Nancy found his ad in the Personals section of her campus newspaper. His requirements were very specific:
“Serious older disciplinarian seeks college freshman for bladder control training and discipline. Must be Lolita type 18 or older. Should look 15 or 16 years old – a hint of ‘baby fat’ a plus …”
Nancy had just started her freshman year at State University. She was a natural blonde who had turned 18 three weeks before the start of the fall semester. But she looked much younger. The little darling was barely five feet tall and she was carded regularly every time she went out for drinks with her new college roommate. Maybe it was because she giggled a lot, or because she still had some of the plumpness of a 12 or 13 year old. Maybe if she exercised more, she could get rid of that little bit of the baby fat that turns some men on to girls of a certain age.
The ad excited and intrigued her. For Nancy, the fantasy of bladder control training wasn’t new. Every since she read the book, Sybil, the idea of being made to lose control and wet herself had excited the little girl.
Nancy wasn’t a virgin, but she wasn’t all that sexually experienced. Actually, her experiences were all pretty tame. She had never dated, much less slept with, an older man before. She knew boys her age couldn’t keep a secret, so she never confided any of her darker thoughts to the school boys she dated, and occasionally jerked or sucked off. So her interest in peeing was much too personal even to confide to the boy she dated most of her senior year, and finally fucked on Prom Night.
Nancy responded to an Internet address and corresponded with this older man every day for over a week. He claimed to write porn as a hobby, nothing to make any money at. But from the very vivid descriptions of the things he planned to do her, Nancy had to admit meeting him was a possibility. He starters he would make her consume large quantities of diet soda or cranberry juice, and then restrict her ability to pee.
That was part of the turn on, not being allowed to relieve herself. They would sit and talk, and Nancy would begin to squirm in her seat. He even suggested this might take place in public, but Nancy hoped not. That would be so humiliating. Nancy knew she would eventually lose control and wet herself, and she would be punished for the embarrassment she caused.
There was so much for Nancy to think about. How much soda or juice could she consume? Would she be restrained? How severely would she be punished when she failed to control her bladder to his total satisfaction? Nancy thought about this every night before she went to bed, touching herself under the covers, trying not to make any noise, always hoping her college roommate was asleep. She wanted this older mystery man to be interested, so she sent him pictures of herself, showing off her sexy little tits and her chubby little ass.
He lived close by her college, and suggested meeting her one Saturday morning.
“Plan to be away all day, six hours at least. These things take time, and you can’t rush Mother Nature.”
Vanishing on a Saturday morning wasn’t a problem. All she had to do was tell her roommate she was doing field research for her abnormal psychology course, “nuts and sluts,” as she put it, her favorite course.
Nancy was very excited that Saturday morning. She took a shower and shaved her legs and under her arms, and then trimmed her little blonde patch with the electric beard trimmer. She wanted this stranger to like her, to think she was cute, to find her desirable.
Nancy dressed carefully – her tightest yellow tube top, no bra, to show off her pretty little tits. The final touch was a very small pair of cutoff jeans. She debated if she should wear underwear, white cotton bikini panties, or maybe a thong, but finally decided she preferred the friction of denim against her bare and freshly trimmed crotch.
Down deep Nancy suspected she would disappoint him, that he would see her faults, that he wouldn’t like her. Or I’ll do something stupid or something to make him angry, she thought to herself, and then he’ll really punish me for being such a geek.
He met the young girl that first Saturday morning at the campus bus stop just outside her dormitory. He had the picture of her in the tight yellow tube top and cut offs and the little girl was even sexier in real life.
He planned to make her drink four or five quarts of soda or cranberry juice. From past experience, he knew she wouldn’t be able to hold that much liquid for very long, especially if he gave her a Lasik pill after she started drinking. He also knew she would get a whipping when she finally lost control and wet herself. Just thinking about her standing in a corner, naked from the waste down after he spanked her, made his cock very stiff.
He told her he his name was Denis Diderot and he would be driving a white Mercedes, and older S model, the model before the one Princess Di died in. Nancy didn’t know anything about cars, so it didn’t make much difference what model Mercedes he would be driving. He pulled to the curb and Nancy quickly jumped in.
“Let’s get breakfast before we get started,” he told her, as he floored the accelerator. The car was big and fast and things were starting to get exciting. He took her to a restaurant off campus, T G I Friday’s she later wrote in her ‘field notes,’ along with the fact that he found a parking space very close to the door.
The waitress took them to a booth in a non-smoking section, and probably assumed they were a father and his daughter out for a Saturday morning adventure. Denis ordered granola cereal with yogurt on the side, and a cup of French roast coffee.
“My daughter will have the same, without the yogurt,” he told the waitress, “and bring her your largest size diet Coke, without too much ice, instead of the coffee.”
Nancy started to protest that she didn’t like granola cereal, and she certainly wasn’t his daughter.
“Sush,” he whispered, as he put his finger up to his lips, “play along. It will make the game more exciting.”
They were playing a game, Nancy realized, and pretending to be his daughter would be part of the fun.
