Gentle Angel

Posted by nautybaby on March 07, 2002 at 18:53

In Reply to: Story posted by Diapyky on March 07, 2002 at 16:56

To the author: Sorry, i don't know who get the credit for this.

GENTLE ANGEL

It all started innocently enough. A friend of my mother’s needed some one to stay with her for a few days. Her retarded teen-age son had just been institutionalized and since her husband was long gone she found the house empty. My mother had suggested to Angela that I could stay with her until she felt better.

It was fine with me, believe me. Angela was in her mid-thirties and I had a fifteen-year-old’s crush on her. She was very pretty, slim and dressed very well. Whenever she came to visit I couldn’t take my eyes off her. I had discovered Penthouse by then and my secret desire was to find out if Angela was sexy enough to wear stockings instead of boring pantyhose. So I fawned on her, offering her something to eat or drink, joining her and my mother in their conversations and volunteering to do chores at her house. Whenever I was near her I studied her carefully and breathed in her Chanel #19 perfume. My crush deepened.

So the prospect of spending a week or two living with Angela without the distraction of her disadvantaged son seemed like heaven. Her house was a little closer to school so it made sense from that point of view as well.

Looking back on it, I suspect that Angela knew what she was doing all along. She seemed to like my attentions, harmless as they were. Later I found out that she had been flirting with me all along, although when I first met her I scarcely knew what flirting meant.

On Sunday afternoon I packed my school clothes and books and rode my bike over to her house. She greeted me at the door wearing high heels and a dress! My heart was thumping and my hands sweating as I tried to keep my head enough to be polite.

“Well hello!” she said with a broad smile. “I’m glad you came early. We can visit over dinner.”

I stammered out something and she took me upstairs to what had been Kevin’s room. I got my first shock. The room had a hospital bed in it. There were no sheets, just the plastic mattress cover. What caught my eye was the tangle of canvass straps that hung down from the rails.

“I’m sorry, but there is nowhere else for you to sleep but here. I hope you don’t mind.”

I sure didn’t mind. Of all the letters I had read in Penthouse, the ones about bondage turned me on the most. I also found myself drawn to letters about adults forced to wear diapers.

She saw me staring at the straps. “I’m sure you must be wondering about the restraints.” she said with a giggle, “Kevin used to wander at night in a confused state. It was just too dangerous for him so we had to keep him tied down at night.”

I knew I was blushing furiously but there was nothing I could do about it. I said something like “oh” and opened the door of the closet to put my clothes away.

Again I was stopped cold in my tracks. There were a lot of shelves in the closet and every one was stuffed with adult diapers (both disposable and cloth), plastic pants and all the other diaper supplies.

My throat went dry as my cock went hard. It was a fantasy come true! I stared and stared, drinking in the sight of all those things I had only dreamed or read about. I guess I stared too long because Angela gently took the hanger from my hand and said, “He did have some trouble controlling his water and of course, I had to put him in diapers at night because he was restrained.” She said it so matter-of-factly that it jolted me. I wondered if she actually liked tending to him that way. My imagination was running wild.

I looked at her with my burning face and knew instantly that she was aware of my unusual interest. There was a glint in her eyes that should have told me a few things but I was too young. I didn’t know how to read faces.

As we put my things away I stole a quick feel of the soft, frosty plastic pants, the Pampers like oversize disposable diapers and the stacks of cloth diapers. I tried to pretend that I wasn’t interested in these things but I’m sure Angela had caught on to me by then and just wasn’t letting on that she knew as much as she did.

She made a real nice dinner, put candles on the table and even offered me a glass of wine (normally I was allowed half a glass on very special occasions). I felt so mature and masculine as I admired how pretty she was. Every time she came near me I tried to capture her fragrance and she must have noticed because she disappeared between the main course and dessert and after she came back I had no trouble sensing her perfume.

After dinner she poured me another glass of wine (the first one had already hit me pretty hard) and invited me to join her in the den. She curled up in a chair across from me, tucking her legs under her and taking her time about pulling the hem of her dress down to cover the tops of her stockings and her garters.

My heart raced! So she did wear stockings! That was enough to guarantee a furious masturbation session. Little did I know what else the evening had in store.

She asked a lot of dumb questions about school and my friends. I didn’t really want to talk about that stuff but I had to try and act normal. An hour later when my second glass of wine was in full effect she dropped her bomb.

“Do you like me?” she asked innocently with a smile.

“Uh, yeah. I mean yes. I mean...”

She cut me off, “You mean you have a crush on me.” she said in a low sexy tone. “I’d have to have been blind not to notice.” She was speaking slowly, letting her words sink in. “It’s alright, you know. I like you too. I’m glad you could come and stay with me a few days. We’ll get to know each other better.”

I was dumb with nerves and bashfulness. I couldn’t talk. I could barely look at her. She had complete control and she used it.

“Would you be completely honest with me about something?”

How could I lie to this goddess? I nodded my reply.

“Are you attracted to me sexually?” I blushed an even deeper shade of red but I nodded again. “I thought so. You don’t have to worry. I’m not going to get mad or anything. A woman likes to be attractive to a man.”

She straightened her legs and began to pull up her stockings, starting with the ankle and moving toward her knee. I knew it wasn’t polite to stare but I just couldn’t take my eyes away. She knew I was looking and she didn’t seem to mind a bit.

“I like stockings,” she said absentmindedly. “They are so much sexier and practical than pantyhose.” She looked up at me and then gave my crotch a long hard stare, “I see you like them too.”

When her hands got to her garter tab and she began fussing with it I felt like my cock was about to explode. It strained against my jeans and I was beyond caring that she knew I was aroused.

Without saying another word she slowly repeated her movements with the other leg. By the time she finished my head was spinning. From the wine or the arousal? I couldn’t tell.

“Time for bed!” she announced in a way that left me wondering if she meant more than sleep. The glint was still in her eye and my knees were shaking as I got up to follow her, ever mindful of the tent like bulge in the front of my pants. I didn’t resist when she took me by the hand. Her touch was warm and smooth, firm, full of confidence.

When we got to my room I stood silently while she made up the bed. It was a good chance to watch her and admire her, not to mention giving the restraints a good look as well. She saw me watching her and in a motherly tone told me to go and brush my teeth while she got things ready.

When I got back she was sitting on the bed with a strange look on her face. I stopped in my tracks when I saw a pair of adult sized plastic pants in her hands. My arrival seemed to snap her train of thought.

“Oh. There you are.” She looked down at the pants in her hands and suddenly seemed embarrassed. “I’m sorry. Old habits. About now I’d be putting Kevin into his heavy night diapers.” She paused just long enough to look at my bulging crotch and then continued. “Well, I guess that won’t be necessary tonight.”

She put the pants on the desk beside the bed and stood up. Things were suddenly awkward between us. There was something in the air, something waiting to happen but it was hung up somehow. “Sleep well.” she said softly and brushed past me. She closed the door almost all the way and I listened to her heels on the hardwood floor of the hall. Then there was the sound of her door closing and I began to relax.

I slipped out of my clothes. I just couldn’t stand the heat and constriction any more. My erection jutted out like a finger, pointing to the big baby pants that now fascinated me.

I picked them up, marvelling at the smooth, frosty plastic and the little dome fasteners. They were a perfect replica of real baby pants. My hands shook. I felt like a miner who had just hit the mother lode.

I rubbed the plastic against my erection and felt my member twitch in response. I knew I just had to try the pants on. As I carefully opened the fasteners I thought about trying a diaper too but remembered that I would have to conceal or get rid of it somehow and I didn’t want to have to risk that. The plastic pants by themselves would have to do for now.

I only opened one side. I stepped into the closed side and worked them up my leg as quietly as possible. All the time my excitement grew. The plastic felt so strange and yet so exciting. Every time it touched some new part of me I got harder.

As the pants came up around my hips I felt a wonderful sense of sensual confinement, the plastic warming to my buttocks, the smoothness of it caressing my penis and the tight elastic of the leg and waist openings. With trembling fingers I did up the side of the pants, making them complete.

I almost swooned with the sensations. My cock pushed the plastic out into a semi-clear tent. I could feel my body heat being trapped by the efficient elastic at the legs and waist. When I touched myself through the pants the feeling was electric. I was about to get into bed when I remembered the restraints. “That might be fun!” I whispered to myself and immediately started to untangle them. It didn’t take me long to figure out how the long canvass straps with the fur lined leather cuffs were meant to be fixed across the bed at the foot and in the middle. The patient’s feet were held down and apart while the wrists were secured at the waist level.

I got onto the bed and put my right ankle into one of the cuffs. The fur was warm and soft. The cuff fastened with a slip gear arrangement—easy enough to get out of if you had your fingers available. I did it up slowly, savouring the sensations as I felt the leather tighten, and then repeated it for my other ankle.

I laid back, feeling how my legs were forced wide apart and helpless. I wanted the same for my wrists but of course could no more bind myself in than release myself once bound. So I compromised by closing the wrist cuffs part way and forcing my hands into their still loose embrace. I would have to pretend I was held fast.

The feeling was wonderful. I pulled at my bonds and imagined I couldn’t get loose. My bound hands brushed against the plastic pants, feeling my body heat through them. As I wiggled my hips I realized that a little semen had appeared at the tip of my cock and now was lubricating the head of my penis as it rubbed against the plastic. I wiggled my hips some more and realized I would be able to come without using my hands - a new and exciting prospect.

I took it as slowly as I could, letting my already tortured penis absorb a little more stimulation. Then, finally, I just couldn’t hold it any more and let my load spurt into the plastic shell as my body went tense, pulling against the soft but unyeilding cuffs. As I drifted down from my orgasmic flight I marvelled at how there wasn’t going to be a clean up problem this time.

I lay there, relaxed and happy, still content to savour the sensations of being bound. I drifted and then slept. I forgot my door was partly open.

The next thing I knew the cuff on my right wrist was suddenly tightened. It disturbed me from a deep sleep and I was too groggy to react before the left wrist cuff also got too tight for me to wiggle out of. Adrenalin took care of the drowsiness pretty fast.

I looked up to see Angela wearing a peigne noir set and a big smile.

She made little clucking sounds as she walked around the end of the bed, wafting perfume over me. “You’ve been naughty,” she scolded playfully while wagging a manicured finger at me, “but I can’t say I’m all that angry. In fact I expected something like this after watching you this afternoon.”

She reached over and began to stroke my semihard member through the damp plastic. “You wouldn’t want me to tell anyone about this, would you”. I shook my head. It was hard to concentrate on her words when the combination of her touch and her perfume were arousing me all over again. “If you are a good boy, I won’t have to, will I?”

Her stroking was more deliberate now. I pulled against my bonds, hoping this time I would get free. But no dice. I was held fast. I looked into her face. She had something in mind and I had a funny suspicion I wasn’t going to like it. “What does being a good boy mean?” I gasped.

The rhythmic stroking continued. I was now rock hard and very distracted. “It means you do as you are told. You will be completely obedient. No complaints, no backtalk and no trying to escape your punishment.” She stopped her stroking and looked at me dead in the eye. “Do you understand?”

“Uh, yeah. What do you mean... punishment”

“First you must agree. Then I will tell you.”

My fear was mingled with intense arousal. I wanted this woman to take control but I wasn’t sure how far she would go. Still, bound as I was I didn’t have much choice. Angela could really mess my life up with one telephone call. “Ok. I’ll do as you say.”

Her face broke into a broad smile. She was sincerely pleased and that made me suspicious. She winked at me and left the room. I wanted to know where she was going but I kept my mouth shut.

She returned with an instant camera. Two minutes later she had all the proof she needed to back up her story. She went away again and returned without the camera or the photos. She sat on the bed and started to stroke my member back into a ramrod posture.

“Now that the chores have been done we can get down to business. The first part of your punishment to loan this to me for a while. In fact, I reserve all rights to it so don’t let me catch you touching yourself.”

Believe me, it felt so good that I couldn’t imagine ever wanting to touch myself as long as she was around to do it for me. I nodded furiously.

“The second part of your punishment is that, starting now and lasting until you leave, you will be kept in diapers.”

What! I instinctively tried to pull free but of course couldn’t budge and inch. It took a second for the reality she was describing to push its way through the haze of pleasure she had created in my mind. “But! But!..” I started to protest. She put her finger over my lips, silencing me.

“Don’t fuss.” she said gently, “You’ve already waived your right to protest. You must cooperate or the photos will be shown to your family.” Her tone was so calm, so matter-of-fact that I knew instantly she was right. I had no choice. I stifled my protests and tried not to let my imagination dwell on diapers.

“I don’t want to hear another word from you unless I speak to you first.” she said in the same quiet but firm tone. Then she started to make love to me.

She slipped off the sheer top of the peigne noir set and stood there for a minute, letting me drink in the sight of her slim body outlined in the satin slip. Her erect nipples created little points.

Then she slipped off the shoulder straps of her gown and let it slide to the floor. Nude in the dim light from the window I saw she had full breasts with tiny nipples, a very tiny waist and long tapered legs. Her pubic bush was trimmed into a neat triangle and I could just make out the outline of her labia. She was the first live woman I had ever seen nude and I shall never forget that sight.

“Do you like what you see?” she asked softly. I nodded vigorously. My throat was too dry to risk words.

“Good. It has been a long time for me. I’m going to like having you around.”

She started kissing me, first on the lips and then on the face and neck and then slowly working her way down my body. Her lips were warm, wet and soft. Her perfume filled my world. I drifted into the sensual dream she was creating.

Meanwhile I felt her hands working at the snaps of the plastic pants. She opened both sides and peeled the plastic panel back, letting it rest between my legs.

When her hungry lips got to the area that had been covered by the panties she started to lick at the drops of semen. Sometimes she would hit a sensitive spot, tickling me, and I would pull at my cuffs involuntarily. It reminded me how helpless I was; that tickle or torture, I couldn’t stop her from doing whatever she wanted to me.

Now that the pants were gone, Angela used her slender fingers with their long nails to stroke the sensitive insides of my thighs. Again she hit ticklish spots and I pulled at my bonds and moaned.

But otherwise I was in heaven. The woman of my dreams was seducing me and I was helpless to do anything about it. I looked down just in time to see her ruby lips take my raging erection into her mouth.

I wanted to swoon with the rush of feelings. Her mouth was hot and wet, just like I had imagined a pussy to be. She made a tight rim of her lips and began moving up and down, mimicking the action of her sex. I felt stirrings in my balls, a sure sign that I was about to come. I opened my mouth to warn her but she was ahead of me. She stopped her action, looked up at me with fire in her eyes, winked, and then slowly got on the bed. She straddled me, making me watch as she positioned herself over my member. Like a ballet dancer she lowered herself slowly, letting her nether lips find the head of my rod by themselves.

I tried to arch my hips up, to force the contact earlier than she wanted. All it took was a slight shake of her head to warn me off. I tried to obey as I watched our bodies meet.

The first touch of her labia was cold from the moisture that had escaped. But as soon as my penis pushed passed the first folds I felt the incredible heat, the super slickness and the unique tightness that is for men the essence of the physical experience.

Still in control, she lowered herself onto me slowly. By degree she took me inside her. I felt as if my rod was a foot long as it inched its way up her love tunnel.

Finally our pubic bones touched and she relaxed, letting my pelvis support her. I swam in the sensations of being inside her. I felt every nerve ending in my penis celebrating. I was consumed by her, held by her. I truly was in her power.

I looked at her face to see that her expression had changed. Her eyes were closed and her lips were tense with pleasure. She was deep inside herself, letting her body enjoy mine. As if knowing I was admiring her she opened her eyes and smiled. I sensed her power and determination.

“Its so good.” she whispered, “I’m going to enjoy myself a lot.”

Then she began to move her hips up and down, slowly at first and then increasing with speed. Had I not come just an hour before I knew it would have been enough to bring me off right then. Now I could stay with her, letting a new explosion build. She shuddered and I felt her get wetter - the first of many small orgasms for her. She began to bounce on me, moaning and crying, “I wish you could touch my breasts!” she cried out hoarsely.

It seemed to me as if she was sucking the orgasm out of me. Each time she pulled herself up it was drawn a little further up my stem. My body tensed in anticipation, pulling at the fur lined cuffs. The sensations were so strong as to almost be painful. I didn’t know what would be worse: to have her stop or to have her keep going.

My body suddenly went tense, my nerves over loaded with feelings. Again I felt the unyielding cuffs. I had no choice. Angela was in complete control.

She started to come with one particularly hard down thrust. She broke her rhythm, now rising quickly and coming down hard and then resting there for a half second. Thump, Thump, I could hear the bed absorb her weight. She wheezed out a little cry of joy at every landing and she stared out into space, lost within her ecstasy. Her cheeks and lips had flushed and it looked like a rash had broken out across her chest.

Suddenly she stopped moving and began to convulse. A cry rose from the back of her throat as the orgasm washed over her.

When I realized what was happening my own explosion arrived. Although I had the full weight of her body on mine my hips still arched up, forcing me into her and lifting her slightly. I felt my squirts, delivering my seed into her, and then fell limp, beginning the parachute ride down after the rocket flight of orgasm.

To me it seemed as if her orgasms tapered off instead of just ending. She came back into reality slowly, gently, letting go regretfully. Soon she was staring down at me. I could tell she was thinking. My penis was starting to go limp.

She leaned forward and kissed me on the mouth. “Thank you,” she whispered, “I needed that. Was it your first time?” I nodded.

She lifted herself off me slowly and padded down the hall to her room. I lay there feeling her moisture on my penis cool and then begin to dry. I was completely and utterly drained. I couldn’t have managed an erection if my life depended on it. I realized I had to go to the bathroom; a normal reaction to orgasm for me.

She came back wearing a pair of panties. I could see the bulky outline of a sanitary napkin at her crotch.

“Um,” I whispered, “I have to go to the bathroom.” She just smiled, put her finger over her lips as a sign to keep quiet, and went to the closet. At first I didn’t understand what she was doing. Then I remembered what was in there. Diapers!

I tensed up and pulled against the straps as I watched her approach with two cloth diapers, pins and a can of baby powder. She saw the look of fear and disgust on my face.

“I bet you thought I would forget what I said.” she whispered as if telling me a secret, “Well make no mistake about it. I’m putting you into diapers. If you fight me, I’ll win. I have lots of experience. If you relax, I’ll be nice to you.”

We stared at each other for a long second. I could smell the curious blend of perfume and sex in the room. Deep inside I had no choice. I couldn’t stop her. I let my body go limp as I nodded.

“That’s better!” she said as she began to spread the diapers out between my legs, folding them expertly. When she told me to, I lifted my hips as best I could. She removed the plastic pants and then slid the cloth diapers into place beneath me. Compared to the sex-stained bed sheet they were warm and dry. My penis stirred to life.

Her warm strong hands went to work with the baby powder, drying the evidence of our sex and giving my penis more reason to wake up. I was almost hard by the time she put the powder down.

She teased me, “See? He’s not so tired after all. Don’t tell me you don’t like this!”

The other half of the diapers were brought up between my legs and into position. It felt strange to be covered down there. She pinned them just over my hip bones as tightly as she could. My erection made a tent in the soft, cuddly cotton. Now there was baby powder mixed with her perfume. I loved the combination.

I had to lift my hips again so she could slide the plastic pants underneath me again. As she pulled the front half of them into position over the diaper and began fastening them I realized how different they felt with diapers on. The pants were a lot tighter; they seemed to press the diapers closer to my body.

By the time she had finished my mind had become as obsessed with the sensations of being in diapers and plastic pants again as it had been with making love. My penis moved inside its soft powdered world and I dearly wanted to touch it. I stared down at the diapers and plastic pants. The sight thrilled and scared me at the same time. I looked up to Angela looking very pleased.

“I’ve always wanted to diaper a man right after sex,” she said in a normal voice. “We women have to put up with things dribbling out of us for hours after sex. It’s about time you guys got a taste of it.”

The word ‘dribbling’ reminded me of my distended bladder. Without thinking about it I asked the stupidest question of my life. “Can I go to the bathroom now?”

She laughed. A happy, feminine, satisfied laugh. The kind of laugh a mother uses to reward a cute action from a child. “Of course you can’t go to the bathroom. Don’t you understand? I’m going to keep you in diapers. You are wearing your bathroom.”

She ran her hand over the taunt plastic panties, teasing my unwanted erection. “Just let it go. There’s no point in being uncomfortable.”

But I couldn’t. There was too much to wonder about, to worry about. I just sighed. She bent down and kissed me. “Good night, sweet prince.” Before I could muster a reply she was gone, leaving my door wide open.

I can’t remember half the tortured thoughts that coursed through my brain as my bladder became increasingly distressed. Now stiff and aching from orgasms and love making I desperately wanted out of the restraints. I wanted to turn over. I wanted to scratch the itchy spot on my balls. I wanted to rub my nose.

But I couldn’t do any of those things. Angela had me where she wanted and the part that bugged me the most was how I had helped her.

I began to concentrate on releasing my bladder. It took a lot of thinking about boring things to make my erection deflate and a lot more thinking about wet things before I sensed the first little dribble.

It didn’t stay a dribble for long. The valves opened and soon I was wetting uncontrollably. The hot pee hit my tummy and then ran down the sides of my hips, some of it cascading down between my legs. I could feel the thirsty cotton absorb it, becoming hot and wet with it, clinging to my skin.

At first it felt good. A little like being inside Angela. But then the diapers began to cool down. An itchy spot developed here, then there, then over there. I wiggled my bottom to try and scratch but it didn’t do much good, aside from letting me know just how wet I was.

I worried about some of it escaping but then realized that the elastic waist and legs of the plastic pants were tight—too tight.

As the diapers cooled down so did my energy. I was really uncomfortable but I was also exhausted. A few minutes later my tortured brain went to sleep.

Part Two

Bound to the bed by my wrists and ankles, having wet my diapers thoroughly and having strained more than a few muscles while making love to Angela, I did not sleep well.

Every time my body wanted to move it discovered it couldn’t and at first I woke up. After a while I just got used to it, I guess. But I didn’t sleep well at all. I was wide awake when Angela came for me at 6:30.

By then I had a lot of questions. Sure, she had the photos of me wearing the plastic pants, after having strapped myself to the bed. But how could she carry through with her threat to keep me in diapers? Today was Monday, a school day.

Then there was the curious lover/jailer role she played in my mind. I was madly in love with her, especially after last night, but it was also she who kept me tied down and diapered. I had her to thank for my lack of sleep. So when she strolled into the room wearing a dressing gown and high heeled slippers I had a mixed reaction.

She wasn’t wearing perfume but the dressing gown held traces of it. She smiled down at me. “Sleep well?”, without waiting for me to answer, she continued, “the routine is that I release you. You stand up, empty your bladder, and then we go to the bathroom where I take the diaper off. You take a very fast shower and get your cute little bottom back here so I can put another diaper on it. Do you understand?”

I looked up at her. I had nothing to say but she could see from the look on my face that I didn’t really like the idea.

She smiled a power smile. “Look. I have you cold. The photos are hidden. I will use them if I have to. Yes, you could try and stop me from putting you in diapers but you can’t change the photos. And remember, I could just as well leave you lying here for another few hours to think about it.”

Before I could reply she changed tactics, becoming soft and friendly. Placing one hand on my diaper she stroked lightly and put her face close to mine. “There’s something else you should remember,” she said seductively, “little boys who behave are rewarded.”

That connected with the part of me that loved her. I was flooded with memories from last night. She had called out to my fascination with her and I had responded. I felt resistance drain away. I told her I would be good.

She smiled as she released my hands. I had a few seconds to move my aching arms before my ankles were freed and she was helping me to stand. I noticed two things: I immediately had to pee and how heavy my wet diaper was. She put one of my arms around her shoulders to steady me. “Do your wettums!”

It wasn’t hard. We both stood there and listened to the gentle rush of pee escaping into the diaper. I felt the hot water running downward until it met the cloth where it was absorbed. The diaper got very heavy. I was sure it was going to leak.

When she was sure I could stand by myself she took my hand and led me slowly down the hall to the bathroom. My legs were very stiff but the short walk seemed to loosen things up a bit.

I watched her as she walked in front of me. I was deeply in her spell part of me wanted to worry about what was going to happen after the shower but another, stronger, part of me knew it would be all right, that she would take care of me.

She made me stand in the tub before she unsnapped the plastic panty. As soon as it came loose a few ounces of pee dribbled out into the tub. Then she unpinned one side of my diapers, let them drop and asked me to step out of them. The smell of stale urine was very strong as she started the water running for my shower. “Just five minutes!” she reminded me, and then closed the curtain. I saw her hand reach in again to change the flow from tap to shower.

I showered quickly and wondered if I should shave. A quick rub of my jaw said no. I didn’t have much of a beard at that time.

I felt like I was in a trance as I towelled off. Part of me didn’t really want to understand what was happening. Angela had control. That was fine. It felt good to be under her wing, in her sphere of influence, caught in her web. When I stepped out into the cool air of the hall I realized how naked I was and blushed all the way back to the bedroom.

There it was, on the bed, like a hand spread out, waiting to grasp me between the legs. A giant Pampers, complete with elasticized gathers at the waist and legs. There was a pair of frosty plastic panties next to it but these were the kind without snaps.

A lump formed in my throat. Much as I knew what Angela had over me, much as I knew how much I wanted to please her, I wasn’t sure I could go through with this. I looked at her, standing there with a smile of satisfaction on her face; it made me feel naked, trapped and defenceless.

“You are being good,” she said simply, “Now go lie down on the diaper.”

As my skin made contact with the soft padding I realized how strange it felt. The diaper was near the edge of the bed so my legs were supported by the floor. Angela stood between my spread thighs and began to apply baby powder.

Her touch and the smell of the powder took me back to some early memory of being diapered that I hadn’t even realized I had. I felt helpless. I began to fret about going to school in a diaper. “Everyone will see.” I blurted out softly.

She made cooing sounds as she rubbed powder into my stiffening penis. “You’re not supposed to speak unless spoken to. Don’t worry. Kevin was in diapers every time you saw him and I’ll bet you couldn’t tell.”

She was right. I thought back to all the times I had seen Kevin, been in the same room with him for extended periods of time, and never guessed that he was wearing diapers. When Angela had come to take him to the bathroom it had never occurred to me that in fact she was taking him to his room for a diaper change.

I watched her bring the front half of the diaper into place and begin fastening it with the tapes. “These tapes are permanent. You can’t remove them without me knowing.” Deep inside me a little plan died. It was too much to expect that Angela would leave me with the opportunity to take the diaper off at school and then put in on again before I came home. The web had just got stronger.

As she fastened the diaper I felt a blush of warmth inside it. Dry, smooth and fresh it was wonderfully comfortable compared to the wet cloth diapers. Lubricated by the baby powder it slid easily on my skin. I was surprised to feel my erection harden.

She had me stand up. Then she took a role of 2” wide clear packing tape and started to wind it around my waist, capturing the uppermost tapes of the diaper, and then around my hips, enclosing the lower tapes. The room was filled with the screeching sounds of the tape coming off the roll.

She made the tape tight enough so that I couldn’t push the diaper down over my hips. It acted like a belt, trapping me in the diaper until she decided to change me. Still, I felt secure. It was as if the diaper was her hand, holding firmly in her power.

She told me to put my plastic panties on, wear some of Kevin’s jeans because they were big enough to cover the diaper and then come and see her in her room.

I reached for the plastic pants as her high heeled slippers tapped a staccato rhythm down the hall. Holding them in my hand reminded me of the night before when they had seemed so wonderful and so strange. Now I was wearing a diaper and had been told to put these on!

As I sat down on the edge of the bed I noticed for the first time how the giant Pampers I was wearing crackled loudly with every movement I made. With trembling hands I bunched up the frosty plastic panties and put my ankles through them. As I worked them up my legs I was aware of how much they looked like women’s panties and how different they felt. The tight elastic at the legs and waist openings scratched my skin slightly.

As the pants began to cover my diaper I felt a rush of security. It was as if they were hiding the diaper and I knew deep inside that they would be effective in preventing wetting. Once the pants were in place I felt a strange sense of safety and protection. I ran my hands over the taut shell, relishing the strange sensation.

Then I looked in the mirror and was suddenly confused. I was wearing only the diaper and the plastic pants. I watch myself take a few steps and heard the plastic shell of the diaper and the pants crackle loudly. A shiver of fear ran down my spine. Anyone coming close to me would be able to hear those sounds, but would they guess the cause?

A few more steps and I concentrated on getting used to the bulk of the diaper between my legs. The baby powder kept it comfortable, at least until I had to wet.

Even though they had been in place for only a minute or two I could feel the plastic pants trapping my body heat. It reminded me of how sealed in I was, how Angela had removed every avenue of avoidance or escape that occurred to me.

The more I thought about the diaper the more I thought about school. By the time I found Kevin’s jeans my hands were trembling again. I watched the denim engulf the plastic pants and tucked in my shirt. The jeans were a little tight but in the mirror there were no tell tale bulges.

As I walked down the hall to see Angela I realized the jeans made me that much more aware of the diaper. I was also very aware of the tight elastic at the legs and waist of the plastic pants. I reassured myself that I could take the pants off if I really wanted to but a little voice reminded me that they were there as a last ditch measure against leaking. One dark stain in my jeans would betray me for sure. I suddenly knew that the panties would have to stay in place no matter how hot and uncomfortable they got.

By the time I got to her room Angela had showered and was sitting at her vanity wearing only a matching bra and panties. I had wondered why she wanted me in the room but seeing her like that banished the question from my mind. I was quite content to take in the vision of her loveliness.

She saw my reflection in her mirror. “Come in. How do your diapers feel? Comfy enough”.

“I’m afraid someone will be able to tell what I’m wearing.” There was a moment of silence while I prepared my next sentence. “Please don’t make me wear diapers to school. I don’t want anyone to know.”

The room was silent except for the occasional sound of her cosmetic containers. “I’m afraid that’s out of the question,” she said evenly and then paused, “unless of course you would like me to show those pictures around.” I saw her staring at me from her mirror so I shook my head. Whatever risk there was in wearing a diaper to school it was nothing compared to the hell that those photos could bring.

She didn’t say anything more about it. The silence was heavy between us and I wondered why she wanted me there until she started getting dressed.

She went to her lingerie drawer and took from it the garter belt that matched her bra and panties. She put it on and then opened her hosiery drawer. A fresh pair of ultra sheer beige stockings were extracting from their package and draped across her chair.

After checking to ensure I was watching her she began to roll one of the stockings in her hands, preparing to put it on. My erection hardened immediately. I had always fantasized about watching a beautiful woman put on her stockings and now it was about to happen in front of me. It was as if Angela knew my fantasies and was bringing them to life in front of me.

There was one major difference. Although my cock ached for attention I couldn’t touch it. The diapers, the packing tape and even the plastic panties made sure of that. The sensations I had of wearing them intruded into my living fantasy, reminding me of my private prison, of how I depended on Angela for relief.

She had placed her painted toes into the stocking and now was expertly rolling it up her leg. She was so beautiful and this was so much like my dreams that my erection strained against its padded prison. I watched her pull the garters into position and then fasten them to the stocking with the slip tabs. She looked at me, winked and then repeated these steps with the other stocking.

“Like what you see? I always had Kevin come and watch me dress. It reminded him that if he wanted to masturbate he was going to have to be let out of his diapers first and that meant being a good boy.” She paused long enough to put a full slip over her head and take a dress from the closet. “I’ll bet that you and that diaper are very well acquainted by now.” She stepped into a pair of high pumps and walked over to me. She took my chin in her hand, forcing me to look into her eyes.

“You are comfortable for now but you won’t be for long. Soon you’ll have to wet and as soon as you start wetting you’ll start to worry about leaking. Maybe your bowels will move while you are at school, maybe not. You still have to worry about that too. The more you worry the more I want you to think about one thing - that I and only I can give you comfort. Pleasing me is your key to happiness.”

I followed her downstairs and we ate breakfast in silence. She made me drink three cups of coffee. We both knew why. She took me to the door and only then answered the question that had been nagging at me since her bedroom. “I’ll change you at lunch. There had better not be any sign of tampering.”

Then she kissed me. A deep french kiss with her tongue invading my mouth and touching my soul. I felt my heart beat faster and my cock throb. I wanted her desperately but I was locked in diapers. She had control.

As soon as I sat on my bike I realized that everything was going to feel different today. I looked down at my waist area. I couldn’t tell if the diapers really showed or if it was just my imagination. My hands began to sweat as I started down the street toward the school.

By the time I got there my diapers felt hot and I already had to pee. Standing at my locker I nervously let it out, praying it wouldn’t leak. The hot rush made me gasp but fortunately there was nobody nearby. I was quickly aware of that wet area. I walked to class hoping I wouldn’t meet anyone I knew and listening to the gentle rustling sounds from my diapers and plastic panties. Lucky for me that schools are noisy places.

As the morning wore on I realized that no one was staring at me. My friends found me quieter than usual but didn’t say anything more than that.

I lived in two worlds that day: the one underneath my plastic pants and the one outside my body. I felt as if Angela was with me all the time, reminding me of her presence with the increasing discomfort of my hot and itchy diaper, the irritating bunching between my legs and the fact that I couldn’t use the bath room. I had to find a quiet moment, release my water and stand very still as I felt it absorbed by the giant Pampers, hoping that it would hold it all in and not betray my secret.

The more I peed the heavier the diaper got. Now I understood why she had used the wide tape to fasten it so tightly. Also, the more water the diaper took the less it was able to handle my perspiration. Angela was right, the discomfort increased with each minute. Soon I was fidgeting in my seat, rubbing and scratching at my waist to try and ease the constant distraction from the diaper.

By the time lunch came I was desperate to be on my way back to her so she could make me comfortable again. On the way back to her house I realized that it hadn’t occurred to me to take the diaper off, to compare the consequences of that to those that she promised. The diaper had held me in Angela’s power. It had been a silent guard of her power over me. I suppose I must have accepted that deep inside because as I parked my bike outside her door I was looking forward to having my diapers changed, not removed.

She was waiting for me in the living room, still looking as elegant as ever. She had put on fresh perfume for me and its delicate scent awakened my longing for her. She asked me about my experiences that morning but I had no words. I wanted to be let out of my diaper prison, yet I couldn’t express that in words. Sensing my confusion she took me by the hand and led me up the stairs.

The bed had been changed and the restraints were back on duty, their cuffs lying open, hungry for my limbs. Still sore and tired from their harsh embrace I looked at them fearfully, hoping I would be spared them tonight.

Angela had already prepared a fresh adult Pampers and another pair of plastic panties. It bothered me to see it there on the bed. It was proof that Angela meant to keep her word about keeping me in diapers. I stared at the diaper and other supplies while she undressed me as if I were a child. I heard her voice, as if in the distance, as she tended to me.

“And how was our first day at school in diapers? Did anybody guess what you were wearing? No? I didn’t think they would. My, you are soaked. I guess you’ll be glad to be out of this diaper, won’t you. Not to worry, Angela has a nice fresh one all nice and ready for you.”

She had me stripped down to the diaper itself, locked on by the packing tape. I expected her to cut it or something but instead she spread out a plasticized changing pad on the bed and guided me into position on it. I whimpered when I felt the wrist cuffs being applied. “Shush now!” she cooed, “you must learn that there are rules for diaper changes and this is one of them.”

She left my ankles free. Looking back on it I suppose she wanted to make sure that I wouldn’t try to fight the application of a fresh diaper and even though I showed no signs of resistance that day it didn’t mean there wouldn’t be days when I would use any chance to escape diaper punishment.

She used a pair of utility shears to cut the soggy diaper off my body. I felt the cool air of the room caress my damp loins. It felt wonderful to be free of the humid kiss of damp pads and the almost incessant itch they caused. I lifted my hips to allow the used diaper to be removed and again to let Angela place the new one under me. The fresh dry pads felt so soft and comfortable I almost welcomed them.

I watched her apply the baby powder. Its fragrance mixed with her perfume and soon I was rock hard again. She found this amusing and playfully masturbated me for a few seconds, just to tease me. As soon as I started to moan with pleasure she quickly taped the diaper into place, released my wrists, had me stand up and starting winding the packing tape around my waist.

I wanted to beg her to stop, to not send me back to school in a diaper that was only going to get worse and worse as the afternoon wore on. Now that I knew what to expect I wanted to beg off.

But she was so beautiful, so powerful and I was so fascinated with her. The words never escaped my lips. I stood meekly while she bound the diaper onto my hips. It was comfortable, for now.

As soon as the fresh pair of plastic panties were in place she left me to dress while she prepared lunch. As I pulled my jeans on suddenly it didn’t seem so strange to see the puffy plastic pants disappear inside them. Would I ever get used to diapers?

She wasn’t going to let me get through the meal in silence. “You are very quiet. You haven’t said anything about your first day in diapers.”

“What do you want me to say?” I replied quietly, avoiding her eyes.

“How does it feel? How do you feel? Does anyone suspect what you are wearing?”

I put down my sandwich and sat back. A little pee escaped into the fresh diaper. I realized that I hadn’t planned on that happening. It was as if my body knew it was wearing a diaper and therefore it could release water any time it wanted to. Still, I had to try and answer her.

“It’s hard to think of anything but the diaper. It gets hot and itchy. Then it gets wet and itchy. I hate the crackling. I’m sure somebody has guessed but nobody seems to be staring at me. My friends all think I’m strange today.”

She seemed satisfied with that. We ate in silence for a few seconds then she said. “It’s just as well that you get used to it; otherwise it will be a long week.”

A week! The word burned itself into my mind. The morning had been bad enough; now there was the afternoon to endure. But a week! I felt my selfcontrol begin to crack. “I’m not sure I can endure it that long.”

“You’ll endure it alright,” she smiled confidently, “in fact, by the end of the week you’ll be diapering yourself.”

I couldn’t believe that. It was just too absurd to be true. We talked of other things and then it was time for me to go back to school. She showed me to the door where she kissed me passionately and rubbed my crotch through the diaper. “Remember, good boys get rewards so you had better behave.” That sent my mind into a confused whirl of anxiety at being in a diaper and arousal from her attention.

But another thought intruded very quickly. Not fifty feet down the street I felt a new signal from my insides, from the other passage, and it terrified me.

The afternoon was a repeat of the morning. In fact every disposable diaper she used on me was the same experience: comfort to torture in about three hours. In all the time I spent with Angela I was always desperate to be changed and ready to do anything to earn a change.

When I left the school to ride home I discovered that my bike had a flat tire. Normally that was enough to make me angry but today it sent a wave of fear and anxiety through me. Not being able to use the bike meant that a 15 minute ride had just become a 40 minute walk. I wasn’t sure if I could last that long: I needed to use the toilet for a BM very badly.

I pushed my bike along and tried to forget about the cramps and the painful chafing of my wet and itchy diaper. The plastic pants had turned the diaper into a sauna and I longed for relief. Every so often a spasm from my bowels would threaten to break my control. Each one was stronger and I started to walk with my bum cheeks clenched to help stop it. Of course this made me walk slower. It took me almost an hour to walk home but I got there without messing myself.

I stumbled up the steps and into the house. Angela was reading in her study and came out to greet me. “What’s wrong?” she asked after seeing my face.

“Please,” I gasped, “I just have to use a toilet!”

She smiled sweetly. “Is it your back passage?” I nodded. “Well, let’s see what we can do about that.” She took me by the hand and led me upstairs. I expected her to take me to the bath room but instead we headed for Kevin’s room.

“Please hurry!” I pleaded, “I can’t hold it much longer!”

As soon as we entered the room I started to work at the button at the waist of my jeans while Angela opened a drawer. I heard the clink of metal and then she suddenly grabbed my wrists from behind. I felt cold metal being passed around my wrists and then the unmistakable ratchet sound of handcuffs being closed. I was so stunned and shocked I was speechless.

She turned me around so I could see her broad smile. “There. We’ve taken away any possibility that you could avoid messing yourself so you may as well get on with it.” Then she refastened the button on my jeans. I looked down at it with horror.

“But...” was all I could manage to say before she turned and walked out of the room, the hem of her dress moving to and fro from the action of her hips. Her high heels tapping a staccato rhythm on the floor. I clenched my buttocks and started after her. I was panic stricken. The thought of messing my diapers was just too horrible to contemplate. After a precarious trip downstairs I caught up with Angela in the kitchen. “Please,” I gasped in desperation, “don’t let it happen. I can’t stand it. Don’t make me do it!”

At first she didn’t answer. She tended the pot on the stove. Then, without acknowledging my presence, she went to a drawer and took something out. She turned to me, smiled, and pinched my nose!

I immediately opened my mouth in reaction, only to have it filled with an oversized pacifier. There were ribbons attached to it which Angela used to secure it about my head. She scolded me, “you were warned about speaking out of turn. This is what happens when you don’t obey the rules.”

For the rest of the night Angela pretended I didn’t exist. After taking me to sit on a plastic sheet in the den she ignored me. She ignored my grunts of dismay and distress when the storm finally hit and I had no choice but to fill my diapers with hot, mushy shit. She ignored my pleading sounds when I wet so much that my panties leaked and big dark stain patches appeared on my jeans. She ignored the most pitiful looks I could muster as I sat there, wet and dirty, and watched her watch TV. I cried but she didn’t listen.

By the time she came to take me to bed I was so grateful for the prospect of relief that I cried all the way upstairs and into the bathroom.

She stripped me down to my diapers and plastic pants and then made me stand in the shower. When the tape was cut the mess was awful but she didn’t seem to mind. She started the shower and let me clean myself up.

After I had dried myself off I started down the hall toward Kevin’s room and another diaper. All during that week I found those 30 feet to be the most difficult in my life. During that short walk I was naked and free. My body belonged to me. Angela had no control over it. I felt normal again.

But I never turned back, never thought of resisting. I always went through the door into Kevin’s room, Kevin’s world, and as there had been for Kevin, there was a diaper waiting for me.

This time it was not one of the disposable types but three of the huge cloth diapers. I meant to ask a question but the pacifier was still tied in my mouth. It had been there for hours, so long that I had become accustomed to it.

Angela didn’t restrain me before putting me into the diaper -she didn’t have to. She could probably tell that several hours of being ignored while suffering the indignity of being wet and messy had taken its toll on my spirits. Without a word from her I went and laid down on the diapers and spread my legs to be powdered.

She teased me to an erection, applied the powder and pinned the diapers tightly. There was a lot of padding between my legs so I couldn’t close them properly but the cloth still felt a lot better than the disposable diapers.

Instead of plastic pants she held up a pair made of heavy rubber with wide bands at the waist and legs. They scared me and I wanted to ask why she chose them but the pacifier reminded me I wasn’t to speak unless spoken to.

I stood before her, all bundled up and sealed inside the rubber pants, and she spoke for the first time since the bath room. “You’ve been bad. You deserve another night in the restraints. What do you think I should do with you.”

The thought of spending another night fastened down like that was more than I could bear. A tear trickled down my right cheek as I slowly shook my head.

“I take it you don’t like the idea. Perhaps a body sack will keep you safe from harm.”

A body sack? I didn’t have a clue what she meant but the glint in her eye said she had made up her mind. She went to the closet and came back with a one piece garment that looked like a baby’s sleeper from neck to waist, but had no legs, just a big, sack like space for the wearer to put his legs into.

She guided me onto the bed and pulled the garment over my legs. I lifted my hips so she could get it past my waist and then let her put my arms into its sleeves.

A zipper ran up the back and she raised it and then locked it somehow. There were also little locks on the wrists. I discovered later that these prevented me from pulling my hands up the sleeves and into the torso part of the garment, thus allowing me to reach inside my diapers or loosen them. There was a leather strap sewn into the foot of the garment at about ankle level. She fastened and locked this around my ankles and I quickly realized that I wasn’t going anywhere until she released me. I looked up at her, muted by the rubber bulb in my mouth.

“Are you hungry? I’ll bet you are. Whenever Kevin was bad I used to make up his bad boy formula. I’ll get you some now.”

She left and I had a few minutes to get used to things. Inside the heavy rubber pants I was warm and dry. I could feel the heat building up but I was sure the cotton diapers would be more comfortable than the scratchy disposable ones.

My ankles were bound together, putting pressure on the padding between my thighs. It wasn’t very comfortable but it was better than the bed restraints. I had my fingers free but there was nothing I could do to help myself except remove the pacifier. I didn’t dare do that for fear of getting into more trouble.

A few minutes later she returned carrying four baby bottles full of a white fluid. She put the tray down on the desk next to the bed and handed me one of the bottles. “This is to replace dinner. If all four aren’t empty in the morning there will be trouble. You can remove the pacifier to drink them but you must tie it back into place before you go to sleep. I’ll be in to check on you so don’t try to fool me.”

After she left I reached behind my head and untied the ribbons that held the pacifier. I removed it and used the sleeve of my sleeper to wipe the drool from my lips and chin. I took one of the baby bottles, laid back and put it to my lips.

It tasted like milk but with a lot of strange things added to it. I was so hungry by then that I didn’t really care what it tasted like. The more I had the more I wanted. It only took me a few minutes to finish all four bottles. By then my tummy felt very full and I was very sleepy. I almost forgot to put the pacifier back in my mouth. I tied a loose bow and then drifted off to sleep, grateful to be warm and dry again.

Part Three

I dreamed of Angela that night. I was small and she was big. I was on the floor, wearing thick diapers and heavy rubber pants. She reached out to me, her arms growing longer and longer, coming closer until her hands touched my hips and fused themselves with my rubber panties. Then she picked me up, the diapers becoming like a baby chair, holding and supporting me, my crotch taking the weight of my body. Her arms began to retract, drawing me closer to her. Close enough to smell the Chanel #19 perfume, close enough to catch the faint traces of baby powder on her hands from my last diaper change. Then she kissed me and I felt my erection strain against its cloth prison. I felt a sudden blossom of warm wetness in my diapers. It happened without warning. I had no control. I needed the diapers. Angela would always give me new ones. The warmth blossomed again and I shuddered with the sudden pleasure of an orgasm. I felt good.

I drifted out of sleep slowly, sorting the dream from reality. My legs ached from being bound together all night but the rest of my body felt rested. I remembered drinking the bottles, there was a stale taste in my mouth. I remembered falling asleep in warm dry diapers....

I wasn’t dry any more. I was soaking wet. I moved my hips and felt the pool of luke warm pee shift. Suddenly I was wide awake. The dream came back to me in pieces. I remembered dreaming about wetting myself. Had there been more to it than a dream? I felt the bottom and crotch of the sleeping sack. Dry. No leaks. Angela had planned well.

The double meaning of those words struck me immediately. Had it been a plan? Was there something in the milk she gave me? Anxious and tense I waited for her to come and release me. It was 6:00 a.m. She was due any moment.

I heard her high heeled mule slippers on the hall floor and my heart began to race. What would she be wearing? Would she be smiling? Would she be wearing that heavenly perfume that I loved so much?

She glided into the room, smiling broadly. She was wearing a silver satin dressing gown that accentuated her tiny waist. Her hair was brushed and, yes, I could sense her Chanel #19. I felt so innocent and helpless. I wanted her to take over.

She reached behind my head and undid the ribbons. “How are you this morning? Did you sleep well?” Although I could now speak, I only nodded. She began to release the wrist locks. Her voice was warm, reassuring and cheerful as she worked. “Are you wet? Did you have to use your diapers in the night?” She spoke of such strange things and made them sound so normal.

This was the question I had been dreading. I looked up into her warm, accepting but commanding eyes. I could muster only one word, “yes”.

She feigned concern, furrowing her brow. “My, that isn’t good news, is it?” She let me ponder those words while she released the strap that held my ankles together. Then she unlocked the zipper that ran down the back of the sleeper and began to help me out of it.

Every time I had to move I felt the lake of pee shift inside my diapers. Suddenly I was afraid of letting her see it, afraid that she would use it as a reason to punish me.

She made me stand so she could peel the sleeper down my body. My legs were stiff and rubbery so she had to partly support me. As soon as it was past my waist she cupped my rubber crotch in her hand and sensed the pregnant bulge of the urine that lay trapped beneath it. “You are soaked! You’ve flooded yourself! I think we had better double your night diapers from now on. Come along. It’s to the bath tub with you.”

She led me by the hand down the hall. I stumbled after her on unsure legs, the lake of pee sloshing against my inner thighs. “Please don’t be mad.” I begged. “It happened when I was alseep. I couldn’t help it.” She didn’t answer. The routine in the bathroom was the same. I was left alone after being ordered to report back to the bedroom to be put back into diapers. I felt so confused as I went through the motions of washing myself. I didn’t know why I had wet and although deep inside I blamed the milk I just couldn’t acknowledge that she might have wanted me to lose control. The journey down the hall was long and lonely. After being so tightly confined all night the cool air felt strange on my bare skin. I didn’t want to be nude. I wanted the dry, padded warmth again.

This time there were two disposable diapers in the centre of the bed, where my hips would be if I were sleeping. The snap sided pants were already in place under them. I remembered my experiences in those diapers yesterday and began to pout, “Please, not that kind. They get hot and itchy. Can’t I have cloth ones? I want cloth diapers!”

Angela was standing at the closet with her back turned to me when she spoke in a low voice that scared me. “I don’t want to hear complaints about diapers from someone who obvious can’t go without them. One more word, just one more word, and I’ll make sure you regret it. Is that clear?”

“Yes, Angela” I mumbled.

She continued: “I’ve decided that you will need some additional protection today. You’ll wear this panti-suit.” She turned around holding a strange looking garment. It was made of the same frosty plastic as the baby pants I had worn yesterday but that was where the similarity ended. It was a one piece diaper shirt, its bottom formed into a panty, elastic at the waist and then rising to form a t-shirt like enclosure for the rest of the body. Like my sleeper it had a zipper down the back that could be locked.

I remembered the heat of the plastic pants where they had touched my skin. Wearing this would mean there would be a lot of plastic touching all of my upper body. It would be so hot, so terrible. What had I done? I forgot her warning and blurted out my distress. “No! Please not that! I won’t be able to stand it. The diapers are bad enough. I don’t deserve it!”

As soon as I heard my own voice I knew I had made a mistake. I could sense the warmth and kindess leave her, replaced by anger, frustration. “Now you do.” she said quietly as she draped the strange garment over a chair. “Kneel on the floor by the bed and bend over. You’ve just earned yourself a paddling!”

She gave me a little shove. Her touch melted the last of my rebellion. Somehow she had the ability to render me defenceless and it was working now. I went to the bed and kneeled down, stretching my arms across the mattress, my buttocks protruding, waiting for their punishment. My skin became super sensitive as I listened to the sounds of her preparation: the roughness of the carpet, the course woolen blanket that warmed against my skin, the gentle breeze from the window, the seductive brush of satin from her dressing gown. I was one big nerve, waiting to feel.

I sensed her behind me. One of her hands lifted my forehead from where it had been pressed into the pee smelling mattress while the other forced something against my lips. I obediently opened my mouth and felt a big rubber bulb fill it. I thought it was the pacifier again but it tasted different. She began fussing with something and I felt straps being pulled into place over my nose and across the top of my head. There were more straps across my cheeks, running to meet the first set. She tightened them so I couldn’t spit the rubber thing out and then I heard the click of a lock closing. Somehow I could breathe through this thing but it pressed my tongue down; I couldn’t say a word.

Only a day ago it would have terrified me; now I welcomed the violation. I couldn’t blurt out another reason to be punished. She had restrained the part of me that was to blame for this punishment. I could relax. She had locked it in place. She would unlock it. She would tend to me. I sucked on the rubber plug as though it were some tender part of her anatomy. By loving it I loved her.

She took each of my wrists and passed a locking cuff around it. There was a ring in the cuffs. Then I felt a collar being fitted around my neck and heard a click as it was locked. Fine chain rattled through the ring in my collar and passed through the cuffs and became taunt. My arms were drawn up my back until they were held useless, out of the way, uncomfortable but not painful. I slipped a little further into her control.

I tested my bonds and felt fear wash over me. I suddenly realized I was in deep trouble. Angela’s power over me was complete. I had surrendered all ability to resist her. I had to be content to breathe in her scent and accept the consequences for breaking her rules. Although I trembled in fear part of me felt a deeper sense that things were proper, correct.

She applied baby oil to my buttocks. I could smell it’s sickly sweet fragrance. I wondered why. Then she placed her left hand between my shoulder blades and seemed to adjust her position. The hand on my shoulder pressed down as she drew back her hand and then I heard the whoosh of the paddle travelling through the air.

A wide circle of white hot pain flashed across my bottom. I screamed into the rubber gag but all that came out was a muffle. I pulled against my bound arms but only made my shoulders ache. She drew her hand back again. I tensed, waiting for the blow.

The paddle sang again. The other side. Another wail, stiffled by the rubber. I started to cry, blubbering into the gag, my tears wetting the sheets, making the smell of stale urine more pungent.

There were three more blows. At the end of it I was crying uncontrollably and devoid of resistance. She pulled my to my feet. “Get into position on the diaper!”

Awkward from emotion I tried to do as I was told. Nothing seemed to work right. Without my hands I couldn’t seem to move properly and fell onto my side twice. She did not try to help me up. I flopped about like a beached seal, struggling against my bonds. My bottom blazed from its punishment and I wanted dearly to be able to touch it, soothe it.

As soon as I was ready she pulled the first diaper into place and taped it. Then she used a knife to poke holes in its plastic backing. To allow drainage, I found out later, then the second diaper was taped and the plastic pants followed, the sharp sounds of their fasteners being closed punctuated my muffled wails. I could feel myself being bound up in diapers by degrees, each adding to the punishment they would become. The feelings were there again, the warm thick padding between the legs and the rush of heat as the plastic trapped my body heat and reflected it back. With the diapers and panties in place she hauled me to my feet and fitted my legs though the openings in the panti- suit. It was like a giant pair of plastic panties. As she drew the garment up my legs it seemed to swallow me. The plastic seemed cold and smooth on my bare tummy. My arms were released and then fitted through the sleeves. She brought the upper part of the garment into place, the cold, smooth plastic engulfing me, becoming warm instantly, even as she worked. Then I felt the zipper being pulled up and another lock clicked. She turned me around.

There was fire in her eyes. Was it anger?, arousal? She used the chain to link my collar with my wrist cuffs again, this time in front, leaving me about a foot of slack to work with. Then, her work done, she stepped back.

“That should take care of you for a while. The gag in your mouth will accept a baby bottle. You’ll be on fluids for the rest of the day. I hope you’ve learned your lesson. Go to my room and wait for me there.”

She strode off down the hall to the bathroom for her shower. I stood still for a moment, feeling the plastic of the panti-suit warming to my body. It wasn’t uncomfortable yet but it soon would be and I wasn’t looking forward to it. The blazing fires in my bottom had subsided to a dull ache. I still wanted to touch myself there but the cuffs and chain prevented that. I couldn’t reach around behind myself and even if I could, my double diapers were an effective barrier. My bottom would have to ache without consolation.

As I took my first tentative steps I realized how bulky were my diapers. The suit crackled loudly. For a second I wondered how I would get through the day at school—then I realized that I wasn’t going to school.

I went to her room and sat on the corner of her bed. The faint smell of her cosmetics and perfume seemed to be the instruments of her power. I drank them in like the elixir of life itself. I was scared and uncomfortable but I couldn’t really say I was unhappy. I looked down at my wrists, tethered in at attitude of prayer. They were locked up and safe. So was my mouth. So was my penis. So was all of me. I doubted I could get into trouble if I wanted to. She came back from her shower nude. At first I was surprised and felt myself blush furiously. But she never looked at me, never acknowledged that I was there. Silenced by the plug of rubber locked in my mouth I felt the discomfort of my plastic prison gather like the swell of a symphony while I watched her dress.

She performed her rituals with aching slowness, exaggerating every detail and movement, taking her time and never, never giving me any more consideration than a piece of furniture.

She dusted herself with Chanel powder, demonstrating her luxury even as the first droplets of sweat coursed down my back to create little patches of itch that my locked hands could not scratch.

Her makeup was a choreography of detail, each step rendering her more beautiful. I wondered what image a mirror would reflect back. It made me think of how it felt to have the efficient little straps locked around my head, how it must look to have the frosty plastic clinging against my soaked skin and what my exaggerated, diapered, behind would look like to a stranger.

Her lingerie, chosen for its sensual textures, the sensual caresses that are every woman’s secret, went on slowly and carefully. She planned on a day of private pleasure, each movement of her body reminding her of being feminine and comfortable. I watched her draw on the sheer seamed black stockings, fasten the black lace corset and then fuss with the slim garter straps. As her pleasure increased, my comfort decreased. The disposable diapers, locked inside not one but two plastic panties, became warm, then moist, then itchy, then intolerable. I began to shift my hips in a desperate bid for relief.

A black silk dress, its skirt slit to the waist thereby offering an occasional glimpse of her garters, and a pair of towering black patent pumps hid the lingerie - almost. Even dressed she was displaying her celebration of her femininity. She was prepared to display her secrets when it suited her.

For a moment I wondered if she was dressing for a lover. I became intensely jealous. I felt she was mine because she had made me hers. Even in my misery I felt myself begin to grow hard at the sight of her. As she strode from the room in a proud prance only her trailing hand with its crooked finger signalled me to follow. It was all the recognition she was prepared to offer me. I stood up. My plastic prison shifted with me. The plastic rustled loudly as I waddled after her.

Downstairs I discovered she had already spread out an old flannette sheet on the floor in the living room. When had she done it? I wondered how far in advance she planned for me. A silent movement of her finger and I was instructed to take my place.

She brought me a baby bottle full of the same stuff I had been given the night before. After attaching it to the strange thing in my mouth she showed me how I could hold it even with my tethered hands.

She went back the kitchen and I could hear her moving around, her high heels tapping the floor, reminding me of how she was dressed and encouraging the half erection that hadn’t gone away since I had watched her dress. She made two phone calls, one to the school and one to someone else whom she invited over. She made oblique reference to me in a tone of voice that suggested I would be meeting this visitor. I felt my cheeks get hot with just the thought of how embarrassing that would be. Just as I finished the bottle she brought me another and again, when that was finished a third. I must have spent at least an hour lying on the floor drinking my breakfast.

She came in and sat down just as I was finishing the last bottle. I was glad to see her empty handed because by then I was so full I couldn’t have taken another drop. I was also bathed in sweat from the plastic suit. It felt so strange to be so dry in my diaper area and yet be so wet everywhere else. I had started to agitate, rubbing myself against the floor to scratch the itches on my back and using the limited mobility of my arms to do what I could for my front. Still, there were a thousand places I couldn’t reach and every droplet of perspiration that trickled into them reminded me just how helpless I was.

She studied me with a odd smile on her face. I expected her to speak but she just gazed at me with a look of satisfaction. It occurred to me that she seemed to be waiting for something and then I remembered the phone call and went rigid with fear. She had invited someone over and meant to show me to them. I was parked in the living room where anyone entering the house was sure to see me.

Suddenly I heard a car door slam. Was it the visitor? I looked toward the sound but of course couldn’t see anything from my position on the floor. I looked at Angela who was looking out the window.

Flushed with panic I began to whimper into the rubber gag as I tried to get up, to run, to escape. “No!” I wanted to scream. I didn’t want anyone to see me like this.

Angela got up from her chair and crouched down beside me, putting her hands on my shoulders. I had a clear view up her skirt, seeing her garters, stocking tops and the black satin panties she wore but my eyes didn’t linger long. Her perfume was strong and I was aware of her touch, her presence. She shushed me, reminded me that I had been bad and told me to be quiet.

I stopped my whimpering but the fear of being seen lingered and as I heard the door open I couldn’t stand it any more. I struggled to my feet and ran through the living room into the kitchen and then into the adjoining family room. The door to the back yard caught my attention but I quickly realized I was trapped. Even if I could get it open, it would only put me in a position where more people could see me. Stunned and defeated I stood there and suddenly I felt the now-familiar blossoming of warm wetness that announced I had wet myself.

I stared down past my bound hands at the plastic covered bulge of my diapers. I couldn’t believe it. I had just wet myself without any warning. Even as I thought about it, another rush of hot pee invaded my diapers, instantly making them heavier. I remember parting my legs a little to make myself a little more comfortable. Then I sensed Angela’s presence and I turned around.

She had a mother-putting-up-with-a-troublesome-child look on her face. She wasn’t angry so much as amused. “Did you think you could run away?” she chided, “Where did you plan to run to? If you are so afraid of being seen in diapers then why would you want to go outside?”

My cheeks got hot with embarassment and humiliation. I felt just like a stupid little kid. She came up to me and lightly grasped the chain that joined my cuffs to my collar. “Come along, now, its time you met our guest.” I shook my head and whimpered but I stumbled along after her as she pulled on the chain leading me back to the living room to meet the stranger.

I dreaded every step of the short journey back to the living room where a total stranger would see me bound up in diapers, my hands in cuffs and the strange rubber gag in my mouth. It was the combination of Angela’s incredible power over me and the realization that I really had no choice that kept me placing one bare foot in front of the other. I was intensely aware of the thick, hot, wet diaper between my legs and the heavy sweating caused by the panti-suit.

As we emerged from the kitchen into the dining room I stole a glance ahead. All I could see was a young woman sitting in a chair that faced away from us on an angle. She wore medium high white pumps, a white skirt and a pale pink sleeveless t-shirt. She shoulder length blonde hair.

The crackling sounds I made as I walked alerted her to our approach and when she turned I saw that she was young, maybe just old enough to be driving a car. She had a babydoll face that needed only the light touch of makeup she had applied. For a brief second our eyes met and then we each looked away. I stared at the floor while my cheeks flushed hot with shame. During the millisecond we had looked at each other I had seen fear and apprehension in her eyes.

Angela led me to the sheet on the floor, made me kneel on it and then said, “Angela, I want you to meet Jamie. You and he have more in common than you think.”

There was a long pause. I couldn’t bear to lift my eyes because I could sense hers on me. I trembled with humiliation, wanting to be anywhere but there. The seconds dragged by. Finally, Angela spoke again.

“I would have thought you both would have developed better manners by now. Especially you, Jill. I wonder if you’ve learned anything at all in the time we’ve spent together. Come now! Let’s see some decent manners! At least say hello!” More time dragged by. If Jill was looking at me I didn’t know because I was still too humiliated to look at her. I could sense Angela getting angry and already I knew her anger was not good for my situation. I prayer Jill would do something to make it easy for me - at least attract Angela’s attention.

“I know what what’s needed!” Angela piped up with artificial cheerfulness, “we need to establish some common ground! Jill, please lift your skirt so Jamie can see what you two have in common.”

I heard the girl gasp. It was a soft and gentle sound and I ached for her misery. I knew Angela was giving her one of her special looks and even though Jill was attracting all the attention I was grateful not to be the centre of attention.

Angela tired of waiting and spoke again. This time her voice had a hard edge to it that promised trouble if cooperation didn’t start soon. “You heard me, young lady, do you need to be reminded of what happens to bad little girls?”

I heard a sniffle. Curiousity began to knaw at me. What could Jill have under her skirt that would make me feel better?

Jill whispered something that I couldn’t hear and Angela stamped her high heeled pump on the floor by way of answer. The poor girl started to sniffle in ernest but still I dared not look at her. More time dragged by. Then Angela told me to look.

My heart seemed to stop and my eyes wanted to bulge out of my head. Beautiful, petite little Jill with her perfect face and figure, dressed so nicely, was holding up her white cotton skirt while she cried in her own shame and humiliation.

It was easy to guess why. As my eyes move up her legs I first noticed the stockings and garter belt arrangement. I drank in the sight of the taut garters and sheer hosiery. But being made to show her garter belt was probably nothing to Jill when compared to what she wore as underwear. Beneath a puffy pair of frosty plastic panties this poor young girl was pinned into a very thick white cloth diaper. As I stared I noticed she had wet herself very recently for there was a large dark yellow stain in the front of her diaper. I felt my throat go dry as she continued to hold up her skirt. Her cheeks were crimson and there were tears streaming down her face. She kept looking at Angela, who was smiling broadly, for some kind of permission to lower her skirt and conceal her terrrible secret. Finally Angela nodded and Jill dropped her hem. She sat down in the chair and buried her face in her hands.

“Now that we have that out of the way it’s time we had a nice little visit. Jill, would you please get some drinks from the kitchen. I’m sure you know how to accommodate Jamie.”

Gulping, wiping her eyes and trying to regain her composure, Jill simply nodded and fled from the room. I watched her leave, searching for any clue of what she wore under her skirt but aside from a little extra padding that I wouldn’t have given a second glance to on the street, her secret was indeed well concealed. I looked at Angela with a thousand questions in my eyes, now cursing the damned rubber plug in my mouth.

She was sitting in an easy chair with her legs crossed, exposing enough stocking to let me know she wanted me to see it. The look on her face was pure triumph. She looked at me for a few seconds. “No.” She said flatly. “I won’t take the rubber gag out. But since you are obviously so curious about our guest I’ll fill you in.”

“Jill is a very proper young lady now but she wasn’t like this a year ago when I first met her. She was running with the wrong crowd, shop lifting and generally going sour very fast. When she developed a nasty bladder infection as a result of her sexual activity her parents, whom I’ve know for years, asked if she could stay with me during her convelesence. Since I had Kevin in diapers most of the time, one more teenager in that condition didn’t seem like a lot of trouble.”

“Jill lost control of her bladder as a result of the treatment for her infection. Everyone thought she would recover once the infection was cleared up. So for the first while I helped her go to school, sew diapers, find plastic panties that would fit and generally help her cope with being incontinent at the age of 15.”

“During that time Jill was too afraid to see any of her old friends in case they discovered her diaper secret. Her mother and I noticed her school work improving, her personal care was better and she was just generally a nicer person to be around.”

“When the doctor told us that Jill might never regain her control she was devastated but her mother and I were actually quite relieved. But we still had a problem. Jill needed some friends who would understand her condition and not tease her about it. I thought it would be nice to have her over this morning so you two could meet.”

has to watch her dress she has friends over friends adjust stockings one admits that she has been made to wear a chastity belt, others encourage her to show it in front of the big baby. messing diapers in front of the ladies and being changed by one of them who decides to rape him during it - he is in the restraints.

ANGELA

Part Three

I dreamed of Angela that night. I was small and she was big. I was on the floor, wearing thick diapers and heavy rubber pants. She reached out to me, her arms growing longer and longer, coming closer until her hands touched my hips and fused themselves with my rubber panties. Then she picked me up, the diapers becoming like a baby chair, holding and supporting me, my crotch taking the weight of my body. Her arms began to retract, drawing me closer to her. Close enough to smell the Chanel #19 perfume, close enough to catch the faint traces of baby powder on her hands from my last diaper change. Then she kissed me and I felt my erection strain against its cloth prison. I felt a sudden blossom of warm wetness in my diapers. It happened without warning. I had no control. I needed the diapers. Angela would always give me new ones. The warmth blossomed again and I shuddered with the sudden pleasure of an orgasm. I felt good.

I drifted out of sleep slowly, sorting the dream from reality. My legs ached from being bound together all night but the rest of my body felt rested. I remembered drinking the bottles, there was a stale taste in my mouth. I remembered falling asleep in warm dry diapers....

I wasn’t dry any more. I was soaking wet. I moved my hips and felt the pool of luke-warm pee shift. Suddenly I was wide awake. The dream came back to me in pieces. I remembered dreaming about wetting myself. Had there been more to it than a dream? I felt the bottom and crotch of the sleeping sack. Dry. No leaks. Angela had planned well.

The double meaning of those words struck me immediately. Had it been a plan? Was there something in the milk she gave me? Anxious and tense I waited for her to come and release me. It was 6:00 a.m. She was due any moment.

I heard her high heeled mule slippers on the hall floor and my heart began to race. What would she be wearing? Would she be smiling? Would she be wearing that heavenly perfume that I loved so much?

She glided into the room, smiling broadly. She was wearing a silver satin dressing gown that accentuated her tiny waist. Her hair was brushed and, yes, I could sense her Chanel #19. I felt so innocent and helpless. I wanted her to take over.

She reached behind my head and undid the ribbons. “How are you this morning? Did you sleep well?” Although I could now speak, I only nodded. She began to release the wrist locks. Her voice was warm, reassuring and cheerful as she worked. “Are you wet? Did you have to use your diapers in the night?” She spoke of such strange things and made them sound so normal.

This was the question I had been dreading. I looked up into her warm, accepting but commanding eyes. I could muster only one word, “yes”.

She feigned concern, furrowing her brow. “My, that isn’t good news, is it?” She let me ponder those words while she released the strap that held my ankles together. Then she unlocked the zipper that ran down the back of the sleeper and began to help me out of it.

Every time I had to move I felt the lake of pee shift inside my diapers. Suddenly I was afraid of letting her see it, afraid that she would use it as a reason to punish me.

She made me stand so she could peel the sleeper down my body. My legs were stiff and rubbery so she had to partly support me. As soon as it was past my waist she cupped my rubber crotch in her hand and sensed the pregnant bulge of the urine that lay trapped beneath it. “You are soaked! You’ve flooded yourself! I think we had better double your night diapers from now on. Come along. It’s to the bath tub with you.”

She led me by the hand down the hall. I stumbled after her on unsure legs, the lake of pee sloshing against my inner thighs. “Please don’t be mad.” I begged. “It happened when I was alseep. I couldn’t help it.” She didn’t answer.

The routine in the bathroom was the same. I was left alone after being ordered to report back to the bedroom to be put back into diapers. I felt so confused as I went through the motions of washing myself. I didn’t know why I had wet and although deep inside I blamed the milk I just couldn’t acknowledge that she might have wanted me to lose control. The journey down the hall was long and lonely. After being so tightly confined all night the cool air felt strange on my bare skin. I didn’t want to be nude. I wanted the dry, padded warmth again.

This time there were two disposable diapers in the centre of the bed, where my hips would be if I were sleeping. The snap-sided pants were already in place under them. I remembered my experiences in those diapers yesterday and began to pout, “Please, not that kind. They get hot and itchy. Can’t I have cloth ones? I want cloth diapers!”

Angela was standing at the closet with her back turned to me when she spoke in a low voice that scared me. “I don’t want to hear complaints about diapers from someone who obvious can’t go without them. One more word, just one more word, and I’ll make sure you regret it. Is that clear?”

“Yes, Angela” I mumbled.

She continued: “I’ve decided that you will need some additional protection today. You’ll wear this panti-suit.” She turned around holding a strange-looking garment. It was made of the same frosty plastic as the baby pants I had worn yesterday but that was where the similarity ended. It was a one-piece diaper shirt, its bottom formed into a panty, elastic at the waist and then rising to form a t-shirt like enclosure for the rest of the body. Like my sleeper it had a zipper down the back that could be locked.

I remembered the heat of the plastic pants where they had touched my skin. Wearing this would mean there would be a lot of plastic touching all of my upper body. It would be so hot, so terrible. What had I done? I forgot her warning and blurted out my distress. “No! Please not that! I won’t be able to stand it. The diapers are bad enough. I don’t deserve it!”

As soon as I heard my own voice I knew I had made a mistake. I could sense the warmth and kindess leave her, replaced by anger, frustration. “Now you do.” she said quietly as she draped the strange garment over a chair. “Kneel on the floor by the bed and bend over. You’ve just earned yourself a paddling!”

She gave me a little shove. Her touch melted the last of my rebellion. Somehow she had the ability to render me defenceless and it was working now. I went to the bed and kneeled down, stretching my arms across the mattress, my buttocks protruding, waiting for their punishment. My skin became super-sensitive as I listened to the sounds of her preparation: the roughness of the carpet, the course woolen blanket that warmed against my skin, the gentle breeze from the window, the seductive brush of satin from her dressing gown. I was one big nerve, waiting to feel.

I sensed her behind me. One of her hands lifted my forehead from where it had been pressed into the pee-smelling mattress while the other forced something against my lips. I obediently opened my mouth and felt a big rubber bulb fill it. I thought it was the pacifier again but it tasted different. She began fussing with something and I felt straps being pulled into place over my nose and across the top of my head. There were more straps across my cheeks, running to meet the first set. She tightened them so I couldn’t spit the rubber thing out and then I heard the click of a lock closing. Somehow I could breathe through this thing but it pressed my tongue down; I couldn’t say a word.

Only a day ago it would have terrified me; now I welcomed the violation. I couldn’t blurt out another reason to be punished. She had restrained the part of me that was to blame for this punishment. I could relax. She had locked it in place. She would unlock it. She would tend to me. I sucked on the rubber plug as though it were some tender part of her anatomy. By loving it I loved her.

She took each of my wrists and passed a locking cuff around it. There was a ring in the cuffs. Then I felt a collar being fitted around my neck and heard a click as it was locked. Fine chain rattled through the ring in my collar and passed through the cuffs and became taunt. My arms were drawn up my back until they were held useless, out of the way, uncomfortable but not painful. I slipped a little further into her control. I tested my bonds and felt fear wash over me. I suddenly realized I was in deep trouble. Angela’s power over me was complete. I had surrendered all ability to resist her. I had to be content to breathe in her scent and accept the consequences for breaking her rules. Although I trembled in fear part of me felt a deeper sense that things were proper, correct.

She applied baby oil to my buttocks. I could smell it’s sickly-sweet fragrance. I wondered why. Then she placed her left hand between my shoulder blades and seemed to adjust her position. The hand on my shoulder pressed down as she drew back her hand and then I heard the whoosh of the paddle travelling through the air.

A wide circle of white-hot pain flashed across my bottom. I screamed into the rubber gag but all that came out was a muffle. I pulled against my bound arms but only made my shoulders ache. She drew her hand back again. I tensed, waiting for the blow.

The paddle sang again. The other side. Another wail, stiffled by the rubber. I started to cry, blubbering into the gag, my tears wetting the sheets, making the smell of stale urine more pungent.

There were three more blows. At the end of it I was crying uncontrollably and devoid of resistance. She pulled my to my feet. “Get into position on the diaper!”

Awkward from emotion I tried to do as I was told. Nothing seemed to work right. Without my hands I couldn’t seem to move properly and fell onto my side twice. She did not try to help me up. I flopped about like a beached seal, struggling against my bonds. My bottom blazed from its punishment and I wanted dearly to be able to touch it, soothe it.

As soon as I was ready she pulled the first diaper into place and taped it. Then she used a knife to poke holes in its plastic backing. To allow drainage, I found out later, then the second diaper was taped and the plastic pants followed, the sharp sounds of their fasteners being closed punctuated my muffled wails. I could feel myself being bound up in diapers by degrees, each adding to the punishment they would become. The feelings were there again, the warm thick padding between the legs and the rush of heat as the plastic trapped my body heat and reflected it back.

With the diapers and panties in place she hauled me to my feet and fitted my legs though the openings in the panti-suit. It was like a giant pair of plastic panties. As she drew the garment up my legs it seemed to swallow me. The plastic seemed cold and smooth on my bare tummy. My arms were released and then fitted through the sleeves. She brought the upper part of the garment into place, the cold, smooth plastic engulfing me, becoming warm instantly, even as she worked. Then I felt the zipper being pulled up and another lock clicked. She turned me around.

There was fire in her eyes. Was it anger?, arousal? She used the chain to link my collar with my wrist cuffs again, this time in front, leaving me about a foot of slack to work with. Then, her work done, she stepped back.

“That should take care of you for a while. The gag in your mouth will accept a baby bottle. You’ll be on fluids for the rest of the day. I hope you’ve learned your lesson. Go to my room and wait for me there.”

She strode off down the hall to the bathroom for her shower. I stood still for a moment, feeling the plastic of the panti-suit warming to my body. It wasn’t uncomfortable yet but it soon would be and I wasn’t looking forward to it. The blazing fires in my bottom had subsided to a dull ache. I still wanted to touch myself there but the cuffs and chain prevented that. I couldn’t reach around behind myself and even if I could, my double diapers were an effective barrier. My bottom would have to ache without consolation.

As I took my first tentative steps I realized how bulky were my diapers. The suit crackled loudly. For a second I wondered how I would get through the day at school—then I realized that I wasn’t going to school.

I went to her room and sat on the corner of her bed. The faint smell of her cosmetics and perfume seemed to be the instruments of her power. I drank them in like the elixir of life itself. I was scared and uncomfortable but I couldn’t really say I was unhappy. I looked down at my wrists, tethered in at attitude of prayer. They were locked up and safe. So was my mouth. So was my penis. So was all of me. I doubted I could get into trouble if I wanted to.

She came back from her shower nude. At first I was surprised and felt myself blush furiously. But she never looked at me, never acknowledged that I was there. Silenced by the plug of rubber locked in my mouth I felt the discomfort of my plastic prison gather like the swell of a symphony while I watched her dress.

She performed her rituals with aching slowness, exaggerating every detail and movement, taking her time and never, never giving me any more consideration than a piece of furniture.

She dusted herself with Chanel powder, demonstrating her luxury even as the first droplets of sweat coursed down my back to create little patches of itch that my locked hands could not scratch.

Her make-up was a choreography of detail, each step rendering her more beautiful. I wondered what image a mirror would reflect back. It made me think of how it felt to have the efficient little straps locked around my head, how it must look to have the frosty plastic clinging against my soaked skin and what my exaggerated, diapered, behind would look like to a stranger.

Her lingerie, chosen for its sensual textures, the sensual caresses that are every woman’s secret, went on slowly and carefully. She planned on a day of private pleasure, each movement of her body reminding her of being feminine and comfortable. I watched her draw on the sheer seamed black stockings, fasten the black lace corset and then fuss with the slim garter straps. As her pleasure increased, my comfort decreased. The disposable diapers, locked inside not one but two plastic panties, became warm, then moist, then itchy, then intolerable. I began to shift my hips in a desperate bid for relief.

A black silk dress, its skirt slit to the waist thereby offering an occasional glimpse of her garters, and a pair of towering black patent pumps hid the lingerie - almost. Even dressed she was displaying her celebration of her femininity. She was prepared to display her secrets when it suited her.

For a moment I wondered if she was dressing for a lover. I became intensely jealous. I felt she was mine because she had made me hers. Even in my misery I felt myself begin to grow hard at the sight of her.

As she strode from the room in a proud prance only her trailing hand with its crooked finger signalled me to follow. It was all the recognition she was prepared to offer me. I stood up. My plastic prison shifted with me. The plastic rustled loudly as I waddled after her.

Downstairs I discovered she had already spread out an old flannette sheet on the floor in the living room. When had she done it? I wondered how far in advance she planned for me. A silent movement of her finger and I was instructed to take my place.

She brought me a baby bottle full of the same stuff I had been given the night before. After attaching it to the strange thing in my mouth she showed me how I could hold it even with my tethered hands.

She went back the kitchen and I could hear her moving around, her high heels tapping the floor, reminding me of how she was dressed and encouraging the half erection that hadn’t gone away since I had watched her dress. She made a phone call to the school. I knew from then on that I wouldn’t be missed. I would be spending the day with Angela, in her care and helpless to prevent anything she wanted to do me. Only a few dozen hours earlier I would have thought myself in heaven at the prospect. Now, bound and already feeling the effects of her enforced diapering and the plastic panti-suit, I wasn’t so sure.

I suckled on the bottle from habit and the desire to do anything to earn Angela’s approval or at least to avoid her displeasure. As I swallowed I knew that every drop would end up in my diaper. Coincidentally, a burst of pee erupted from my penis. It was unexpected and I felt a moment of anxiety about not having had any control over it. The prospect of becoming dependent on diapers danced in my imagination. Once it would have been an interesting fantasy.

After about half an hour Angela brought me another bottle. She didn’t say anything, she just smiled in a way that told me she had a good idea of what she was doing to me. I breathed in her perfume and feasted my eyes on her loveliness. Despite the discomfort she had created for me I was still desperately in love with her.

Time dragged on through the morning and with it the intensity of my plastic and diaper prison. More and more pee escaped into the waiting pads and my own sweat added its voice to an increasing chorus of itch. I began to squirm about in futile attempts.

By the time Angela came into the living room and sat down with an air that suggested she meant to stay awhile I was thoroughly miserable. She took the chair opposite me and let the slit in her skirt fall open to reveal the top of her stocking and a garter clasp. Even though she was many feet away from me I could still sense her perfume and my erection stirred to life.

She looked at me for quite a time, watching as I emptied the most recent bottle she had given me. Her gaze was cool, almost aloof. I couldn’t meet her eyes, fearful that she would see deeper into my thoughts.

I watched her take off her shoes by slipping her feet out of the pumps with practised grace. It was a deliberate action, performed with care and calculated to attract my attention. When she crossed her legs again I noticed hat the reinforced heels of her hosiery ran down the soles of her feet as well.

There was another period of silence while we looked at each other. She observing my distress while I worshipped her with my eyes. There was no sound to break the moment, only the bond between our eyes.

Suddenly she rose to her feet in a graceful movement. She stepped into her pumps and strode across the room until she was standing between my spread legs. When she spoke her voice was low, soft and seductive. “I suppose you are quite uncomfortable.”

Suddenly the rubber bulb that had filled my mouth almost unnoticed all morning seemed the worst punishment imaginable. The words of pleading, of respective protest and supplication that I had rehersed were now plugged, stifled. I nodded my head.

“Well,” she said teasingly, “I’ll do something nice for you but first you must do something nice for me.” Again, I nodded, this time vigorously. I would do anything to win back her favour.

She kneeled down and told me to lift my head. I felt her touch at the lock that held the rubber pacifier in place. There was a loud click and then she was gently taking in from my mouth. As soon as it was free from my lips I was aware of the drool that had leaked from around its seal all morning. She used a corner of the sheet to dry my lips. “Thank you.” I croaked, certain that this little favour had been her idea of being nice to me.

“I’m not finished yet.” she said as she lifted her leg and straddled my chest, her crotch now inches from my face though still concealed by her dress. Her perfume was now overpowering and I forgot my discomfort in an instant.

She slowly began to gather the hem of her dress in her perfectly manicured hands. “It’s time to kiss and make up.” she said softly.

I felt my breath stop as I watched the slow but steady progressing of her hem as it first revealed her stocking tops, then her creamy white thighs and then the neatly trimmed bush at the apex of her perfect legs. Her garters were taunt, forming a frame for the most wonderful sight in the world. She had taken off her panties and now her most secret place was presented to me for worship, already swollen and moist with arousal.

She used her knees to inch forward until her mound was presented to my lips. I needed no further instruction. I sent my newly freed tongue into that forest of pale brown hair and quickly found the salty taste of her nether lips, already swollen and parted in anticipation of me. At the first upward stroke of my tongue I met her clitoris and her twitch of pleasure confirmed my accuracy.

I began to lap at her, instinctively giving her clit as much attention as possible. I looked up at her just in time to see her eyes close in ecstacy. a soft moan escaped from the back of her throat and I felt myself fill with purpose. My tongue twitched against the most sensitive spot on her body and I felt her tense with pleasure.

Soon my tongue ached from the exertion but I did not let it falter from its task. I sensed Angela’s passion rising and I was determined to give her the ultimate in pleasure.

Time and again I was sure she had reached her pinnacle but each time she never paused in her rhythmic thrusting against me. Only after she went tense for a few seconds and cried out as her body shook with pleasure did I come to know what her orgasm was like.

She slumped backward, letting my tummy take her weight. Then, through half closed eyes she reached behind and began to stroke my erection through the layers of plastic and thick diapers. “I’ll bet you would give anything to be out of diapers now, wouldn’t you?” she said softly, hoarsely. I nodded. She continued her rubbing and kneading, encouraging my arousal. I began to move my hips with her touch, absorbing the sensation as much as I could.

An orgasm began to build. I felt myself gritting my teeth, hurrying it a long. She gazed down at me, her eyes lit with the fire of control. She could do anything she wanted and she knew it.

I began to reach my peak, moaning and struggling beneath her weight. I wanted release so badly and I wanted to share it with her. “Soon?” she asked with a smile and I nodded, to aroused to speak. I didn’t want to lose my concentration on the coming bliss.

Just as I was sure that heaven was only a second away she stopped touching me and lept to her feet, leaving me to writhe and moan on the floor, left hanging on the edge of an orgasm and yet denied the one or two more touches from her to bring welcome releif.

The sweet arousal ebbed away, leaving me sore and tense, frustrated and disappointed. I wanted to ask her why she had been so cruel but one look at her face told me it was because she liked being a tease.

“Oh, don’t look so hard done by,” she chided. “Go to your room. I’ll be along in a minute and we’ll get you into something a little less humid.”

I struggled up the stairs, still smarting from my aborted orgasm but still very much in awe of her. When she arrived a few minutes later she had repaired her make-up and put on more perfume. I surrendered to it while she removed the panti-suit and changed me into three cloth diapers and a pair of heavy rubber pants. By the time she started to dress me in a tee shirt and jeans I was her little boy again, anxious to please, even though I suspected she planned an outing for the afternoon and one look at the size of my diapers sent a shiver down my spine.

Email: nautybaby@hotmail.com

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