Tuesday, 23 of September of 2014

Tag » humiliation

More Spanking? Yes, Please!

I’m a big spanking fan. I LOVE spanking. From my experience, a lot of women do, both giving and receiving. I’ve achieved orgasm many a time over someone’s knee. I’m especially into OTK spanking with implements such as wooden spoons, hairbrushes, and hand-held wood and leather spankers. I also really like belts, but only if used by a male or butch woman. I also like canings delivered standing or while bend over. I’ve also enjoyed OTK caning with a small “nursery” cane.

That said, I’ve always been told that other AB/DLs don’t like firm spanking or spanking without diapers. So I only put a bit of it in my movies and would only spank a girl until she got pink, but not red. (As I write this I’m covered with light cane and spanking marks from an off-camera spanking.) I didn’t see the point of messing up a model if viewers weren’t going to appreciate the time she would have to take off to heal up or the income she might lose.

However, it looks like I’m not the only person into spanking ’round here! I should have heeded my own advice better and just done what I like, which also makes me think I should put more anal temperature-taking, mouth soaping, and enemas into my videos.

I’m really thrilled to hear that this is the case, but I’m also really amused by some of the comments the blog has been getting about what constitutes a “realistic” spanking. I think that guys are just thinking about what gets them off and claiming it’s more realistic, which is fine, but not at all true. The three that I found really odd were:

  1. OTK spankings are more realistic: I was never spanked this way as a kid. It was always with me standing or bend over my parents’ bed. (I’m sure that didn’t warp me. *rolls eyes*) And, no, I didn’t move a muscle.
  2. Pulling down undergarments is more realistic: I was made to undress a couple of times, but only if my parents were really upset. I’m 100% against spanking kids (partly because it would feel weird for me from a sexual standpoint–spanking is very erotic for me and even if I thought it was effective, I just couldn’t do it to a kid), but even if I wasn’t, I would never require that they disrobe. I was actually reading The Discipline Book the other day (my toddler is a handful) and it was discussing how having children disrobe is sexually humiliating and parents shouldn’t do it. Of course, that’s exactly why I like to do it in my domestic discipline porn, but it’s anything but realistic!
  3. Long, slow strokes are realistic: Maybe there are parents that spank like this, but I’ve never met one. Long, slow strokes that really drive the thing home seem to be more something of porn. It’s a more sensual spanking style that allows the person to recover fully from the blow and process it, which is not the point of a genuine punishment spanking. The parents I knew who spanked not only didn’t enjoy spanking their kids and thus didn’t want to draw it out, but the point was pain and deterrence, not sensuality.

Overall I don’t think it really matters if someone wants verisimilitude in their domestic discipline, but why term it genuine? What you get off on doesn’t have to be justified! It kind of reminds me of the whole “fake tits vs. real tits” discussion that guys always have at one point or another. “Real tits do this, fake tits do this, blah blah blah,” when the reality is that there are a lot of different types of tits out there and, IMHO, it doesn’t matter if the tits in question are real or fake so long as you like them!

So, long rant short, you can expect to see more, harder, better spanking here on Pampered Penny. Just let me know what kind of spanking you think is hot–without the justifications!


Babysitter Blackmail

Melissa slid a stick of bright pink bubble gum into her mouth and began chewing pensively. She was leaning up against the lockers, one foot braced against them, thrusting her knee out at a lazy, yet imposing angle that showed off her smooth, tan thigh. If there had been anyone in front of her, it would have shown off her white, cotton panties, too.

She pulled her cell phone out of her sweater pocket and checked the time again. 2:56. Claire would come bouncing along at any moment. The thing about girls like Claire, Melissa reflected, was that they could be relied upon to do as they were told.

What Melissa did have to worry about was Jenny. Sometimes when she’d poached a babysitting job from Melissa—like today—the little brat would get everything she needed from her locker during study hall, then just slip out when the bell rang. “I just like to be on time. It’s kind of my thing. And those poor parents just work so hard!”

Yeah. It was really stressful for Mrs. Ruprecht to take a break from daytime TV and oggling the pool boy to get her nails done. Melissa blew a slow, vindictive bubble and took a great deal of satisfaction in its deflating demise.

Jenny. That two-faced little bitch. Well, if they didn’t get her today, they’d get her tomorrow and then it would be over forever.

Just then, at 2:59, Claire jiggled into view, a little winded and glowing, carrying a large shopping bag covered with a towel to hide its contents. “I, like, ran. I totally had to tell Mr. Schwartz I was on the rag, too!”

Melissa gave a humorless smile. “Perv probably liked hearing that. Jen should be along any minute now.”

The bell rang and students began pouring out of their classrooms, jostling to their lockers to collect books and binders. Claire smiled and waved enthusiastically at the boys who slowed to look her up and down, then blushed and hurried on as they caught Melissa’s mocking eye. It wasn’t long before Jenny appeared, her uniform skirt swishing about her knees and her butter blond hair held back from her Neutrogena fresh face by a thin, pink ribbon tied in a sweetheart bow at the crown of her head.

Every girl in the school wore her uniform differently. Most girls got lost in their uniforms, their stick thin bodies lost in the folds of tartan and thickly knit sweaters. Some girls looked dumpy, straining at the fabric in a way that suggested it was about to burst, launching buttons with enough force to lodge them in the stuccoed walls.

Claire also strained against her blouse and sweater, but only in the chest and in a way that made her classmates and a few of the less scrupulous teachers sweat. Skirts seemed shorter on her. Sweaters seemed more clingy. When Claire’s knee socks fell down, there was always a line to get behind her and watch her bend to pull them back up.

brunette schoolgirlMelissa inhabited her uniform coolly. It fit perfectly, accenting her form, but not revealing it. Her sweater looked soft, but impenetrable. Her skirt rode high, but never blew up in a gust the way Claire’s did. He shoes were never scuffed and her socks never fell down. Julie Wineman claimed she’d once seen her gluing them on after gym, the way Japanese girls supposedly did.

Jenny also had a very distinctive way of wearing her uniform, that managed to get her quite a bit of attention, which was one of the many reasons Melissa despised her former friend. From far away it looked innocent enough. She didn’t have to leave too many buttons undone the way Claire did and she didn’t come off as unyielding the way Melissa did. Instead she seemed unattainable in that charming and innocent way that made boys want to defile her and girls suspect that she really knew how many under-the-desk erections she was responsible for, though she would have blushed and seductively bitten her lip had anyone told her. It was something in the way her skirt swished when she walked, the way she bent at the waist to pick up a dropped pencil, the way her gold, heart-shaped locket glinted from its resting place on her breasts.

“Hey Melissa,” said Jenny, smiling. “Hi Claire. What’s up?”

Melissa grinned like a crocodile. “Oh, not much. See, I thought I had a babysitting job after school, but it seems Mrs. Ruprecht changed her mind at the last minute.”

Jenny opened her locker and began redistributing her books. “Oh. That’s…too bad. You know, Stephanie and Johnny are such great kids.”

Melissa stared fixedly at the side of Jen’s face. “Yeah. She actually sounded a little cold when she called. She said something about expecting a sitter to do more than just collect five dollars an hour to ignore her kids and not, what was it, enrich their developing minds.”

“Well,” said Jenny, turning to face her, “That really is what a sitter should be doing, don’t you think? But I’ve really gotta run. I’ll catch up with you guys later.”

Melissa slammed the locker door and Claire strode around to the other side of the backstabbing Jenny. “You have somewhere to be? Because we don’t.”

Claire giggled.

“You’re coming with us.”

Melissa hadn’t asked how Claire had managed to get the key to the boiler room because she didn’t care so long as it was in her hand before 3:00 pm, but if she had, she would have been surprised to know that all her nubile friend had to do was slip one of a dozen copies off a ring in the office and, when Mrs. Gunderson had hazily asked what she wanted it for, promised to be careful and bring it back later.

Now the two girls were pushing the third down a narrow, railed flight of metal stairs. Instead of growing frightened and helpless as she might have if there were anyone else around, Jenny was getting pissed.

“Don’t fucking push me, Claire!”

“Shut up and get down the stairs or she really will push you,” threatened Melissa.

Claire giggled. “Yeah!”

Once at the bottom, Claire drew out a length of rope out of the shopping bag and began to tie Jenny’s wrists to the banister with surprising skill, picked up from numerous after school experiments with Josh La Rue. Meanwhile, Melissa was taking other things out of the bag and began to arrange them in a corner. There was a big, thick, pink blanket; an oversized baby bottle; a purple terrycloth bib with “BABY” embroidered on it; a snow white bonnet; mits; booties; and a thick disposable diaper that had been decorated with Winnie the Pooh stickers—all big enough to fit a girl of Jenny’s size.

It wasn’t until she was firmly tied that Jenny noticed what Melissa was doing and by then Claire was cutting off her clothes. Too scared of the big, shiny shears to squirm, Jenny was reduced to obscenities. “That the fuck are you crazy bitches doing?!”

Claire, of course, giggled.

Melissa sauntered over, dangling the bonnet by its strings. “You know, Jenny, you think you have the world on a string and you can just spin it around and play with it and no one will ever question you or even notice.” She clapped the bonnet on over the bound girl’s summer blond hair and tied it in place before taking told of her chin. “But I’m sick of you calling parents and stealing my business. And today maybe it’s just a few dollars from a babysitting gig, but tomorrow it will be a guy, or a role, or an award, or maybe even my little lapdog Claire. But I’m not the type of girl to just sit by and let that happen, because there are a dozen little puppeteer sluts like you in this school, but none of them have been stupid enough to not realize that I was watching them.” Claire had fetched the bib and handed it to Melissa who tied it tightly around Jenny’s neck. “So I’m afraid I have to make an example of you.”

Jenny’s eyes had been steadily widening throughout the monologue and were now the size of saucers. “What are you going to do?”

Melissa shifted her weight slowly and held out her hand. “Claire, give me the camera.”

Claire handed it over, practically squirming with glee, and then stood back, as if to better take in the scene. Melissa didn’t waste any time, but began snapping pictures happily.

“Oh, come on, Jen. How about a smile!”

“Fuck you!”

“Oh, now that’s not nice,” Melissa cooed, the camera still snapping away. “Claire, maybe you need to dress the baby. She’s being awfully naughty.”

Claire eagerly slipped the mitts and booties onto Jenny’s hands and feet and gave her cheek a pinch. “She’s really cute, huh, ‘Lissa?”

“She’s going to get even cuter.” Melissa smiled. “Now, little Jen Jen, what do babies wear on their bottoms?”

“You’re a psychotic bitch, Melissa Hewitt!”

Melissa’s smile evaporated and she handed the camera to Claire, who was shuffling from foot to foot, clearly enjoying the dramatic humiliation.

Melissa strode over to her infantilized captive and grabbed her hair. “If the baby is going to use big girl language, she’s going to be spanked. You really should know better, Jen Jen. What if your Mommy or Daddy heard you talking like that?”

Melissa roughly turned Jenny away from the camera and the girl shrieked as her hands were twisted against the rope. Then, as Claire took over her archival duties, Melissa began to spank Jenny fast and hard.

“You are going to stop cussing RIGHT NOW. That’s no way for a baby to talk, and you’re definitely a baby, Jenny. You’re just a big, immature brat who thinks she can have whatever she wants, but I’m going to teach you better. I am in charge here. Not you. NEVER you.”

Jenny squirmed and whimpered as her bottom went from milky white to pink and then, in hand-shaped spots, to red. Though the spanking only lasted a few minutes, it left both spanker and spankee exhausted. When Melissa felt she’d worn both her arm and Jenny’s bottom out, she stopped. Jenny spun back to face the camera as she was released.

“Now,” said Melissa, taking the camera back from the momentarily sobered Claire, “What do babies wear on their bottoms?”

Jenny sobbed, “Diapers.”

“That’s right. Claire, would you?”

Claire took the diaper and scurried to tape it around Jenny’s waist. It was a little awkward in the standing position, but Claire made it work by roughly twisting Jenny this way and that and slapping her thighs to force her to cooperate.

As Melissa watched, she noticed that Jenny had grown a bit smaller. She still shone like a new penny, but she had lost the imposing aura that only seemed to be visible to other females who were in direct competition with her. She was beginning to break. Melissa smiled. If this worked out the way she hoped, there were a few other girls who would likely find their way into the boiler room.

Mmm. That’s nice,” said Melissa when Claire had finished. “But pick your head up. We want to see that pretty face.” Trembling, Jenny raised her head and looked at the camera. “Now smile, baby.”

Jenny glanced at Claire, who was resting her hands on her hips and shifting her weight from side to side, and complied, giving a shy, but very pretty little smile.

Aw, that was a nice one. Wasn’t that a nice one, Claire?”

Yeah, that was really cute.”

You always did have such a pretty smile, Jen Jen. I think that will be the one I make flyers of if you piss me off again.” Jenny shivered. “But you’re not going to do that, are you baby?” Melissa and Claire laughed. Jenny’s diaper crinkled as she twisted from side to side, trying to find an angle that didn’t show too much off to the camera.

You can give her the bottle now.”

Claire pressed the bottle to Jenny’s lips and gave her breast a friendly caress. Jenny was surprised to find that, humiliated as she was, her nipple was hard. She told herself it was just because there was a draft. “There’s nothing in it,” said Jenny after a few sucks.

Melissa lowered the camera. “I suppose next time we’ll have to bring some milk for the baby.” She exchanged a confused glance with Claire and then went back to snapping pictures.


The Reformatory

Emma sat in the waiting room with her hands folded in her lap, digging her toe into the carpet and trying to breathe slowly. Karen had told her that breathing slowly was really the only thing to do–that, and pray.

Emma was awaiting her first enema from the reformatory school nurse. All the girls got them once a week to help keep them regular and docile. As a new transfer, Emma had managed to avoid one until now, but from now on, she would be here in the waiting room every week, listening to the girl before her being led down the hall and trading nervous giggles with the girl to go after her.

Though Emma was almost 21, her aunt, also her legal guardian, had made a special petition to have her sent to the reformatory until she was twenty-five and declared a minor indefinitely.  Overall the Pennyroyal Reformatory Academy wasn’t so bad. The teachers and matrons were strict and sometimes the prefects abused their power, but the other girls were friendly, the food was good, and the classes were usually interesting. Emma was even on the field hockey team, where she had made several good friends already, including Karen, the captain.

Karen had been a great comfort to Emma. The first night in the dormitory had been difficult enough. Upon arriving, Emma had been led to the long hall where all the girls slept in dehumanizing rows and her bags had been opened. Almost everything had been deemed inappropriate or decadent, including her pink silk babydoll, which had been replaced with a rough cotton nightgown and, worse yet, a thick cloth diaper and plastic pants! Emma had thought that the matron and assisting prefect were making fun of her at first, but it soon became clear that they really did expect her to wear the horrid thing “in case of accidents.”

“But I’ve never had an accident!” Emma had protested.

“Your aunt informed us that you had a history of bedwetting,” said the matron coldly as the prefect, a tall blonde girl, smirked and twirled a pigtail.

Emma blushed. “Not since the first grade. I outgrew it a long time ago.”

“Nevertheless,” said the matron as she laid out the diaper and pulled a bottle of strawberyy scented talcum powder from the nightstand drawer, “You do have a history of bedwetting and the reformatory often has a regressive effect on new girls–especially those with delicate temperaments like yours. I see you are not here to reform a violent nature or tendency to steal, but a tendency toward the carnal.”

The prefect sniggered and Emma blushed even harder, trying to hide her face behind her long, brown hair. “Can’t we wait and see first?”

But of course the matron said no and ordered Emma to lie down on the diaper and threatening to call another prefect to force her if she protested again.

With no other choice and desperate to avoid further humiliation, Emma lied down with as much dignity as she could muster. The prefect held her shoulders down and smirked silently into Emma’s face, but Emma turned away and stared at the wall as the matron instructed her to lift her hips and slid her frilled silk panties off. It was the last pair she would wear before being issued with the plain cotton school bloomers all the girls wore and that were checked each morning. Then there was a shower of cool talcum powder, which the matron quickly smoothed over Emma’s shaved mons, another school mandate.  As the matron leaned far over Emma to fit and pin the diaper, the unfortunate brunette could not help but notice the matron’s ample clevage pulling against her sheer white blouse. For some reason, that made the whole ordeal worse and Emma’s eyes began to tear, but she did not cry until later that night, when she met Karen.

Emma was snuggly pinned into her diaper beneath the institutional plastic pants which would prevent leaks. She had gone to bed earlier than the other girls, lest she be tired from her trip. Of course, the other girls were already in bed by 9:30, so poor Emma had been lying there for an hour already, unable to sleep, but too frightened of what type of punishment this place might enforce to risk getting up, even just to get a book.

But the other girls were used to the early nights and the hall was filled with the deep, regular breathing of twenty young women by 10:00 pm and Emma wasn’t able to hold it in a moment longer. She began sobbing into her pillow, perhaps louder than she would have if she had all her wits about her, but she was psychologically exhausted. How could her aunt have done this to her? Perhaps she was a little boy crazy, but a lot of girls her age were and they weren’t sent to a reformatory! They certainly weren’t diapered anyway. And now there weren’t any males for miles and miles around. Even the milk man and meter reader were female!

Then Emma felt the gentle weight of a hand on her shoulder and caught her breath.

“Are you alright?”

Emma turned her head to look into the deep hazel eyes of a handsome brunette girl about her own age. She looked more friendly than concerned, though.

“I’m Karen.”

Emma tried to surreptitiously wife her nose on her sheet. “Emma.”

“Would you like to sleep with me tonight, Emma?”

Emma’s heart swelled before she realized that if she were to crawl into bed with this possible sympathizer, her diaper would be exposed and her humiliation renewed. She began to stammer an excuse that would not result in the girl leaving her alone when Karen cut her off.

“They diapered you?”

“Yes!’ Emma cried and began to sob again.

But Karen only laughed a little and pulled up her coverlet, then her nightgown. She, too, was in a diaper.

“They’ll use any excuse to get you into one, you know. Especially Matron Bittern. She seems to have a fetish.”

Emma giggled despite herself.

“Now would you like to sleep with me? Just for tonight?”

Emma nodded and from then on the two had been fast friends. That first night cuddled together in Karen’s tiny little bed, diaper to diaper, and black eyes looking into hazel, had made sure of that.

As Emma turned over these events in her mind, the door to the infirmary was opened by the head nurse, an older brunette woman in a thick, but translucent white uniform and cap, pinned severely to her neat hair. She was pressing a buxom young redhead out the door by the small of her back. The girl’s eyes were rimmed in pink, as though she had been crying, or trying not to, and her hands were clutching her skirt in front of her.

“Next,” was all the woman said and Emma jumped up obediently. Though she didn’t turn to look, she could feel the next girl in line staring after her anxiously. As Emma neared the door, the nurse took hold of her shoulder and guided her, almost pushing, into the room beyond.

It was a larger room than Emma would have imagined, with an antique, wooden examination table, covered over in green leather; a gynecological table; a sterile steel sink; and a countertop laiden with all manner of sundries, but what stuck out the most was the line of red, rubber enema nozzles and thick, plastic disposable diapers.

In one corner was a screen, behind which Emma could see the outline of a chair and nothing else. The nurse gestured to it. “Would you please to remove your clothes and put on a robe.” It was not a question and Emma obeyed, folding her jumper, blouse, socks, and underthings on top of the chair, kicking her brown loafers under it, then deciding to line them up neatly. The last thing she wanted on top of an enema was a list of cane strokes added to her punishment record.

As she undressed, she peered around the screen and saw the nurse preparing a large bowl of solution. Even from across the room, it smelled strongly of peppermint. Once the solution was mixed, the nurse set it on a towel on the counter and lined up one of the red bulbs, a bottle of lubricant, a stack of wipes, a diaper, and some talcum powder. She also slipped into a rubber apron and gloves.

“If you are finished, please come here.”

Emma jumped, embarrassed at being caught watching, and went to the nurse. A towel had been laid on the floor before the exam table.

“Stand over the towel with your legs spread and place your forearms on the table.”

Emma obeyed quickly, but it felt to her as though every action were stretched out. Her arms seemed to float down towards the exam table as through water, her ankles seemed to part from one another as though through a jelly. As she glanced down, she noticed that the front of the open-backed gown she wore plunged down to expose her breasts. Her hand twitched to cover herself, but the nurse was spreading the back of her gown open and she thought better of it.

“Try to relax and we’ll have you back to your class soon.”

As the nurse applied a liberal amount of lubricant to her gloved fingers, Emma reflected that this was perhaps the worst part of the process. She had known that the enema would come, but one was not actually summoned to the infirmary until the slip came. A rectangle of thin, white paper, the slip was marked by a red border. It was delivered to a classroom by one of the prefects or perhaps a hall monitor, handed directly to the teacher, who would read the intended girl’s name aloud. Emma had herself snickered at girls whisked out of class to receive the dreaded poke of Nurse Dalton, as it was called, even as her own time drew nearer. When it had finally happened to her, she had vowed she would not anymore.

Still, there had been more than one girl who had tittered as Emma had risen from her desk and taken the walk of shame down the asile. The girl who had brought the slip, a prefect and, at twenty-five, one of the older girls at the school, had even waited to walk her out, as it was her first time. Crossing to the front of the room, she had noticed Karen giving her an encouraging, though still pittying, smile, but she had been too humiliated to raise her head, much less smile back. The walk to the infirmary with the prefect had not been any better. They had delivered one more slip and picked up another girl on the way. The prefect had been mockingly nonchallant about the whole thing and even stopped to discuss the matter with a hall monitor!

“Hello, Mary.”


“Just taking these two new girls down for their first poke. I hear Nurse Dalton is in a fine mood today, too. Poor things!”

“Yes, I had the poke yesterday. She was so rough the diaper afterwards was almost welcome! She’s had a bee in her bonnet this whole week. Not even the staff are safe! She’s been recommending the poke for treatment of nearly everything.”

“Really! The staff!”

“Yes, these two little waifs will wish they’d gotten it at the beginning, like the rest of us, I dare say. Won’t you, little waifs?”

As the two girls laughed, Emma and her companion had found themselves unable to respond, but luckilly the prefect was anxious to be prompt for her delivery and had bid the hall monitor farewell.

“Breathe deeply. A little lubricant will make this all the easier.” And with that, the nurse had plunged her fingers into Emma’s rectum. Though she should have been, she hadn’t really been expecting it and a little, “Ow!” escaped her before she regained herself.

“If that’s so bad for you, you’re certain not to like this,” said the nurse, roughly pulling out her fingers and changing gloves.

The nurse took the bulb and filled it with water once, squirting it quickly out, to warm the bulb, then began filling it again, slowly. As Emma watched it swell with the warm, peppermint-scented solution, she began to feel dizzy. Her breathing quickened and she even thought of running for the door. She had never had anything like an enema. Even the lubrication had been a new and horrible experience. As the nurse lifted the bulb, its nozzle dripping water like a snake dripping venom, Emma felt a thin line of urine trickle down her thigh and her leg shivvered. The part of her mind not crazed over the menacing, red nozzle was grateful for the towel.

The nurse’s heels clicked as she took position behind her motionless, yet frantic, patient. She held the nozzle against the quivvering pink anus for a moment, then plunged it in, squishing through oilly lubricant and clenching muscle, to the soft innards of Emma’s rectum.

The warm water came like a flood, too fast, too gushing, leaving Emma too dazed even to try to push it out. She felt herself filling with it, felt it slosh about inside of her, warming her and loosening her bowels. Again and again the nurse plunged the nozzle into the basin of water and plunged the water into Emma. On the fifth bulb, her body began to give.

“Oh, please, ma’am, stop!”

“The whole basin. You have about five more,” said the nurse calmly.

“No, I can’t.”

The nurse sighed and filled the bulb again. “That’s what all you girls say and you all take it.”

“You d-don’t understand,” stammered Emma. Something in her body was going to release. She could feel it. The water inside of her was balooning and pressing down on her bladder. When was the last time she’d used the ladies’ room–not counting, of course, the little accident just now? This morning? Before breakfast? With every bulb, the pressure increased.

“I have to use the bathroom,” quavered Emma.

“That’s what the diapers are for. Please don’t speak. You make it difficult.”

Emma trembled, the nurse must see it. Her whole body shook with the effort of not disgracing herself, of not angering the nurse and gaining who knew what punishment, but as the nozzle slid back into her rectum, she felt herself begin to gush.

The first wave was the worst. Emma could feel the water shoot out of her, then trickle down her thighs. She gave a little scream and tried to press her legs together, but they were shaking too much.

The nurse said nothing until the last of the liquid had drained away.

“Oh my. Undress.”

Emma obeyed, but couldn’t keep herself from sobbing as she did. She removed the dressing gown and held it uncertainly.

“In the sink,” said the nurse, with a hint of annoyance. She was wiping down her gloves and apron, though as far as Emma could see she hadn’t been splashed. As Emma placed the dressing gown in the big, stainless steel sink, she glanced at the floor. Most of the liquid had been absorbed by the pad, but there were still splatters on the floor. She was relieved to see that it was clear, but it smelled.

As Emma stood over the sink naked, wondering what would happen next, the nurse thrust an apron at her, along with a pair of rubber gloves, a spray bottle, and a rag. Emma stood dumbly.

Nuse Dalton appeared to be getting impatient. “Put the apron on, you stupid girl. Clean up that mess you made on the floor, then we’ll wash you properly. After you’ve been disciplined, you can have a suppository and go back to class.”

Emma reached for the apron and put it on quickly. No one else at the school had spoken to her that way before. They had been firm, but always respectful. She was already embarassed by her accident and being called a “stupid girl” only deepend her humiliation.

“Did you expect somene else to clean up after you sprayed used enema water all over the floor?” The nurse sneered as Emma got down on her knees and began mopping up the malodorous water. “Honestly, it’s just disgusting. The problem with girls like you is that you have no control. I’ve been giving enemas for twenty years and the handfull of accidents have all been with unwilling, uncooperative, disobedient little girls like you.”

Emma’s eyes began to tear. She could smell her own waste and knew that it was true: she was disgusting. But she hadn’t done it on purpose! She would never, ever do something like that on purpose. She knew better than to correct the nurse, though. She was in enough trouble already.

After the water was mopped up, Emma threw away the pad and cleaned the floor with the sharp contents of the spray bottle. The alcoholic smell of the cleaner was, however, preferable to that of the enema water and Emma could also blame the fumes for the tears in her eyes. When the floor was sparkling clean, Emma dropped her gloves and apron into the sink as well and put the spray bottle down, then stood with her hands clasped in front of her, waiting to be told what to do.

Nurse Dalton inspected the floor, but failed to find anything wrong. She nodded once to show that the job was adequate, then took Emma by the arm and bent her over the sink, dropping another pad onto the floor. She took a clean rag and saturated it with warm water and soap and began scrubbing Emma’s hindquarters. She scrubbed hard and fast and indiscriminately. No part of Emma was safe, from the rose of her anus to the curtains of her sex. The washcloth was rough as a cat’s tongue, but Emma shivvered as it flicked against her clitoris. Oh please, not there!

The only thing that could humiliate her further would be to become aroused while being cleansed of her own filth. She squirmed this way and that to try to avoid contact with the cloth, but Nurse Dalton chased her down, pulling the cloth between her legs and even slipping a bit of it inside of her struggling patient. Emma let out a little moan, half of frustration and half of longing.

Finally, the nurse moved onto her legs, scrubbing and scrubbing til Emma’s thighs were red. She also scrubbed the girl’s calves, feet, and each one of her little toes. Finally Emma was rinsed with the same wash clothed, soaked in warm water that was wrung out over her lower body. The trickling water further teased her swollen clit. But Nurse Dalton wasn’t finished there. When Emma tried to take the towel to dry herself, the nurse snatched it back and told her to stand still. “You’re not even self-reliant enough to hold your bowel. You’ll be towel dried like an infant.”

The drying was rough and just as intrusive as the washing, but Emma shut her eyes and tried to think of being back with Karen, relating an edited version of the events and being fawned over and petted.

“There,” said the nurse, tossing the towel into the overflowing sink with everything else. She stood up and patted her hair into place. “Now I shall have to beat you.”

To be continued…





A Baby Husband

Melissa had turned the evidence over and over in her mind and there was only one conclusion: Jake was cheating. He’d always seemed like such a sweet, devoted husband, but if the late nights, mysterious phone calls, weekend business trips, and unusual credit card charges weren’t proof enough, the private detective’s photographs were. Jake was clearly shown meeting a strange woman at a hotel, then accepting room service in a bathrobe with the floozy hanging on to his arm, clad only in his shirt.

Melissa was not an emotional or affectionate woman. Perhaps that’s why after ten years Jake had turned. She liked sex more than most women, but evidently it hadn’t been enough. Even now she was calm and collected, thinking critically over what would be the best thing to do.

She wouldn’t leave. She loved Jake and was sure he loved her, too, even if he was dipping his cock into some slut—she suspected Laura from the office. What was it about Laura? She wasn’t the type that a guy would cheat with. She was busty and attractive enough, but she had three kids and, from what Melissa understood, was still breastfeeding the last one. She wasn’t young or a clubbing ditz. If anything, she was maternal. Most men tried to feel young by dating laughably young girls. Was Jake trying to feel young by dating a Mommy?

Perhaps it had something to do with his growing up without his mom. It was true he liked to call Melissa “Mama” during love making. And he loved to cuddle up to her when she would let him. During foreplay when he sucked her nipples, it was almost like he was nursing. Yes, maybe that was it. Maybe she could save her marriage and give her husband what he needed. Maybe it was what she needed, too.

A plan was just starting to take shape when the phone rang. It was Jake saying he had to stay late at the office again. So dutiful even when he was cheating. Melissa smiled into the receiver.

“Just be back by nine. I have some things to get together anyway.” And she certainly did.

* * *

When Jake walked in the door at 9:15, Melissa was waiting in the living room. She had taken great care in dressing, choosing an outfit that reminded her of something her own mother would have worn around the house: a simple, robin’s egg blue dress with flat, leather shoes. It wasn’t the sexiest thing in her wardrobe, but it made her feel authoritative and beautiful. Her hair was tucked behind her ears, but not styled.

Jake was surprised to see her. Usually she would have been in their bedroom working on her laptop in her sweats. “You’re late, dear.”

Jake gave an easy grin. “Sorry, Mommy.” He thought he was joking.

Melissa rose. She was only five foot four, but she felt six feet tall and it showed. Jake drew back. “I don’t believe you are, but you will be. Come here.”

Jake fumbled as he set down his suitcase and hurried to stand in front of his wife. “I—I’m sorry. I was trying to be home by nine. I thought I was close enough.”

“That’s not good enough, young man.” Melissa took hold of Jake’s ear and began pulling him towards the bedroom. He ran on his toes to keep up with his own ear, completely in her control. “But I have ways of dealing with naughty little boys.” With that, she pushed open the bedroom door to reveal an interesting spread over their bed: scissors, a hairbrush, a diaper, baby powder, and a strange device made of plastic.

“Now, you will take down your pants.”

Jake began undoing his belt, but slowly. “Why?”

Melissa sat on the edge of the bed and pulled her husband towards her, taking over his task and stripping him a little roughly. She slid his wallet out of his pocket and removed his credit cards and cash. “Because I’m going to give you a spanking.”

Jake smiled. “That’s kinda hot, baby.”

Melissa took his arm and drew him over her lap. She could feel his tumescent sex enthusiastically oozing against her dress. She didn’t mind. Evidently whatever that whore had done to her husband hadn’t drained him completely. And then she stopped herself. Laura wasn’t the problem: Jake was.

Melissa held Jake firmly in place and gently stroked his buttocks. “Oh, no. You’re the baby, baby. A very naughty baby.” She covered his bum with a flurry of quick, stinging spanks. He writhed against her, rutting like a teenager in his eagerness. He surprised her by moaning and raising his haunches to meet her forceful hand.

“Oh! Yes, Mommy!” The sight of him squirming in her lap was starting to turn her on. She knew she must not forget that she was doing this to correct him, not to give him pleasure. She reached for the hairbrush.

“What a bad little boy you are! Mommy’s going to have to spank this little boy with her hairbrush. He’s getting icky sticky all over Mommy’s dress.”

Jake was still rutting. “I’m sorry, Mommy.” He obviously thought this was going to be a game.

Melissa took up the hairbrush and delivered a series of slow, deliberate swats all over Jake’s reddening backside. With each stroke he jumped and gasped. This was more the response she was looking for. He was clearly in pain, but still submitting, just like a good baby should. But he wasn’t a baby yet. After thirty swats, she allowed him to stand.

He stood rubbing his bare buttocks and, when he turned to face her, she saw that his face had become quiet and peaceful, almost dreamy. “Thank you, Mommy.”

Melissa smiled. “Good boy. Now sit down.”

Silently, Jake obeyed. Melissa took his credit cards and money in one hand, the scissors in the other.

“I’m going to do something very drastic, but I want you to understand why.” Jake only looked at her blankly. His eyes were unfathomable, as though she had opened a door that led deep inside his mind. A twinge of nervousness overcame her, but she couldn’t help feeling she was looking into his eyes for the first time. There was no layer of sarcasm clouding his eyes and she knew there was no layer of detachment clouding hers. “I know you’re sleeping with Laura Fischer.” Jake didn’t flinch. “You are going to stop sleeping with her immediately. Tonight was the last time.”

Jake’s face remained blank. “You knew?”

Melissa sighed, letting her maternal air drop for a moment. “I know now.” And she snipped up the credit cards and all two-hundred dollars in cash.

After sweeping the mix of plastic and paper onto the floor, Melissa unbuttoned and removed Jake’s shirt and then his undershirt. Once he was naked, she spread him out over the bed. He didn’t fight her. He just looked up at her lovingly and occasionally moved a limb when she needed it moved. Once he stroked her face and she kissed his palm. It wasn’t until she began unfolding the diaper that Jake spoke.

“What are you doing, Mommy?”

Melissa pushed the diaper into position under her husband, now a sweet little boy, and began sprinkling his tumescent sex with baby powder. “I’m putting you in a diaper so that you can be a baby again.”


She tucked his erection into the diaper as well as she could. “You need to be a good baby so that you can grow up to be a good man someday.” Jake began absentmindedly sucking his thumb. “Until you show me that you can be a big boy, you’re going to be a little baby. No more big boy underpants, no more telephone, no more big boy tv, no more sex.” Melissa, who had never diapered anything but a doll, finally figured out how to tape up the sides of the diapers.

“Tomorrow Mommy is going to call your office and tell them you’re taking your two weeks off. Then Mommy has a date.”

Jake’s thumb popped out of his mouth. “What?” The sweet, childlike tone his voice had taken on evaporated.

“You cheated on me, I’m going to cheat on you. Only it won’t be cheating, because you’re not my husband now. You’re my baby boy.”

Jakes eyes began to tear. “I don’t want anyone else touching you!”

Melissa took hold of Jake’s chin and looked into his eyes. “Babies don’t have a say, do they?”

Jake’s tears brimmed over, but he nodded his head and Melissa’s nipples hardened as she reveled in her unquestioned authority.

“Good.” Melissa released his face and sat down next to her baby husband on the bed. He cuddled up to her and resumed sucking his thumb. Melissa began humming a lullaby and fingering the buttons around the neck of her dress. Slowly she began to undo them, revealing her large, white breasts and erect, pink nipples. As her tits tumbled free, Jake stared. She saw the front of his diaper grow tighter.

“Is baby sucking hims thumb because hims hungry?”

Jake moaned, thrusting against his diaper, and nodded. Melissa traced her areola with a finger before she playfully pinched her nipple. “Baby want bitty?”

Again, Jake nodded and, as Melissa lied back against the pillows, he scrambled into her lap and eagerly took her breast in his mouth. Melissa felt herself growing moist as Jake started to stroke himself through his diaper, but she firmly took his hand and removed it. “No, no, baby.” Jake moaned louder, but kept still.

As he suckled, Melissa stroked his hair and whispered to him about their new life together as Mommy and baby. She was going to date a number of men this week to find one to sleep with once Jake had to go back to work. While she was out of the house, there would be a babysitter coming over to watch him, a young woman named Penny. [Woot!] Jake was to be a good baby for her and do everything that she said. When he finally did go back to work, he was going to wear the a chastity device—the funny plastic thing that was waiting on the bed—under his diaper. When Melissa finished explaining, she asked Jake if he had any questions.

At first Jake just shook his head, then, thinking better of it, he detached himself from his Mommy’s breast. “Why did Mommy cut up all my money?”

Melissa stroked his hair. “So that you wouldn’t go buy big boy pants. I threw out all your underwear so that all you have are diapers.”

Jake nuzzled against Melissa’s breasts and said, “I wouldn’t do that. I would never disobey Mommy.”

Touched, Melissa smiled. “Good, baby.”