cot rail. He stealthily got out of the cot and gently made his way to the blackouts that were fitted to the nursery window. It must have been about midday judging by the position of the sun. He ripped at the snaps between his legs of the onesie and wriggled the terry nappies and plastic pants down his legs in one piece. They were sodden. There was no time to hang around and he picked up a pair of thick terry training pants and put them on. He shook some baby powder into them to cover the smell of his wetting. The pink onesie joined the pile on the floor. He opened the wardrobe, it was full of baby dresses in his size. He undid his bib and added it to the heap. He looked through the drawers, but there was nothing to wear that he could be seen in outside of the house.

There were nappies and more nappies and so many different plastic pants but nothing to escape in. In the bathroom he found towels, a babyish robe with a hood that he put on in the absence of anything better. He went back into the nursery and tried the door, it was not locked! He felt almost a jolt of pure joy. The house was quiet, where could Olivia be? What day was it and how long had he been locked up?

He found her bedroom, where her bed was made and all was neat and tidy. He looked for his clothes, but there was nothing. He helped himself to a set of her joggers which fit him quite well and found a T-shirt that wasn’t too girly. He thanked the saints that he was of a small build. He found no shoes.

Slowly he crept downstairs to look for his stuff, then to his horror he saw a large plastic bag that contained all his clothes that had been slashed and ripped. His shoes had been sawn in half, he was dumbfounded. There was nothing to be salvaged and nothing he could use. He searched for his keys, wallet, mobile phone and purse but there was nothing, not a trace. There were no cars in the street, on the driveway or in the integral garage. What had she done with his car?

The house had no telephone, like most modern people she relied on her mobile. Her computer was useless to him as it was password protected. The front door was locked as was the back door, all the windows were secured and he could not see an obvious route of escape.

His feeling of despair was not helped by a wave of warm wetness filling his training pants. She had rendered him incontinent and he was wetting his pants like a toddler. He clutched himself in an attempt to slow the flow, but it was too late. He felt the legs of the joggers slowly get wetter and wetter as his pee ran down each leg. He ran to the kitchen to save her carpets. He stopped in amazement, there were baby clothes and nappies all over the room, at least a dozen freshly laundered and dried nappies on the table. A laundry basket full of wet nappies that had recently come out of the washing machine and more than a dozen pairs of plastic pants piled neatly on a chair. Nappy pins were linked together like a bracelet.

In the sink were half a dozen baby bottles, washed and draining. On a work surface were bottles of pills, lots of them, enough to put down an army. He scanned the labels and was confounded by what he saw. On the wall was a television, which he turned on. It was the lunch time news. He saw the date, no it was impossible, he had been there over six weeks.

He took off the joggers and pants, picked up two nappies, some pins and plastic pants and put himself back in the protection he now needed so badly. He did not notice the CCTV camera follow him round the kitchen as he sorted himself out.

Chapter 356.

Tim was desperate to make amends.  He put away all his outfits and dresses – including a couple he hadn’t seen before – the came downstairs and took Mrs Brookshaw’s cup and washed and dried it, cleaned the sticky counter, and wiped the sauce bottle and put it away.
“When you’ve cleaned the kitchen you can go to the laundry room.  Take the clothes out of the washing machine and put them all in the dryer.  Fold mine neatly onto the shelves when you’re done, and then iron your shirt and bring it to me.”
“Yes, miss.”

It was nearly twelve when he reappeared before his mistress holding his clean, ironed shirt.  She held it up, and nodded approvingly.
“Hmm.  Looks like there’s one thing you can do without making mistakes.  Maybe I should train you up as my laundry maid.  All right.  You need to shower before my friends arrive.  Stand still so I can unlock your collar.”  She unlocked it and took it off.   â€śRemember that.  Any time I want to I can put that back on, attach a leash, and you’ll be my little pet.  If you’re lucky, I might even take you out for a walk around town.  Would you like that?”   She smiled mischievously.
Tim shook his head.
“Don’t think I wouldn’t.  I’ve done it before with a trainee.  Silly boy cried the whole time.”
Tim believed it.
“Right.  Now you can use the bathroom downstairs.  Put all your clothes outside.  I’m going to wash you shorts, find you some nice clean socks, and, oh, I’ve got some prettier gloves for you.  You need to look your best today.” 
“Thank you, miss.  I’m really sorry…”
“And stop apologising.  I’m still considering how I shall punish you.  I’ll discuss it with my friends later.  Apologies are not going to make any difference.  Off you go, then.  Take your time, and use plenty of that lovely rose-scented shower gel.  I want you smelling nice.  Call me when you’re done.”

She collected his clothes from outside the bathroom door.  His shoes and cap she left with his shirt in the living room.  The pink top and his socks she dumped in the laundry.  She went to his room and found clean white socks, then to another bed room and took a new pair of latex gloves from a drawer.  These had pink bows at the wrists.  She brought them downstairs, then attended to his shorts.  She went back to the laundry room, washed them in water, then in water and rubber-shine, so they’d be nice and glossy.  Once they were dry, she turned them inside out and lay them flat on the counter.  Then she took a small pink spray-can from the cupboard and sprayed the front thoroughly.  The fine spray glistened on the latex for a minute or two, then faded slowly as it dried.  She gave it a second spray, and once that had dried too she carefully turned his shorts back the right way.  She looked at the small can and smiled.  Beneath the name “Rose-Stim” was a depiction of a rose, standing erect with petals succulent and bristling.  “How appropriate,” she murmured, “even has his name on the can…”

Her phone was ringing.  She carried the shorts, gloves and socks back to the living room, and picked it up.
“Frieda…hi…  Yes, he’s here.  Just having a shower.  It’s going well…”  She laughed.  “A little accident with a bottle of chocolate sauce…yes…I’ll tell you about it later.  But listen…”  She lowered her voice.  “You won’t be disappointed.  I’ve had a preview, actually.  An opportunity presented itself and I took full advantage…  Very nice.  Couldn’t ask for more.  And you’ve seen the piccies.  Yes, he is.  But so sweet with it!  Eager to please.  Like a little kid…  Yes, I used the stuff.  It says it may take an hour or two to work…  “activated by body temperature”.  Come a bit early?  Course you can.  One-thirty’s fine.  He’ll be ready.  Okay…  See you!”

“Miss…?  I’m done…”
“Coming, darling.”  She walked to the bathroom.  Tim was hiding behind the door, naked.  Mrs Brookshaw came up close. 
“Ooh, you smell gorgeous.  Here’s your shorts.  Pop them on and come to the living room, and I’ll help you with the rest…”

Mrs Brookshaw was being so nice as she helped him into his clothes that he began to forget her earlier strictness.
“Now, Tim, you won’t need your belt purse, because you’ll be wearing you nice new gloves the whole time.  Do you like them?  They have pink bows to match your bow-tie.  Here, sit down and let me help you with your socks and shoes…”
She was being so solicitous that poor Tim actually felt guilty about his behaviour earlier, and resolved to be the best boy he could possibly be from now on…
“Miss…”  He was about to apologise again, but stopped himself just in time.
“Yes, Tim?”
“I, er…  I’m really grateful for your taking me on…  I’m going to be a good boy from now on, and I’ll wait on your friends very nicely, and do everything I’m told…”
“Oh, thank you, Tim.  That’s so sweet of you.  I think they’re going to like you, and I’m sure they’re going to love your pageboy look.  Don’t you agree?”
“Oh, I hope so!” he said, excitedly.  “Everyone  at the wedding thought it was really smart.  And my new yellow…er, hotpants are really cool.  They’re so glossy now…”
“Yes, I gave them a little shine.  Well, you have my full permission to show off a little in your outfit.  All three of my friends really appreciate fashion.  In fact, I’d like a snap of you right now, for my mantlepiece.  Come here and stand by the wall.  Turn that way a bit…now look at me over your shoulder…perfect!”

Tim felt happy and relaxed.
“Miss?  How many of your friends are coming?”
“Three.  Frieda, Bridget and Maxine.  And Robyn said she’d pop in later, and may bring her friend.”
“Oh…  Okay…  Is there anything I can do, miss?  Shall I get some glasses out?
“No, Tim, you don’t need to do anything.  In fact, all I want is for you not to get into any more scrapes before they arrive.  So…”

She opened a drawer in a sideboard and took out something pink, and a length of silver chain.
“Come over here, please.  Stand by this wall ring.”
Tim looked at the ring, not understanding.  She knelt down, buckled and locked a pink leather cuff around his ankle, and attached it to the ring with the chain.  She stood up.
“There!  That should keep you out of mischief for an hour or so, while I go and shower.  Behave, won’t you?”
She winked, and left.  Tim could only stand there, surprised and a little confused.

It was "soon" four months ago.  So "very soon" must be at least less than four months??

Chapter 355.

Tim had a weakness for chocolate sauce.  He was about to put the bottle away in the cupboard when that weakness got the better of him.  With a sideways glance at the kitchen door, he flipped open the cap, and had a quick suc-k at the nozzle.  Yum!  And his mistress was none the wiser.  He put it back on the counter and tried to close the cap.  It stuck.  He daren’t hammer it closed, so he pressed down as hard as he could.  In an instant, with a loud smack, the bottom slipped sideways on the polished counter, and chocolate sauce spurted out all over his clothes!
“Shit!”
Mrs Brookshaw was on the spot in a second.
“Oh, what have you done?  You naughty boy!”
Apart from the sauce around his mouth, it was on the front of his shirt, all over his shorts and on his left glove.  Mrs Brookshaw grabbed a cloth, dampened it with warm water, and first attended to his gloves, then the front of his shorts, which, because of the stickiness of the sauce, needed vigorous and repeated efforts, (and involved her in rubbing with her right hand whilst supporting his rear with her left), and lastly his face.  Finally she ordered him to take off his shirt.
“Lucky for you I’m just about to do a wash,” she tutted.  “I’ll put this in and maybe I can get it washed and dried before my friends arrive after lunch.  I suppose I’d better find you something else to wear for the time being.  Goodness, what a fuss.  I could send you back right this minute if I didn’t have plans…”

She left him standing in the living room, trembling with anxiety.  However, in wiping his shorts, Miss Brookshaw had inadvertently given his poor inoffensive boyhood quite a through kneading, to which it had responded with its customary enthusiasm.  He looked down with trepidation.  If she saw that, after the faux pas he had just committed, goodness knows what she would say.  But she was already coming back down the stairs.  Desperately, he took it in hand – which only made things worse – and turned towards the window.  She strode into the room.
“This is all I could find…”  She held up a woman’s pink top, obviously too small for him.  “It’ll have to do.  Come here!  What are you doing…”
She put her hand on his shoulder and turned him to face her.
“What in heaven’s name…?  What are you doing, boy?  How dare you…?”
He dared not let go of it.  He blushed scarlet, and looked at his feet.
“I’m sorry!  I didn’t mean to.  It was when you cleaned my shorts…”
She didn’t immediately respond.  Then she reached down, took hold of his wrist, and gently removed his hand.  He kept his head lowered, not knowing what was coming.  He could see it clearly, straining at the fine, yellow latex.  It was really quite impressive.
Another silence. 
“Dear me.  I can see it now.  You’re completely untrained.  Completely…undisciplined.  Raw material.  They told me you were new, but they also said you were very promising.”  The anger had gone from her voice now.  There was almost a note of satisfaction.  “Well, I can see I’m going to have to train you myself.  Stay right where you are.”
She left the room, and returned a moment later holding a black riding whip.  Tim’s eyes widened.
“Miss…  No, please…”
“Quiet.  This is for your own good.  Turn round.  Right.  Now you can hold onto…onto that thing, with both hands.  Now, please.”
Six firm, stinging strokes was all it took.  He whimpered, but made as little noise as he could.  His erection wilted like a dying flower.
“Let me see.  There, that’s better.  Now, put this on.  Go on.  Yes, a little tight.  Stand still…”
“What are you doing, miss?”
She had produced a pink leather collar.  She strapped it around his neck and padlocked it with a tiny padlock.
“There.  That’s to remind you that while you’re in my house, you belong to me.  Don’t break my rules.  Don’t worry, it’s only temporary.   You haven’t made a good start, have you?”
Tim hung his head.  “N-no, miss…  I’m sorry…”
“Not only did you steal my chocolate sauce and make a mess in the kitchen, but I’ve just had a look in your room and I see you failed to follow my instructions to put away your clothes.  Don’t think there will be no sanctions.  You will be punished.  Rely upon it.”
“Yes, miss…”
“Is that all you have to say?”
“I’m sorry miss…”
“Right.  Go tidy your room,  Unless…”
She picked up the whip.  But he was already gone.