"Diaper time now... I'm thinking for you, Buttercup," You see the delicious disappointment I can't keep off my face, "I only have one nappy left until we go to the store and I don't want it to go to waste... the last 'hello kitty'... plus the effect that putting you in diapers has on your attitude is so sweet... so tame...and docile...I had no idea it would turn me on this much- to reduce you in this way! My only real concern is that you might just grow to love them, and constantly changing your diaper is not an idea that really intrigues me."
Unbidden, Deborah chimes in, "I wouldn't mind changing her diaper every once in awhile- that's if they're not... you know... messy- that's just gross." She's giggling again. She hands us each a cold bottled water from her mini-fridge, "Drink up..." she winks.
"Oh, Ms. Debbie, such a typical millennial- don't want to get your pretty hands dirty changing a diaper... Don't worry, I think her buttplug would help keep that kind of mess... contained," you joke, "But she should still have to ask permission to remove her buttplug and that means she'd have to ask permission to go 'tinky'- I kinda like that."
It's nice to see you both in such high spirits.
"As for my Prince Albert there," you sigh, "I think we better not try to stuff him back in his cage just yet, I'm thinking that the pain that is soon headed your way will be quite enough to keep you chaste- for the time being, Buttercup... Besides, now you'll also be wearing your new collar which also has a little lock to knock about and constantly remind you: whose you are."
Ms. Debora follows the line of the leash from your hand to my throat. I wonder if that's covetousness that I see in her eyes. I like whatever sparkle it is that I'm seeing in them.
"To make sure our 'little friend' heals properly, make sure you move the jewelry around every few hours... slide it back and forth a bit... rotate it like a spit in the fire... Do it even if it hurts- especially when you wake up in the middle of the night. It's super important," Ms. Deborah addresses both of us.
She is so cute when she's being authoritative.
"Just keep in mind that the pain you'll be feeling soon is a good indication that you're healing properly... And I know Ms. Amanda will ensure that you get the best of care while you're recovering- constantly checking you out, closely inspecting you down there, and soothing you with anti-septic creams and what not..."
"I'll be making sure that our Prince Albert stays very clean and doesn't go spelunking in any dark caverns where he runs the risk of catching an infection. Good thing we didn't also pierce your tongue... But oh! There's an idea for another time perhaps! Oh yes... I'll be making sure you're tongue gets plenty of exercise over the next few weeks- that you can count on."
My heart sinks at the realization that I probably wont be having any type of orgasm for... What? Three weeks? That seems like a really, really, impossibly long time considering that I typically ejaculate at least once a day. This sad realization already begins to register as a deep blue ache in my balls.
"Please don't hesitate to call me if anything strange starts happening," Ms Debbie offers helpfully.
"How sweet of you, Debbie! Oh I'll be calling you over for a house-call no matter what... And when you come over you'd also better be ready to have your cute, pink, little asshole reamed- I mean... gently and lovingly stretched... I'll make you love the strange feeling of it... I want to make you have your first ass-gasm. In the mean time, might I just suggest that you buy yourself a buttplug like the one you just inserted into Buttercup and start prepping your's a bit. Start gradually stretching it. Every muscle needs stretching and exercise to stay healthy."
Ms. Deborah goes blush-silent again.
"Buttercup, let's get you back in a diaper so you can get dressed, we've already monopolized too much of Ms. Debbie's time today- I'm sure. Ms. Debbie, would you care to do the honors?" You hand the light pink diaper to her.
Her face lights up as if she was hoping you'd say that, "Sure!"
"Ok, Buttercup, lie down on your back on the table there... Be good for Ms. Debbie...No fussing," you tease me needlessly- I'm already at full tilt humiliation- and arousal.
As I move to the table you keep hold of my leash and move with me- walking me like the pet that I've become. I marvel at how little effort it takes for you to toy with my mind. I don't know much about bondage dominance and sadomasochism. I imagine I'm probably the first person on earth to learn about this lifestyle in such a close-up, first-hand way without studying it down to the minute detail ahead of time - without lusting after it long before manifesting it. My vague notion of "the lifestyle" was: some lonely, over-the-hill, pot-bellied man paying some meth-addicted Russian prostitute to tie him to a saw horse and flog him for $200/hour. I certainly never thought BDSM was anything that I'd be into. How wrong I was!
Your style couldn't be further from my old, sad, condescending misconceptions. You are totally mysterious to me... So distant from the stereotype- yet so effortlessly dominant. I can't tell what motivates you but it must be something like pure desire... I know it certainly isn't money... I'm not paying you- quite the contrary- closer to the truth is that you've purchased me. I hope you'll tell me soon more about yourself. I want to know you- everything about you. I want to know what you were like growing up. Where did you live? Were you the first born? Do you have siblings? Was your family religious? How did you lose your virginity? Have you tamed other men besides me?
All these questions swirling through my head, and yet, I feel like I can't just out and ask any of them. I must wait for an appropriate time- maybe when you're not in full-force Queen mode? I certainly can't put you on the spot in front of one of your subordinates- NO. So far, I've made it my policy to swallow my curiosity about you and your past. I know a time will soon come when I have a chance to interview you properly. Even better would be if you'd hold me close in your bed- post-coitus- or at least after you've cum- and whisper all your important memories to me- take me into your privy chamber- your holy of holies- make me your trusted confidant. Maybe you'd even ask me some personal questions about my own story. Then- after an hour of soul-baring, our breathing would synchronize, and we'd drift blissfully off to sleep together- dreaming of eachother. Even though you're very successfully making me your slave, I still believe such intimacy between us is somehow possible.
Ms. Deborah has the diaper un-folded and ready to slide under me. I raise my hips and my still-bleeding, fully-erect cock up to show my willingness to help get this over-with. I feel the back of her hand against my tailbone. I wish the tables would magically turn. I wish it was me putting the diaper over her powdery naked pussy instead, but this is how you want it. With the diaper, she presses presses my cock flat against my abdomen, and tapes it down securely. Such a smile she's giving me- I'm glad I could make her smile that way once more before we go.
Seeing her so elevated by you today makes me wonder... It's given me a little glimpse behind your curtain. Deborah has both dignity and class- she's definitely not a voluntary masochist- and neither was I. I still have plenty of confidence- self- awareness... So does she. And maybe we're the kind of people YOU need. You could easily have your pick of any self-advertised masochist on the internet- but that's not what you're after. You were looking specifically for somebody like me. I had to have just the right flavor of dignity before you could ever enjoy removing it from me.
Before meeting you, I was going about my life completely oblivious to my deep urge to be humiliated. I was unaware of my need to serve- to find happiness in sexual subjugation to a superior woman. Well...today has been quite the awakening. My Pandora's box hasn't only been opened, it's been demolished- no way to close it now. Anybody who doubt's it can simply look at the locked collar around my neck, the surgical steel bolt through my penis, or the purple welts cris-crossing my butt cheeks.
Ms. Deborah gently rubs my thigh grazing her fingertips against the edge of my new diaper.
You unclasp the leash from my collar and pass me my dress. You walk over and peek through the blinds.
"Looks like it's stopped raining," you say cheerily enough, "I'm ready to get you home and relax a little. We've had such a busy day. Wouldn't you say, Buttercup?"
"Yeah. It's been quite busy... to say the least, my Queen." I awkwardly pull the dress over my head and re-adjust my wig.
"Your new collar doesn't really go with your outfit," you lament.
"Oh- I don't know," says Ms. Debbie, "I really think it really looks fine."
"I think we'll soon need to purchase a variety of colors- white- pink- lavender... I can't have my Buttercup looking thrown-together!"
Ms. Deborah once again bends over and unlocks the front entryway. I hope she finds an excuse to visit us sooner than later. I'll be fantasizing about her a lot- I know about myself.
"It was really nice meeting you, and a pleasure...um... working with you too. I think I'll be seeing you again- very soon- I hope," she says taking my hand in both of hers.
"I'm sure I'll be thinking about you until then too," I tell the truth.
You roll your eyes at us and usher me out the door, but I can tell you're not genuinely upset by the little spark between Ms. Debbie and I. You're secure in my loyalty and growing love for you.
As I pass in front of you, you quickly reattach your leash to my collar. I panic... What if somebody sees us walking down the street this way?! What if they snap a photo?! What if I become an Internet meme?! I'm feeling that increasingly familiar quease in my guts as we take the first few steps together. I'm nervously scanning the horizon. I want to walk quickly, but if I don't match your pace- I'll be straining at the leash like a bad dog.
"Buttercup, what are you so jumpy about?!" You ask as if you don't know.
"I'm very nervous somebody will see you walking me on a leash, my Queen," I mutter, "I'm feeling extremely self-conscious."
"Well... Think about this: it's a much bigger risk for me... I'm much more likely than you to be recognized...and judged- or exposed."
