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Chapter Seven How A Heart of Contracts Can Be… Played   As the young maid, Eloise had her hands on Nadia's shaking shoulders, her brown hair escaping the tight bun she normally had to wear her hair in, and her green eyes staring across from me, Mr. Greivere sat back his fingers touching on ends, again. He waited for a moment for the aura of the retreating representative from Wedgewig to disappear.   I shivered as the smell from my own lap started to make itself aware... a reminding of the peeing accident I had had maybe an hour or two earlier, one where Jennifer pushed me on the toilet to pee in my panties as she coldly watched me pee them, and then she made me wear them since... knowing we were going into an important meeting in front of her strict father, no less. I felt the smell causing my face and neck to burn with embarrassment, though the fabric in the thick cotton panties was cooling. I wasn't sure, but I'd bet that by this time, the wetness had probably soaked through the dress. I know it would have, had I been wearing a regular one, but this thing they had me in... had so many layers... I should be grateful if somehow, the layers kept my shame hidden. "Well, dramatic that was," Mr. Greivere finally spoke a measured word as we all seemed to take a breath and think about our own places around the table. "Eloise, take little pee pee pants to the staff bathroom in the kitchen and get her as cleaned up as you can there, but don't take all day. I want dinner now, not in three hours." Jennifer smirked at me. I avoided her gaze. I felt the hair on the back of my neck rising, and an overwhelming emotion from inside to strike at her emanating from deep inside my chest. This girl, that had tormented me at school for the last two years--now my boss--seemed to be doing everything she can to provoke me, and I knew the consequences would not be good if I let her. My mom faced prison. My sister faced foster care where she would know no one, and it wasn't fair to them that our only way out of the mess created by dad's disappearance and then death, was for my tormentor's family to offer 'shelter' however crude that shelter may be. "Don't tell me you peed your pants again, already?" Jennifer whispered. I felt my fists tighten at my sides, my face tightened, and my eyes felt like they were wanted to pop out and assault her on their own, but somehow, though I shook with the effort, I kept control; knowing that I'd pay for any little retaliation that I might make. Through gritted teeth, I whispered tightly. "No. You are making me sit in wet cold panties. If it's leaked through, it's your fault.... I don't even have to go right now." She smiled and stood as Mr. Greivere motioned at the table at large. "Come, everyone, sit a little closer. Larissa, sit next to Shawna, please. Jennifer, sit next to me, and Lena you next to Jennifer. When little miss pee-pee pants gets back, we'll start dinner." I turned down his way and glared at him. He had not right to make fun of a scared ten year old no matter what small infraction she had done in response to it. I was sitting in wet panties myself, and if the people that made her 'presentable' was anything like Jennifer had been to me, then of course she peed. She likely had no chance to go to the bathroom, and as scared as she was, she probably couldn't even ask. Mr. Greivere's sight was drawn my way, probably because of the daggers that were in my eyes for him at the moment. He only looked a moment, but there was no reaction to the way I looked at him. It was like water off a duck's back, the way he turned to my mother, and he very pleasantly turn to her own contract making. "I am sure you want a contract for your own work, then?" his words were deliberate and simple. Mom's smile tightened a little in nervousness. "You saw what Mr. Wedgewig is trying to pin on you and your recently deceased love?" Mom's lips tightened more. She was no longer smiling at all. Her own body was shaking a bit. "So...?" she barely voiced the word. "So..., I am going to help you, Miss Miller. But you need to understand the gravity of the conditions you are here under. You cannot just freely leave the estate. To do so, would put you in jeopardy of being arrested on the spot. You have gathered that much, I'd assume?" She shook but nodded her head slowly. Some of the hair they had somehow gotten to balance on top of her head had seemed to become limp with the gravity of our situation, and drooped down in her eyes. The brown wavy strands some with grayness mixed in, seemed to exaggerate her worry. "You will need a job to pay for things that are not being offered as a matter of course by myself and our staff here. You'll want to have Lena and Nadia to have nice things for school when that starts next week. You'll want to get some toys because I'm sure you had to leave the children's things all at your other place when you were evicted?" Mom looked up, pushing a mass of her hair out of her face to see him properly. "We are grateful for what you are doing. But if I can't even leave your estate, how do you expect me to find a ...," but she went quiet as the man frowned at her. "That's what I'm telling you. You work for me now. You did understand in the car, right? That while I want Lena to be my daughter's first employee to teach her how to run her empire for when I pass it to her, that I had also had plans to put you to work as well?" Mom frowned. "I... I thought you were just sounding it out with me. I didn't realize that you meant it...." "Well, I did. You really have no choice, do you? Like was pointed out, you can't leave to get a job anywhere else, or you'll be arrested on the spot, and your children will likely go... well, to the state. Which is one of the terms of the contract I'd like Lena to hear...." Mom shivered as she watched him with eyes like a rabbit eyeing a hawk about to strike. I felt a shiver down my spine as I started to sit, taking the moment as I sat, to feel my bum to make sure nothing had leaked through my wet panties out to the outside. It was dry. I had done it in pretense of adjusting the dress to sit hoping no one would notice. "I can keep your children together," Mr. Greivere sternly looked into mom's eyes. "Even if the police come here with a warrant, it is possible for me to keep them together." Mom looked over at me with pleading eyes. I think she would have done anything to protect us, and especially Nadia being just ten years old, going into fifth grade, she was so scared and fragile. Mom had to think of her. I had to think of her. I nodded my head fully trusting and supporting my mother. "What do you want to do, Mr. Greivere?" "It's simple, really. You are their mother, so for as long as we can keep the police at bay, you will stay with your daughters in the... uh... arrangements I have put you in. But you need to sign a guardianship form, making me their... Godfather. As such, I can take them if anything happens to you, and you will not have to worry about them having a place to stay, food in their bellies, and some of the other common things they are used to having such as toys and books to occupy their free time." Mom looked back at me, her hands on the table, clearly clenching as she felt a strong wave of something keeping her there, as though the decision was forced on her in the moment, a decision that should have been thought about for months, but it was there, facing her now. "Mom, I'll...," I started to whisper. "Child, hold your tongue," Mrs. Greivere looked cold and stone faced at me. "Children do not get in the middle of adult affairs." She didn't yell, rather, she whispered it, but her whisper carried across the table so it was evident that she had scolded me just the same. Mom looked down at her hands, which were clenched so tightly that her knuckles were white. I could see the tiny tremors running through her fingers. The scent of roast duck wafted in from the kitchen, rich and savory, but it couldn't mask the stale odor of my own humiliation clinging to me—a damp, acrid reminder beneath layers of fabric.   Next to me, Jennifer smirked, her fingers drumming lightly on the polished mahogany table, the sound barely audible over Mr. Greivere's steady breathing. His eyes were fixed on Mom, unblinking, like a predator waiting for the perfect moment to strike.   "The guardianship is non-negotiable, Larissa," he said, his voice smooth as silk. "Sign it, and your daughters stay together. Refuse..." He trailed off, letting the unspoken threat hang heavy in the air. Mom flinched as if struck. I wanted to scream at him, to rip that smug look off Jennifer’s face, but fear for Nadia—alone in that kitchen somewhere—locked my voice in my throat. Mom didn't say 'if' when she responded. Her voice trembled in the same shakiness that was evident to everyone at the table. "When I sign it, what is to keep you calling the police and having me taken away at that very moment?" she looked down at the table. "What keeps me from calling them right now?" Mr. Greivere asked. "I can easily track down Lena and get her back. You know I can. But if you don't sign it, I will have no obligation to track down Nadia, will I? So she'll go through the foster system lost to her mother and her sister, being completely alone. However, if you do sign it, it would be a contract, and I'd make sure someone on staff would keep her safe. I think Eloise is actually growing fond of her anyway. She'd probably help her." I leaned forward, my damp dress clinging uncomfortably to my thighs as I slid toward the edge of my seat. Jennifer’s smug grin widened; she traced a manicured nail along the rim of her water glass, the faint *ping* cutting through the thick silence. The roast duck scent had grown overpowering, mingling nauseatingly with the lingering smell of my shame—a sour, intimate intrusion in this opulent dining room. Mom’s knuckles were bone-white, her breaths shallow and rapid. After a few tense moments, Mr. Greivere smiled. "So, then, we have a deal?" Mom nodded in defeat, her shoulders slumped a bit though she was still shaking. "So, does that mean that you can now make Nadia work, too, though I've tried to keep Lena from having unreasonable pressures even on her?" Mr. Greivere shook his head and smiled. "No. Nadia... she will just be looked after by Eloise when you are unavailable. She won't have to work. And yes, Lena, however, will have the kind of contract Jennifer wants her to have, unless--you want to stop this now?" I could see the indecision in mom's face. I tried to mouth at her. "It's okay. I'll keep an eye on Nadia when I can, too" but I wasn't sure mom could read my lips, and I didn't dare raise my voice. Eloise brought Nadia, her eyes watery, back to the seat next to mom. Mom reached out and pulled Nadia close, whispering reassurances while keeping her gaze locked on Mr. Greivere.   Her voice was barely audible over Jennifer’s low chuckle. "Fine. I’ll sign it." The words felt like shards of ice scraping her throat. Mr. Greivere’s smile spread slowly, shark-like, as he slid a thick document across the table. Its crisp edges caught the chandelier light, gleaming like a trap. Nadia buried her face in mom’s side, muffling a sob. "Dinner will take some time," Jennifer whispered to me. "In a bit, and you better not pee again for real, or else, especially not while we are eating. That's gross. But after we've had dinner, just before we part ways, you will go along with what I do... or your sister... foster care?" I gulped. Jennifer's mint gum was on her breath and was poison in my face as she breathed her conditions to me, her silk yellow blondness framing her face like the hood of a cobra as her venomous words sank deep. "You will get up from the table when we are dismissed... and you will... accidentally trip. And then... you will accept whatever consequence comes from that. Do I make myself clear?" I nodded tightly, my stomach churning with the roast duck threatening to reappear. Across the table, Mr. Greivere was handing Mom a heavy fountain pen, its gold nib catching the chandelier light like a guillotine blade.   Mom’s hand shook as she reached for it, her knuckles still stark white against the mahogany. Nadia clung to her side, small fingers digging into Mom’s sleeve, her eyes wide and darting from face to face. The rich scent of the duck and rosemary potatoes was now cloying, thick as fog, mixing with the persistent dampness clinging to my underthings—a sharp, acidic reminder of Jennifer’s earlier cruelty.   Mom's shaking hand signed the contract, and it happened so fast, it didn't look like she had read it at all. There were three parts of it to sign, and I think there was more than the mention of guardianship in that... because... well, how many papers would you need, just for guardianship to spell it out? I shivered. Mom had definitely signed a lot more than she intended to... I was sure of it. "Good," Mr. Greivere was more eager to get the papers back than the expensive pen that mom used to sign with. "Now that's settled, I think we should be served." And he picked up a tiny bell that rested just at the head of the table, and he gave it a wiggle calling people out of the shadows around us, opening tin covered plates of more food than I had ever seen at one meal, and that included at Thanksgiving feasts! Jennifer leaned close again, her breath minty cold against my ear. "Remember your trip." Her whisper was silk over steel.   I clenched my thighs together, the damp cotton chafing skin already raw from humiliation. The clatter of silverware on fine china echoed like gunshots as servants laid out steaming plates—rosemary-crusted lamb, glazed carrots glistening like amber, potatoes dauphinoise layered thick as sin. My stomach twisted; the rich aromas couldn't mask the sour tang rising from my own lap. Nadia picked at her bread roll, crumbs scattering like broken promises. Eloise hovered behind her chair, a silent sentinel. "Oh, dear me, where are my manners?" Mr. Greivere sighed and motioned at Eloise. "Girl, you're position in the house is no longer a simple handmaiden. You may sit. Your contract will be drawn up soon. You will be responsible... for the two new household members of the Greivere estate as a governess, and as such, you eat with your charges, miss." Eloise blinked as she looked at him and then mom and then Nadia and me. Her cheeks flushed softly as she pulled a chair out from the corner and scooted it next to Nadia. Mr. Greivere tapped the bell again sharply. "Well, Eloise, sit. You're officially promoted, and that means you sit at the table. You're one of us now." When Eloise sat next to mom, that's when it really clicked in my head. Eloise wasn't an adult, for sure. She wasn't even older than me, and if she was, probably only by a year or so. I glanced over at Mr. Greivere. "When you are not at work, Lena, and when your mom is busy, you will answer to your new governess as well." Jennifer snorted softly into her water glass. Eloise’s cheeks flamed as she clumsily unfolded her napkin onto her lap, fingers trembling. Her eyes darted between Nadia’s tear-streaked face and mine. She couldn’t be older than sixteen—barely more than a child herself.   The fine porcelain felt alien beneath her calloused hands. Mr. Greivere’s smile was a razor’s edge. "Eloise understands discipline, Larissa. She’ll ensure your girls learn... obedience." He emphasized the last word, glancing pointedly at me.   Mom nodded her head a couple of quick nods, her face turning rosy, as if... she hadn't taught us discipline! How dare this lunatic and his crazy cruel creed-ants! I'd show them... only he had it over my mother now. He had us under his whim, and mom knew what happened if she stepped out of line. I didn't trust them with Nadia without mom here. I had to find a way to keep mom here, no matter what Jennifer forced up on me. I would not leave Nadia to their whims, and I think the only one that could stop them... or at least have a chance, is mom. I had to find a way to make sure she had to stay. "Mr. Greivere?" I nervously spoke my voice trembling and low. "Um... you... you need our mother, don't you, sir?" Jennifer kicked me under the table hard enough to bruise my shinbone. I winced but kept my gaze fixed on Mr. Greivere, who slowly lowered his forkful of lamb. "Excuse me?" "I... I just mean... you need our mom, or we wouldn't be here? You... um... you are very gracious taking us in and everything, but truth is... you need her?" I was more pleading I think than making a statement. I was trying to see... if I agreed to something, if it would be worth it or not.... If it would make sure mom stayed around.... Mr. Greivere leaned back, his chair creaking softly. The chandelier light caught the silver streaks in his hair, making them gleam like wire.   "Need?" He chuckled, low and humorless. "Miss Miller possesses certain... talents. Skills cultivated under your father’s unfortunate enterprises. Skills that happen to align with resolving Mr. Wedgewig’s little financial entanglement."   His gaze slid to Mom, who paled, clutching her napkin like a lifeline.     "Her expertise in forensic accounting is... irreplaceable. For now." He speared a glistening carrot. "But expertise can be copied. Loyalty?" He shook his head slowly. "That requires incentive." "We... well, mom has incentive, if I stay around, right?" I asked hopefully peeking not only his interest but also Jennifer's. I somehow think from what I've observed, he'd do nearly anything for his precious princess. "You see, we don't have our contract done yet, sir, and I can actually concede some more, if... if you would like to make a deal. I just... I want to know that Nadia grows up with a mother, you know? That's my incentive." I felt my face so fiery red, that it was probably possible to roast the duck right off it, yet again. I was shaking. I was scared. But I had to do it, not just because I loved my mom, but because Nadia needed someone that could keep her safe, and I was doubting I'd be able to, as much as Jennifer had controlled me even before a paper was signed. Mr. Greivere paused mid-bite, his fork hovering in the air as lamb juice dripped onto the pristine tablecloth. The silence stretched, thick with the clink of silverware and Nadia's muffled sniffles. Jennifer's eyes narrowed, cold and assessing.   "What exactly are you offering, Lena?" Her voice was a whisper, but it sliced through the room. "Your... loyalty?" The word hung like a noose. "Five years, minimum," I told her. "I... I'll take whatever wage you think fair, but you... you don't have to worry about... about labor laws. Honestly, your dad is already breaking them by forcing a teenager to work, and not me... but... That girl sitting next to my sister, for example. And you are both breaking them because a kid in high school is only allowed a few hours after school. You want more than that, right? Well.... I sign a contract that mom counter signs. I... I become your dad's foster kid for five years... that means... there are no labor laws because it looks on paper like he's just raising me, but you..., Jennifer, again, you can pay what you think I'm worth, but if you don't want me bringing shame to the family, then I'll need some allowances to not look too poor, right? And I... I can work anytime you want as long as I have time to do homework and two hours a night to... relax?" Mr. Greivere tapped his chin and nodded slowly. A flicker of something—calculation, perhaps—crossed his eyes. The roast duck suddenly tasted like ash in my mouth; its rich, fatty aroma turned cloying, blending sickeningly with the persistent dampness beneath my dress. Eloise shifted beside Nadia, her worn maid’s uniform stark against the fine linen napkin draped over her lap. Her knuckles were white where she gripped the chair’s edge. "Lena, you are not an adult," mom started to try to put a stop to this, but Mr. Greivere raised a silencing hand. His eyes swept over me like a hawk assessing prey.   "Intriguing proposition," he murmured. "A five-year apprenticeship? Binding? Legally untouchable?" He leaned forward, fingers steepled. "Sign away your labor protections in exchange for... what? Larissa stays free? Protected?" His gaze flicked to Mom’s pale face. "And Nadia?" I frowned. "So Nadia grow up with her natural mother," I said. "And you continue to protect them just like you promised, and you already signed a contract to let my mom work so she can buy Nadia what you don't provide. You don't touch Nadia, as far as being a guardian. You leave her alone. I don't mind Eloise being our governor, but mom keeps her rights as my sister's primary care taker... period." I was beat red, and felt winded like I had ran a hundred miles for someone's life. He leaned back, savoring my desperation. Across the table, Jennifer smirked, her manicured nails tapping a rhythm on her crystal glass—*ting, ting, ting*—each note sharp as a needle.   Eloise froze beside Nadia, her gaze darting between my mother’s blanched face and the dripping fork in Mr. Greivere’s hand.   Nadia clutched her bread roll so tight it crumbled, scattering golden dust across her plate like fallen hopes. "I... I peed my pants," I told Mr. Greivere. I... I'm so nervous about this, but it's the right thing to do. I'll do it, but I... I got nervous. I'm peeing my pants." There, Jenny! I got one over on you. I know why you wanted me to trip, so your dad would catch me in wet panties, now he thinks I had a reason to pee them... so there! That was all in my head. I could never say it like that to her or this would definitely not go the way I wanted... but in my own mind, I'd known I bested her, even if just this once! Jennifer's breath hitched, her smirk vanishing as her knuckles whitened around her fork. A drip of gravy slid unnoticed from her plate onto the pristine linen. Across the table, Eloise flinched, her gaze darting to Nadia’s trembling shoulders.   Mr. Greivere’s eyes narrowed—a predator scenting weakness—but before he could speak, Jennifer slammed her hand down. Silverware clattered. "You disgusting little—!" Her shrill voice cracked the tension like glass. "I know, sir," I kept my attention fully on Mr. Greivere. I didn't have a contract with Jennifer yet, so she can scream all she wants, but the only way she gets to get even with me, is if daddy let's us make the contract I just laid out. I wouldn't sign otherwise, and I... I am still nervous. I might actually be peeing, I'm not sure. But I as scared as I am... I'm not signing unless I see that mom stays with Nadia, and he keeps mom for all five years keeping the contract he already had her sign for as long. Mr. Greivere raised a silencing hand toward Jennifer. Her furious glare bounced off him like hail on stone. The dining room froze—even Eloise stopped breathing beside Nadia. Only the faint *drip* of Jennifer’s spilled gravy broke the silence. His eyes locked onto mine, cold and assessing.   "Clever," he murmured, the word slicing through the tension like a scalpel. "Using your... accident... as leverage. Threatening to withhold your signature unless my daughter behaves?"   A slow, predatory smile spread across his face. "Jennifer, learn from this. Emotional outbursts are liabilities."   He turned back to me, steepling his fingers. "Five years. Foster status. No labor protections. Larissa remains free, Nadia untouched. Done." "You must excuse me, sir, but it's not done. Not until you produce the paper tomorrow morning for me to sign. I am not promised until it is done. You said loyalty is the only thing that means anything to you, and then you said that loyalty has to be bought. Not like that, sure," I was feeling braver now. "So, when you bring the contract, and it says exactly as I stated in it, then I will sign it, and you will have full control over me, and Jennifer can whoop my bottom for peeing in the chair just now." Mr. Greivere’s eyes narrowed to slits, the chandelier light catching the predatory gleam within. Jennifer’s fork clattered against her plate, her knuckles bone-white as gravy soaked into the linen.   Eloise recoiled beside Nadia, her worn sleeve brushing Mom’s trembling arm.   "Fine," he hissed, the word sharp as shattered crystal. "Tomorrow. But understand, Lena—breach one term, and your mother spends those five years in a cell."   He snapped his fingers, and servants materialized, clearing plates with silent efficiency. The roast duck’s richness now reeked of decay. "I know," I said quietly knowing I had put myself under Jennifer for the next five years, and under him too. But the contract needs to give me time to do homework and two hours to play every evening. That's part of the deal. No punishments, no chores, nothing for two hours a day, just like a regular kid gets time to play after school. You... you said it was done a minute ago." Mr. Greivere’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. "Terms noted."   He waved a dismissive hand, and servants swept forward like ghosts, removing the half-eaten duck with its cloying, fatty stench.   Jennifer leaned back in her chair, her laughter a low, venomous hum. "Playtime?" She traced a finger along the edge of her crystal flute. "Darling, *my* demands come first. Always." The icy certainty in her voice coiled around my spine. I looked at Mr. Greivere when she voiced her threat. "Sir? Would the house Greivere go against a contract before some street trash like my-self?" I asked him as a way to show Jennifer, that the two hours of playtime were non-negotiable. Mr. Greivere didn't look at Jennifer. He nodded curtly. "Jennifer will be reminded of the terms," he stated, his voice cold steel. "Your time is yours—from seven to nine nightly. Uninterrupted." Jennifer’s lips pressed into a bloodless line, her knuckles white where she gripped her fork. I sat, out of breath, shaking, but actually revelling in the fact I got over on her, TWICE, not once. She didn't get to humiliate me on her terms! I did it on my own, and she cannot interrupt my "playtime." That's what you get when you live by the inmutable law of contracts! Mr. Greivere tapped his bell again. "Desert?" he asked.   Everyone nodded weakly.   Mom glanced at me and whispered, "Are you sure?"   I nodded to her. "I'll do what I have to," I whispered back. I told him I peed, so I just let myself pee my pants. I'd had to go for a while, but WAS too scared to ask to go. Now, they expected a puddle, so I had to give them one anyway. I smirked at Jennifer as I let myself pee... disgusting as it was, it was out of her hands at least—how I was humiliated. Jennifer recoiled as the wet stain bloomed across the cushion beneath me, a dark, spreading map of defiance. The sour scent cut through the lingering rosemary and gravy, sharp as vinegar. Her nostrils flared; her knuckles whitened around her untouched crystal flute.   Mr. Greivere merely sighed, tapping his bell with detached impatience. "Eloise," he commanded, his voice flat, "attend to Lena before dessert stains the upholstery." I quietly went with her, not fighting. I had done this. I was glad though. It was Eloise taking me off on her own, and not Jennifer coming along with snide remarks.

Great chapter. I still think that Tommy’s mom is doing what she thinks will only help him in the long run. Even if she is babying him more than he probably needs. If Tommy just puts up with it for a little while until he can prove that he doesn’t need the diaper any longer then he will be back to normal. It does seem like he had a dream that caused him to use his diaper but I think he can overcome that and start to stay dry.  I am enjoying the story and look forward to seeing more. 

Hello, I'm also in the UK and new here.

I've had diaper dreams, pee dreams, now I had a poop/diaper dream.   I was walking around a University Quad, which oddly had a bunch of carnivalesque booths set up, when I realized I needed to get to class(?). As I was headed to the building I realized that I was about to poop, but wasn't worried because my diaper would hold it. Well I started pooping and then felt it running down my leg. Oddly as it came out the bottom of my pants leg it was dry. Dry, like dehydrated dry. Then there was a weird elevator, but I woke up.   It's the first time I can remember having a dream about pooping in my diaper.

It varies, mostly just a diaper, sometimes I add a T-shirt, onesie, sleeper, or romper. That depends upon the temperature or how lazy I was when I went to sleep.