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Author's note: Years ago I wrote a number of diaper stories, but that I never posted. This is one of them. This one is NOT finished, but I finished about ten chapters. They may have some raw elements, lesser parts, but I hope you'll enjoy anyway. I'll post chapters one at a time, so you can have some things to look forward to while I give myself some time to decide whether I should finish it or not. ===== Chapter 1: ---------- She called me Ensie. It wasn't too far off from my real name, but enough to make it sound endearing like a nickname that you were carrying around since you were four. I didn't mind. Not from her in any case. She could call me anything she wanted to and I was ok with it. Nevertheless, it all seems like a phase now, but it was what I needed at the time, what I needed to grow and to become my own independent person. I love her for that, for what she gave me, and I hope I can one day repay her for all the things she did for me. Not that she would accept it. After our relationship, she said that despite all the fun we had, it was disturbing how many things she put me through. In any case, her name is Cynthia. She has a husband now, two of the cutest kids you'll ever meet. I'm godmother to one of them. Our story began our senior year. I had just moved because my dad had lost his job due to the crisis. Instead of going around trying to find a new job, my dad just took over a store in another city with a little support from my grandparents. It was not a bad choice, in hindsight, but it's not really pertinent to my story. Mom was an electrician and thus she could hold her own among the men. I think I got my unique mixture of boyish and girlish mostly from her. You see, I wasn't exactly what you'd call a girly girl and yet I wasn't really a tomboy either. Sure, I kept my hair cut rather short and I wasn't as concerned about my appearance as other girls, but then again, I wasn't boisterous or messy either. I liked skirts, skinny jeans, poofy pants, and wide loose pants all the same. I didn't like tight shirts though, I didn't have much to show off in those days -pregnancy will do wonders for that, by the way- so I liked to keep what little I had to myself. I liked to keep to myself in general, especially because I was a senior in a strange new school. The first day I was wearing a rather wide pair of jeans with one of my largest loosest t-shirts. It had a "no velociraptors" sign on it. Along with my short hair, I got more than one "hey dude" that morning. It suited me just fine, boys could always more easily stay in the background. It took me a bit of searching in the the schools mostly plain hallways, but I eventually managed to make my way over to English, which was my first period. The teacher only had a short glare for me being late before he continued rattling off the names list. He couldn't have gotten far yet, because my name was next: "Ensleigh Auld?" Twenty pairs of eyes were suddenly completely focused on me. I heard a whispered "she's a girl?" somewhere behind me. Even though I had dressed tomboyishly on purpose, it still stung a little. "Here," I squeaked quietly while raising my hand. First period was a drag. Not because the teacher was boring, but because everyone kept looking back at me every two minutes or so. The class was actually interesting, since the teacher seemed as interested in all kinds of stories as I was. I don't remember what my next class was, though I would guess something to do with math, because I had a lot of those classes in senior year. Considering my career path some would've called that a mistake, but I loved those subjects then and I'm still glad I have the knowledge, so I don't see which part of it was a mistake. But I digress. In any case, I met her during the first break. As you can imagine I was kind of lost, out there all alone. I just walked around the building quietly, not trying to attract too much attention. Thankfully, most of the students were chattering with their friends about their summers, and thus they mostly had attention for each other. Nonetheless, my path was suddenly blocked by Cynthia, though I didn't know her name then. I didn't even like her. She was stood there, somewhat towering over me thanks to her massive heels. "Whatever you do, stay on my good side, or you'll regret coming here." A stern warning that she seemed to mean. She almost seemed like my mom talking down to me when I was young, threatening to spank me if I didn't behave. Not that she ever had. I was dumbfounded at her dominant posture, but before I could remember where I was, she was already strutting off, two sycophants trailing after her. Now, I already told you I was a weird mix of boyish and girlish, but I was also kind of bi. Now, don't get me wrong, I am happy with my husband, and I've always wanted a family on some level, but her strength and bossiness seemed the perfect combination of manhood and womanhood to turn me on. I didn't even admit that to myself though. I just blamed it on watching too much porn at that moment. After that encounter though, I didn't interact with Cynthia until spring, which is when we really got to know each other. The morning had been a chilly and windy affair, though the sun called you outside from every window. I was wearing a long skirt and a rather close fitting blouse for a change. Most of the other kids at school were wearing spring colours. Many girls were wearing pinks and purples and most boys were as oblivious to colours as always. I was trying to match the splendor of nature in the colours that I wore: lilac, soft greens, some hints of yellow. I even had some flowers in my hair. Not that my friends noticed. Jack just started talking about how he'd figured out a new strategy for the next time we played together, while Dennie just kept going on about our homework due today. The only solace I found was Rebecca, who just hugged me when she came up to me and then was quiet. She had a crush on me, though I didn't know at the time. For all the experience I had observing people, I just wasn't very good at noticing things, even moreso when it concerned Rebecca. Not that that was my fault. The girl was more than a closed book. She was a closed book, chained closed, locked in a vault. Sure, she was always happy to see me, but other than that, you couldn't get any emotion out of her. I bumped into Cynthia head on when I rounded a corner. Her nose poked my eye and we both almost crashed to the ground, grabbing each other to stay a modest distance away from the floor. When we were finally more or less stable, she looked at me and blinked. A moment of getting over the shock later, she looked me up and down and smiled. "In one piece?" She asked. "Yes," I replied, but before I could ask if she was ok too, she said: "Good, then you can make this up to me later. Wait for me after school." Once again, she was off before I could react. My friends were staring after her with as much puzzlement as myself. That whole day was a blur to me. To this day, I still have no idea what we learned that day, or even if we had any tests. Time both flew past and took forever to advance, depending on my mood at the moment. When the final bell finally did rang, I got up with my heart racing in my throat. My friends all wished me good luck, but none of them wanted to stick around to see what would happen. Jack excused himself, saying he had an appointment with his online guild. Dennie just mosied out without saying a word. At least Rebecca gave me a hug, though it felt hollow that time. I think she regretted not having the guts to stick around. When I finally found Cynthia, she was all alone. The two beauty queens that were usually trailing her were nowhere to be seen. She was nervous herself that day, but she hid it a whole lot better. She almost looked regal, standing there, letting me come to her. "So, what's your worst nightmare?" She asked it so plainly that I stopped on the spot, nailed to the ground, incapable of speaking or even thinking. As I began to mutter "wh-what?" she planted her lips on my mouth. If I had been struck speechless before, I was completely mute now. It didn't take me long to recover. At least, I had the impression it didn't take long. I had always suspected that I didn't have a clear type, sexually speaking, but that was more because I didn't feel particularly attracted to either boys or girls. Not that I didn't like playing around like everyone else, it's just that I much preferred my own company to that of others at the time. Cynthia waited for me to regain my senses, patiently, but she never moved an inch from her position a foot away from my face. I was confused and didn't know what I was supposed to do, so I just kissed her back. And a real kiss this time, not like Cynthia's little peck. Tasting her own lip for a second after we were done kissing, she said: "Good," with a smile, "come by my house as soon as you can." She wrote her address on my hand then proceeded to suck on my neck for two minutes, declaring "mine!" once she was done. I could do nothing but blush and feel rather horny really quickly. Being dominated is awfully reassuring. You feel wanted and you have a clear purpose in your life. You don't have any hard decisions to make and you can't fuck up so bad that a punishment won't fix it. A forgive and forget kind of thing. I didn't know that yet at the time, though. Like most others I thought BDSM was just whips and chains and being rough. At home, I told my mom I had a school project with a classmate and that I was going over there. They didn't seem to have noticed the hicky, or if they did, they never said anything. She just wished my good luck, not asking any questions at all. Which was very typical of my mom. If there was no particular reason to be worried, she wasn't going to hammer on anything. She expected me to use my brain and that was that. Ten minutes later, I rang Cynthia's doorbell. Her mom opened up. "You must be Ensleigh," she said in a far too happy tone, "come on in." Cynthia herself was standing at the top of the stairs, looking down on me with another smile on her face. "Come on up." "Work hard, girls," her mother said as she moved into the kitchen. I heard a door close before I reached the top of the stairs. That made me nervous. I didn't know if Cynthia had told her mother and had expected to just follow her into her room where we could talk, but now I wasn't sure. Should I kiss her? Was it ok for me to kiss her? Would she kiss me? Was I supposed to ask first? She must've seen my nervousness because she simply grabbed my hand and dragged me into her room. She led me to her bed and then went to close the door. I had had a real boyfriend before, but I was not exactly used to what came next. She simply climbed on top of me on the bed. We were both sitting up, mind you. And then she started making out with me heavily. Making out with a girl is not much different from making out with a boy, sex on the other hand... but that came later. Her wet tongue was down my throat rather quickly, she was heavy handed and didn't give me much of a choice. Something in the back of my mind linked the behaviour with abuse and rape, but for the first time someone I made out with was managing to turn me on. I didn't really surrender, not yet anyway. I wasn't experienced or secure enough for that yet. It didn't matter. The first kiss isn't supposed to be perfect, it only needs to show promise. It did. "I've been waiting for this for a while now," she said after I hadn't even noticed she had stopped kissing me. "Did I live up to expectations?" I asked her nervously. She smiled and kissed my nose. "You don't need to worry about that." In the same breath she went on: "There are a few things though." Most people would've said "like?" then, but I just gave her a look that said it. She understood what it meant, which was a wonderful new experience for me. "No-one can know. I know it's silly and such this day and age, but I have a reputation, and I'd rather not have to give you up if my parents happen to disagree." That was actually sweet of her, in her own way. It was not a bad arrangement, regardless, since it would keep the wrong kind of attention away from me. "The second thing is the hard thing, though." I hadn't been paying much attention any more, but that snapped me back to the moment. Before I could ask what that was, she said in a surprisingly calm voice: "I'm going to be the Dominant one." She said it so matter-of-factly that I felt stupid for not really knowing what she meant. "You mean, like, the boy in the relationship?" I asked. My voice high-pitched enough to betray my confusion. She looked at me intensely, her eyes betraying her own insecurity at this point. "No. I mean that I want to be the one in charge. The bossy one, the Master, and you'll be the obedient one, the slave. Well, not really a slave, more like a treasured pet." My first instinct was to be repulsed, but I didn't really know how to react. "I... I don't know, Cynthia." She swallowed, insecurity bubbling to the surface now. "But, you followed so naturally before. You completely went with it when I took charge." That's true, I thought to myself. Still, what kind of crazy person would willingly become someone's slave. Or even pet, as she said. Me apparently. "I'll show you," she said, pushing me back onto the bed and then began unbuttoning her pants. I panicked and tried to get off the bed, but she was stronger. She put a finger on my lip and went "shh, relax," before kissing me as she had before. She didn't give up until I kissed her back, at which point she slowly stopped and asked: "ok now?" I must've looked forlorn there, because she kissed me on the forehead and assured me: "don't worry, you'll be fine." I could only nod. She sat down on the bed next to me and pulled off her pants, taking her panties with them in one go. Once done, she moved back on top of me, but this time positioned her pelvis near my face. "Kiss me," she whispered. Not that she needed to say that. It was kind of obvious what she wanted. So I did. I kissed her vulva, and added a little nibble to it as payback for what she was doing to me. Of course, in hindsight it was more flirtatious playful forgiveness. "You naughty minx!" She responded through clenched teeth, but she was glowing. I loved that from the first moment I saw it. She got off me and helped me off the bed. I still didn't really know where to look. I mean, Cynthia made no move to put her pants back on, instead she whispered in my ear: "undress." I did what she said. I could hardly protest now that I had put my lips on her intimate parts. I tried to be calm about it, and Cynthia waited for me to finish patiently, never ceasing to smile. Here and there she put a kiss on my cheek, trying to reassure me. Isn't it weird that lesbian kisses can work to reassure an eighteen year old girl? When I was done undressing myself, she walked around me, tracing her left index finger along my skin. She avoided my breasts, or what passed for breasts on my body, but definitely took a good look at me. "On your knees," she said suddenly. Once again, it's hard to protest when you've already had your lips on someone's vagina. She showed me her bottom and told me: "Kiss my ass." There was nothing wrong with that, before anyone says anything. Sure, it's humiliating, but she was just testing the waters. To be entirely honest, it was already beginning to turn me on. That was all the kinky stuff we did that night. We made out some more after we were both redressed, but I was home in time for dinner. I didn't sleep that night at all.