He loves it and begs for more.
Don’t get me wrong, there have been things over the years I’ve tried with him that, when I debrief him later he admitted he hated, and I’ve dropped it from the menu, or slid it over to the punishment column. I’m not heartless. Iwanthim to enjoy what we do.
I want him towantme.
Except now, I need to teach him to want George.
One thing I’ve done throughout our time together is sometimes reviewing George’s speeches while we’re playing. If the boy’s tied up and doing something, like worshipping my foot—or pussy—I can sit there and go over what George said, how he said it, mentally note things I need to bring up with him before the next speech he gives.
I start doing that every time we play. I make sure Declan’s not blindfolded and that he’s facing the TV while I play with him, especially for the reward phase.
I want him to associate George with pleasure.
I know I’ve succeeded in this when, in early September, I’m in my office at lunch and rewatching one of George’s speeches on my laptop. Declan’s in there with me and starts adjusting himself while blushing.
It takes everything I have in me not to react, to pretend I don’t notice, but I know it means I’m on the right track with his training.
Meanwhile, George is slowly declining. He has no outside interests other than the kids and work. Before, he and Ellen used to do things in their free time, even if it was only going over to a park and hiking for an hour or so. They’d walk around their development after dinner to talk and let him decompress. She would attend official functions with him and keep him calm and centered.
Countless offers I’ve made to him to take a walk with me have been rebuffed. Trying to schedule him to go on a hike with me is gently declined time and again.
I can’t get him to go back to the doctor to try different antidepressants after the first one failed miserably with him. He won’t use sleeping pills, either, because he had horrible nightmares from them. That much he would admit to me, finally.
That at least without the sleeping meds he could awaken himself from the nightmares.
With them, he was forced to endure the experience over and over again, sometimes even more horrifically than what happened in real life.
Thus, I watch and wait and plan.
Call me what you will, I have a job to do to help run this state, and I have a job to do as a friend. Despite what you think of me, I also have my loyalty to my girl to think of. No way in hell could I look myself in the mirror knowing I didn’t do everything in my power to keep her beloved husband alive.
Besides, I love the motherfucker. I don’t want him to die. He’s all I have left of her.
I also can’t lose Declan.
If I have a boy who craves what I give him—and let’s be honest, he could take alotmore than what I give him, except I’m normally squeamish about getting too physical with him—and I have an adrift Master and sadist who’s untethering himself from life a breath at a time…
Well, can you blame me?
George always called Ellengirl. That was his name for her, and she called himSiraround others, andMasterat home in private.
Oh, did I mention George has no clue I knew this about them? That they had this dynamic?
My girl told meeverything. Even once she was officially his girl.
Even if he was clueless she’d beenmygirl. And I’d once called her that—girl.
That means as this plan slowly takes shape in my head, I start referring to Declan asboyaround George more often. In the past when I’ve used that term to refer to him, George assumed I’d meant it jokingly because of Declan’s age.
Now?
I need George to be thinking of Declan asboy.
Because once he does, it won’t take much for me to nudge George into thinking of Declan ashisboy.
George—before—was always competitive. Not to an assholish level, mind you, but playfully. I can hopefully tap into that and use that to get him to want Declan.
My biggest hope, besides wanting to reignite George’s will to live again, is that I can still maintain my hold on Declan’s heart.
