I Was A Baby Pants Prisoner

[diaperpt]

I'd lost track of this story until a post appeared in the Bondage subforum asking about casting. This was one of the first stories I'd read becoming ABDL not that many years ago.

The story appears to just stop - if anyone has a copy of the whole story, I'd love to get hold of it! Meanwhile, I hope some of you enjoy this.

I Am a Baby Pants Prisoner - author unknown

http://web.archive.o...p?id=1008289729

Moira has asked me (or should I say made) to write this diary.

I don't really want to. It is the story of how I've come to be

wearing diapers 24 hours a day, seven days a week and it isn't easy

for me to tell. Moira is my parole officer/ companion/jailer.

She's the one that got me into this mess and makes sure I live up

to my end of the sentencing program. We get along most of the time.

However, when she decides to enforce the rules more strictly or

wants to punish me for some little offense she can make my life

hell.

It all started four months ago when I got busted for hooking.

I was no street girl, you understand. I was executive class all the

way and had more than a few $1,000 nights in the best hotels. If

you could see me you'd know why. I'm blonde, 105 pounds, with good

breasts and legs. Clothes look good on me and when I add a pair of

my favorite spike pumps, I can usually get a man to do anything I

desire. My best feature is my face. I look even younger than my

24 years and I guess that's partly why I was offered the Alternative

Sentencing Program. Sitting in the prisoner's room on the day of

my sentencing, I had no idea what ASP was all about. If I had, I

would never have let Moira talk me into it. I was scared of going

to prison, even if it was just for two years. I've seen what girls

look like after being in the joint and I didn't want that to happen

to me.

I guess I was pretty vulnerable and showed it. Moira came up

to me, all pretty and efficient in her tailored suit, patent pumps

and silk blouse and turned on the charm. "You're going to get two

years, you know," she said sympathetically.

"So?" I was suspicious. I had seen enough of jails not to

trust anybody.

"If I could get you 1 to 3 years of special parole would you

be interested?"

"Sure, what's the catch?" More suspicion. Nobody gives

anything away for free.

"I can't tell you the details. It's an experimental program.

You'll have to trust me."

I didn't like the thought of trusting a stranger but Moira

would say nothing more about the program. I only had a few minutes

to think about it before the bailiff came for me. I told Moira I

would go along with her plan and as I entered the court room she

went up to talk to the judge. I don't know if that old fart of a

judge was in on the deal or not. He sure gave me a funny look, as

if he was pitying me my fate. He sentenced me to 1-3 years of

parole in the ASP and that was the end of it.

The first time I knew something was funny was when Moira

insisted on strapping my hands behind my back with a pair of leather

cuffs joined by a short length of chain. I was caught off guard.

"What are these for if I'm on parole?" I asked her sullenly.

"You're still a prisoner of the court until you begin the

program. After your indoctrination you won't be going very far very

fast and we'll be able to forget about these."

"What do you mean by that?" I asked in alarm.

Moira had nothing more to say. She led me from the court to

her private car and helped me get in. Sitting in a car while

handcuffed isn't comfortable and I told Moira as much but she didn't

even answer. As we drove toward the suburbs, I tried to get Moira

to talk about the program. She flashed me some wicked smiles but

wouldn't volunteer anything except that I was the first person to

take advantage of the program and that I had better be a model

student or it would look bad for her. She got her message across.

I may have avoided prison but I hadn't avoided the hassle of being

someone's petty servant.

When we turned into the entrance of the State Mental Hospital,

I got scared fast.

"What are we doing here? I'm not crazy!"

Moira just smiled one of those wicked smiles of which I was

already sick telling me to keep quiet and do as I was told. They

were waiting for us. Moira must have called them before we left the

courthouse. There were two burly nurses who looked as if they

enjoyed pushing people around to greet us. With my hands behind my

back, wearing a mini skirt and spike pumps, I was in no condition

to give them a hard time.

They took me to an examining room. My heart stopped cold when

I saw the obstetrical examining table fitted out with restraining

straps. I never did get used to those damn things and the straps

told me that I wasn't going to like what they were going to do to

me once they got me all strapped down with my legs held wide apart.

Despite their advantage in numbers and size, they didn't

release my hands before undressing me. My skirt, pantyhose and

panties went first. It felt weird to be bare from the waist down.

Without a word, they hoisted me onto the table and strapped my legs

down tight. By now I was trembling from fear. They loosened the

cuffs and had my blouse and bra off before I could even think about

resisting. Then they made me lie back so they could fasten my

wrists in cuffs attached to the table and pull a wide leather band

tight across my middle. I couldn't move an inch.

I demanded to know what the hell was going on but everybody

ignored me. Moira had disappeared and the two ape-women pretended

they didn't understand English.

After a few minutes of my angry monologue, one of them turned

to me and said, "Shut up if you know what's good for you. We can

make you life hell from here on in if we feel like it."

I decided to keep quiet. That lasted until I saw what was on

the tray of instruments she was wheeling toward me. A straight

razor, a bowl of water, a can of shaving foam and some towels. I

moaned loudly in despair and let my body go limp. There were worse

things than having your crotch shaved but not too many, or so I

thought then. Why did they want my crotch free of hair?

I once had a client who paid me quite well to keep my twat

shaved but it's a different story when someone else is doing it to

you against your will. I did my best to keep still but the sound

of my own gasps seemed to echo in the room. When it was over, I had

this tremendous urge to run my hands over my new nakedness down

there but I guessed it was pointless to ask for my hands free.

They left me alone after that. It must have been an hour or

more. There were no clocks in the room but I could see the sun

travel across the window. When the next crew arrived, I knew I was

in for something I wouldn't like. They were all decked out in

surgical garb and they brought a lot of stuff on carts with them.

Even though they all wore masks, I was sure that one of them was

Moira. Nobody said anything to me or to each other. Panic took

over and I began to pull against the straps, cussing them all the

while. Then someone put a rubber mask over my mouth and nose and

that was the last thing I remember until I woke up.

The first thing I remember feeling when I came out of the

anesthetic, was the awful burning in my bladder. Then I found out

I couldn't move my arms or legs. I vaguely remembered the straps

on the table. It took a while for my head to clear. The room was

blurry and spun around a lot. I had a hell of a headache and my

muscles were cramped from being in the same position so long. A

nurse, wearing a surgical mask leaned over me and said something but

I didn't understand. I tried to talk but my mouth was too dry and

it tasted like chemicals.

I don't know how long it took but I finally got my shit

together enough to try to find out what they had done to me. I

raised my head a little and got the shock of my life. My arms and

legs were encased in smooth, white plaster casts. Worse, I was

wearing a pair of adult size plastic pants. Part of me didn't want

to believe it but when I sensed the heat and the padding between my

legs, I knew they had me in diapers.

I must have grunted or something because the nurse came back

and told be to relax and be quiet. She gave me a sip of water and

that helped a lot. As soon as I lay back down I sensed a trickle

of pee begin to run out of me. I froze with the shock of it. I

tried to clamp down, to stop the flow, but I had no control. I felt

hot water hit the diaper and spread out. It felt awful. I was

ashamed. The plastic pants didn't show that anything had happened.

The nurse had disappeared again. I tried to figure out what

they were up to. I felt a little better when I remembered that

post-op patients sometimes have temporary bladder control problems

but I still wanted to know why they had put me under and why I was

in casts to the point I couldn't move. By the time Moira turned up,

I was most curious and more than a little pissed off. Pee was

leaking out of me as if I was a busted radiator and I couldn't do

a thing about it. I judged the diaper to be about soaked and yet

the thought of asking for "a change" was too humiliating to take

seriously.

She circled me. I realized that I was still on the examining

table but there were no straps holding me any more. The casts took

care of that function. She wore a very satisfied look. She had a

secret to tell and she was going to make me beg for it.

"Don't you want to know what's happened to you?" she asked

coyly.

"I'm sure you'll get around to telling me in your own sweet

time," I said and grunted with the effort of trying to lift an arm

encased in plaster. It seemed heavier than I expected. Then I

noticed the doughnut-like thing around my wrist. A weight. A quick

check told me that I wore one on each wrist and ankle. I was

helpless. I did my best to hide the shiver of fear that ran down

my spine.

Moira came up to the side of the table and leaned so close

that I could smell her perfume and see that her eyeliner needed a

touch-up.

"You're in diapers, Sandy. Just think about that for a

moment. You're all bundled up like a baby and helpless to do

anything about it."

I felt my lower lip tremble despite my best efforts at

maintaining a tough face. I knew I was in diapers. God how I knew!

But, the unspoken questions were, for how long and why?

"I know," I said quietly, "any idiot can see that."

Moria started her pacing again. It drove me wild because I

couldn't keep her in my field of vision. When you're helpless, you

notice these things. I twisted and grunted but the casts and the

heavy weights attached to my limbs were very effective in keeping

me subdued. All I managed to do was tire myself out.

"Go ahead, struggle. It won't do you any good."

I hated Moira for saying that. It was true and the truth

hurts. I was losing my cool, and fast.

"OK, game time is over, you win. What's this all about?"

I didn't like the sound of my own voice. It was too

desperate, too pleading. I was signalling my surrender whether I

liked it or not. She took her sweet time about answering. I

wondered if she knew what "pregnant pause" meant. She made me sweat

those seconds before she replied.

"Oh, it's quite simple really. The Alternative Sentencing

Program works on a very basic principle. Rather than lock people

like you up in a prison as a negative reinforcement against your

unacceptable behavior, in your case prostitution, we provide a

more.... intimate form of negative reinforcement."

She hadn't really come out and said it but a dark suspicion

began to form in the back of my mind at the same time as another

burst of pee flooded into my diaper (it really bothered me to think

of it as my diaper). I was too stunned to offer any comment and

Moira wasn't going to rush in with the good news. She wanted me to

beg for it. I did. My voice was almost a whisper, not quite what

I had intended but it got me an answer.

"What do you mean?"

"Have you realized what you're wearing?"

"Yeah, diapers. I've mentioned that, remember?"

I wasn't sure if I really wanted to hear the rest of what she

had to say but part of me was dying of curiosity.

"Remember your sentence? It's one to three years. That means

you can count on at least 12 months of pads and plastic pants." She

leaned close again, "I wonder how many of your `johns' will go for

this rig!"

She slapped my plastic panties hard enough to cause another

rush of hot wet pee. I moaned despite myself. She resumed her

strutting. I was reminded of a Nazi officer in a war movie. It was

time to clear up the last obvious point, no matter how awful the

news.

"Moira," I said as carefully and rationally as I could, "you

can't keep me in casts for a year.It would cost as much as a prison

cell."

She paused at the side of the table and began to run her hand

over the plastic panties. I wondered if she could feel the sodden

padding underneath. She pressed harder and it began to arouse me.

I wanted to pull away but my legs were too heavy with the casts and

weights. I tried to ignore it while I waited for her to drop the

penny.

"Don't worry about the casts. They're only for a week or so.

Just a little appliance to help your indoctrination. No, the real

gem is the shunt that we placed in your urethra where it joins the

bladder." She let her stroking get harder, knowing full well what

she was doing.

"You're incontinent, Sandy. You have no choice but to wear

diapers until we decide otherwise. For the next year you'll be

peeing and probably messing yourself uncontrollably. Now how do you

like that?"

I wanted to scream. I had guessed as much a lot earlier but

I hadn't been willing to admit it to myself. There I was lying on

a table as helpless as an infant and this woman had just told me I

was going to be a very big toddler for at least the next year.

Finally I did scream, and it felt good. At least until the two

ape-women returned and put a rubber thing in my mouth. I used to

like to be tied up during sex, just to feel helpless for a while.

The next four days were like that but different. There sure as hell

was no fun in it for me.

I had a private room, thank God. The last thing I needed was

some horny male psycho taking advantage of me. The hospital wasn't

air conditioned and it was July. I had nothing to do but lie there

all day, sweat, think about being in diapers and suffer through

Moira's cheerful visits.

Well, I did have some amusement. If you've ever had to wear

a cast in the summer time you'll know all about the itch. After a

while it drives you crazy. Between that and trying to get used to

using diapers for all my eliminations, I was just about ready for

admission as a regular patient by the time Moira came to take me

home.

Whoever thought up this crazy scheme knew what they were

doing. With my arms immobilized and nothing else in the room to

distract me, I had no choice but to focus on the diapers that were

changed three times a day and my many other discomforts. As far as

the nurses were concerned, I was a baby. They refused to talk to

me no matter what I said to them and generally treated me as a

newborn infant.

The morning shift started at 7 AM. Two of them would come in,

remove my always sodden and sometimes messed diapers and bathe me.

By the time they had fresh, extra thick, cloth diapers and a pair

of plastic panties on me, I was sweaty again but it felt good

anyway. Then one of the aides would feed me my breakfast. I liked

that because they cranked the head of the bed up and I got a

different view for a few minutes. They, however, always lowered it

again at the end of the meal and only by looking down my nose could

I see Moira as she preached little sermons standing at the foot of

my bed. After breakfast came the first of the four or five

super-sized baby bottles of juice. A nurse would put a pillow on

my chest, shove the big rubber nipple in my mouth and prop the

bottle against the pillow. I hated the taste but not as much as I

hated the thought of where that liquid was going to end up. They

feed me a big bottle like that about every two hours. The result

was that I pissed myself constantly, every occasion a reminder of

my new condition.

Moira would have done well as an intelligence officer. Each

day she came in right after breakfast and gave me lots to think

about after she left. I hated her for it. It took her five days

to describe just what the ASP was going to mean for me during the

next 12 to 36 months. The more I heard, the more I wished I had

chosen prison.

Because I was the first ASP prisoner (she used that term a lot

and seemed to like it) Moira and I were going to be living together.

She assured me that her apartment was big enough and that I should

give up mine and put my furniture in storage. As it turned out, I

didn't have any choice. By the time she took me home, she had

already called the storage company and cancelled my lease.

Business is business, as Moira likes to say, and it turns out

that more than a few hospital supply companies were willing to

donate disposable and cloth diapers, plastic panties and restraint

items, all for my personal benefit. Moira glowed when she told me

about one company that was providing a diaper restraint belt as a

prototype, just for me.When I asked her why such a belt would be

necessary if I was truly incontinent she replied, "Well, dear, we

can't have you fiddling with yourself, now can we?"

That bothered me. I was just getting used to the diaper trip,

in a curious sort of way. I hadn't thought about sex until then.

As soon as she mentioned it, I got horny. After she told me the

diapers were to act as a kind of chastity belt, I got desperate for

some relief. My arms were useless, my legs too heavy to squeeze

together and since there was no point in asking anyone to do it for

me, all I could do was I gritted my teeth and tried to ignore the

oldest itch of all.

As I lay there, immobilized and helpless, the one thing I just

couldn't get used to, was the thought of messing myself. During the

first couple of days it was easy to hold back. As soon as the chart

they kept on me failed to report a bowel movement, Moira was on my

case.

"It's inevitable, you know," she said with a smirk.

It was the morning of my third day and I was still hanging on

to my pride.

"Moira, it won't compromise your little program to let me use

a bedpan once in a while."

"Oh, my dear, but it would."

She traced her long fingernails over my taut plastic panties.

It made me horny, all the more because I wanted it so much and yet

couldn't do a thing to stop her.

"I told you that the inconvenience, discomfort and

embarrassment of being in diapers was your therapy."

Now she was stroking my inner thighs. I wanted desperately

to close my legs but the casts and weights were too heavy. I was

beginning to breathe heavily and she noticed, flashed me a cruel

smile and then continued.

"Now I can't think of anything more inconvenient,

uncomfortable and embarrassing than being made to mess yourself, can

you?"

I grunted to stifle a moan of pleasure. The bitch! She was

deliberately turning me on while she talked about the worst fate I

could imagine. I looked down at my erect nipples. Moira too was

giving them a hungry look. I wondered if she was bi or gay.

Suddenly she snatched her hand away. She had timed it well. A few

seconds more and I would have had a delicious little orgasm.

"Well, unless you tell me right now that you're going to be

a good little girl and get on with business I'll have to tell the

nurses to give you some encouragement."

I was frustrated and mad. I told her where to shove the idea

and get out of my room. To my surprise, she did. As she left, I

began to wonder what "encouragement" meant.

I found out soon enough. The two apes came back with a lot

of equipment. I figured out what they were up to and realization

caused me to start to scream and struggle, not that it did any good.

To shut me up, one of them stuck a bottle full of juice into my

mouth. It had some kind of holding harness that they tightened

around my head. It was suck or drown, so I started to gurgle away

while I watched them get on with their thing.

They stuck two chrome poles into slots at the foot of my bed

and then ran a couple of canvass straps from the tops of the poles

to my ankles. A couple of seconds later my legs were being hoisted

into the air.With my legs spread and in the air they had full access

to my crotch. I had been changed only an hour or so earlier so the

diaper was still in pretty good shape. I had expected them to open

the diaper but it turned out differently.

Another nurse came in with a big enema bag and a long length

of hose. The nozzle looked strange. It was long and had two

bulb-like things on it. I got scared. The satisfied looks on their

faces made it all the worse. As usual, they said nothing to me

while they greased this monster up. Then one of them pulled the

crotch of my diapers and plastic panties to one side while the other

began to push the rubber thing up my behind. It hurt like hell and

I tried to tell them as much. The bottle in my mouth was strapped

in tight and the casts made sure I wasn't in any position to

interfere. I screamed against the rubber nipple but all I got for

it was another mouthful of juice. Deeper and deeper it went in

until I thought I couldn't stand it any more.

Then they showed me what the bulbs were all about. One of

them attached an inflation ball, like on a blood pressure cuff, to

the rubber thing in my rear and began to squeeze. I could feel

something inflating inside me. It wasn't too bad at first but they

weren't content with letting it be comfortable. Soon I was

screaming again. I was sure the damn thing was ripping me apart

inside. The second balloon had been left outside. As it started

to swell, I guessed how the damn thing worked. Pretty soon my poor

little rosebud had a rock hard balloon on either side of it and even

I was sure that nothing inside me would leave my body until I was

"uncorked."

They attached the hose from the enema bag to the thing in my

rear and hung the bag up. I could see the clamp that until now had

kept the solution from leaking out. One of the nurses put her hand

on it, looked me dead in the eye, winked, and then took the clamp

off. It felt as if Niagara Falls was running up my ass and my body

tensed up with the impact. It drove me mad. I pulled against the

casts all I could and screamed into that damned rubber nipple but,

as usual, I was totally helpless. My strength soon drained away and

I ended up lying there quietly, making pitiful little moaning sounds

while the nurses pressed the enema bag to make sure I got as much

of the solution as possible. When the bag was about as empty as it

was going to get, they clamped the hose just outside the rubber

thing, turned on their heels and left the room.

I hurt like hell. I looked down at my swollen belly and began

to cry. I had no idea it could be this bad. It had to be worse

than messing a diaper. Pretty soon the contractions started. Some

far off place in my tortured brain figured it out. They wouldn't

use just plain tap water, there would be something in the solution

to force my colon to hard contractions. The spasms got worse and

I was screaming again. By now the bottle was empty so at least I

had the satisfaction of hearing my own protests. Each spasm also

caused a mini flood in my diapers and I was reminded of what else

would soon be filling my baby pants.

I was sobbing loudly and feeling pretty sorry for myself when

Moira strolled in. I couldn't bear to look at her, to give her the

satisfaction of seeing me in total defeat. All I could do was turn

my head away and after she got tired of walking around the bed a few

times she told me to smarten up or she would have my head strapped

into place. After I had kept eye contact with her for a few seconds

she reached over and removed the bottle and its harness. It was

wonderful to have my mouth free again! " I'm sorry." I blubbered,

"I'll be good from now on. Please make them stop it!"

It wasn't just a ploy. I was really begging for relief.

"You can't get out of it that easily, Sandy. What good would

a punishment be if we stopped it as soon as the prisoner repented.

No. It's important that you learn this lesson well. The nurses

will be back in about half an hour."

"Will they change me?" The old specter of messing myself was

still there. I had to know.

"I suspect so. Not right away, of course."

She paused to watch my face and read there my revulsion.

"I'll see you tomorrow."

Part two of "Baby Pants Prisoner"

After Moira left, the seconds seemed to drag. The spasms were

getting worse again. My body was insulted at the liquid invasion

and wanted the intruder to leave but the double balloons held

painfully tight. I began to sob again.

When they finally did come to take care of me, I wasn't sure

which was going to be worse, being full of fluid or expelling it and

a lot more. I knew that I didn't have a choice and I was going to

find out from personal experience.

They reached between my legs. Suddenly the inner bulb was

deflating. They pulled it out while it was still pretty big and

after rearranging my diaper crotch and panties, stood back to admire

their handiwork. It didn't take long. The next spasm made me

explode. I cried out with the relief of it. For the next few

minutes I lived to expel. It was all I could think of and all I

cared about. When I was finally empty I came down to earth and

realized how full my diapers were.

It wasn't really all that bad, I thought. Then each nurse

began loosening one of the canvas straps that held my ankles high.

They deliberately lowered my legs slowly. Each degree of the change

of angle made the cesspool in my diapers shift and spread. Slowly

the sticky mess oozed out from between my legs and into the clean

and almost dry parts of the diaper. It made me start to cry.

"Please, please don't," I begged them through my tears.

They were enjoying themselves too much to pay attention to me.

When my legs were back on the bed, they watch with stone faces while

I cried and pleaded with them. Then they left me alone, more alone

than I'd ever been before. The enema did a lot to kill my spirits.

I felt my self-confidence draining away as surely as my water flowed

into the ever present diapers. With no one to talk to besides

Moira, I noticed that I began to speak more softly, more reverently.

Moira controlled my comfort. I realized that deep inside and no

matter how much I hated what she was doing to me, I had to please

her. By the time the fourth day rolled around, I had begun to

define my world by the condition of my diapers. My crotch was one

of the few areas of my body that I could feel and whatever I felt

there became pretty important.

Most people divide up their day around meal times. I started

thinking of the day in terms of diaper changes. I looked forward

to them for more reasons than just plain comfort. There was the

sponge bath that went with it and the careful attention to my shaven

pubis. I was starving for sexual contact and my box had become very

sensitive to even the slightest touch, so when they wiped me there

or rubbed in powder I just about swooned. I had come to understand

why my pubic hair had been shaved. The feel of a fresh, clean

diaper rubbing up against my soft sex lips was almost more than I

could bear, especially if the nurse tightened the diaper more than

usual.

I messed myself daily but tried to do it just before the

diaper change at noon. That way, I would not stay in the messy

pants very long. I did it also because I couldn't stand the thought

of another enema, not because I ever got used to filling my own

diaper. Even then, it was hard work. The body isn't designed to

relieve itself when laying flat on the back. My buttocks were

always partly pressed together and this made the whole operation

that much worse to clean up. I found out later that cleaning me up

was a punishment for the nurses.

On the fifth day Moira told me I was to be released into her

custody later that day. First the casts would have to come off and

a few other "procedures" performed. I didn't like the sound of the

last part but the idea of having my limbs back under control was

wonderful.

As soon as Moira left, the nurses came in, removed my plastic

pants and diapers but left a pile of disposable absorbent pads under

me. Then they departed, leaving me with my crotch fully exposed and

that made me nervous. I sensed I wasn't going to like this one

little bit.

Moira came back with a cute little beautician who carried a

suspicious looking black case. She couldn't have been more than 18

and she stopped cold when she saw me.

"Oh my God!" she gasped, and turned to Moira. "You can't mean

it."

"Indeed we do. Now, just think about that bonus I promised

you and get to work. Your customer is incapable of giving you any

trouble. It may get a little wet but we'll give you rubber gloves."

The beautician took another look at me. I gazed back, too

embarrassed and curious to say anything. I could see the doubt

written across her face. I decided that she was going to need some

help if I was ever going to get out of this place.

"It's OK," I said, trying to sound reassuring, "I'll try not

to pee on you but, as you know, I can't help myself very much

there."

She came up to the bed and put her case down on the mobile

table. I was curious as hell to know what she was up to and yet

part of me didn't really want to know at all. I kept telling myself

that, whatever it was, it was also part of my ticket out of there.

After she opened the case and I saw the electrolysis equipment I

lost control and went nuts. I started cursing them both and

struggling against the casts. It turned out that I should have kept

control of myself. Moira called in the two apes who shoved a

feeding gag in my mouth and then gave me a shot to quiet me down.

It did that, all right, but did nothing for the pain as this little

kid of a girl started zapping my pubic hairs, one by one.

I heard myself give a little grunt of pain every time the

electric needle touched me. It wasn't that each touch was that bad,

it was the number of times she had to touch me. She left in her

wake a carpet of soreness that had my eyes watering in a few

minutes.

The beautician stopped and looked up at Moira. "I can't do

this any more. I'm hurting her and it will only get worse when I

get to the wet parts."

Moira had been watching the whole thing with a big smile.

"Don't you worry yourself about that, honey. This bitch is

a prisoner and what you're doing is part of her punishment. She

agreed to this rather than go to prison. Keep going. The law is

on your side."

She went back to work and I went back to suffering. By the

end of it, I had quietly vowed revenge on Moira. Just give me one

good chance.

By the time she finished, my entire crotch felt hot and sore.

The kid left, looking shaken. Then the apes came back with a couple

of adult disposable diapers and a pair of plastic panties that

didn't have snaps. They looked just like real baby pants. They

slit the plastic backing of one of the diapers and put it inside the

other diaper before bundling me up. It was a good thing I was still

gagged, the touch of the diaper on my swollen and sore pubis made

me scream against the rubber thing in my mouth.

Then they brought in a young guy who leered at my bare breasts

and stared at my diapered loins a lot while he cut the casts. As

soon as each cast was off, Moira released the weight on that limb.

I tried moving my arms and legs. After five days of forced

immobility, they were stiff and weak but it felt delicious to have

my body back.

Moira helped me up from the bed. My legs were very unsteady

and I leaned on her while we took a few steps. It was the first

time I had walked while diapered. The bulk between my legs rubbed

against my tortured pubis and I started to cry from the pain but it

was still wonderful to be out of that bed.

One of the nurses came in and gave me a shot of Adrenalin.

That helped a lot. Then Moira got my clothes. I looked at the

blouse and mini skirt I had been wearing the day all this started.

They looked as if they belonged to someone else. By now I knew that

my hooking days were over, at least for as long as ASP had control

of me.

"Your mini skirt won't fit over the diapers," Moira said while

I buttoned the blouse with shaky fingers, "so I brought you a larger

one."

It turned out to be one of those vinyl types that are supposed

to look like leather. I hated it on sight but was in no mood for

a fight. I just nodded and picked up my pantyhose. Moira pulled

them from my hands.

"You can forget pantyhose as long as you're in diapers. The

nylon slides down on the plastic panties. We'll get you some garter

belts later."

I stepped into the skirt and pulled it up. Moira had guessed

the size right but it pressed the diapers closer to my body, another

constant reminder of my condition. I took a few steps. Both the

disposable diapers and the plastic panties crackled loudly with each

movement. It shook me up.

"Moira, I can't go out in public like this! Anybody who gets

within 10 feet will guess what I'm wearing!" She gave me one of her

special smiles, "That's not my problem, Sandy."

I put on my black spike pumps and tried to get used to the

height. I was still pretty weak and it took me a while to get the

hang of it. Moira sat on the bed and looked at me as if I was a

thoroughbred colt taking her first steps.

"Let's go," she said finally.

With a pounding heart, dry throat and burning crotch I took

my first steps into the outside world as a diapered adult, a

babypants prisoner.

[diaperpt]

Chapter Two

As soon as we got home from the State Mental Hospital, Moira

showed me my room. It had been her daughter's and looked it.

Frilly bedspread and drapes, "cutesy" wall paper, you know the look.

The only thing out of place was the chrome chain that ran from the

brass head board half way down the bed.

"So your daughter's finally off the leash?"

I was feeling a lot better but as soon as I said the words I

remembered that this woman controlled my comfort. Teasing her might

not be healthy. Moira fired me a sharp look.

"That little attachment was added just for you, dear. Thank

you for reminding me about it. We've a little ceremony to go

through. Please pull your blouse up."

I mentally kicked myself. I had learned by now that whenever

Moira used a euphemism, I wasn't going to like whatever it was. I

did as I was told and stood there with my navel and the top of my

plastic panties exposed while she fished around in a drawer.

She held up a white belt and before I could say or do anything

she put it around my waist. I heard a lock click shut. Taken by

surprise, I looked down. It was made of what looked like thick

white plastic. It was about two inches wide and fitted just snugly

between my rib cage and my hips. It had a strange looking flat lock

that didn't seem to have a key hole, and a small ring was mounted

beside it. I looked up at Moira. This time I really didn't

understand.

"What's all this about?"

By way of an answer, Moira pushed me forward a few feet and

then grabbed the chain off the bed. The lock on its end was open.

It only took her a second to put it through the ring on my belt and

snap it closed. So, it really was a leash. Lucky me.

"See how smart you are."

Moira grinned at me. I tried not to give her the satisfaction

of seeing the panic I felt inside.

"Let me save you some time and trouble. There are steel wires

embedded in the plastic so you can't cut it off. If I catch you

trying, I'll make sure you regret if for a long time."

"Fine. So what's it for, anyway." I had my guesses but I

wanted to know.

Moira paced a circle around me, dragging her finger along the

smooth surface of the belt. It un-nerved me.

"You'll wear this for the duration of your sentence. It has

several unique features. It can be used to keep you in one place,

if I desire. It contains a homing device so we can find you if you

wander off, and it does something else you should know about."

I watched her take what looked like a remote control unit for

a TV out of her purse. She keyed in a four digit number I felt a

slight electric shock and suddenly I started to mess myself

uncontrollably. I groaned out loud and fell to my knees, grabbing

the bed for support while the horrible process took it's course.

No matter how much I tried I was helpless to stop or slow it down.

It was as if my bowels didn't belong to me anymore. I could feel

the diapers filling, the hot, mushy and smelly shit that I knew she

would make me clean up.

When it was finally over, I found myself kneeling on the

floor, half draped over the bed and trying to catch my breath. My

diapers felt full and I felt very dirty. Suddenly I remembered a

time when I was a little girl and had messed myself by accident one

day while playing outside. My dress was ruined. My mother was

furious and threw my panties in the garbage. Then she pinned a

towel on me as a makeshift diaper and sent me back outside to play.

It had been humiliating then but not like this. Moira could make

me mess myself anytime she wanted.

I wanted to curse her but by then I knew better. I looked up

at her expecting her satisfied smile and wasn't disappointed.

"That," I gasped, "is very effective. How do you manage it."

"That's not the point, dear. We use it to manage you."

She strolled over to the closet doors and opened them with a

flourish.

"Since you are now in desperate need of a diaper change, I'll

show you where the supplies are kept so you can attend to yourself."

I turned around, still kneeling but careful not to put any

weight on my bulging rear. The closet had been divided into two

sections, one full of my clothes and the other fitted out with

shelves that held cloth and disposable adult diapers, plastic

panties of every description and a lot of other stuff a babypants

prisoner would need.

"Chose your diapers carefully. You'll be responsible for

washing all the cloth ones and keeping them in good repair. Thanks

to the generosity of the manufacturers, you have an infinite supply

of disposables but, before you start using too many of them, let me

tell you that one of their conditions is that you must pick up

replacements in person and discuss with them just how well their

products do or don't work."

The odor from my diaper was beginning to fill the room. Moira

wrinkled her nose.

"Well, then, I'll let you get at it. When you're ready, come

to the living room wearing just your diapers and plastic pants," she

paused and winked, "and, of course, the belt."

She unlocked the chain from my belt.

"The bathroom is down the hall to the left."

Without another word or glance she left me alone, confident

of her ownership of me. I stood up, kicked off my shoes, and went

over to the closet. I had never seen an adult disposable diaper

before my trip to the hospital and now there were stacks of them,

all meant for me. I picked up a couple of different models and then

remembered the crackling sounds they made. Since there was little

chance I would mess again that day I put them back. There was

something ominous and terrifying about having to sit down in front

of some nice young man and tell him all about what it's like to wear

one of his diapers. The cloth diapers were very thick in the

crotch. Some even had what felt like sponge pads sewn in. More pee

arrived in my diapers as I stood there. I was going to need all the

absorbency I could get. I shuddered at the thought of all that

padding rubbing against my sore twat but it couldn't be helped. I

threw one of the thicker ones onto the bed and looked at the plastic

panties.

At the hospital, they had used the snap kind because of the

casts. They had leaked a lot so I reached for the normal kind and

was surprised to see the Gerber label. I grabbed a couple of extra

large diaper pins, some powder and lotion and added them to the pile

on the bed before I went to find the bathroom.

I closed the door to the bathroom and enjoyed the first bit

of privacy in a week. It was wonderful to be alone, even if there

was dirty work to be done. I took off the blouse, unzipped the

vinyl mini skirt and tossed them both in a corner. I looked at my

reflection in the mirror, naked but for that damned belt and my

diapers. I told myself I had best get used to the sight and began

to peel down the plastic panties. When a lot of pee began to leak

out, I decided to stand in the tub. It turned out to be a good

idea. My diapers had long since reached the saturation point. A

cascade of pee hit the tub as the panties came down. Without the

skirt and the panties to hold them up, my diapers hung heavy on my

hips and dangled between my legs. The smell now was almost

unbearable. I held my breath and pushed down on the waist of the

diapers. They suddenly fell to the floor of the tub with a thud.

I looked down at the mess that had oozed out of me and was almost

sick on the spot. Somehow I managed to roll the disposables into

a self-contained ball and put it on the floor outside the tub. Then

I turned on the water and tried to forget it all.

The warm water and the freedom to move as I liked was

wonderful. I washed my hair, for the first time in a week, and

cleaned up my rear end. My pubis was still very sore from the

electrolysis. I soaped it gently, not believing that it would be

forever as bare as a girl's. As I stood in the tub drying my hair,

another rush of pee escaped and splattered noisily in the tub. A

shadow fell over my restored spirits; from now on I was going to

have to bring fresh diapers with me. I held a towel to my sore and

puffy pubis on the way back to my room.

I guess it was the sight of all that baby stuff on the bed

that really got to me. I stood stock still in the middle of the

room and stared at it. Even when I had picked it all, I hadn't

really accepted that I was going to have to pin myself into a diaper

and pull on a pair of plastic panties.

I could feel more pee arriving in the towel. I wanted to run

but there was no place to run to. The fact of the matter was that

I leaked pee like sieve and Moira could make me mess myself anytime

she wanted. There was no choice in the matter, I had to wear

diapers from now on. The belt would make sure I couldn't hide

anywhere either.

My spirits sank. I felt tears form in my eyes. I spread the

towel out on the floor near the bed and stood on it. Then, with

trembling hands, I began to arrange my diaper. It was all so

strange, so awkward. I had diapered a lot of kids while

baby-sitting but, of course, had never pinned one on myself. I lay

on the bed on top of the diaper and started to pin it. Then I

remembered the powder and lotion. After applying them, I had to

start all over again. By, then I was in tears from the shame of it

all and I had a hard time getting the diaper to fit properly.

Finally, I grabbed the plastic pants, figured out which way was the

front and put my feet through the leg holes while still lying down.

I lifted my hips to pull them into place. Out of habit from my

baby-sitting days, I checked to make sure that all the cloth was

tucked inside the panties and then stood up. The pressure on my

poor pubis was almost unbearable. I gasped with the pain and then

started to cry even more from that. I took a few steps and

discovered that only by waddling like a toddler could I move without

killing myself.

I knew I couldn't face Moira right away and give her the

satisfaction of seeing me so defeated. To kill time, I put the

powder and lotion back in the closet and took the towel back to the

bathroom. My dirty diapers were still there, waiting for me. I

remembered seeing some plastic bags in the closet so I carefully

picked up the rolled diaper, grabbed my clothes and went back to my

room. At least, I thought, I won't get into trouble for leaving the

bathroom in a mess. There was nothing left to do now but report to

Moira.

"Ah, good!" she said from her chair as I waddled into the

living room.

Both physically and emotionally I felt as if I was five years

old again, having been put into diapers as a punishment for messing

myself. Moira seemed to be able to read me like a book.

"Are we feeling more comfy now that we're in a nice, clean,

dry diaper?"

I hated the childish tone. She was pushing more psychological

buttons than she knew. I just nodded and waited for her to launch

into the next act of the Punishment of Sandy. I wasn't looking

forward to it at all.

"Good. I want you to come over here and kneel down."

I did as I was told.

"That's good. Now, sit back on your heels."

I did that too. Fortunately the position was comfortable.

At least it took the pressure off my crotch. Moira smiled down at

me. I was the errant child being lectured to by a parent. She

spoke to me as if I were a child.

"I will go over the rules with you once and only once. After

today, any infractions will be punished. Do you understand?"

I nodded and she continued.

"Until the winter comes you will dress only in your diapers

and plastic panties when in this house. This is so that I can check

the condition of your diaper at any time and to remind you that you

are, after all, undergoing punishment under the law."

"You are not to sit on the furniture without permission. If

you stain or soil the furniture you are to report it to me instantly

or be punished more severely for waiting. You are not to speak

unless spoken to. You will do what you are told, when you are told

and without complaint, no matter how embarrassed or uncomfortable

you feel about it."

I nodded again, but my heart was sinking fast. It was going

to be a long year.

"Masturbation is forbidden. If I catch you abusing yourself

or even suspect it, you will be very sorry indeed. I have several

chastity belts and won't be reluctant to use them."

I had only ever seen pictures of chastity belts but the

thought of even the gentlest of them rubbing against my injured

groin was enough to make me cringe.

"From time to time there will be visitors. You will obey them

as you would me."

She stared down at me.

I wet my diaper copiously.

"Do you understand these rules?"

I nodded but she obviously wanted to hear me say it.

"Yes, Moira, I understand."

"Very good. Now come with me and I will instruct you how to

dress."

We went to my room and she opened the side of the closet that

held my clothes.

"I want you to continue to take care of your appearance and

be sexually attractive to men at all times. You will wear make-up

and perfume every day. Most of these clothes are acceptable, if

they'll still fit over your diapers. We will go shopping tomorrow

to replace anything that is now too small for you."

She crossed to the dresser and opened a drawer. It contained

all my garterbelts and some hosiery but no panties or bras.

"You will wear a garter belt and seamed stockings whenever you

are outside this house and I'll warn you right now to keep your

seams straight. As I told you in the hospital, pantyhose are out

of the question and panties are just plain irrelevant."

I began to get the drift. A quick glance at the open closet

confirmed it. All of my low heeled shoes were missing, only the

painfully high spikes remained. Moira wanted to make sure that I

attracted much attention, eyes that would look me over and maybe

guess that there was something funny about the shape of my hips or

the crackling sound when I moved. It wasn't enough for her to force

me back into diapers. She wanted the threat of exposure to hang

over my head like a sword. Then there's the control belt. I

imagined her hitting the buttons while we were in a crowded shopping

mall and trembled with dread.

"I'll leave you alone now to put on some makeup and do your

nails. Remember the rules, especially about touching yourself."

With that she was gone, leaving me to stare at the pile of

stockings and the tangled web of garter belts.I found my make-up in

one of the dresser drawers. I didn't feel feminine or attractive

so it was hard to take any interest in what I was doing. They had

removed my nail polish in the hospital so it didn't take me long to

do my hands and feet. I sat on the bed in my now soggy diaper and

listened to the gentle rushing sound me wetting myself as helplessly

as an infant.

I was feeling pretty low. As I ran over the rules Moira

spelled out I wondered if my bed counted as furniture. Just to be

sure, I got down onto the floor and sat cross-legged while the

polish dried. I looked down at the translucent plastic panties and

the cloth diaper underneath. So far it was doing a good job but I

would need a changing soon and I wondered what the rules were about

that. It was going to be hard to find out if I wasn't allowed to

speak without permission.

By the time I found Moira again she had prepared dinner. We

ate in silence. She sat at the table and I had mine while kneeling

on the floor. It was hard not to react when she ordered me to drink

four glasses of water.

After dinner, I knew my diaper had reached its limit. I tried

to attract Moira's attention so I could ask permission but she

didn't notice me. I quietly waddled off to my room and laid out

another cloth diaper and a fresh pair of plastic pants.

It was a little easier this time. I found a plasticized

changing pad in the cupboard and got everything ready before I

started. Off with the plastic pants, unpin the diaper, toss it into

the waiting diaper pail, slide the fresh diaper underneath, powder,

lotion, do the pinning and pull on clean plastic pants. Try not to

spill the powder and don't pin it too tight. A routine, but not one

I welcomed at all.

She was watching TV in the den. I kneeled down on the floor

in what I thought of as "the position" and tried to ignore the fact

that I was constantly dribbling into my diaper. Moira ignored me

for the most part. When she got herself a beer from the kitchen she

brought me one too. I didn't want it but since I hadn't been spoken

too, there was no way I could politely refuse. After the late news,

Moira turned off the TV.

"Time for bed, Babypants. I suggest you change your diaper.

It could be a long night."

I mutely padded off to my room while wondering why I couldn't

change my diaper during the night if necessary.

Moira stood in the door, watching. I hated having her eyes

on me while I performed my humiliating little ritual. When she saw

that I had chosen another cloth diaper she spoke.

"I suggest you line that with a disposable. Puncture the

plastic backing if you want to increase the absorbency. If you mess

a cloth diaper the cleanup won't be pleasant."

I thought of the mess in the bathroom a few hours ago and

shuddered. I did as she suggested. While I was laying out the

diapers I heard her open one of the dresser drawers; somehow I just

couldn't bear to look at whatever she was getting ready to do to me.

I avoided looking at her while I lay on the changing pad but

my legs were facing her and it bothered me to be so exposed to her.

When the disposable was taped and the cloth diaper pinned over it,

I pulled on an extra large pair of incontinence pants and stood up.

She was holding something out of my sight. I cleaned up the

supplies and then turned down the bed. I had to move the chain to

do it and I hated having to touch it.

"Wet yourself again, Sandy? You'd better get used to it."

Part three of "Baby Pants Prisoner"

"You've learned quickly. That diaper will do the night, I'm

sure. Now give me your hands."

I offered my hands as she tossed one leather mitten on the bed

and began to fit the other one to me. I had seen these before. The

hand is encased inside rigid leather or nylon, making the wearer

helpless. You can't grasp anything with these things on, nor can

you make a fist. Now I understood why she wanted me night-diapered.

There would be no diaper changes until the morning. As I watched

her fasten the little buckles I prayed she would leave the damned

belt controller alone. I just couldn't stand the thought of being

forced to sleep in my own mess. When the mittens were fastened to

her satisfaction, she locked the chain to the ring on my belt.

"We can't have you getting into trouble, now can we?"

I didn't say anything.

She told me to sit on the edge of the bed. There was one last

"appliance" that had to be fitted. It turned out to be what we call

in the "S&M" trade, a spreader bar. In this case, a piece of round

wood about two feet long with cuffs attached to each end. This,

Moira told me with obvious delight, would prevent me from squeezing

my thighs together for pleasure. If she had any idea how badly my

twat still hurt she could have saved herself the trouble. She

locked the cuffs and helped me swing my bound legs onto the bed.

Then she pulled the covers up. As I shifted for comfort, I felt a

plastic mattress cover on the bed.

"There," she said, "we're all ready for the night. The chain

and the spreader bar will make sure you don't wander off and the

mittens will keep your hands out of trouble. Any last requests?"

"No, Moira. You've taken care of everything."

Despite my best efforts my tone was sarcastic. I regretted

it immediately. Moira's face hardened.

"Be careful, Sandy. I'll let you off this time but if I hear

that tone again I might just press some buttons."

Our eyes locked for a few long seconds.

"I'm sorry, Moira. I didn't mean it. Please don't do that."

My voice was soft but my pleas were real.

"Very well, then, but I think a small reminder is still in

order."

She took a small dildo from one of the drawers. It had a

retaining harness. She held it up where I could see it clearly.

"Your punishment will be to wear this for four hours tomorrow.

You may choose when the four hours start. Remember to come and ask

politely to have it inserted. If you ask nicely enough I may even

let you use a little lubricant. Good night, dear."

As I said before, Moira would make a good intelligence

officer. As I lay there trying to get comfortable all I could think

of was having to go to her and ask her to strap that damned thing

in my rear and then thank her for it! The more I thought about it

the more depressed I got. Finally I started to cry. It was hell,

not being able to wipe my own eyes.

I did finally get some sleep. It was almost noon when Moira

came in to release me. By then all the fluids from the night before

had arrived in my diapers but there were no leaks. She was all

dressed up and I wondered what was planned. No clues were

forthcoming while she unlocked the spreader bar and removed my

mittens. She unlocked the chain from my belt and told me to shower,

change my diaper, put on make-up and be ready for her to supervise

my dressing in ten minutes.

Groggy from sleep and stiff from being bound all night, I at

least had the presence of mind to grab a fresh diaper from the

closet before stumbling to the bathroom. The shower revived me.

I got rid of yesterday's make-up and tried not to get my hair wet,

to save time. As soon as I was towelled off, I pinned on the cloth

diaper, grabbed my night diapers and ran back to my room. I

re-fastened the diaper, put on a pair of plastic panties and did a

fast job on my face. I was just dabbing on the perfume when she

walked in with the air of a sergeant-major. As I put the perfume

bottle back on the dresser, I saw the dildo and harness again. I

wondered when I would be able to work up the courage to cope with

that.

"We will be shopping today, dear. Your wardrobe needs a few

additions."

Moira went to the closet and tossed out my red silk blouse and

a black A-line skirt that came well above the knee. I gulped. The

blouse was OK but I had never worn a garter belt under that skirt

because my stocking tops showed through the rear slit. Since I

hadn't been spoken to, I couldn't object without risking a

punishment. I decided that showing a little stocking wasn't as bad

as what Moira could hand out.

I took too long to think about all this. Moira grabbed a

garter belt and a new pair of stockings, still in the package, and

handed them to me. She leaned against the door frame while I

struggled with the belt. Once I got it on over my plastic panties,

I discovered that all the garters would have to be lengthened to

allow for the bulge of my diaper. Moira looked on with amusement.

"Hurry, now, dear. You don't want me to assign you another

punishment for tardiness, now do you?"

Finally the belt was on and I sat on the floor to work on the

stockings. They were black and had the reinforced heels that make

some men slobber. I would be a sight, alright, especially in the

four inch, black spike pumps that Moira was holding. Once I had the

stockings on and fastened, I stood up and immediately felt another

little rush of hot pee arrive in my diaper. I let out a little gasp

and Moira noticed.

I looked up at her with the most blank face I could muster.

I hated the pressure she had me under. It took a few minutes before

I got my seams straight. Having Moira stare at me didn't help my

concentration. Every so often I stole a glance at the waiting dildo

and it's harness. It didn't look as big as some I had seen.

Perversely, I wondered how it would feel to have that locked inside

me for four hours.

The skirt barely fit over the diapers and gave me bulges in

all the wrong places. A chill ran down my spine as I looked in

mirror. Surely everyone would guess my secret with just one glance.

The fear of discovery made me gasp. Moira cleared her throat as a

warning. I took the shoes from Moira and slipped them on. It felt

so strange to feel so sexy in one sense and so bound up in another.

Except for the bulges, I knew I looked good from the outside but the

tight bulk of the wet diaper between my legs and the heat generated

by the plastic panties dampened any vanity. I still felt a lot like

a punished little girl who had to be very careful not to make her

mother any more angry than she already was. Moira inspected me and

even made me turn around so she could judge my seams. It was worse

than being busted. She even made me take a few steps.

"You'll be happy to know that the tops of your stockings just

show through the slit in your skirt" she said lightly.

I blushed by way of response. I looked for my purse but

couldn't see it. Moira was fishing around in the torture closet and

produced a large, pink diaper bag with "My Diaper Bag" stenciled on

the side. She tossed it to me with a sadistic grin.

"Consider that your purse from now on. Take some make-up if

you want. You'd better pack some supplies. We could be out for

quite a while."

She watched the look of horror on my face for a few seconds

and then slipped out the door. From down the hall I heard her voice

again, "Don't forget your little toy on the dresser!"

It was almost more than I could bear. I felt tears form in

my eyes while I stared into the diaper bag and then looked at the

dildo and its harness. I couldn't cry or it would mean another

make-up job, and a delay, and that might mean another punishment.

I sniffled back my tears and tried to think about what I might need

for a diaper change in a public washroom.

As I jammed cloth and disposable diapers, plastic pants, pins,

powder and lotion into the bag, I suddenly realized how much I had

come to think in terms of avoiding a punishment, even though I had

yet to experience my first one! By the time I was finished the bag

was bulging. Just as well, I thought, the diaper I was wearing was

about half done. The lettering was on both sides of the bag. It

would be a lightning rod for attracting attention to me, encouraging

everybody to stare just a little bit harder to see if their

suspicions were right, that this sexy lady was in diapers. I picked

up the dildo and shoved it deep inside the bag. I hated to touch

it. I tried to close the bag and hide its embarrassing contents but

the zipper had been carefully removed. I marvelled at how Moira

seemed to think of everything.Just before I went to find Moira, I

dabbed on some more perfume. It created a strange contrast with the

smell of baby powder that drifted up from the diaper bag.

Moira had prepared a light breakfast. I just managed to stop

myself from sitting at the table. I took my food and a large cup

of coffee and slipped out of my pumps before kneeling on the floor.

Moira cleared her throat and pointed to the shoes. I sadly guessed

her meaning and stepped into them again before kneeling. For once

I was glad for my diaper since it helped pad my bottom from the

sharp heels that dug into it. There was no help for my feet, which

protested painfully at being made to kneel in high heels. Moira

wouldn't let me up until I had drained four cups of coffee. The

last one was the hardest. My eyes were locked with hers while the

last ounces went down my throat on the way to my diaper. I could

see in her eyes Moira's determination to make me suffer as much as

possible.

My worst fears about attracting attention were confirmed as

soon as we set foot inside the mall. I was in the wrong colors and

definitely over dressed for a hot summer day. Moira, on the other

hand, looked cool and efficient in a light summer dress, no hosiery

and low heels. So it was I who got the hungry stares from the men;

you know, the casual turning of the head as you pass. There were

also a couple of more observant ones who took one look at the diaper

bag, another at me and suddenly decided to follow us.

As I walked along I could feel the bulk of the diaper rubbing

between my legs. It was getting heavier by the minute as my pee

leaked into it. The plastic panties rustled and crackled and I was

terrified that someone would pass by close enough to hear them. All

this had distracted me from where Moira was taking me, one look at

the lingerie store snapped me back to reality.

"Come, dear," she said sweetly, as if I were her niece, "We

must improve your foundations wardrobe."

I felt my face blanch and my throat go dry. I knew this store

well, especially it's oversized changing rooms and the attentive

staff that often came in with you to check the fitting. Normally

I didn't mind it but then I wasn't in diapers either. My mouth

moved to make words but no sound came out. Then Moira grabbed one

of my wrists and physically pulled me into the store.

Fifteen minutes later we were in one of those change rooms.

Moira had gathered up a couple of lace up corsets and some garter

belts. She had engaged the attention of a pert young sales clerk

who had made a point of staring at me as soon as she saw the diaper

bag.

"Strip down to your hosiery dear." Moira said sweetly.

Anyone overhearing her would never guess the evil in her

intentions. I felt my hands begin to tremble. A rush of pee

flooded into my diaper and I felt a drop or two run down my inner

thigh and soak the top of my stocking. I looked at her, terrified

of the sales clerk coming in. I shook my head, making my eyes do

the pleading that was forbidden from my voice.

"You may speak," she said softly, finally.

"Please don't make me do this!" I whispered, trying to sound

respectful and contrite at the same time.

"Do what? dear. I simply don't understand."

Another rush of water hit the diaper and this time there was

more leaking. I grabbed my abdomen, though it was a futile gesture.

"I'm leaking," I whined and felt more than ever like a little

girl. "I have to change, but please, please, don't let the girl

come in!"

I was almost sobbing with fear and shame but Moira didn't

react at all.

"Then change yourself, dear."

My leaking was getting worse. Soon there would be dark

streaks down my stockings and I hadn't brought another pair. I took

a deep breath and began to fumble with the tiny buttons on my

blouse. I was breathing heavily, trying not to sob out loud. Just

then the sales girl came in with another corset.

"This is the heaviest boning we carry, Madam," she said and

handed it to Moira. Then she looked at me. "Is she alright? Is

there anything I can do?"

"No, thank you," Moira, said with artificial sadness. "She

has a little medical problem but we're about to take care of it.

Would you please bring us some garters for this corset?"

The girl had caught sight of the open diaper bag and its

contents. I felt her staring at me just as I happened to look down

and see two dark little drops on the carpet between my feet. I

could have died right then. The girl mumbled something and then

disappeared.

Somehow I managed to get my blouse off, but my hands were

trembling too badly to manage the button at the back of the skirt.

Moira had to unfasten it for me.

"You'd better make this a fast diaper change if you want to

be covered by the time she comes back."

I let the skirt drop to the floor and stepped out of it. Then

I fumbled with the garter belt until it too was loose. There I

stood, in diapers, see-through plastic panties, seamed stockings and

high heels when the sales clerk strolled right in.

We both gave little gasps, me from embarrassment and her from

surprise. Stunned, we seemed to stare at each other for a few

seconds. Then Moira calmly took the garters from the girl's

outstretched hand.

"Thank you, dear. This is the medical problem I mentioned.

This woman has been rendered incontinent by court order. She has

no control of her urine, as you can see. Right now she is in the

middle of a diaper change."

The girl looked down into the diaper bag and then back at me.

My faced felt hot and flushed and I was transfixed by terror,

frozen. The girl began to back out of the room with her mouth

hanging open. Moira's voice broke the spell.

"Would you mind bringing us a plastic bag for her wet diaper?

Since it's her first day in public I'm sure she's forgotten to bring

one."

The only sign that the girl had heard was a slow nodding of

the head. Then she fled and soon I could hear excited voices

talking about me. "Look what you've done!" I blurted out and

instantly was sorry for it. Moira's face showed a flash of smile

and then took on that stern facade that I had already equated with

trouble.

"Get on with it!" she hissed. "It's a good thing we brought

your little toy along. You can cope with it for six hours starting

now!"

I gulped and sobbed but Moira had succeeded in breaking my

trance. I mechanically began to spread out a thick cloth diaper and

a disposable on the floor. Tears ran down my cheeks and disappeared

into the waiting absorbent padding. I didn't care about my make-up

any more. Moira had taken the dildo out of the bag and was

untangling its harness. My rosebud tensed up in fear of its

impending violation.

I peeled down my plastic panties and carefully unpinned the

diaper. Just when I was about to lie down on the new diapers Moira

whispered that I was to kneel on all fours. It must surely be the

most humiliating position there is. I did as she asked, presenting

my bottom high in the air, ready for its punishment. I watched her

shoes pace around until she was in front of me. The black plastic

intruder was presented to my lips.

"Lick it!" she hissed, "Or do you want me to put it in dry?"

I closed my eyes and licked.

Suddenly she pulled it away and went around behind me again.

I was choking with fear of what it would feel like and the thought

that the sales girl could walk in at any moment with the plastic

bag, knowing full well what it was for.

The seconds dragged by. I dared not turn and look. I stared

at the carpet.

A faint whiff of stale pee came to me from the wet diaper.

Then I felt it, a gentle pressure at first but then opening me,

forcing me apart. I remembered that the dildo had a bulge near the

tip that was wider than the shaft. I bit my lip and tried to keep

myself loose back there but fear made me want to tighten up. Deeper

and deeper it came, parting me more widely than I had ever been

before. I gasped and sobbed but Moira took no notice. I imagined

its progress and prayed for the bulge to pass soon. Finally I felt

the worst was over. There was only the thick, black shaft to

distend my virgin rose bud. It was not as uncomfortable now but the

device's steady progress reminded me with every fraction of an inch

that I was being violated. It was all I could do to hold still

while this slow careful rape was being perpetrated on my body.

When I felt Moira fumble with the harness a great rush of

breath came out of me. I felt weak, dirty and shamed. The invader

was stuck inside me like a finger pointing to my sins. Moira

tightened the harness slowly, making sure I was aware of every strap

and every buckle.

Finally I was told that I could diaper myself. I hated the

very words but I silently obeyed. As I positioned myself, I felt

the intruder shift a little. It couldn't be ignored. Every little

movement reminded me of its presence. I added a little powder and

brought the disposable into position. Finally, I got the cloth

outer diaper pinned. I had just pulled my fresh plastic panties

into place when the clerk came back with the bag. Silently she

handed it to me and then watched while I put the wet diaper in it

and began to fumble with my garter belt.

"Put her into this corset and come for me when she's ready,"

Moira said with authority and left.

She had chosen her words carefully, the suggested meaning

registered on the girl's face. The girl loosened the laces and I

lifted my arms while she wrapped the heavily boned garment around

my body. Then she started the slow task of passing those thin

strands through the tiny eyelets.

"I'm Carole," she whispered.

I didn't want to talk but I whispered my name.

"It must be awful, I mean, about the diapers."

"You don't know the half of it."

"Is she mean to you?"

I nodded. It was better not to say anything Moira might

overhear.

"She wants this tight, you know. Can you stand it? I can

adjust it so it looks tighter than it is."

"She would find out." I said in a choked voice.

"I like the seams."

"That's so I'll get more attention."

Carole knew her stuff when it came to lacing corsets. She

pulled and tugged, starting at the bottom, which gave her ample

opportunity to brush my plastic panties. Near the end I was

grunting every time she pulled hard. She attached the garters,

stepped back while I pulled up my stockings and then helped me

straighten the seams.

I felt so imprisoned, so bound. Worst of all was the hard

plug in my behind that moved with me, reminding me of Moira and her

power over me. I noticed that even the garters seemed unusually

tight when I took a few trial steps. It was hard to breathe.

Carole went to fetch Moira. Moira did her inspection.

"Good!" she exclaimed. "Perfect. She'll wear it home. We'll

take the other corsets and the garter belts. Have you any

stockings, and I mean stockings, like the one's she's wearing?"

Carole nodded and Moira ordered six pairs.

I took my time getting ready to leave the change room.

Miserable as I was from the restricting corset, thick diapers and

the damned plug in my rear, I was more afraid of facing the sales

clerks who must surely have been told about me. I tried to repair

my make-up. Finally there was nothing left to do. I picked up my

diaper bag and felt my knees shake as I stepped back out into the

real world.

The only clerk not at the back of the store to get a good look

at me was the girl who had seen my diapers. She was at the cash

desk with Moira. The others stopped their conversation and stared

at me. I could feel their eyes searching me for some visible sign

of what they had been told. My lower lip began to tremble. I was

close to tears. I saw Moira watching me, smiling with the

satisfaction of torturing me with public exposure. Part of me

wanted to scream but the butt plug was a constant reminder to be

good. Always be a good little girl, Sandy.

Chapter Three

I don't remember much else about that wicked trip to the

shopping mall. I didn't see or feel the world around me very much.

I was too absorbed in my own little world of babypants punishment.

My world was pain. The spike pumps hurt my feet, but I wasn't

allowed to take them off for even a few minutes. The seamed

stockings felt nice but they had to be adjusted almost constantly.

Moira insisted I do this standing in the middle of the mall and in

full view of everybody. Of course, this drew male attention like

flies to honey. The garters were too taut for comfort and when one

of them would come undone, I had a hell of a time re-fastening it

without showing my plastic panties. The diapers were wet, smelly

and heavy. I had to walk with a waddle to accommodate the thick

bulk. They rubbed on my pussy and made it sore. The corset was

heavily boned and laced very tight. Rather than hide the bulge of

my diapers, it constricted my waist, making my padded hips look even

bigger. It crushed my breasts and made it hard to breathe. Then

there was the butt plug strapped tightly into my virgin rosebud,

distending, stretching and reminding me of its presence with every

movement of my body. That was my world.

Moira didn't say or do much to me that night. I was allowed

to change my diapers when we got home and once again before bed,

when she finally removed the plug. I could see from the look on her

face that she had enjoyed the day tremendously.

"You haven't had a BM today, have you?" she asked wickedly as

she helped me move my legs, bound to the spreader bar, onto the bed.

I was in thick disposable night diapers, the mittens had been

fitted and I was locked onto my leash. All nice and comfy for a

good night's sleep. Suspicious of her tone, I didn't answer, I just

shook my head. She began to pull the covers into place (always too

many so I would be hot and uncomfortable all night).

"I suggest you take care of that little chore during the

night." She paused to lock her eyes on mine, "Otherwise I'll have

to push a few buttons."

Despite my best efforts to keep my face blank I felt terror

rise into my throat. I remembered her face as she had watched me

soil myself uncontrollably. She would enjoy watching it again.

Being made to mess myself in bed, was almost as bad. I was being

made to do it to myself. It made it that much worse. She didn't

say anything else before she turned out the light and left me to

think about my chore for the night.

She was right, of course. I didn't feel empty. I could get

it over with any time I wanted. The memories from being five years

old kept coming back. I just couldn't bring myself to make it

happen. My only hope was to wake up before Moira came for me in the

morning and do it right then. What if I fell asleep and was still

clean when Moira checked me? She would make the belt do the job and

probably punish me for trying to evade her.

My heart pounded and I felt a new set of tears form in my

eyes. She couldn't possibly know what she was asking. Yet,

somehow, she was finding all my weak spots.

I guess it was a sign of Moira's victory over me that I

finally gave in and began the horrible task of messing my diapers,

knowing full well it could be many hours before I was allowed a

chance to clean myself up. I quickly discovered that it was going

to be tough work. The spreader bar, by keeping my legs apart, also

made my rear cheeks clench. It would have been a little easier if

I could have pulled my knees back toward my chest but this would

knock off the covers and my hands were useless when it came to

putting them back. I listened to my own desperate grunting. I

couldn't get the image of what must be happening inside my plastic

panties and diapers out of my mind. I pictured it all and felt

tortured by it.

I strained against the ankle cuffs and arched my back.

Finally it happened and once it had started I couldn't stop myself.

I felt the diapers grow heavier as the warm mush piled up inside.

I was using my hands to keep my rear off the mattress. Once the job

was finished there was the horror of having to lie back down on that

pile of shit and feel it spread out into my diaper. I wanted to

delay this as long as possible but my arms were about to give out.

I had no choice. I gasped with dread as I felt my bottom come into

contact with my effluent, that warm, pudding-like substance. I

smelled the evidence of my shame for the first time.

I lay there for a few minutes, trying to ignore the feelings

from the rear of my diaper. It might have been a little better if

I could have turned onto my stomach but Moira's spreader bar took

care of that possibility. She was very efficient. I wondered how

long it had taken her to figure out this little routine. I cried

for a little while and then, to my surprise, fell asleep.

By the time Moira came for me in the morning, the smell in the

room was enough to tell her that I had been a good little girl and

messed my diapers as I had been told. The feeling of being five

years old came back as she released me from my many restraints and

congratulated me on "being good".

As soon as I stood up, I felt the load in my diaper shift and

immediately felt repulsed. I wanted a change very badly but,

predictably, Moira would have no talk of that until after breakfast.

I didn't know if I could eat with my own smell, not to mention what

it felt like to walk in soiled diapers. When I sat back on my heels

in the dining room the poo shifted again. I must have gasped or

something because Moira noticed.

"Not so comfy this morning, I take it?"

I decided it was time to be ultra cooperative. "No, Moira.

I've messed in my diapers."

"Well, I'm still upset about your behavior in the changing

room yesterday.

I think you should wear those diapers until noon as a reminder

to behave yourself."

She went back to eating her breakfast for a minute and then

added. "Oh, I have to go out for a while. You had better bring me

one of the diaper restraint belts from your dresser as soon as you

are finished."

Part four of "Baby Pants Prisoner"

Restraint belt? I had a flashback of Moira in the hospital.

I heard her voice again, "we can't have you fiddling with yourself."

I began to tremble. It was unfair! I had done what was asked of me.

I had lain in a pile of my own shit all night without complaint.

Now there was something more. There was always something more. I

was trembling by the time I got up. It was hard to walk toward my

room, open the dresser drawers one by one until I found the

instrument of torture that had been prescribed for me.

It was basically a chastity belt, but the part that ran

between the legs was wide and there were big, efficient locks.

Moira was still at the table when I brought it to her. She ignored

me for a few seconds while she finished her coffee. I was so scared

and miserable by then that the tears were streaming down my face and

it was all I could do not to sob. Finally she took the tangle of

leather straps from my hand and looked up at me.

"Come, come, Sandy. It's not all that bad, now."

I shook my head in mute argument. How could she know? How

could she guess what it would feel like to have that wide strap

tightened against the full seat of my diapers, pressing the mushy

and now itchy poo against my skin? Then I remembered my sore pubis

and the soaked diaper that would be pressed tight against it, too.

I started to cry in earnest.

There was no sympathy in Moira's eyes. She evaluated me

coldly."If you don't shut up immediately I'll find a way to keep you

quiet, young lady!"

I was in trouble again and I knew it but I was beyond common

sense by then.

"Please, Moira," I sobbed, "just let me get cleaned up. Then

you can punish me any way you want. I won't complain. I'll be

good. I'll do whatever you want. I just want to be clean again!"

She stood up. In her heels she was at least three inches

taller than me. I suddenly realized that I had gone too far. I was

going to get punished even worse.

"I'm sorry." I sputtered but I already knew it was too late.

Half an hour later I was crying for a far different reason.

I was still in my messed diapers and the restraint belt was snug and

locked but that wasn't the worst part. Moira had taken me to the

basement where she had one of those treadmill walking machines. You

have to keep walking or the conveyer belt carries you off the

platform. Except, I wasn't going to let that happen, at least if

I wanted to keep my nipples. You see, Moira had produced a pair of

needle tipped nipple clamps. After making sure that their hot

little teeth were firmly sunk into my tender buds, she chained them

to the front of the machine. I was wearing a posture collar that

kept my head arched up. A chain ran from it, down my back, to the

handcuffs that kept my wrists behind my back. She had also made me

put on my highest pair of spike heels. As a final touch, she had

strapped a feeding gag into my mouth and hooked it up to a bag of

foul tasting liquid that, she assured me, contained double doses of

both a laxative and a diuretic.

There was nothing to do but walk, cry, swallow and take stock

of my sore points. I had gotten used to being in loaded diapers by

now. Just minutes after she had started the damned machine and left

on her errands, my pussy began to scream about the wet diapers that

rubbed against it with every step. My feet were killing me from the

heels and the nipple clamps felt like red-hot pokers. I tried to

ignore it; the most important thing was to keep swallowing so I

wouldn't choke.

I was wetting myself almost constantly by now but I didn't

care. I had to keep walking, keep the nipple chain slack, swallow,

don't choke, don't think , just survive. She was only gone an hour

but it felt like a week.

The bitch sat down and watched me for a few minutes before she

turned off the machine and unclipped the nipple chain. As the blood

and feeling returned to my buds, I began to scream my pain into the

rubber feeding gag. Moira waited patiently for me to finish. After

she removed the gag, I fell into her arms, sobbing, and meaning

every word about how sorry I was and how good I was going to be from

now on.

"I know you will be, baby" she said maternally as she started

to release me. "You've learned a good lesson today. Now you may

go and shower and change your diapers."

I wanted to take off the shoes but I didn't dare ask her. She

didn't volunteer permission, so I stumbled upstairs, grabbed the

first diaper I put my hand on (it happened to be a disposable) and

went into the bathroom.

I stood in the tub and peeled down my plastic panties. The

smell was pretty bad but I didn't care. All that mattered was to

get clean again. The diaper was a disaster. Being made to sleep

in it had been bad enough but the effects of the diaper restraint

belt had made sure that there was shit everywhere. The cloth

covering diaper was also a mess and I didn't look forward to having

to wash it. I rolled up the disposable but left the cloth diaper

in the bottom of the tub and then turned on the water.

At first the water felt good but as I began to relax, all the

abused parts of my body began their protests. My nipples burned and

ached from the needle clamps, my legs and feet were sore from

walking in the high heels, and my abused bottom screamed its protest

when I let the full force of the shower hit it. Defeated, I cleaned

myself up as best I could and then ran a tepid bath. It was all my

body could tolerate.

As I lay in the gentle water and savored my privacy I

realized, to my surprise, that I didn't hate Moira for what she had

done to me. A little voice inside me kept repeating over and over,

`you have been a bad girl and now yo u must be punished'. I

believed that voice.

I looked at the disposable diaper that lay ready and waiting

to bind up my loins as soon as I stepped out of my liquid haven.

Just a few days ago, I would have been repulsed at the thought of

having to put it on. Now, I was looking at things differently. It

would be warm, dry, soft and comfortable, at least until the almost

steady dribble from my bladder turned it into another damp, itchy,

prison. For now, I didn't think about that part. Comfort was all

that mattered. I suddenly understood what a baby's world is all

about.

I looked down at my shaven pubis. I wanted to touch it, to

see what a bare pussy felt like. The little voice told me that

Moira could come through the door at any second and, anyway, she

would find out somehow. So, I just stared at it. I hadn't been

horny since Moira took me to the State Hospital. That's unusual

for me. Just thinking about sex, I felt the old, familiar itch

start. `Forbidden!', the little voice screamed and I obeyed.

Touching myself would only bring trouble and I had enough for one

day. I stood up and began to dry myself off.

By the time I had the diaper taped snugly, I was feeling

pretty good, all things considered. Before I started back toward

my room, I felt a strange spasm from deep inside my bowels and

suddenly remembered Moira's comment about the laxatives and

diuretics. My punishment wasn't over yet.

In my room, I decided to add another diaper so I used the end

of a comb to poke holes in the plastic backing of the diaper I was

wearing and taped another disposable over top of it. Then, just to

avoid any stains on the carpet, I put on a pair of translucent

plastic pants. I felt more secure but deep inside my body Moira's

chemicals were at work and I was troubled at knowing what the

effects would be. I cleaned up my room, made the bed and

reluctantly went to find Moira.

As I went down the hall, I caught my reflection in the mirror

and stopped. It was a strange sight, this mid-30's woman with an

attractive face and good figure wearing just plastic pants and a

diaper. I could see how red and sore my nipples looked and my face

was drawn from lack of sleep. By stripping me of clothes, Moira had

taken away my image as an adult woman. Like a child, I was made to

parade around in whatever state of dress or undress the guardian

decreed. My breasts were left free, as though they didn't exist.

I remembered Moira's decree about make-up and padded back to my room

to obey. Somehow, the bulk between my legs seemed thicker, the

crackling from the diapers and pants that much louder and the feel

of the carpet beneath my bare feet that much stranger.

I did the best I could considering my sinking mood and another

rumble from my guts. I was already glad I had chosen the

disposables. A dab of perfume and I set out again to find my

mistress. Moira must have heard my rustling approach because she

was looking right at me when I entered the living room.

"Ah, there you are. More comfy now, I presume?"

An alarm bell went off in my head but I couldn't figure out

why. She normally didn't talk to me at all, let alone like this,

unless...

I turned to see the judge who had sentenced me to Moira's

care, sitting in a chair looking very pleased with himself. At

first, I felt mad at Moira for not warning me to dress. Then, I

realized that she didn't want me to dress. She wanted me displayed,

her babypants prisoner, in full gear and nothing to hide it.

Instinctively, my arms began to move toward my breasts, false

modesty to be sure, but a second instinct told me to forget it. It

was humiliation time. Another rumble from my guts reminded me that

there might be more to this than a little peek show.

In the court room I had dubbed him an old fart but a closer

look now changed my mind. He was staring at me alright but it

wasn't the leer of a dirty old man. Despite his pot belly and

sagging neck there was power emanating from this man and the cold,

calculating look of appreciation in his eyes scared me more than an

S&M scene gone sour.

Moira's voice echoed in the room, "Dear, you remember Judge

Wilkins, of course. We've just been discussing your progress and

your future." "So we meet again, young lady, but not in my court.

I'm now confident that we'll not be conducting that kind of business

together again. Moira has been telling me of the rules you must

live by and what happens when you don't. I'm sorry I wasn't here

this morning to see your first taste of real punishment but I'm sure

we'll have an opportunity to share that experience together soon."

I looked back at Moira, feeling like a child whose parents

have betrayed her latest misdeeds to the dinner guests. I trembled

with dread and sadness. I didn't know what the judge was hinting

at but I was pretty sure I wasn't going to like it at all. Moira

pointed at the floor and I obediently assumed `the position'.

Almost immediately I sensed that a storm was about to escape from

my rear. I felt my face go pale and I bit my lip, the taste of

lipstick surprising me.

Both of them had noticed my distress.

"The laxatives, I take it?" said the judge.

I nodded.

"Well then, before you dirty yourself up like a bad little

baby, I want you to come here so I can have a closer look at you."

Panic-stricken, I looked at Moira. She smiled and nodded, my

sentence was confirmed. I got up slowly, trying to keep my bottom

cheeks clenched. As I moved toward the judge, I realized that

Moira's dildo treatment had taken its toll on my control. I was

breathing heavily with the effort by the time he reached out and

grabbed me around the waist with both hands, bringing me to sit on

his knee. I was rigid, but more from the effort to keep myself

clean than revulsion at his touch. He began to move his hands over

my padded rear, caressing the plastic panties almost reverently.

He made little cooing sounds when he noticed my damaged nipples.

When I felt one of his hands slip beneath the back waistband of the

panties and diapers, I tried to forced myself to stare at the floor

but instead, found myself looking at the tent his erection made in

his suit trousers. He urged me to stand while his left hand cupped

my ass. If he had known how close he was to getting a palm full of

shit he wouldn't have taken his time about it. I moaned with

frustration, humiliation and the effort of trying to hold back the

storm that was threatening to invade the very space he was

exploring.

Then he sent his right hand down the front of my diaper,

searching for the bared little mound. I was afraid he would make

me horny but not let me come. He found my slit and began to massage

my clit. At first the tortured flesh protested his touch, however,

it didn't take long before I felt myself get wet for the first time

in weeks. Despite my best efforts at self control, I felt my body

respond. My next moan was of pleasure.

The hand at my ass disappeared. I felt him pull up the back

of my diaper and tug the plastic pants back into place. Then he

began to work on my breasts, first with his hand and then adding his

tongue. It had been so long and I was hot. I felt the orgasm begin

to build even as the crisis in my bottom made me clench my buttocks

and grit my teeth. It was a bittersweet chorus of pleasure and

painful spasms.

"You seem troubled, my dear. Would you like me to stop?" His

voice seemed far away. I was lost in my own little world but

somehow I managed to shake my head. A soft moan of frustration

escaped my parched throat. His fingers increased their stroking and

massaging, responding to my little grunts of pleasure. He was

skilled and knew how to find the right places.

Suddenly, just before the orgasm was to blossom, he stopped.

I grunted in surprise and momentarily lost my concentration. It was

the chance for which my body had been looking. The storm broke with

a rush of hot mush into my diapers, involuntary muscle contractions

also caused a flood of pee from my bladder. His hands fell away.

I took a step backward, engulfed in the fading arousal and the

escalating revulsion of having lost control of myself. Paralyzed,

I stared down at him while the shit and piss flowed out of me in to

the waiting diapers. I heard little whimpers and then realized that

I was making those sounds. His face had taken on color. His eyes

were bright as if he had been drinking. He didn't even blink as he

drank in the scene of my incontinence. He licked his lips and

suddenly I realized that he had gotten what he wanted. There never

would have been an orgasm. He wanted me to confuse pleasure and

pain. He wanted to use me like a toy, to amuse himself , to have

pleasure from my discomfort.

The feelings began to fade and I felt cold. My diapers were

heavy, hanging from my waist. I imagined what I looked like with

them drooping down between my legs. By the time I got my breath

back, I felt dirty, ashamed and humiliated. Suddenly I couldn't

look at him any more and stared at the floor, my childhood memory

of messing my pants played through my mind over and over again.

"It's just as well you didn't come," Moira said almost

consolingly, "it would have meant a week in chastity belts."

I thought about that for a second and then began to cry,

silently. My single sob broke the thick silence in the room.

"It's time to get things put right," the judge said, "starting

with this."

I didn't have to look to know what he was talking about. Part

of me had already guessed that servicing him was in the game plan.

I used to enjoy blowing a man but not now, not wearing a messed and

soaked diaper that threatened to leak the first time I moved; and

especially not for a man who had just robbed me of a much needed

orgasm.

There was no point making things worse by resisting. I

thought of the tread mill downstairs and how much this guy would

love to get his rocks off by watching me go through that horror for

an hour or so. I licked my lips. My mouth was so dry it was going

to be hard to do it right. When I finally got up enough nerve to

look at him, I wasn't surprised to see that he had already dropped

his pants and was fondling his pole reverently. I wanted to check

with Moira but discovered she had left the room. That made me

anxious. What was she up to now?

My head hanging, I went to him and kneeled carefully. I was

worried about leaks from my diaper. No matter how awful felt,

things would only get worse if I stained the carpet. I took him

into my mouth and began to work my tongue up and down his shaft.

I was rewarded with a soft moan and a congratulatory pat on the

back. I just prayed he wouldn't try to caress my bum again.

I had done this so often before that it all seemed automatic.

The sucking, the stroking, the rubbing, the finding out what he

likes and then give him all he wants until you get a mouthful of

cum. Normally I got $50 for this service. This time I was doing

it to thank someone for robbing me of an orgasm and making me mess

my diapers. It seemed so absurd.

He came in a great chorus of moans and cries, shooting gobs

of the stuff against the back of my throat. I was so dry that I was

almost grateful for the fluid. I cleaned him up with my tongue and

then carefully stood up, trying not to look him in the face again.

"Well done," he said while putting his pants on.

I heard Moira come back into the room. "Here's a little

reward."

I looked over to see her holding a feeding bag, hose and

restraint gag over a plastic sheet on the floor. I whimpered my

protest. I had been good. I had done everything they wanted. Why

couldn't they leave me alone long enough to let me at least change

my diapers?

Moira pointed to the plastic sheet. I knew by now that it was

us

[Cute Baby]

Oh I do love this lovely story, I do hope very much her punishment is to continue and gets worse before it gets better.

[diaperpt]

Oh I do love this lovely story, I do hope very much her punishment is to continue and gets worse before it gets better.

I think it continued - I'm not sure it could've gotten much worse. This is all I have. If I could remember any of the other sites I'd seen it on, I'd try to find the rest.

I'm going to work at reformatting in for my own personal library and as I go along I may continue my search. If any of you out there see it, please let me know!

[TheMagicDragon]

I sorta remember this as a lost classic! Thank so much for posting that! If I see it around I'll look for the rest of it, otherwise somebodies gotta have it somewhere! Damn good.

[singner]

Jumping Jiminy, I remember reading this on Sissybecky.com when that still existed... Yes, the story does continue a bit further.

[BabyLock]

Jumping Jiminy, I remember reading this on Sissybecky.com when that still existed... Yes, the story does continue a bit further.

It continues on under a title "Punished With My Desire"

The whole story from the BDSM Library:

BDSM Library - Punished With My Own Desire

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Punished With My Own Desire

Provided By: BDSM Library

www.bdsmlibrary.com

Synopsis: Woman volunteers for a special punishment program instead of going to

jail. She doesn't know it will end in slavery and eternal sexual denial.

Punished With My Own Desire

By Joachim

This story is an intense modification of "I'm A Babypants Prisoner", which has

been posted anonymously in the internet. Steve Leiting, Ryan Verderaime et al.

have later claimed to be the authors, but they are no more attainable. I have

edited and altered the story to give it a new direction and to smoth out some

things I found disturbing. Also I added a new ending.

Revised version, copyright ¸ 2000 by the authors. All rights reserved. For

personal use only. No permission granted for printed copies. Transmission in

electronic form is permitted provided copyright and warning remarks are notE

removed or changed, no abridgements or alterations are made to the text and no

fee in any form is charged. Giving access for minors is strictly forbidden by

law and not tolerated by the authors. Providing in any publicly accessible form

(eg. internet sites) requires written permission.

Warning: This story contains explicit sexual descriptions. It is intended as a

fantasy for adults only. If you are offended by such texts or if you are at an

age where reading material of this kind is illegal in your country, please stop

reading NOW. Any attempt to re- inact the situations could be dangerous. You

have been warned!

***********************

Part 1

*****************

It all started four months ago when I got arrested for abuse of Marijuana. It was the

first time I had ever did this, and I did it only because of curiosity. And, lucky as I am,

this had been the evening when they started a police round-up at the discotheque I

was trying together with some friends for the first time. Oh shit. While the officer ar-

rested me and told me my rights, he constantly ogled at me. If you could see me

you'd know why. I'm blonde, 105 pounds, with good breasts and legs. Clothes look

good on me and when I add a pair of my favorite spike pumps, I can usually get a

man to do anything I desire. My best feature is my face. I look even younger than my

24 years and I guess that's partly why I got into this mess. I wished I would not have

been so daring with my outfit because they accused me of prostitution, too. We did-

n't know that this discotheque was a well-known area for hookers, too.

They brought me directly to the courts building. Sitting in the prisoner's room among

the druggies and hookers they had picked up, too, and waiting for my appearance

before the summary court that had been installed recently, I was scared of going to

prison. I didn't want that to happen to me, didn't want to be locked in, especially not

with these "girls". I guess I was pretty vulnerable and showed it. A good-looking

woman of about fourty years, with one of these official's badges came up to me, all

pretty and efficient in her tailored suit, patent pumps and silk blouse and turned on

the charm.

"Hi, I'm Joan," she said. "You're going to get two years, you know."

"So?" I was suspicious. I had heard enough of jails not to trust anybody.

She continued with a charming smile: "If I could get you 3 years of special parole,

would you be interested?"

"Sure, what's the catch?" More suspicion. Nobody gives anything away for free.

"I can't tell you the details. It's an experimental program. You'll have to trust me."

I didn't like the thought of trusting a stranger but Joan only said she was looking for

volunteers for a new special probation program for females. Supervised life instead

of prison. She refused to say anyhing more about the program. I only had a few min-

utes to think about it before the bailiff came for me. I told Joan I would go along with

her plan and as I entered the court room she went up to talk to the judge.

I don't know if that old fart of a judge was in on the deal or not. He sure gave me a

funny look, as if he was pitying me my fate. He sentenced me to 3 years of probation

under Joan's supervision and that was the end of it. Up to this moment I hadn't no-

ticed that I had been without any attorney.

The first time I knew something was funny was when Joan insisted on strapping my

hands behind my back with a pair of cuffs joined by a short length of chain. I was

caught off guard.

"What are these for if I'm on probation?" I asked her sullenly.

"You're still a prisoner of the court until you begin the program. After your indoctrina-

tion you won't be going very far very fast and we'll be able to forget about these."

"What do you mean by that?" I asked in alarm.

Joan had nothing more to say. She led me from the court to her private car and

helped me get in. Sitting in a car while handcuffed isn't comfortable and I told Joan

as much but she didn't even answer.

As we drove toward the suburbs, I tried to get Joan to talk about the program. She

flashed me some wicked smiles but wouldn't volunteer anything except that I was not

the first person to take advantage of the program and that I would better be a model

student or it would look bad for both of us. She got her message across. I had

avoided prison but I hadn't avoided the hassle of being someone's petty servant.

When we turned into the entrance of the State Mental Hospital, I got scared fast.

"What are we doing here? I'm not crazy!"

Joan just smiled one of those wicked smiles of which I was already sick, telling me to

keep quiet and do as I was told.

They were waiting for us. Joan must have called them before we left the courthouse.

There were two burly nurses to greet us who looked as if they enjoyed pushing peo-

ple around. With my hands behind my back, wearing a mini skirt and spike pumps, I

was in no condition to give them a hard time.

They took me to an examination room. My heart stopped cold when I saw the obstet-

rical examining table fitted out with restraining straps. I never did get used to those

damn things and the straps told me that I wasn't going to like what they were going

to do to me once they got me all strapped down with my legs held wide apart.

Despite their advantage in numbers and size, they didn't release my hands before

undressing me. My skirt, pantyhose and panties went first. It felt weird to be bare

from the waist down. Without a word, they hoisted me onto the table and strapped

my legs down tight. By now I was trembling from fear. They loosened the cuffs and

had my blouse and bra off before I could even think about resisting. Then they made

me lie back so they could fasten my wrists in cuffs attached to the table and pull a

wide leather band tight across my middle. I couldn't move an inch.

I demanded to know what the hell was going on but everybody ignored me. Joan had

disappeared and the two ape-women pretended they didn't understand English.

After a few minutes of my angry monologue, one of them turned to me and said,

"Shut up if you know what's good for you. We can make your life hell from here on if

we feel like it."

I decided to keep quiet. That lasted until I saw what was on the tray of instruments

she was wheeling toward me. A straight razor, a bowl of water, a can of shaving

foam and some towels. I moaned loudly in despair and let my body go limp. There

were worse things than having your crotch shaved but not too many, or so I thought

then. Why did they want my crotch free of hair? I did my best to keep still but the

sound of my own gasps seemed to echo in the room. When it was over, I had this

tremendous urge to run my hands over my new nakedness down there but I guessed

it was pointless to ask for my hands free.

They left me alone after that. It must have been an hour or more. There were no

clocks in the room but I could see the sun travel across the window. When the next

crew arrived, I knew I was in for something I wouldn't like.

They were all decked out in surgical garb and they brought a lot of stuff on carts with

them. Even though they all wore masks, I was sure that one of them was Joan. No-

body said anything to me or to each other. Panic took over and I began to pull

against the straps, cussing them all the while. Then someone put a rubber mask

over my mouth and nose and that was the last thing I remember until I woke up.

------------------

The first thing I remember feeling when I came out of the anesthetic, was the awful

burning in my pussy. Then I found out I couldn't move my arms or legs. I vaguely

remembered the straps on the table.

It took a while for my head to clear. The room was blurry and spun around a lot. I

had a hell of a headache and my muscles were cramped from being in the same po-

sition so long. A nurse, wearing a surgical mask leaned over me and said something

but I didn't understand. I tried to talk but my mouth was too dry and it tasted like

chemicals.

I don't know how long it took but I finally got my thoughts together enough to try to

find out what they had done to me. I raised my head a little and got the shock of my

life.

My arms and legs were encased in smooth, white plaster casts. Worse, there was

some small, metal-shining thing sticking out of my itching, burning pussy. It was not

big, but it was clearly visible on my shaved, spread-open crotch. I must have grunted

or something because the nurse came back and told be to relax and be quiet. She

gave me a sip of water and that helped a lot.

The nurse had disappeared again. I tried to figure out what they were up to. It was

terrible not being able to move nor knowing what was going on. By the time Joan

turned up, I was most curious and more than a little pissed off. She circled me. I re-

alized that I was still on the examining table but there were no straps holding me any

more. The casts took care of that function. She wore a very satisfied look. She had a

secret to tell and she was going to make me beg for it.

"Don't you want to know what's happened to you?" she asked coyly.

"I'm sure you'll get around to telling me in your own sweet time," I said and grunted

with the effort of trying to lift an arm encased in plaster and to close my splayed legs.

It seemed heavier than I expected. Then I noticed the doughnut-like thing around my

wrist. A weight. A quick check told me that I wore one on each wrist and ankle. I was

helpless. I did my best to hide the shiver of fear that ran down my spine.

Joan came up to the side of the table and leaned so close that I could smell her

perfume and see that her eyeliner needed a touch-up.

"You're in plasters, Sandy. Just think about that for a moment. You're all bundled up

like a baby and helpless to do anything about it."

I felt my lower lip tremble despite my best efforts at maintaining a tough face. I knew

I was in plasters. God how I knew! But, the unspoken questions were, for how long

and why?

"I know," I said quietly, "any idiot can see that."

Moria started her pacing again. It drove me wild because I couldn't keep her in my

field of vision. When you're helpless, you notice these things. I twisted and grunted

but the casts and the heavy weights attached to my limbs were very effective in

keeping me subdued. All I managed to do was tire myself out.

"Go ahead, struggle. It won't do you any good."

I hated Joan for saying that. It was true and the truth hurts. I was losing my cool, and

fast.

"OK, game time is over, you win. What's this all about?"

I didn't like the sound of my own voice. It was too desperate, too pleading. I was sig-

nalling my surrender whether I liked it or not.

She took her sweet time about answering. I wondered if she knew what "pregnant

pause" meant. She made me sweat those seconds before she replied.

"Oh, it's really quite simple. The Alternative Sentencing Program works on a very

basic principle. Rather than wasting much money to lock people like you up in a

prison as a negative reinforcement against your unacceptable behavior, in your case

drug misuse, we provide a ... special way of negative reinforcement."

She hadn't really come out and said it but a dark suspicion began to form in the back

of my mind at the same time as I remembered this strange thing in my pussy. I was

too stunned to offer any comment and Joan wasn't going to rush in with the good

news. She wanted me to beg for it. I did.

My voice was almost a whisper, not quite what I had intended but it got me an an-

swer.

"What do you mean?"

"Have you realized what you're wearing?"

"Yeah, plasters. I've mentioned that, remember?"

I wasn't sure if I really wanted to hear the rest of what she had to say but part of me

was dying of curiosity.

She slapped my naked pussy hard enough to cause a rush of fresh burning in it. I

moaned despite myself.

She resumed her strutting. I was reminded of a Nazi officer in a war movie. It was

time to clear up the last obvious point, no matter how awful the news.

"Joan," I said as carefully and rationally as I could, "you can't keep me in casts for

three years. It would cost as much as a prison cell."

She paused at the side of the table and began to run her hand over my body. She

pressed harder and it began to arouse me. I wanted to pull away but my legs were

too heavy with the casts and weights. I tried to ignore it while I waited for her to drop

the penny.

"Don't worry about the casts. They're only for a week or so. Just a little appliance to

help your indoctrination. No, the real gem is the hood that we placed over your clit."

She let her stroking get harder, knowing full well what she was doing. I panted

harder from the arousal, but suddenly I made a cry of pain, as she began to stick her

finger into my already-wet love hole. It stabbed terribly.

"This hood has a double function," Joan continued explaining after retreating her

finger. "First, it prevents your lust button from being touched or stimulated otherwise.

Second, it has a nice mechanism implemented. Anytime an object enters your cunt,

small needles will pinch your sensible area."

I looked in shock. This sounded really strange. Although I still didn't understood it

completely, this affair made me feeling terrified.

Fortunately, Joan now continued her explanations without the need for further en-

couragement. She seemed to really enjoy what was going on. "Understand the

meaning of this measure, dear? You're now sort of impotent, Sandy. You have no

choice but to wear this clitoris hood until we decide otherwise. It is fixed in your body

by a really intelligent way I don't intend to explain to you. It could only be removed by

a second surgical operation. You'll not be able to take anything into your pussy. We

help you keeping away from forbidden things."

She leaned close again. "Remember your sentence? It's three years. That means

you can count on 36 months of total sexual abstinence. Now how do you like that?"

That bothered me. Since my imprisonment, I hadn't thought about sex until then. As

soon as she mentioned it, I got horny. I would not have guessed anything like that,

and I had not been willing to admit it to myself. There I was lying on a table as help-

less as an infant and this woman had just told me I was going to be without any sex-

ual relief for years! I sighed and involuntarily tried to touch my bare pubis, but the

plasters denied any movement.

Joan giggled. "See what I mean?" she asked with unmasked amusement. "Although

you are still feeling as the slut you had been, from now on you will have no choice

than to behave like a nun. And there will not be provided any time for accustoming. If

this is hard for you ... well, remember, you're punished, not comforted."

I could have kill her for telling me this horrible news in her cheery voice. And I could

have kill her once again for inventing this devilish torture. But in reality, I could not. I

could do nothing. Only to lay there, sobbing, with itching pussy and tear-wet face. In

this state of multiple desperation, Joan left me alone.

The next days were like hell. I was helpless. Totally. Whoever thought up this crazy

scheme knew what they were doing. They did not provide me anything entertaining

while laying there. With my arms immobilized and nothing else in the room to distract

me, I had no choice but to focus on the dull pain in my crotch, my increasing demand

for sex and my many other discomforts.

I had a private room, thank God. The last thing I needed was some horny male psy-

cho taking advantage of me. The hospital wasn't air conditioned and it was July. I

had nothing to do but laying there all day, sweating, being horny, thinking about my

fate and suffering through Joan's cheerful visits.

Well, I did have some amusement. If you've ever had to wear a cast in the summer

time you'll know all about the itch. After a while it drives you crazy. Not mentioning

the other kind of itch between my legs. Not only the one coming from the re-growth

of my pubic hair. With my arms being useless, my legs too heavy to squeeze them

together and since there was no point in asking anyone to do it for me, all I could do

was to grit my teeth and try to ignore the oldest itch of all. And it went not better after

a few days, when the pain from the implantation of this terrible hood had subsided.

Oh no! I became catched up in permanent sexual demanding. I never had been

sooooo horny anytime in my life. I suspect it was not only from my strange situation. I

would not wonder if they had put some aphrodisiac in my food.

As far as the nurses were concerned, I was a baby. They refused to talk to me no

matter what I said to them and generally treated me as a newborn infant. The morn-

ing shift started at 7 AM. Two of them would come in, giving me a bed-pan, and

bathe me. I felt so deeply ashamed, when the nurses could recognize my always

rock-hard, demanding nipples and my dripping pussy. But I looked forward to them

for more reasons than just plain refreshment. There was the sponge bath that went

with it and the careful attention to my shaven pubis. I was starving for sexual contact

and my box had become very sensitive to even the slightest touch, so when they

wiped me there I just about swooned. I had come to understand why my pubic hair

had been shaved. The feel of a washcloth rubbing up against my soft sex lips was

almost more than I could bear, especially if the nurse pressed it more than usual

down.

Then came the embarrassing procedure of re-shaving me. New touches to my itch-

ing pussy. New arousing sensations down there. New humiliation.

Then one of the aides would feed me my breakfast. I liked that because they

cranked the head of the bed up and I got a different view for a few minutes. They,

however, always lowered it again at the end of the meal and only by looking down

my nose could I see Joan as she preached little sermons standing at the foot of my

bed.

Joan would have done well as an intelligence officer. Each day she came in right

after breakfast and gave me lots to think about after she left. I hated her for it. Joan

glowed when she told me about the restraint belt that had been made, just for me.

When I asked her why such a belt would be necessary she replied, "Well, dear, we

can't have you fiddling with yourself, now can we?"

She traced her long fingernails over my shaking belly. It made me horny, all the

more because I wanted it so much and yet couldn't do a thing to stop her.

Now she was stroking my pubic lips. I wanted desperately to close my legs but the

casts and weights were too heavy. I was beginning to breathe heavily and she no-

ticed, flashed me a cruel smile and then continued.

I grunted to stifle a moan of pleasure. The bitch! She was deliberately turning me on

while she talked about the worst fate I could imagine. I looked down at my erect nip-

ples. Joan too was giving them a hungry look. I wondered if she was bi or gay.

Suddenly she snatched her hand away. I moaned in despair and struggled against

my bonds. She watched me with her evil smile, before she resumed her perfidious

task, until I went nearly crazy.

After Joan had left, I was frustrated and mad. The thought that I was going to wear a

chastity belt, too, made me desperate for some relief.

It took her five days to describe just what the ASP was going to mean for me during

the next 24 to 36 months. The more I heard, the more I wished I had chosen prison.

Joan and I were going to be living together. She assured me that her apartment was

big enough and that I should give up mine and put my furniture in storage. As it

turned out, I didn't have any choice. By the time she took me home, she had already

called the storage company and cancelled my lease.

On the fifth day Joan told me I was to be released into her custody later that day.

First the casts would have to come off and a few other "procedures" performed. I

didn't like the sound of the last part but the idea of having my limbs back under con-

trol was wonderful.

As soon as Joan left, the nurses came in, removed my bedcover, and washed me

once again. Then they departed, leaving me with my crotch fully exposed and that

made me nervous. I sensed I wasn't going to like this one little bit.

Joan came back with a cute little beautician who carried a suspicious looking black

case. She couldn't have been more than 18 and she stopped cold when she saw me.

"Oh my God!" she gasped, and turned to Joan. "You can't mean it."

"Indeed we do. Now, just think about that bonus I promised you and get to work.

Your customer is incapable of giving you any trouble."

The beautician took another look at me. I gazed back, too embarrassed and curious

to say anything. I could see the doubt written across her face. She came up to the

bed and put her case down on the mobile table. I was curious as hell to know what

she was up to and yet part of me didn't really want to know at all. I kept telling myself

that, whatever it was, it was also part of my ticket out of there.

After she opened the case and I saw the electrolysis equip-maned I lost control and

went nuts. I started cursing them both and struggling against the casts.

It turned out that I should have kept control of myself. Joan called in the two apes

who shoved a feeding gag in my mouth and then gave me a shot to quiet me down. It

did that, all right, but did nothing for the pain as this little kid of a girl started zapping

my pubic stubble hairs, one by one.

I heard myself give a little grunt of pain every time the electric needle touched me. It

wasn't that each touch was that bad, it was the number of times she had to touch me.

She left in her wake a carpet of soreness that had my eyes watering in a few min-

utes.

The beautician stopped and looked up at Joan.

"I can't do this any more. I'm hurting her and it will only get worse when I get to the

wet parts."

Joan had been watching the whole thing with a big smile.

"Don't you worry yourself about that, honey. This bitch is a prisoner and what you're

doing is part of her punishment. She agreed to this rather than go to prison. Keep

going. The law is on your side."

She went back to work and I went back to suffering. By the end of it, I had quietly

vowed revenge on Joan. Just give me one good chance.

By the time she finished, my entire crotch felt hot and sore. The kid left, looking

shaken. Then the apes came back with a young guy who leered at my bare breasts

and stared at my shaved loins a lot while he cut the casts. As soon as each cast was

off, Joan released the weight on that limb. I tried moving my arms and legs. After five

days of forced immobility, they were stiff and weak but it felt delicious to have my

body back.

Joan reached me a slip. It was made of some tough fabric and clinged very tight

around my hips. I moaned as it rubbed over my tortured pubis. The she helped me

up from the bed. My legs were very unsteady and I leaned on her while we took a

few steps. Any move of the cloth on my swollen and sore pubis made me nearly

scream. I started to cry from the pain but it was still wonderful to be out of that bed.

One of the nurses came in and gave me a shot of Adrenalin. That helped a lot. Then

Joan got my clothes.

I looked at the blouse and mini skirt I had been wearing the day all this started. They

looked as if they belonged to someone else. By now I knew that my fiesting days

were over, at least for as long as ASP had control of me.

"Your mini skirt won't be appropiate," Joan said while I buttoned the blouse with

shaky fingers, "so I brought you a better one."

It turned out to be one of those vinyl types that are supposed to look like leather. I

hated it on sight but was in no mood for a fight. I just nodded and picked up my

pantyhose. Joan pulled them from my hands.

"You can forget pantyhose and bras as long as you're in the ASP program. I want to

have unrestricted access to your body. We'll get you some garter belts later."

I stepped into the skirt and pulled it up. Joan had guessed the size right but it

pressed my legs constantly together, another constant reminder of my condition. I

took a few steps. The feeling of rubbing my legs together was incredible. It shook me

up. My sore pussy burned once again. But on the other side, it gave me the long-

missed sexy feeling between my legs.

"Joan, I can't go out in public like this! I'm so horny, I will come after a short walk!"

She gave me one of her special smiles, "You will not, Sandy. Think of the tiny in your

slit."

And indeed, I realized, that the feeling while rubbing my legs was different to the one

I had before my sentence. Yes, I could feel my pussy lips stimulated, but my clit

seemed to be dead. Walking in this skirt would only make me hotter. I wailed.

I put on my black spike pumps and tried to get used to the height. I was still pretty

weak and it took me a while to get the hang of it. Joan sat on the bed and looked at

me as if I was a thoroughbred colt taking her first steps.

"Let's go," she said finally.

With a pounding heart, dry throat and burning crotch I took my first steps into the

outside world as a chastised prisoner.

Part 2

**************

As soon as we got home from the State Mental Hospital, Joan showed me my room.

It had once been her daughter's room, she told me. But now it did not look like that. It

was very poorly furnished, only with a metal frame bed, a wooden chair, a plastics

coated table and a closet. A chrome chain ran from the bed's head board half way

down the bed.

"So your daughter's finally off the leash?"

I was feeling a lot better but as soon as I said the words I remembered that this

woman controlled my comfort. Teasing her might not be healthy.

Joan fired me a sharp look.

"That little attachment was added just for you, dear. Thank you for reminding me

about it. We've a little ceremony to go through. Please pull your blouse up."

I mentally kicked myself. I had learned by now that whenever Joan used a euphe-

mism, I wasn't going to like whatever it was. I did as I was told and stood there with

my navel and the top of my rough-cloth panties exposed while she fished around in a

drawer.

She held up a white belt and before I could say or do any-thing she put it around my

waist. I heard a lock click shut. Taken by surprise, I looked down. It was made of

what looked like thick white plastic. It was about two inches wide and fitted just

snugly between my rib cage and my hips. It had a strange looking flat lock that didn't

seem to have a key hole, and a small ring was mounted beside it. I looked up at

Joan. This time I really didn't understand.

"What's all this about?"

By way of an answer, Joan pushed me forward a few feet and then grabbed the

chain off the bed. The lock on its end was open. It only took her a second to put it

through the ring on my belt and snap it closed. So, it really was a leash. Lucky me.

"See how smart you are" Joan grinned at me. I tried not to give her the satisfaction of

seeing the panic I felt inside.

"Let me save you some time and trouble. There are steel wires embedded in the

plastic so you can't cut it off. If I catch you trying, I'll make sure you regret it for a

long time."

"Fine. So what's it for, anyway."

I had my guesses but I wanted to know.

Joan paced a circle around me, dragging her finger along the smooth surface of the

belt. It un-nerved me.

"You'll wear this for the duration of your sentence. It has several unique features. It

can be used to keep you in one place, if I desire. It contains a homing device so we

can find you if you wander off, and it does something else you should know about."

I watched her take what looked like a remote control unit for a TV out of her purse.

She keyed in a four digit number. Suddenly I felt an electric shock. I groaned out

loud and fell to my knees, grabbing the bed for support while the horrible process

took it's course. No matter how much I tried I was helpless to stop it.

When it was finally over, I found myself kneeling on the floor, half draped over the

bed and trying to catch my breath. I wanted to curse Joan but by then I knew better. I

looked up at her expecting her satisfied smile and wasn't disappointed.

"That," I gasped, "is very effective. How do you manage it?"

"That's not the point, dear. We use it to manage you."

She strolled over to the closet doors and opened them with a flourish. It contained

some of my clothes, but other things, too.

"I want you to continue to take care of your appearance and be sexually attractive to

men at all times. Oh, during your sentence you will thoroughly learn how to reject

their advances. You will wear make-up and perfume every day. Most of these clothes

are acceptable. We will go shopping tomorrow to replace anything that is now too

nutty for you."

She opened a drawer. It contained all my garter belts and some hosiery but no

panties or bras.

"You will wear a garter belt and seamed stockings whenever you are outside this

house and I'll warn you right now to keep your seams straight. As I told you in the

hospital, pantyhose and bras are out of the question. The swinging of your boobs will

serve as a permanent reminder of your status."

I began to get the drift. A quick glance at the open closet confirmed it. All of my low

heeled shoes were missing, only the painfully high spikes remained. Joan wanted to

make sure that I attracted much attention, eyes that would look me over and maybe

guess that there was something funny about me when I moved. It wasn't enough for

her to denie me sexual relief. She wanted the threat of exposure to hang over my

head like a sword. Then there's the control belt. I imagined her hitting the buttons

while we were in a crowded shopping mall and trembled with dread.

"Well, then, I'll let you 10 minutes to get refreshed and tidied up. Wash yourself, put

on some make-up and do your nails. When you're ready, come to the living room

wearing just your shoes," she paused and winked, "and, of course, the belt."

She unlocked the chain from my belt.

"The bathroom is down the hall to the left."

Without another word or glance she left me alone, confident of her ownership of me,

leaving me to stare at the pile of stockings and the tangled web of garter belts.

I stood up, kicked off my shoes, and went to find the bathroom. I closed the door to

the bathroom and enjoyed the first bit of privacy in more than a week. It was won-

derful to be alone. I took off the blouse, unzipped the vinyl mini skirt and tossed them

both in a corner. I looked at my reflection in the mirror, naked but for that damned

belt. I could clearly see the silver shining spot on top of my slit. I told myself I had

best get used to the sight.

I went under the shower. The warm water and the freedom to move as I liked was

wonderful. I washed my hair, for the first time in a week, and cleaned up my rear

end. My pubis was still very sore from the electrolysis. I soaped it gently, not believ-

ing that it would be forever as bare as a girl's. Having the first opportunity to examine

this devilish clit cap, I did it.

As soon as I touched this clit hood, a new shock of pain rushed through my privates.

But my need for relief was now so demanding, I could not stop. Avoiding this

damned cap, I massaged my cunt lips and my dripping hole, but it was frustrating.

My clit seemed as dead, and I could not bring myself over the edge. Desperately I

tried to finger my aching, demanding pussy. My fresh depilatoried pubis commented

every try of fondling with new pain. I inserted a finger into my wet love hole. The re-

stricted feelings were not worth the pain immediately emited from this damned cap.

My spirits sank. I felt tears form in my eyes. It was all so strange, so awkward. Joan

was right: From now on I was going to have to behave like a nun. Finally, I stood in

the tub, panting, moaning, hornier than I ever had been.

I decided to return to my schedule. I dried myself up and returned to my room. I

found my make-up in one of the dresser drawers. I could only think about my shel-

tered clit, so it was hard to concentrate on what I was doing. They had removed my

nail polish in the hospital so it didn't take me long to do my hands and feet. Then I

took all my courage to present myself in the nude, wearing only this prisoner belt. My

breasts swayed freely as I waddled down to the living room. Both physically and

emotionally I felt totally exhausted.

"Ah, good!" Joan said from her chair. "Are we feeling more comfy now after seeing

that you will be secure against any bad attempts?"

Joan seemed to be able to read me like a book. I hated the childish tone. She was

pushing more psychological buttons than she knew. I just nodded and waited for her

to launch into the next act of the Punishment of Sandy. I wasn't looking forward to it

at all.

"Good. I want you to come over here and kneel down."

I did as I was told.

"That's good. Now, sit back on your heels."

I did that too. Fortunately the position was comfortable. At least it took the pressure

off my crotch.

Joan smiled down at me. I was the errant child being lectured to be a parent. She

spoke to me as if I were a child.

"I will go over the rules with you once and only once. After today, any infractions will

be punished. Do you understand?"

I nodded and she continued.

"Until the winter comes you will dress only in belt and shoes when in this house. This

is so that I can check the condition of you at any time and to remind you that you

are, after all, undergoing punishment under the law.

"You are not to sit on the furniture without permission. You are not to speak unless

spoken to. You will do what you are told, when you are told and without complaint,

no matter how embarrassing or uncomfortable you feel about it."

I nodded again, but my heart was sinking fast. It was going to be a long time.

"Masturbation is forbidden. If I catch you abusing yourself or even suspect it, you will

be very sorry indeed. I have several chastity belts and won't be reluctant to use

them."

I had only ever seen pictures of chastity belts but the thought of even the gentlest of

them rubbing against my injured groin was enough to make me cringe.

"From time to time there will be visitors. You will obey them as you would me."

She stared down at me.

"Do you understand these rules?"

I nodded but she obviously wanted to hear me say it.

"Yes, Joan, I understand."

"Very good. Now come with me."

While I was in the bathroom, she had prepared dinner. We ate in silence. She sat at

the table and I had mine while kneeling on the floor.

Later on she was watching TV in the den. I kneeled down on the floor in what I

thought of as "the position" and tried to ignore the fact that I was constantly itching

between my legs. Joan ignored me for the most part. When she got herself a beer

from the kitchen she brought me one too. I didn't want it but since I hadn't been spo-

ken too, there was no way I could politely refuse.

After the late news, Joan turned off the TV.

"Time for bed, Baby. I suggest you go to the toilet before. It could be a long night."

Joan stood in the door, watching. I hated having her eyes on me while I performed

this humiliating little ritual.

I avoided looking at her while I laid naked on the bed but my legs were facing her

and it bothered me to be so exposed to her. She was holding something out of my

sight. I had to move the chain to crouch towards the pillow and I hated having to

touch it.

"You've learned quickly. Now give me your hands."

I offered my hands as she tossed one leather mitten on the bed and began to fit the

other one to me. I had seen these before. The hand is encased inside rigid leather or

nylon, making the wearer helpless. You can't grasp anything with these things on,

nor can you make a fist. As I watched her fasten the little buckles I prayed she would

leave the damned belt controller alone. I just couldn't stand the thought of being

forced to sleep in it.

When the mittens were fastened to her satisfaction, she locked the chain to the ring

on my belt. Now I understood why she wanted me going to the toilet. There would be

no possibility to use it until the morning.

"We can't have you getting into trouble, now can we?"

I didn't say anything.

She told me to sit on the edge of the bed. There was one last "appliance" that had to

be fitted. It turned out to be what is called in the "S&M" trade a spreader bar, as I

later found out. In this case, a piece of round wood about two feet long with cuffs

attached to each end. This, Joan told me with obvious delight, would prevent me

from squeezing my thighs together for pleasure. If she had any idea how badly my

twat still hurt she could have saved herself the trouble.

She locked the cuffs and helped me swing my bound legs onto the bed. Then she

pulled the covers up.

"There," she said, "we're all ready for the night. The chain and the spreader bar will

make sure you don't wander off and the mittens will keep your hands out of trouble.

Any last requests?"

"No, Joan. You've taken care of everything."

Despite my best efforts my tone was sarcastic. I regretted it immediately. Joan's face

hardened.

"Be careful, Sandy. I'll let you off this time but if I hear that tone again I might just

press some buttons."

Our eyes locked for a few long seconds.

"I'm sorry, Joan. I didn't mean it. Please don't do that."

My voice was soft but my pleas were real.

"Very well, then, but I think a small reminder is still in order."

She took a small dildo from one of the drawers. It had a retaining harness. She held

it up where I could see it clearly.

"Your punishment will be to wear this for four hours tomorrow. You may choose

when the four hours start. Remember to come and ask politely to have it inserted. If

you ask nicely enough I may even let you use a little lubricant. Good night, dear."

As I said before, Joan would make a good intelligence officer. As I lay there trying to

get comfortable all I could think of was having to go to her and ask her to strap that

damned thing in my rear and then thank her for it! The more I thought about it the

more depressed I got. Finally I started to cry. It was hell, not being able to wipe my

own eyes.

Part 3

*************

I did finally get some sleep. It was almost noon when Joan came in to release me.

She was all dressed up and I wondered what was planned. No clues were forthcom-

ing while she unlocked the spreader bar and removed my mittens. She unlocked the

chain from my belt and told me to shower, put on make-up and be ready for her to

supervise my dressing in ten minutes.

Groggy from sleep and stiff from being bound all night, I went stumbling to the bath-

room.

The shower revived me. I tried not to get my hair wet, to save time. As soon as I was

towelled off, I ran back to my room. There I did a fast make-up job on my face. I was

just dabbing on the perfume when she walked in with the air of a sergeant-major. As

I put the perfume bottle back on the dresser, I saw the dildo and harness again. I

wondered when I would be able to work up the courage to cope with that.

"We will be shopping today, dear. Your wardrobe needs a few additions."

Joan went to the closet and tossed out my red silk blouse and a black A-line skirt

that came well above the knee. I gulped. The blouse was OK but I had never worn a

garter belt under that skirt because my stocking tops showed through the rear slit.

Since I hadn't been spoken to, I couldn't object without risking a punishment. I de-

cided that showing a little stocking wasn't as bad as what Joan could hand out.

I took too long to think about all this. Joan grabbed a garter belt and a new pair of

stockings, still in the package, and handed them to me. She leaned against the door

frame while I struggled with the belt. Joan looked on with amusement.

"Hurry, now, dear. You don't want me to assign you another punishment for tardi-

ness, now do you?"

Finally the belt was on and I sat on the floor to work on the stockings. They were

black and had the reinforced heels that make some men slobber. I would be a sight,

alright, especially in the four inch, black spike pumps that Joan was holding.

Once I had the stockings on and fastened, I stood up and immediately felt this

damned rough panty rub my crotch. I let out a little gasp and Joan noticed.

I looked up at her with the most blank face I could muster. I hated the pressure she

had me under.

It took a few minutes before I got my seams straight. Having Joan stare at me didn't

help my concentration. Every so often I stole a glance at the waiting dildo and it's

harness. It didn't look as big as some I had seen. Perversely, I wondered how it

would feel to have that locked inside me for four hours.

The skirt barely fit over my hips and bottom. A chill ran down my spine as I looked in

the mirror. Surely everyone would guess my secret with just one glance. The fear of

discovery made me gasp. Joan cleared her throat as a warning.

I took the shoes from Joan and slipped them on. It felt so strange to feel so sexy in

one sense and so bound up in another. I knew I looked good from the outside but

the small item between my legs and the heat generated by unfulfilled desire damp-

ened any vanity.

Joan inspected me and even made me turn around so she could judge my seams. It

was worse than being busted. She even made me take a few steps.

"You'll be happy to know that the tops of your stockings just show through the slit in

your skirt" she said lightly.

I blushed by way of response.

I looked for my purse and Joan reminded me:

"Take some make-up if you want. And don't forget your little toy on the dresser!"

She watched the look of horror on my face for a few seconds and then slipped out

the door. It was almost more than I could bear. I felt tears form in my eyes while I

stared at the dildo and its harness. I couldn't cry or it would mean another make-up

job, and a delay, that might mean another punishment. I sniffled back my tears,

picked up the dildo and shoved it deep inside the purse. I hated to touch it. Then I

hurriedly followed Joan.

I suddenly realized how much I had come to think in terms of avoiding a punishment,

even though I had yet to experience my first one!

Joan had prepared a light breakfast. I just managed to stop myself from sitting at the

table. I took my food and a large cup of coffee and slipped out of my pumps before

kneeling on the floor. Joan cleared her throat and pointed to the shoes. I sadly

guessed her meaning and stepped into them again before kneeling. Nothing helped

pad my bottom from the sharp heels that dug into it, and there was no help for my

feet, who protested painfully at being made to kneel in high heels. Joan wouldn't let

me up until I had drained two cups of coffee.

Part 4

*****************

My worse fears about attracting attention were confirmed as soon as we set foot in-

side the mall. I was in the wrong colors and definitely over dressed for a hot summer

day. Joan, on the other hand, looked cool and efficient in a light summer dress, no

hosiery and low heels.

So it was I who got the hungry stares from the men, you know, the casual turning of

the head as you pass. As I walked along I could feel the rough panty rubbing be-

tween my legs. It was getting heavier by the minute as I got more and more aroused.

All this had distracted me from where Joan was taking me, one look at the lingerie

store snapped me back to reality.

"Come, dear," she said sweetly, as if I were her niece, "We must improve your foun-

dations wardrobe."

I felt my face blanch and my throat go dry. I knew this store well, especially it's over-

sized changing rooms and the attentive staff that often came in with you to check the

fitting. Normally I didn't mind it but then I wasn't in this special gear either. My mouth

moved to make words but no sound came out. Then Joan grabbed one of my wrists

and physically pulled me into the store.

Fifteen minutes later we were in one of those change rooms. Joan had gathered up

a couple of lace up corsets and some garter belts. She had engaged the attention of

a pert young sales clerk who had made a point of staring at me as soon as she saw

my somehow strange way of walking.

"Strip down to your hosiery dear." Joan said sweetly.

Anyone overhearing her would never guess the evil in her intentions. I felt my hands

begin to tremble. I looked at her, terrified of the sales clerk coming in. I shook my

head, making my eyes do the pleading that was forbidden from my voice.

"You may speak," she said softly, finally.

"Please don't make me do this!" I whispered, trying to sound respectful and contrite

at the same time.

"Do what? dear. I simply don't understand."

"I'm shaved" I whined and felt more than ever like a little girl. "Please, please, don't

let the girl come in!"

I was almost sobbing with fear and shame but Joan didn't react at all.

I took a deep breath and began to fumble with the tiny buttons on my blouse. I was

breathing heavily, trying not to sob out loud. Just then the sales girl came in with an-

other corset.

"This is the heaviest boning we carry, Madam," she said and handed it to Joan. Then

she looked at me. "Is she alright? Is there anything I can do?"

"No, thank you," Joan, said with artificial sadness. "She has a little problem but we're

about to take care of it. Would you please bring us some garters for this corset?"

The girl had caught sight of the open purse and its contents. I felt her staring at me. I

could have died right then. The girl mumbled something and then disappeared.

Somehow I managed to get my blouse off, but my hands were trembling too badly to

manage the button at the back of the skirt. Joan had to unfasten it for me.

"You'd better make this a fast change if you want to be covered by the time she

comes back."

I let the skirt drop to the floor and stepped out of it. Then I fumbled with the garter

belt until it too was loose. There I stood, in seamed stockings and high heels when

the sales clerk strolled right in.

We both gave little gasps, me from embarrassment and her from surprise. Stunned,

we seemed to stare at each other for a few seconds. Then Joan calmly took the

garters from the girl's outstretched hand.

My face felt hot and flushed and I was transfixed by terror, frozen. The girl began to

back out of the room with her mouth hanging open. Soon I could hear excited voices

talking about me.

"Look what you've done!" I blurted out and instantly was sorry for it. Joan's face

showed a flash of smile and then took on that stern facade that I had already

equated with trouble.

"Get on with it!" she hissed. "It's a good thing we brought your little toy along. You

can cope with it for six hours -- starting now!"

I gulped and sobbed but Joan had succeeded in breaking my trance. Tears ran

down my cheeks. I didn't care about my make-up any more. Joan had taken the dildo

out of the bag and was untangling its harness. My rosebud tensed up in fear of its

impending violation. I peeled down my panties and Joan whispered that I was to

kneel on all fours.

It must surely be the most humiliating position there is. I did as she asked, present-

ing my bottom high in the air, ready for its punishment. I watched her shoes pace

around until she was in front of me. The black plastic intruder was presented to my

lips.

"Lick it!" she hissed, "Or do you want me to put it in dry?"

I closed my eyes and licked.

Suddenly she pulled it away and went around behind me again. I was choking with

fear of what it would feel like. Never had I allowed anybody to penetrate me from the

rear in any way. And there was the thought that the sales girl could walk in at any

moment. The seconds dragged by. I dared not turn and look. I stared at the carpet.

Then I felt it, a gentle pressure at first but then opening me, forcing me apart. I re-

membered that the dildo had a bulge near the tip that was wider than the shaft. I bit

my lip and tried to keep myself loose back there but fear made me want to tighten

up. Deeper and deeper it came, parting me more widely that I had ever been before.

I gasped and sobbed but Joan took no notice. I imagined its progress and prayed for

the bulge to pass soon.

Finally I felt the worst was over. There was only the thick, black shaft to distend my

virgin rose bud. It was not as uncomfortable now but the device's steady progress

reminded me with every fraction of an inch that I was being violated. It was all I could

do to hold still while this slow careful rape was being perpetrated on my body.

When I felt Joan fumble with the harness a great rush of breath came out of me. I felt

weak, dirty and shamed. The invader was stuck inside me like a finger pointing to my

sins. Joan tightened the harness slowly, making sure I was away of every strap and

every buckle.

As I got up, I felt the intruder shift a little. It couldn't be ignored. Every little move-

ment reminded me of its presence. I had just pulled my panties into place when the

clerk came back. Silently she began to fumble with my garter belt.

"Put her into this corset and come for me when she's ready," Joan said with authority

and left.

She had chosen her words carefully, the suggested meaning registered on the girl's

face.

The girl loosened the laces and I lifted my arms while she wrapped the heavily

boned garment around my body. Then she started the slow task of passing those

thin strands through the tiny eyelets.

"I'm Carole," she whispered.

I didn't want to talk but I whispered my name.

"It must be awful, I mean, about the dildo."

"You don't know the half of it."

"Is she mean to you?"

I nodded. It was better not to say anything Joan might overhear.

"She wants this tight, you know. Can you stand it? I can adjust it so it looks tighter

than it is."

"She would find out." I said in a choked voice.

"I like the seams."

"That's so I'll get more attention."

Carole knew her stuff when it came to lacing corsets. She pulled and tugged, starting

at the bottom, which gave her ample opportunity to brush my panties. Near the end I

was grunting every time she pulled hard. She attached the garters, stepped back

while I pulled up my stockings and then helped me straighten the seams.

I felt so imprisoned, so bound. Worst of all was the hard plug in my behind that

moved with me, reminding me of Joan and her power over me. I noticed that even

the garters seemed unusually tight when I took a few trial steps. It was hard to

breathe. Carole went to fetch Joan.

Joan did her inspection.

"Good!" she exclaimed. "Perfect. She'll wear it home. We'll take the other corsets

and the garter belts. Have you any stockings, and I mean stockings, like the one's

she's wearing?"

Carole nodded and Joan ordered six pairs.

I took my time getting ready to leave the change room. Miserable as I was from the

restricting corset, my hornyness and the damned plug in my rear, I was more afraid

of facing the sales clerks who must surely have been told about me. I tried to repair

my make-up. Finally there was nothing left to do. I picked up my purse and felt my

knees shake as I stepped back out into the real world.

The only clerk not at the back of the store to get a good look at me was the girl who

had seen my dildo. She was at the cash with Joan. The others stopped their conver-

sation and stared at me. I could feel their eyes searching me for some visible sign of

what they had been told. My lower lip began to tremble. I was close to tears. I saw

Joan watching me, smiling with the satisfaction of torturing me with public exposure.

Part of me wanted to scream but the butt plug was a constant reminder to be good.

Always be a good little girl, Sandy.

CONTINUED IN NEXT THREAD/POST.....

[BabyLock]

Jumping Jiminy, I remember reading this on Sissybecky.com when that still existed... Yes, the story does continue a bit further.

CONTINUED FROM PREVIOUS THREAD/POST.....

Part 5

**************

I don't remember much else about that wicked trip to the shopping mall. I didn't see

or feel the world around me very much. I was too absorbed in my own little world of

punishment. My world was humiliation, hornyness and pain. The spike pumps hurt

my feet but I wasn't allowed to take them off for even a few minutes. The seamed

stockings felt nice but they had to be adjusted almost constantly. Joan insisted I do

this standing in the middle of the mall and in full view of everybody. Of course, this

drew male attention like flies to honey. The garters were too taut for comfort and

when one of them would come undone, I had a hell of a time re-fastening it without

showing my panties. They still rubbed on my pussy and made it sore. The corset was

heavily boned and laced very tight. It constricted my waist, making my hips look even

bigger. It crushed my breasts and made it hard to breathe. Then there was the butt

plug strapped tightly into my virgin rosebud, distending, stretching and reminding me

of its presence with every movement of my body.

After returning home, Joan didn't say or do much to me. I had to strip naked, but the

plug remained until bedtime, when she finally removed the plug. I could see from the

look on her face that she had enjoyed the day tremendously.

"You haven't had an orgasm today, have you?" she asked wickedly as she helped

me move my legs, bound to the spreader bar, onto the bed. The mittens had been

fitted and I was locked onto my leash. All nice and comfy for a good night's sleep.

Suspicious of her tone, I didn't answer, I just shook my head.

She began to pull the covers into place (always too many so I would be hot and un-

comfortable all night). She was very efficient. I wondered how long it had taken her

to figure out this little routine. I cried for a little while and then, to my surprise, fell

asleep.

By the time Joan came for me in the morning, she released me from my many re-

straints and congratulated me on "being good".

As soon as I stood up, I immediately felt my clit hood and became again horny as

hell. I moaned in frustration and had to take all my will to keep me from rubbing my

legs against each other. Joan looked at me with a bad grin and then added:

"Oh, I have to go out for a while. You had better bring me one of the restraint belts

from your dresser as soon as you are finished."

Restraint belt? I had a flashback of Joan in the hospital. I heard her voice again, "we

can't have you fiddling with yourself."

I began to tremble. It was unfair! I had done what was asked of me. I had lain terribly

horny and sore all night without complaint. Now there was something more. There

was always something more. I was trembling by the time I came back from the bath-

room. It was hard to walk toward my closet, open the drawers one-by-one until I

found the instrument of torture that had been prescribed for me.

It was basically a chastity belt, but the part that ran between the legs was wide and

there were big, efficient locks. Joan was sitting at the breakfast table when I brought

it to her. She ignored me for a few seconds while she finished her coffee. I was so

scared and miserable by then that the tears were streaming down my face and it was

all I could do not to sob. Finally she took the tangle of leather straps from my hand

and looked up at me.

"Come, come, Sandy. It's not all that bad, now."

I shook my head in mute argument. How could she know? How could she guess

what it would feel like to have that wide strap tightened against the full seat of my

crotch, pressing against my skin? Then I remembered my sore pubis. I started to cry

in earnest.

There was no sympathy in Joan's eyes. She evaluated me coldly.

"If you don't shut up immediately I'll find a way to keep you quiet, young lady!"

I was in trouble again and I knew it but I was beyond common sense by then.

"Please, Joan," I sobbed, " I'll be good. I'll do whatever you want. I just want to be

saved from that thing!"

She stood up. In her heels she was at least three inches taller than me. I suddenly

realized that I had gone too far. I was going to get punished even worse.

"I'm sorry." I sputtered but I already knew it was too late.

Half an hour later I was crying for a far different reason. The restraint belt was snug

and locked but that wasn't the worst part. Joan had taken me to the basement where

she had one of those treadmill walking machines. You have to keep walking or the

conveyer belt carries you off the platform. Except, I wasn't going to let that happen,

at least if I wanted to keep my nipples. You see, Joan had produced a pair of nipple

clamps. After making sure that their hot little teeth were firmly sunk into my tender

buds, she chained them to the front of the machine. I was wearing a posture collar

that kept my head arched up. A chain ran from it, down my back, to the handcuffs

that kept my wrists behind my back. She had also made me put on my highest pair of

spike heels.

There was nothing to do but walk, cry and take stock of my sore points. The pres-

sure on my poor pubis was almost unbearable. I gasped with the pain and then

started to cry even more from that. Just minutes after she had started the damned

machine and left on her errands, my pussy began to scream about the belt that

rubbed against it with every step. My feet were killing me from the heels and the nip-

ple clamps felt like red-hot pokers. I tried to ignore it; the most important thing was to

keep track with this damn conveyer. I had to keep walking, keep the nipple chain

slack, don't think, just survive. She was only gone an hour but it felt like a week.

The bitch sat down and watched me for a few minutes before she turned off the ma-

chine and unclipped the nipple chain. As the blood and feeling returned to my buds,

I began to scream my pain into the air. Joan waited patiently for me to finish. After

she let me off the conveyer, I fell into her arms, sobbing, and meaning every word

about how sorry I was and how good I was going to be from now on.

"I know you will be, baby" she said maternally as she started to release me from the

restraint belt and the tower shoes. "You've learned a good lesson today. Now you

may go and shower and repair your make-up. Remember the rules, especially about

touching yourself."

I stumbled upstairs and went into the bathroom. There, I climbed into the tub and

turned on the water. At first the water felt good but as I began to relax, all the abused

parts of my body began their protests. My nipples burned and ached from the needle

clamps, my legs and feet were sore from walking in the high heels, and my abused

pussy screamed its protest when I let the full force of the shower hit it. Defeated, I

cleaned myself up as best I could and then ran a tepid bath. It was all my body could

tolerate.

As I lay in the gentle water and savored my privacy I realized, to my surprise, that I

didn't hate Joan for what she had done to me. A little voice inside me kept repeating

over and over, `you have been a bad girl and now you must be punished'. I believed

that voice.

I looked down at my shaven pubis. I wanted to touch it, to see what a bare pussy felt

like. The little voice told me that Joan could come through the door at any second

and, anyway, she would find out somehow. So, I just stared at it.

Just thinking about sex, I felt the old, familiar itch start. `Forbidden!', the little voice

screamed and I obeyed. Touching myself would only bring trouble and I had enough

for one day. I stood up and began to dry myself off.

By the time I had finished, I was feeling pretty good, all things considered. Before I

started back toward my room, I felt a strange spasm from deep inside my vagina. I

never could imagine before, how it was being so extremely horny, starving for carnal

relief. My punishment wasn't over yet.

In my room, I used the end of a comb to poke in my vagina in desperate search for

any undangerous relief. It was useless. I didn't feel enough from that small thing.

Deep inside my body my hormones were at work and I was troubled from knowing

what the effects would be. I cleaned up my room, made the bed and reluctantly went

to find Joan.

As I went down the hall, I caught my reflection in the mirror and stopped. It was a

strange sight, this mid-20's woman with an attractive face and good figure wearing

just a plastic belt and high heeled shoes. I could see how red and sore my nipples

looked and my face was drawn from lack of sleep. By stripping me of clothes, Joan

had taken away my image as a honorable woman. Like a slut, I was made to parade

around in whatever state of dress or undress the guardian decreed. My breasts were

left free, making me blush with every of their sways.

I remembered Joan's decree about make-up and padded back to my room to obey.

Somehow, the device between my legs seemed thicker and the feel of the carpet

beneath my bare feet that much stranger.

I did the best I could considering my sinking mood and another round of itches be-

tween my love lips. A dab of perfume and I set out again to find my mistress.

Joan must have heard my approach because she was looking right at me when I

entered the living room.

"Ah, there you are. More comfy now, I presume?"

An alarm bell went off in my head but I couldn't figure out why. She normally didn't

talk to me at all, let alone like this, unless...

I turned to see the judge who had sentenced me to Joan's care, sitting in a chair,

looking very pleased with himself. At first, I felt mad at Joan for not warning me to

dress. Then, I realized that she didn't want me to dress. She wanted me displayed,

her sex prisoner, in full gear and nothing to hide it. Instinctively, my arms began to

move toward my breasts, false modesty to be sure, but a second instinct told me to

forget it. It was humiliation time. Another itch from my pussy reminded me that there

might be more to this than a little peek show.

In the court room I had dubbed him an old fart but a closer look now changed my

mind. He was staring at me alright but it wasn't the leer of a dirty old man. Despite

his pot belly and sagging neck there was power emanating from this man and the

cold, calculating look of appreciation in his eyes scared me.

Joan's voice echoed in the room, "Dear, you remember Judge Wilkins, of course.

We've just been discussing your progress and your future."

"So we meet again, young lady, but not in my court. I'm now confident that we'll not

be conducting that kind of offence together again. Joan has been telling me of the

rules you must live by and what happens when you don't. I'm sorry I wasn't here this

morning to see your first taste of real punishment but I'm sure we'll have an opportu-

nity to share that experience together soon."

I looked back at Joan, feeling like a child whose parents have betrayed her latest

misdeeds to the dinner guests. I trembled with dread and sadness. I didn't know

what the judge was hinting at but I was pretty sure I wasn't going to like it at all. Joan

pointed at the floor and I obediently assumed `the position'. Almost immediately I

sensed the pressure on my intimate spot. I felt my face go pale and I bit my lip, the

taste of lipstick surprising me.

Both of them had noticed my distress.

"The clit hood, I take it?" said the judge.

I nodded.

"Well then, I want you to come here so I can have a closer look at you."

Panic-stricken, I looked at Joan. She smiled and nodded, my sentence was con-

firmed. I got up slowly, trying to keep myself calm. As I moved toward the judge, I

realized that Joan's dildo treatment had taken its toll on my control. I was breathing

heavily with desire by the time he reached out and grabbed me around the waist with

both hands, bringing me to sit on his knee. I was rigid, but more from the effort to

keep myself reacting too slutty than from revulsion at his touch.

He began to move his hands over my naked rear, caressing it almost reverently. He

made little cooing sounds when he noticed my damaged nipples. When I felt one of

his hands slip beneath my rear globes, I tried to forced myself to stare at the floor

but instead, found myself looking at the tent his erection made in his suit trousers.

Immediately, my pussy convulsed and cried for a cock. He urged me to stand while

his left hand cupped my ass. I moaned with frustration, humiliation and the effort of

trying to hold back my emotions.

Then he sent his right hand down my belly, searching for the bared little mound. I

was afraid he would make me horny but not let me come. He fondled my slit and be-

gan to massage my neither lips. At first the misused flesh protested his touch, how-

ever, it didn't take long before I felt myself get wet. Despite my best efforts at self

control, I felt my body respond. My next moan was of pleasure.

The hand at my ass disappeared. He began to work on my breasts, first with his

hand and then adding his tongue. It had been soooo long and I was hot. I felt the

orgasm begin to build even as the pain from the soreness of my nipples made me

clench my buttocks and grit my teeth. It was a bittersweet chorus of pleasure and

painful spasms.

"You seem troubled, my dear. Would you like me to stop?"

His voice seemed far away. I was lost in my own little world but somehow I managed

to shake my head. A soft moan of frustration escaped my parched throat. His fingers

increased their stroking and massaging, responding to my little grunts of pleasure.

He was skilled and knew how to find the right places.

Suddenly he stopped. I grunted in surprise and momentarily lost my concentration. It

was the chance for which my body had been looking, and it has gone. Involuntary

muscle contractions shattered my lower body. I took a step backward, engulfed in

the fading arousal and the escalating revulsion of having lost control of myself.

Paralyzed, I stared down at him while he grinned at me broadly. I heard little whim-

pers and then realized that I was making those sounds. His face had taken on color.

His eyes were bright as if he had been drinking. He didn't even blink as he drank in

the scene of my desperation. He licked his lips and suddenly I realized that he had

gotten what he wanted. There never would have been an orgasm. He wanted me to

confuse pleasure and pain. He wanted to use me like a toy, to amuse himself, to

have pleasure from my discomfort.

By the time I got my breath back, I felt dirty, ashamed and humiliated. Suddenly I

couldn't look at him any more and stared at the floor.

"It's just as well you didn't come," Joan said almost consolingly, "it would have meant

a week in chastity belts."

I thought about that for a second and then began to cry, silently. My single sob broke

the thick silence in the room.

"It's time to get things put right," the judge said, "starting with this."

I didn't have to look to know what he was talking about. Part of me had already

guessed that servicing him was in the game plan. I used to enjoy blowing a man but

not now, not wearing a wicked device over my aching clit threatened to cause me

pain the first time I touched it; and especially not for a man who had just robbed me

of a much needed orgasm.

There was no point making things worse by resisting. I thought of the treadmill

downstairs and how much this guy would love to get his rocks off by watching me go

through that horror again. I licked my lips. My mouth was so dry it was going to be

hard to do it right. When I finally got up enough nerve to look at him, I wasn't sur-

prised to see that he had already dropped his pants and was fondling his pole rever-

ently. I wanted to check with Joan but discovered she had left the room. That made

me anxious. What was she up to now?

My head hanging, I went to him and kneeled carefully. No matter how awful I felt,

things would only get worse if I performed poorly. I took him into my mouth and be-

gan to work my tongue up and down his shaft. I was rewarded with a soft moan and

a congratulatory pat on the back. I just prayed he wouldn't try to caress my bum

again.

I tried my very best to please him. My mouth was sucking, stroking, rubbing, finding

out what he likes and then give him all he wants until I would get a mouthful of cum.

Normally I did this only for a man who had attracted me. This time I was doing it to

thank someone for robbing me of an orgasm and making me humiliate myself. It

seemed so absurd.

He came in a great chorus of moans and cries, shooting gobs of the stuff against the

back of my throat. I was so dry that I was almost grateful for the fluid. I cleaned him

up with my tongue and then carefully stood up, trying not to look him in the face

again.

"Well done," he said while putting his pants on.

I heard Joan come back into the room.

"Here's a little reward."

I looked over to see her holding a feeding bag, hose and restraint gag over a plastic

sheet on the floor. I whimpered my protest. I had been good. I had done everything

they wanted. Why couldn't they leave me alone?

Joan pointed to the floor. I knew by now that it was useless to protest so I went over

and kneeled down, feeling the urge in my loins grow again when I sat back on my

heels. I noticed the judge was watching carefully as Joan locked my wrists behind

my back with a pair of steel cuffs and then fitted the feeding gag into my mouth,

tightening all the straps more than was necessary, considering I didn't have any

hands. Joan put the bag on the top shelf of a bookcase, warned me not to pull it off

and turned on the valve that sent a rush of baby formula into my mouth. I started

swallowing, it was that or drown.

I was doing fine until Joan blindfolded me. It was the stroke of a genius really. Sud-

denly my world was confined to the feeling of my aching breasts, my sore legs and

the residual arousal in my pubis. I listened to the rhythmic sounds of my constant

swallowing and started to cry. I didn't care what they did to me any more. Eventually,

I tuned into the conversation and realized with horror that my fate was being de-

cided.

"You've done well with her in so short a time," said the judge.

"Thank you. I appreciate your cooperation. She's the fourth, isn't she?"

"From your program. Cindy and Samantha have had more traditional training. I'm

intrigued. I definitely want her for my collection."

"Of girls in pain? You're a real nice guy. I think that you would find her range of use

a bit of a nuisance. Besides, I'm not sure I'm finished with her. Those medic folks are

willing to pay well for accurate testing her chastity hood. How about taking her for a

couple of days a week? That will give me time to find another girl and get her started

and you can have your fun."

"I'll want her all night sometimes."

"That can be arranged. I want her restrained at night but you can handle that, I'm

sure."

The judge laughed, "There are advantages to having your home and office in an old

police station."

They talked some more about other things. I had heard enough to go into panic.

Joan was hard to cope with but she was predictable and followed her own rules. The

judge liked to inflict pain. That was another story. It sounded as if I had better endear

myself to Joan if I wanted to stay out of his clutches on a permanent basis. Finally

my feeding bag was empty. Joan released me and ordered me to get cleaned up and

changed in ten minutes.

I went through the ritual mechanically, my mind distracted by what I had heard. I did-

n't even care about how badly the shower hurt. Back in my room I found some baby

scent Vaseline and coated my pubic area with it. I also used a lot of powder to try

and prevent more rash. Just as I was starting to leave my room, Joan walked in and

told me to get ready to go out to dinner. My costume was to be a mini skirt, high

pumps and a sexy blouse. She pulled the clothes from my closet and then, as an

after thought, she found a pair of pink plastic panties with lace ruffles sewn across

the seat. I was told to put these on.

Fear gripped me as I struggled with the clothes and tried to control my shaking

hands enough to put on make-up. Fear of exposure, fear of discovery, fear of hu-

miliation, it was all the same. Despite having been made to drink two quarts of baby

formula my mouth was dry again.

One last look in the mirror. Yes, the ruffles peaked out from underneath the mini

skirt. Joan called me from the other room. I was out of time. I had to go out looking

like this and the two of them were likely going to enjoy it all.

The judge leered at me and told me to model the outfit for him. I did a few steps and

a model's spin. He laughed, smiled, and said I looked "perfect". I guess Joan saw

the look on my face because she told me to start smiling or she would make sure I'd

regret the consequences.

The judge drove a Lincoln. By the time we reached the $50 a plate restaurant, I had

more important things to worry about. The valet took the Lincoln and the judge es-

corted his ladies into the posh lobby. My face was beet red and I kept looking about

anxiously to see if anyone was staring. When I caught my reflection in a full length

mirror, I wanted to die from embarrassment. I didn't know how I was going to walk

across the floor of the restaurant without stopping every conversation in the room.

Joan grabbed my elbow and told me to hurry up. There was to be no time for self-

pity.

I got a lot of stares as we were led to our table but I didn't exactly stop the show.

When the Maitre d' Hotel held my chair for me, I could feel his eyes burning into my

impressive cleavage. I swear he deliberately touched my breasts while adjusting the

chair.

The judge ordered Martinis for Joan and himself and a Shirley Temple for me. Just

as he was bringing them, Joan dropped her cigarettes.

"Pick them up!" she ordered.

The bitch! She knew what she was doing. I felt a tremor of fear course through my

body. With all the eyes already on me, there was no way I could bend down without

showing my rear end to the entire restaurant. She repeated the command again and

this time I saw her take the remote controller for my belt out of her purse. I didn't

need any more encouragement. I dipped down as fast as I could and handed her the

smokes. She had that satisfied look on her face that made me hate her the way a

child loathes a parent for handing out punishment. I took a quick glance around. It

confirmed that I had become the topic of conversation at most of our neighboring

tables. The men turned and stared. The women gave me penetrating side-long

looks. I wondered what would happen if I made off for the ladies' room.

They didn't talk to me during the meal but I kept my ears open. I found out that the

judge had two girl slaves who worked in his private offices. Both had been offered

the chance to escape prison by cooperating with him. Officially it was called Super-

vised Parole with the judge as the Parole Officer. As far as I could tell the girls would

have been better off in the joint. The judge put the cells in the basement of his office

(a former police station) to good use. The girls were basically his prisoners and he

obviously enjoyed creative ways to correct their real or perceived misdeeds.

I was feeling sick at the prospect of being delivered into this guy's clutches. I thought

of escape but most of my friends were decent people who didn't know about my drug

affair and were too straight to be able to cope with me turning up in this special pris-

oner's outfit and the law on my tail. I wasn't going to get very far. Even if I had

money, I was legally under Joan's jurisdiction. If I went to the papers, the judge

would pull some strings. I would still have to go back to Joan but with even more

punishment coming my way. There was nothing else to do but to stay with Joan.

Part 6

******************

I was wearing a slit skirt that showed the tops of my stockings when we arrived to the

Judge's office the next morning. One look at the old-fashioned precinct building

brought back many unpleasant memories from my arresting.

Joan's car carried a suitcase with some clothes for me, and a box of Joan's favorite

restraint toys that she had insisted on packing herself when I was out of the room. I

was supposed to be staying only two days but I guessed the extras were for Cindy

and Samantha, the Judge's current charges.

We used a side entrance that took us right into the cell blocks. I could see that two

of the four cells were in use. There was female clothing, make-up and the beds were

neatly made. Even though I was scared at being given to the Judge for his pleasure,

I was also intently curious about what went on here. There was a thick ring embed-

ded in the wall over each bed, including the one that would be mine. That didn't sur-

prise me much. What did catch my eye and make me wonder, was the curtain track

that ran down the middle of the ceiling and into every room, including the cells. It

was like a one-track railway.

There were no cupboards in my cell, just shelves. Joan made me lay out my few be-

longings, including the dildo gear and the restraint belt, and all my sexy clothes very

neatly. It was all in full view and I felt my face blush in anticipation of how people

would react to it. I noticed that she disappeared with her box of toys for a few min-

utes. By the time we were ready to go upstairs and meet the Judge and his girls, my

stomach was in knots and I was sweating with fear. This was a bad place, a house of

pain. I could feel it.

I noticed that the ceiling track ran up the stairs. I was really getting curious about it.

One look at the two girls who worked in the Judge's office answered all my ques-

tions.

We were in a plush reception area. There was one desk for the receptionist and a

computer terminal set on a counter high table. A large oak door led into the Judge's

private chambers. The bars had not been removed the windows and the vertical

shadows reinforced the prison like atmosphere of the place.

There were two women in the room, each dressed in a tight black leather mini skirt,

white silk blouse, seamed opera hose and impossibly high black patent spike

pumps. The girl at the stand-up terminal was a brunette who had a good figure. One

glance told me that she wore stockings and it didn't take much imagination to figure

out that the judge liked the way the tops of her stockings showed every time she

moved even an inch. A long, thin, brass chain was affixed to the track on the ceiling

over her head by a rolling device. It trailed downward, almost reaching the floor, be-

fore it ran upward again. Upward, alright, until it disappeared under the woman's

skirt. I felt my heart stop cold.

I looked at her companion, a petite blonde with impeccable make-up, who was

working at the desk. It was a modern, glass topped affair that gave her no modesty.

Sure enough, another gold chain ran upward from behind her chair until it met a

roller attached to the ceiling track.

"May I help you?" she asked sweetly, betraying nothing of what I had been told of

this place.

"Joan and Naughtycunt to see the Judge," Joan said officiously. "We are expected."

While I cringed and blushed at Joan's reference to me, the girl didn't even blink. She

wrote down our names on a slip of paper and rose from her chair. Without conscious

effort she grasped the chain and pulled it with her, along its track, as she covered

the few steps to the Judge's door.

I stared until my eyes ached. Somehow that chain was attached to her under her

skirt. My curiosity about how that was accomplished was fighting my fear of finding

out. There's not a lot to attach a chain to between a girl's legs. The few ideas I had

didn't make me feel any better.

She knocked, opened the door, and then entered, dragging her chain along with her.

It was then that I noticed the strange black metal thing around her right ankle. I re-

minded myself to get a better look when she came back.

"Welcome!" the Judge bellowed through the open door and invited us to join him.

He also called to Samantha, the other girl, to join us.

His office was huge, almost the full size of the building. His massive desk was set at

the far end of the room, giving him a commanding position. There was a lot of leather

furniture. I noticed a few well placed eyebolts in the walls but what really got my

pulse going was the cruel looking riding crop that rested on its own little stand

across the front of the Judge's desk.

I heard the scrap of the brunette's chain before she appeared in the door. She was

very pretty but her face was drawn from fatigue or pain, or maybe a combination of

the two. She moved carefully, and, yes, wore the same metal device around her right

ankle. Styled like the spurs on an equestrian's boots, it was made of dull black metal

and had one purpose, to prevent the poor soul from taking off her painfully high

shoes for even a moment's relief.

The Judge invited us all to be seated. Joan sank into an over stuffed leather chair

while my companion slaves and I assumed "the position", kneeling on the floor in

skirts so short that all our secrets showed. I looked up at the Judge who sat opposite

me. He was studying me as if I was a new car.

"I'm so pleased we've been able to work something out," he said to Joan.

"I am too, Judge. Remember, I want her back in the same condition. You play a little

too rough for my taste."

He laughed like a Gestapo officer.

"Very well, I'll behave myself. If she fails to please me it will go all the worse for

Cindy and Samantha."

So, he was going to exercise his passions on these two pitiful souls. Both were still,

their hands folded in their laps, eyes cast down when they weren't steeling glances

up my skirt, the strange chains running up to the ceiling. I could see that Samantha,

the brunette, was very uncomfortable. She was trying hard not to shift about but

wasn't having much luck.

"I just want to experiment with some of your techniques," he said and that really did-

n't make me wonder.

Before anything else could be said, a small chime went off. The Judge looked at his

watch.

"My, is it that time already?" He turned to the girls. "Who has the duty today?"

Cindy raised her blonde head and sadly whispered, "I do."

"Then I suggest you get on with it, my dear. There's nothing to be gained by waiting.

Be considerate of our guests!"

"Yes sir," she whispered and slowly rose to her feet.

She dragged her chain with her as she moved toward the Judge's desk. I had no

doubt as to the purpose of her errand.

I heard a sniffle and looked at Samantha. She was trembling and trying hard not to

cry. Her face was red and she could barely contain herself. A quick glance at Cindy,

who now held the riding crop, confirmed my guess.

"Do you wish to speak?" the judge said to Samantha.

She nodded.

"Please, Master, not again. Not so soon. I just can't take it anymore!"

The words were soft, plaintive. I felt sorry for her.

I heard the scraping of Cindy's chain as she returned with the crop. The Judge's face

had lost its smile. I was sure there was going to be trouble.

Suddenly Joan spoke up.

"Let Sandy take it instead," she said as if it were a spare cup of coffee.

Now it was my turn to tremble. I looked at the thin crop in Cindy's hands, then at the

Judge's face and then at Joan who had betrayed me. I didn't need to hear the an-

swer. The broad smile said it all.

"Very well, then. Why don't we let the two girls get acquainted by swapping experi-

ences. Sandy can take Samantha's punishment and Samantha can have a taste of

Sandy's. Cindy, you may proceed accordingly."

The blonde came over to me. She was cool and collected but there was sympathy in

her eyes.

"Stand up, please."

After I did, she told me to stand behind one of the vacant chairs, with my back to the

Judge and Joan. My throat went dry and I found it hard to walk. As soon as I was in

position, I heard her voice again.

"Bend over, please, and raise your skirt."

I felt the cool air kiss my naked flesh between the tops of my stockings and the

panties. I could feel my hands tremble with the fear that raced through my body.

"This," the judge intoned, "is the routine punishment. Each day, one girl or the other

has the duty of chastising the other. If there is any lack of enthusiasm or application

of the crop, the slacker will receive extra strokes when her day comes. I believe

Samantha has earned five strokes. The punishments are delivered mid-morning,

mid-afternoon and immediately before retiring. You may begin."

I heard the whistle of the crop as it sliced the air and then a band of white heat ex-

ploded across the backs of my thighs. I heard myself cry out but the second blow cut

off my scream and the third blow robbed me of breath. I tensed in time for the fourth

blow and screamed again when the fifth arrived.

I came to my senses slowly. I could hear myself crying. I was still bent over the chair.

Cindy put her hand on my shoulder and helped me to stand. I felt the back of my

thighs. There were five puffy welts that ached and stung and hurt so badly I was al-

most sick to my stomach. I couldn't imagine suffering that way three times a day. It

made the chastity hood seem like a picnic. I heard someone tell Cindy to help me get

cleaned up and she led me from the room.

She took me to a small bath room just off the reception area.

"Just lean against the wall for a moment while I go to the loo. We don't get a chance

to visit here very often."

As I tried to compose myself I realized she had an English accent. I watched her

step across the chain, so it ran up her front, then undo the zipper of her leather skirt.

As she shimmied it down her hips, I saw her garter belt. She wasn't wearing any

panties so I got a perfect view of her shaven pussy and the large gold rings that

pierced each of her pubic lips. A small padlock held them tightly together and fas-

tened the end of the chain.

"Oh my God!" I said in surprise.

She looked up as she released her water.

"It's not as bad as it looks. The piercing is the worse part. You can't afford to trip or

catch your chain accidentally, that's all."

She didn't say anything more as she wiped herself and put her skirt on again. Then

she carefully stepped around the chain again and went to a medicine cabinet over

the sink.

"Now it's your turn," she said. "What did they do to you?"

I gave her a quick version of how Joan had forced me into. By the time I was fin-

ished, Cindy had laid out some first aid supplies and a few things to repair my make-

up.

"Our story isn't that different. Like you, if we had known what we were getting into,

we would have fled. The Judge is into S&M. We must stand all day in these damned

shoes, one of which is locked on so we can't get any relief. We can't wear panties,

are forbidden to touch ourselves and have to put up with the Judge's attentions any-

time he wants it. And three times a day, one of us has to take the crop to the other."

She had me bend over the sink while she dabbed away at my welts with some oint-

ment.

"Don't worry, you'll soon toughen up."

I knew she was trying to be reassuring but it wasn't very helpful.

"Why have they brought you here?" she asked as she started on my face.

I could have done my own make-up but if she was willing to do it for me, it was fine

with me.

"Believe it or not, the Judge likes the sight of me in this chastity thing."

"That's not good news for us."

"Wait until you see the goodies we brought for you."

Her face was only inches from mine. I could smell the delicate perfume. She was

beautiful and while I'm not normally attracted to women, I wanted her. I saw she was

stealing glances at my eyes. We were both so hungry, so much in need of loving

attention, even if it came from our own sex.

Her hand began to fumble with the waist of my skirt.

"Do you feel like taking a chance?" she whispered hoarsely.

I nodded.

"Do me and I'll do you."

It was all the word I needed. She took a step back while I sank to my knees. A wave

of pain from my thighs reminded me not to sit back too far. I reached for the zipper at

the back of her skirt and then slid the garment down her thighs. She stepped out of it

and spread her legs. The rings and the chain that bound her were only inches from

my nose.

Cindy leaned forward, putting her hands on the wall to take her weight.

"Easy on the rings," she grunted, "they can hurt a lot."

I put my hands on her hips and pulled her closer. Then I went exploring with my

tongue, sending it between the top of the rings and her clit. I heard her moan with

pleasure as soon as I made contact. She spread her legs wider and began to move

her hips. I gripped her more tightly to stop the movement.

I licked and suckled her tortured little mound. I felt so sorry for her. The rings

seemed so cruel, so uncomfortable. It wasn't hard to get an orgasm from her. She

trembled, moaned and finally had to bite her finger to stop herself from screaming.

I stood up while she collected herself. She surveyed me carefully. No longer horny,

she was obviously having second thoughts about her end of the bargain.

"Don't touch me down there," I said softly, "Please try it on my nipples."

Cindy smiled and pushed me back against the wall. I closed my eyes and felt her

soft tongue on my naked breasts.

She licked me carefully, with kindness. I swooned with the pleasure of it. For the first

time in many weeks, I was receiving love from someone else. I felt the arousal blos-

som in my loins and grow until it held my body in its power. I shuddered and gritted

my teeth to keep quiet but it was lovely, supremely lovely. Cindy was an expert in

licking. I felt, if she would continue long enough, I would receive the demanded or-

gasm only be being licked on my nipples. Just as I was catching my breath, a buzzer

sounded.

"Damn!" Cindy exclaimed. "We've been too long. Just hope they don't inspect us."

She ran some water over her hands and then fled, leaving me naked and panting.

And frustratingly unrelieved. She had me sooo close to the desired orgasm! My

nerves were tingling, my nipples rock-hard, my pussy dripping and aching with de-

sire. But what should I do?

After calming down a little, I washed my hands, checked my make up and hoped like

hell the flush in my cheeks would disappear quickly. On nervous and unsteady legs I

went back to the others.

Cindy had resumed her place next to Samantha. I searched the Judge's face for any

sign that he knew what we had been up to. He was smiling broadly. I didn't know

whether to be suspicious or not.

"Why don't we take a little tour of the cells," he suggested.

I caught a hint of something in his voice and got scared. When he told Samantha to

stay in the office to answer the phones, I knew we had been found out. She, not

Cindy, was supposed to get "my" punishment. I looked at Joan. She had that, "I've

got you", look in her eyes. She said she had forgotten something in the car and ex-

cused herself.

The Judge led us from the room.

"You know, girls, I've learned a lot in my time on the bench and the most important

lesson of all is to know your limits."

We were walking down the stairs then, with Cindy trying to manage her chain.

"We all have to obey the rules, even if we don't like them. People who don't obey the

rules must be dealt with. That's why we have laws and places of punishment."

He paused in front of a white door and took a key from his pocket. I glanced at

Cindy. Her head was cast down, she was crying. I knew we were in trouble.

"Since you two don't seem to know your limits, this will be your place of punishment."

With a turn of the key the door flew open and I gazed inside. As soon as I saw the

dungeon like torture equipment I began to tremble but when I saw the obstetrical

table I felt sick to my stomach.

The Judge led us inside. Joan appeared with her box of toys and the silence in the

air hung thick while Cindy and I waited for the next announcement.

"Joan, dear, just what do you suggest I do to contain Cindy's excessive interest in

self-stimulation?"

Joan's face lit up, she had caught the drift of the game.

"Judge, the problem is obvious. She still associates her genitals with pleasure, in-

stead of service."

The Judge caressed the stirrups of the obstetrical table, almost reverently.

"And how do we change that?"

"By putting her in a chastity belt, feeding her a few chemicals and waiting for nature

itself to teach her a lesson. It takes a while but it can be very entertaining and it is

very effective, I assure you."

Cindy began to sob softly as they prepared her sexual prison. Joan brought out the

chastity belt I already knew all too well. I had never worn it while being drugged, and

I could only guess what it would feel like. Even the thought of it made me shudder.

I turned my attention to Cindy. She was standing still, silently crying while the Judge

slowly undressed her as if she was a doll. She had a beautiful body and my desire

swelled up in my loins again. The Judge had unlocked the chain from her pubic rings

and now I studied them. I could see why she had wanted me to be careful. The cold

metal piercing her most tender flesh looked cruel, especially after the Judge used

the tiny lock to secure the two rings together.

"Get onto the table, dear," the Judge whispered to his captive, "it's time to fasten you

down."

Slowly, her head bent with fear and shame, Cindy went to the table. She carefully

climbed onto it with Joan's guidance. After her legs came to rest, spread wide, in the

cold metal stirrups, her arms dropped to her sides. Joan and the Judge each fas-

tened them to waiting leather cuffs at each side of the table. A few minutes later they

had bound her legs to the metal apparatus with small leather straps. Cindy was

ready for her belt.

She looked over at me with sad eyes. I wanted to help her but there was nothing I

could do. Poor Cindy was going to be very uncomfortable very soon and there wasn't

going to be a thing she could do about it until someone decided she had suffered

enough.

Cindy gasped softly when Joan pressed a humming vibrator against her bald pussy.

I could hear the poor girl gasp as she was forced into sexual arousal. Her bared

breasts rose and fell quickly. But Joan didn't let her victim orgasm. Cindy wailed and

bucked with her hips, as the vibrator got removed short before this could happen,

and was replaced by a pencil-thin device shoved into her vagina. From the frustra-

tion, dread and shame I could see in her eyes this object seemed to be a kind of low-

intensity stimulator.

Again Cindy started to moan and buck while she was locked into the chastity belt.

Joan settled the waist band snugly around Cindy's hips and then began to tighten

the crotch section until it was tight enough to prevent any contact with Cindy's pussy.

A small padlock was used to secure it and Joan stepped back, obviously pleased

with herself.

The Judge and Joan quickly released the straps and helped their victim to stand.

Much as she tried to keep still, Cindy could not avoid some movement of her hips

while she waited in silent frustration. Her face was contorted, she was so absorbed

with the effects of the chastity belt and the new sensations from the strange stimu-

lator that she didn't realize at first the leather straps at the ends of the two short

chains dangling from the chastity belt.

Then the Judge ordered her to put on her clothes again. First came the garter belt. It

still fit around her waist but only just. She prepared a stocking and then bent over to

put her polished toes into it. In the same moment, a loud gasp came out of her

mouth. She shuddered and moaned but managed to start the stocking anyway.

Slowly and carefully she worked it up her pale, smooth legs, checking the straight-

ness of her seam often even though this action was uncomfortable for her. I truly felt

sorry for her.

The Judge, Joan and I stood in a circle around poor Cindy while she struggled

against her restraints and the storm of sensations in her vagina, to accomplish the

simple act of getting dressed. Her face was flushed red, either from shame, arousal,

or both. Being held for weeks now without sexual relief, still horny as hell after

Cindy's interrupted play with my breasts, I nearly could not stand watching this

beauty in her awfully sexy looking outfit.

After the second stocking was suspended from its straining garters, the Judge in-

sisted that she put on her shoes. She stepped into them. The effort strained the

crotch strap, so that she gasped again, but she meekly kept still while the metal har-

ness was fastened onto her right ankle.

Next, she stepped into her short skirt and had a little trouble fastening it. Finally she

added the blouse and stood there, trembling, waiting for further orders.

Joan made her lean against the wall. It was the ideal position for applying the re-

straint straps that Cindy had not yet seen. As soon as her wrists were locked in,

Cindy could no more rise her hands up to her naked breasts. Now she knew what

that was for.

"Oh, God!" she muttered and sobbed, while the judge re-fastened the leading chain,

now to the front lock of the chastity belt. The Judge paced around her, inspecting her

misery.

"Don't worry, Judge," Joan said. " She is really secure from forbidden pleasures now.

Take a few steps dear."

Cindy wobbled a few paces until her face suddenly screwed up with despair. The

intruder was getting to her. She turned to the Judge.

"Please, Master, take it off. I've learned my lesson. Please don't do this to me."

By way of response, the Judge picked up a riding crop, lifted the back of Cindy's skirt

and laid two cuts on her thighs, just above the tops of her stockings.

"You know better than to beg!" he muttered.

Joan piped up.

"Now that Cindy is learning her lesson it's time Sandra was brought to task." She

turned to me, "Get undressed and prepare the punishment dildo for yourself. Your

new friend is about to apply your punishment."

I stripped slowly. Even though Cindy had already seen my shaved pussy with it's

bizarre jewel, I was still embarrassed about the Judge's attention. I could see a big

bulge in his crotch and remembered his episode with me in the living room.

I was terrified. If they were prepared to make Cindy's life hell so easily, what could

my imaginative Mistress have planned for me? I saw the Judge laying out a pair of

the impossibly high spiked shoes and a leather mini skirt. There was also one of the

metal shoe harnesses.

Joan was preparing something on the other side of the table, out of my sight. I knew

it came from her little box of toys and therefore I wasn't going to like it. I glanced at

Cindy, who still seemed to be holding her own against the pressure building up in-

side her.

Finally there was nothing to do but lean against the table with my feet spread. I tried

to guess what Joan had in store for me but my mind went blank.

Joan grabbed Cindy and made her stand beside me. I was told not to turn around.

"She's the source of your misery, Cindy. Now you can have some revenge. Choose

one!"

I heard Cindy sob.

"I can't," she said softly.

The Judge's crop sang through the air again, meeting Cindy's thighs in a sickening

smack of pain. There was a moment of silence while Cindy did what she had to do.

The curiosity was killing me but I knew better than to turn around. Suddenly I felt a

plastic belt being fastened around my waist. I looked down and my heart stopped

cold.

It was a chastity belt. But unlike the virtue protecting models, this belt featured a

long, thin, bristle-covered pin to penetrate me poor girl in the front and an attached

dildo in the rear. Instinctively I tried to pull away but the Judge had wisely gripped

my wrists from his vantage point on the other side of the table.

"Put it on her!" Joan growled.

I caught the scent of Cindy's perfume as she bent between my legs. Now it was my

turn to breathe sharply in fear of what was about to be done to me. I glanced down

again at the belt. I could imagine what the bristles would do to my poor, naked, itch-

ing pussy. The rear plug was big and I was sure it wouldn't go in without damage but

I prayed it would anyway.

The Judge decided to handcuff me. As soon as the cold hard cuffs had my hands

fastened behind my back, they bent me over the table. There was no way that I could

now resist the dildo's insertion into my rear passage.

Cindy thoughtfully used a little saliva on the head of the plug just before she brought

the rounded tip into position. Then, almost gently, she began to force it against my

unexperienced butt hole. I felt myself distending as my poor behind tried to accom-

modate the intruder. Joan's use of a butt plug just a few days earlier had loosened

me up a little. Still, it began to hurt and shortly after that I began to cry despite my

best efforts not to do so. Cindy applied a steady pressure. It was very painful and I

cried and cursed them all until the Judge decided he had enough and put a ball gag

into my mouth. Deeper and deeper it went in until I was sure I just couldn't take any

more. I was sobbing steadily and fighting the Judge's grip by the time she stopped

and turned her attention to the device intended for my love box.

It was a pencil-sized rubber stick with many circumferal grooves and a cilia-covered

base plate attached. Carefully Cindy shoved it into my still dripping-wet pussy. At

first, I didn't feel much, because I was concentrating on my aching butt. But as the

stick slid in between my little love lips, lips that had not been penetrated in so many

weeks, lips that were throbbing with unfulfilled, frustrated desire, I could not hold

myself back from moaning. I felt my love lips close around every single groove, while

the stick entered my love hole. The butt plug was temporarily forgotten. With eyes

closed, I enjoyed the sensation. But in the moment Cindy allowed the stick to touch

my beastly clit hood, I yelled with pain into the gag. Despite my handcuffs, the judge

had to hold me with all his strength.

Finally it was over. I lay across the table panting into the gag while Joan tightened

the retention strap and then locked it. Now the stick's base plate was being pressed

against my naked pussy, which got massaged by the cilia with devilish skill. They

took the handcuffs off then and took out the gag. I was told to put back my skirt and

be quick about it.

Every movement was agony. Each little step moved the intruders painfully and

rubbed my pubic mound into a frenzy. I was dizzy from the pain and swore revenge

against Joan and the Judge.

Like Cindy, I had a lot of trouble with my garter belt and stockings. When it came

time for the shoes, I found a new source of pain. The four inch heels tightened my

ass cheeks and made the intruders all the much worse. The Judge took great pleas-

ure in fastening the shoe lock into place.

Cindy and I painfully teetered our way upstairs to the office. Samantha was sum-

moned. The Judge was horny, Joan had some ideas even though Cindy and I were

out of commission as far as fucking went.

An hour later, Cindy and I still hadn't said much to each other. We were too occupied

with the unwelcome sensations at our loins. I tried to do some filing while she typed

correspondence at the standing work station. It was hard to manage doing anything

useful with the whirls in my brain. Neither one of us relished the thought of sitting

down. Despite our own moaning, from time to time we could hear Samantha cry out

or the smack of a leather instrument meeting her flesh.

I could tell that Cindy had not gained any relief from the thing in her pussy. Her face

was contorted with the effort to achieve it and sometimes she would lean against the

wall, press her legs together and grunt as she tried to stimulate her enough for get-

ting over. She walked with an enforced hip sway and whenever she caught me

watching her she blushed and looked away.

"We may as well talk about it?" I groaned finally. "There's nothing else to do."

"I'm sorry," she said softly.

"For what?" I started to cross over to her but walking was painful. I decided to stay

where I was.

"I got you into trouble. Then they made me choose the dildos for you to wear. I tried

to find the smallest. Truly I did!"

I could see that she was close to tears and finished emotionally.

"You did what you had to do. Any chance of getting out of here?"

She shook her head.

"You know how it works. They would have the police on us in a minute."

She paused to listen from the sounds below.

"We won't be seeing them for a while. I can hear the flash guns. The boss is doing a

photo session."

That caught my attention.

"A photo session? You mean he takes pictures of what he does to you girls?"

Cindy nodded.

"Yes, and there's no doubt Joan will be a part of this one. One of his customers

wanted a female master series."

Ideas were swimming around my brain. Revenge might be closer at hand than ex-

pected.

"How does he get them developed?"

Cindy told me that there was a dark room downstairs and that she did most of the

developing work. The Judge's face often appeared in the photos but was masked

with an airbrush before the prints were sold. Now I needed only one more piece to

make it all work.

"Does the Judge keep a gun?"

"Yes, but..," she looked at me as it fell together for her. "You can't be serious."

"Just show me the gun and I'll let you know what serious means."

A few minutes later we had worked out a plan. I had hoped to find a spare set of

keys in the Judge's desk but no such luck. The locks that retained our chastity belts

had been supplied by Joan. Being able to take off our spikes would have helped but

it wasn't critical. The hardest part was going to be getting downstairs without gasping

so loudly that they would hear us.

I could tell that Cindy was very dizzy from her constant efforts to get rid of her hor-

nyness. Still, she summoned up enough strength that I decided to take her along.

We crept down the stairs as slowly and quietly as we could. It was very painful for

each of us but it only made me more determined to get revenge. I held the gun, a

loaded .38 police special.

We got to the door of the punishment room and I looked in for a second. Samantha

hung from manacles on one wall while the Judge and Joan, both dressed in domina-

tion gear, took turns using a whip on her. By the condition of Samantha's back, we

had arrived none too soon.

I stood in the door way until they noticed me.

"Enough games for now, Judge. Reality is here."

My voice stopped Joan in mid-swing. The whip fell limp in her hand and her face

drained of color. The Judge appraised the situation carefully and began to slowly

move toward a table.

"Hold it! Just give me one more excuse like that and you're history. Stop this now

and we'll be easy on you." The Judge said.

"This isn't your court. You don't have a thing to say. Just turn around and put your

hands on your head, both of you!"

It didn't take long for Cindy to get Samantha out of the wall manacles and replace

her with Joan, facing front this time. Another set of manacles took care of the Judge.

As soon as they were locked up, Cindy and I found the keys.

"Me first!" she screamed while stripping off her skirt.

I thought of my own condition for a moment and then agreed.

"Now, listen to me!" I said while fumbling with the lock on her chastity belt. "Don't

waste time fiddling with your crotch. There are tough guys here to watch."

She blushed at my comment but nodded her head. As soon as the belt fell away she

removed the pin from her vaginawith a loud sigh. Meanwhile I began to fumble furi-

ously with the lock at the back of my chastity belt. I was getting desperate when

Samantha came to me and in a weak voice offered to help.

As soon as the lock was off, I began to pull at the plugs. I discovered that getting

them out was as painful as getting them in.

"You'll pay for this!" I screamed through clenched teeth at Joan and the Judge,

meaning every word of it.

The vaginal plug came out first and then the anal intruder. As soon as they went out,

I instinctively tried to finger my poor cunt a little, but was rewarded by renewed pain

from the clit hood. Once more, I wailed in frustration.

After Samantha had regained enough strength, she dressed and began exacting

some retribution on the captive Joan and Judge. Her item of choice was the alligator

clamp and she was just applying them liberally to both of them, especially to the

Judge's cock and Joan's pubic lips.

"You'll never get away with this!" the Judge grunted though his pain. "I'll have the

police on you in an hour."

"I don't think so," I said as I removed the film from the camera. "Cindy is going to de-

velop these and we are going to keep a set of negatives. If we have any trouble from

you, a set of prints will land on some very powerful desks."

I tossed the film to Cindy who was smiling broadly. I noticed she had put on her

blouse but had left her skirt off, keeping her pussy exposed, which had already had

the two small rings with the lock. She searched for the appropiate key and removed

the lock.

"The first time for nearly two years I am without any lock or chain down there!" she

sighed happily.

"Want the rings off too?"

She shook her head.

"No, not now. I'm used to them."

I noticed Samantha putting on her stockings. Then she stepped into the high spike

pumps.

"You don't have to wear them anymore." I told her and she smiled.

"But I like to," she said simply. "I've gotten used to them. Anything lower hurts my

legs."

The girls went for some shirts. Although they could not find, of course, any bra in the

house, they came back with breasts covered by two of the judge's shirts. It looked a

little bit strange, but their body was not nude any more, and that had been the im-

portant. A few minutes with my make-up case and we felt like human females again.

There was so much to do. Cindy and Samantha were going to find an apartment. A

quick raid on the Judge's safe provided the necessary funds. I asked Cindy to type

up absolute discharge papers for all three of us. The Judge was then encouraged to

sign them by our waving a monster dildo under his nose and suggesting where it

soon might find a home.

While we all wanted out of there and badly, there were still a few problems. I dis-

cussed them with the girls in private and they agreed. Cindy went to develop the film

while Samantha and I took care of our former masters.

Joan's eyes grew wide when she saw the vibrator strap in my hand.

"You're not... You can't!" she moaned,

I just nodded.

Spread out as they were on the wall, Samantha and I had no trouble in pressing the

little devil up her cunt. We decided to leave the alligator clips on. Both captives were

pleading with us as we made our final preparations to leave.

"Please, have some mercy. You can't leave us like this." The Judge wined.

"You're getting no worse that you would have handed out. We'll call the police in

about half a day and you can tell them whatever you like. But, the discharges stand

or you get to be instantly famous."

I could see the fear in their eyes. We had won. As we walked down the hall toward

the door I noticed two things. We were each still wearing the high spike pumps and I

could still feel the effct of the clit hood. I wasn't surprised when I felt myself still horny

and wet.

Epilogue

********************

It's been six months since Cindy, Samantha and I escaped from the Judge and Joan.

I'm still with this terrible clit hood.

I stayed in Joan's house long enough to reopen my apart-maned. I am not sure why,

but I appropriated some of the "toys" as I moved back to my place. But even after

leaving Joan, I still had that fatal hood over my clit. Oh boy, nobody can imagine how

horny I was! It was hell! I was a walking sex-pot, always having a burning desire

between my legs. But Joan's invention worked all too good. I could masturbate as

desperately as I wanted to, the feelings in my pussy were too weak to come over the

edge. And men were out of discussion. I wouldn't take the risk of accidentally having

to take up a cock or a finger in my pussy while this painful guard resided in it. But not

for long, I was starving for a fuck, dreaming all the time about a real man taking me

in my oh so hungry pussy. Of course, I immediately tried to remove the clit hood that

so fatally prevented me from sex. But Joan refused to tell me how it would work, and

the doctor I finally consulted did not found it out. He was doing one painful test after

the other, but the hood stayed where it was.

Everytime a new unbearable itch of desire pained my hungry pussy, I cursed Joan.

And this was many times a day. Even I were no more her prisoner, she still was

punishing me. My victory had only been a half one. Facing a life-time celibacy, I

considered in earnest a voluntary return to Joan. Better doing the full time of my

devilish sentence in her paws and being free afterwards than to suffer the same fate

for the rest of my life, I thought.

Cindy and Samantha came to dinner a couple of times and from the beginning I was

suspicious about Cindy. I did notice that the formerly humble Samantha had taken

on a new, dominant role. She told Cindy what to do and when to do it. I finally got my

answers when Cindy turned up alone one night.

She had a small overnight case with her and asked in tiny voice, "My mistress is

away. Will you take care of me?"

I was only mildly surprised that she still wore seamed stockings and the high pumps

that the Judge had put on her. To see her pubic rings locked together again, how-

ever, made me question her once she was comfortable and sipping tea in the living

room.

"I guess it started when I wanted to go back to hooking. Samantha got mad and said

we had a chance to make it on our own and we should take it. I used to make all the

decisions and so it was strange to see her put her foot down. We got into a fight and

somehow she got a pair of handcuffs on me. Well, she decided to cure me with the

lock. You can't be successful in our business with a locked cunt."

Cindy went on to tell me that she had become Samantha's slave in a gentle sense.

Samantha insisted that Cindy wear nothing at home and refrain from touching her-

self. I was intrigued and horny.

"So, you have to obey every order?"

She nodded and I took her to the bedroom. I told her to finish the task she had be-

gun in the judge's house. It was heaven! Cindy's talented and enduring tongue on

my nipples and my pussy lips finally brought me to the long-missed orgasm. I

shrieked loudly and tossed myself in my bed for minutes. After recovering I cried

from relief. I was so happy to have extinguished the fire that had burned in my loins

so demandingly. It had been a so long time since I had received caring attention and

it was quite overwhelming, to say the least. I made her spend one night in the bond-

age rig that Joan had made me endure every night and afterward Cindy agreed that

she couldn't take much of that. She did show a lot more respect to me, however.

We were both sorry to see the weekend come to an end but all of us have had a lot

of fun since. Of course, Samantha was part of the good times. I was so glad to feel

sexual satisfaction again and was happy not having to give in to Joan. But, finally,

Joan had anyway achieved what I supect her to have had always in mind: I had been

transformed from a straight girl into a lesbian. A lesbian, which is dreaming all nights

of men...

Review This Story || Email Author: Joachim

Enjoy ...................... It was fun retrieving and rereading this story.

Babylock

[diaperpt]

Thanks for posting this. I did run across it the other day, but didn't post it because its focus was on sex not diapers. ...not that there's anything wrong with sex

I suppose someone could always go back through this version and convert it back to a story about diapers. I have no idea where it is, but I do think that there was more to the diaper version of the story. I'm still hoping someone has that tucked away somewhere!

[Heather23]

Thanks for posting this. I did run across it the other day, but didn't post it because its focus was on sex not diapers. ...not that there's anything wrong with sex

I suppose someone could always go back through this version and convert it back to a story about diapers. I have no idea where it is, but I do think that there was more to the diaper version of the story. I'm still hoping someone has that tucked away somewhere!

[Heather23]

I too would love to see the complete story. My hubby and I love role playing and this story got me stareted. I have posted 5 of my stories on the main dailydiaper site, but this one is the best!

[diaperpt]

I too would love to see the complete story. My hubby and I love role playing and this story got me stareted. I have posted 5 of my stories on the main dailydiaper site, but this one is the best!

I've read your stories and have enjoyed them very much. Thanks.

[Heather23]

Have you written many stories? I love your writting and the fantasies really peak my interest. If so, I would love to read them. H23

[Shade Nyx]

I found a few different versions!

• (I think this might be the original) https://groups.google.com/g/alt.sex.stories/c/WAI7BZFNiH4/m/ia8kgTaZ1mwJ
• (this one) https://www.dailydiapers.com/board/index.php?/topic/21225-i-was-a-baby-pants-prisoner/&_fromLogin=1
• https://www.deviantart.com/slghtlyded1/art/I-am-a-Baby-Pants-Prisoner-159743758
• (I think this version is linked to above) https://www.bdsmlibrary.com/stories/story.php?storyid=286
• http://tpe.serve101.org/altarboy/not80410.htm
• (this link won't work for me) https://108.170.16.99/stories/story.php?storyid=286
• (this version is a bit different, but seems to have the same characters; a sequel, maybe?) https://www.dailydiapers.com/board/index.php?/topic/27245-baby-pants-prisoner/

See; I do contribute! [/congratulates self]