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I had been kneeling in front of Ms. Panington for some time as she finished her breakfast of omelet, bacon, toast, and orange juice. My mind was firing in a confused fashion and I was unsure which of many thoughts, feelings, and impulses to pay attention to, and which to ignore. Fight or flight was quite pronounced and I contemplated getting up then and there and running from the room, somehow managing to get some presentable clothing, bolting from the offices of the Behavior Modification Institute, and getting a flight home. But I knew that I would lose Kelli, and I could not tolerate the thought of that.
More significant, though, was that I knew that, deep down, this is the life I wanted. As I knelt, naked, in front of this beautiful and dominant woman another part of me felt a serenity and security. Perhaps my life would be better. I enjoyed all of my private masturbation sessions, but I always felt guilty afterwards, and I always thought that if Kelli knew about my fantasies and how often I jerked off, that she would reject me. Now it is apparent that she has known for some time, even videotaped me pleasuring myself while wearing her things and she seems not only accepting, but wanting to take me further down this road than I ever imagined. I have known for a long time that I was a sissy, I just couldn’t admit it, not even to myself, and I had feared Kelli discovering this about me. Now, here I was kneeling in front of a woman who was ignoring me as she ate her breakfast and perused the morning paper, and I was incredibly aroused.
“I can’t help but notice, Tom,” Ms. Panington eventually broke the silence, “But your tiny penis is erect. Is there something arousing to you about kneeling there while I ignore you, Tom?” She laughed and returned to her paper, casually uncrossing and recrossing her legs. “I hope that you are not trying to look up my dress, Tom. Goodness. You are already in plenty of trouble.”
She was right. I had tried to see the crotch of her pantyhose as she crossed her legs, but I couldn’t admit that to her, not with the trouble I was already in for my accident. And it really wasn’t her legs and the chance of seeing her panty covered pussy that it excited me; it was the humiliation of my submission. So I said nothing and tried to distract myself by adding columns of numbers in my head. Unsuccessful, my cock remained erect. Meanwhile, Ms. Panington continued her breakfast as though I was not there.
Eventually Ms. Jensen returned. “Okay, the cage is ready in his room and Nurse Pyre is waiting in the nursery,” she said to Ms. Panington, ignoring me. “Oh look, he’s got an erection. Isn’t that cute?” and they shared a laugh.
“Did you bring a cock leash?” Ms. Panington asked.
“Yes, it’s here in my purse,” Ms. Jensen replied.
“Well I think it’s best that you use it. Who knows what he’s been thinking while he’s been waiting on his knees with his cute little wee-wee pointed straight up. And putting a leash on his little manhood will just reinforce that it no longer belongs to him,” Ms. Panington instructed, “He’s shown no ability to control it, that’s for sure.”
Ms. Jensen stepped towards me, “Get up, Tom. Your knees may hurt a bit, huh? Doing okay, hon?” The mix of kindness, authority, confidence, and cruelty that these women displayed towards me was confusing, for sure. It made me want to please them even more. She took an inch-wide leather band from her purse and secured it to my penis, cinching it tight with a Velcro fastener. There was a small ring attached to the band and she clipped a 4 foot dog leash to the ring. “Okay, let’s go.” I had no choice but to follow close behind.
Back to the elevator which opened to reveal three women in business attire. They all greeted Ms. Jensen as they exited, but ignored me and the leash she was holding. I figured this must be routine for them. Down a couple floors we went. As we stepped from the elevator I saw a group of five women dressed in elaborate canlı bahis maid’s uniforms following another woman, this one in full Dominatrix regalia. We waited for them to pass, I did a double-take, and realized that only the Domme was a woman. The rest appeared to be feminized men. “Are those…” I started to ask Ms. Jensen.
“Yes, Tom. Those men are being trained to service their wives as sissy maids. I believe that Ms. Carson is taking them to their cooking class this morning. Too bad that Kelli doesn’t want you all prettily made up like those sissies. She has other ideas about what will be most humiliating for you, But perhaps before you finish your time here you will be joining some of the maid classes,” Ms. Jensen explained.
Soon we were at a door marked “Nursery” with appliques of teddy bears and Raggedy Ann and Andy dolls on the door. Through a small window in the door I could see Nurse Pyre just inside. She greeted Ms. Jensen when we came in, then took a look at me, shook her head in mock disgust and said, “Poor Tommy, still can’t control his little wee-wee. Little Tommy’s wee-wee squirted all over Ms. Panington’s lap I understand. Did you have a little accident, little one?”
“Yes, Ma’am. I did.”
“And I understand that you got in some trouble regarding your fascination with my tits. Poor little boy. I know that I embellished the story just a bit when I told Ms. Panington, but I thought it best that she knew what lust you had for big breasts. I’m sure little Tommy would love to suck on them like a wittle baby,” Nurse Pyre continued making a display of cradling one of her tits with both hands, “And now you have yourself in more trouble. I think I can take it from here, Ms. Jensen, thanks for bringing him.” Ms. Jensen handed Nurse Pyre the leash, then left the room, giving me a light tap on the rear as she walked by towards the door.
“Look around you, Tommy. There are no panties to play with, no bras to try on, no grown-up clothes at all in this room,” Nurse Pyre said ominously. “This is a nursery, Tommy. You are here because you have been acting like quite a baby, having accidents and all. If you act like a baby, Tommy, you will be treated like one.”
I looked around the room first noticing that Nurse Pyre was dressed in a different sort of uniform today. No skirt, instead light blue scrubs top and bottom and the sort of jacket a pediatric nurse might wear with a print of teddy bears and dolls much like the applique on the door. And she was wearing sensible white nurse’s shoes with tie laces. Around the room there was an exam table—I thought it was an exam table anyway, an oversized high-chair, an oversized crib-like structure, a large play mat with Sesame Street characters, a couple brightly painted toy boxes, an over-stuffed easy chair, and rows of white cabinets.
“First things first, Tommy, let’s get that leash off of you. Baby boys don’t wear leashes on their cocks. They don’t even have cocks. They have wee-wee’s,” she laughed. When she pulled off the Velcro I could feel myself start to grow and I tried to will it to stay small. I didn’t want her to think that this latest situation was in the least bit arousing to me. It wasn’t…was it?
“Over here, Tommy,” and she took my hand and guided me to what I had thought was an exam table, “Up you go, Tommy, let’s get a diaper on you.”
“No, Nurse Pyre. Please, no, please not a diaper. I am a grown man. Please. I don’t want to wear a diaper,” I pleaded.
“Okay, then. I will call Ms. Panington and have her call Kelli. The contract you signed was quite clear that any refusal to cooperate would result in Kelli proceeding with her divorce. I’ll just make the call and you can be on your way….” she responded firmly. “Or, Tommy, you can accept your punishment for cumming all over Ms. Panington’s nylon stockings, and get on with your training. You decide. Which will it be?”
“D-d-d-di-di-diaper,” I said, almost in a whisper.
“What is it bahis siteleri you have decided, wittle Tommy? I didn’t hear you.”
“Diaper,” I responded somewhat louder.
“You want me to put a diaper on you like you are a little baby, is that what you want?” Nurse Pyre was making the most of this. “Ask me nicely, then, my dear wittle boy.”
“W-w-will you p-p-pl-please put a d-d-diaper on me?” I asked, my face now a beet red and racked with embarrassment, my entire body trembling from the humiliation of it.
“Of course, sweetie, nursie will put di-di on wittle Tommy. Get up on the changing table, wittle Tommy, and nursie will get you all fixed up,” Nurse Pyre said, now in the most sugary and condescending voice.
I wanted to get it over with as soon as possible, so I hoisted myself onto the table where she took off my arousal meter and set it aside, saying, “We must be careful that this doesn’t get too wet…electronics, you know. Now just so you don’t get any ideas about making a creamie in your di di, we will be testing them with a chemical that shows semen whenever you are changed. We will tolerate a slight bit of leakage, pre-cum if you will, but no messes. And, do not think that we won’t be able to tell the difference. Now raise your legs high in the air.”
I hid my face with my hands. I wanted to simply disappear. Nurse Pyre went to one of the cabinets and returned with what appeared to be several large fluffy cloth diapers, some transparent plastic pants, baby oil and powder. My penis had shriveled as small as it was capable of being, and I continued to tremble. As Nurse Pyre shoved the edge of the cloth diaper under me, tears began streaming from my eyes. I was so confused. I had to cooperate or I would lose Kelli. I liked the idea of being a sissy. I just had to endure this punishment and learn to control my ejaculations. But I was so humiliated to be treated as though I was a baby, and this humiliation was not erotic, not at all.
Nurse Pyre noticed the tears. “Oh wittle baby Tommy. It’s alright. Don’t cry wittle baby,” and she spread a liberal amount of baby oil on my penis and made a fist of her hand around it, pumping up and down until I was erect. “Baby Tommy has a stiffie. Baby Tommy has a stiffie. Baby Tommy has a stiffie,” she taunted. I thought about cumming right then and there as an act of defiance, but before I reached the point of no return she stopped rubbing me and, without another word, peppered baby powder all over the areas to be covered, pulled the sides of the diaper up tight, and pinned the sides with large baby blue safety pins. Next she slid the plastic pants over both of my legs and pulled them up snugly. “Roll over, baby Tommy,” she commanded. I did as told and could feel a tightening of the waist of the plastic pants, then heard the clicking of a lock. “There you are, Tommy, these are locking plastic pants. Just to be sure you remember who is in charge.”
“But what if I have to pee?” I asked innocently.
“Oh, I can guarantee that you will have to pee, Tommy, and you surely will have to poop as well. We expect it. And Ms. Panington is wagering that the humiliation of soiling yourself in the care of us women will be sufficiently humiliating to teach you a lesson. Little boys who cannot control their wee-wees must wear diapers,” she explained. “So don’t worry if you have to go, just go. I have two diapies on you, so it will be plenty absorbent. I heard that you’ve not eaten for some time. Down off the changing table and let’s do something about that.”
She went to a refrigerator where she removed something. I couldn’t quite see what it was, then she went and sat on the one easy chair that sat in a corner of the room. “Come here, Tommy, time to eat.”
Famished, I strode—wait, I waddled—over to where Nurse Pyre was sitting. “Up on my lap, wittle boy, time for your bottle.”
It took a couple minutes to get exactly in the position she seemed to want me. How it ended up is that bahis şirketleri I was lying across her lap with my head on her ample bosom and cradled in the crook of her arm. Once situated, she produced a large bottle containing a cream-colored liquid. It had a nipple on the business end which she pushed, with little resistance from me (I was so hungry) between my lips and I began to suck. The “milk” or whatever it was tasted wonderful if not a slight bit too sweet. After a few minutes I found myself to be very comforted by the warmth of Nurse Pyre’s breast against my cheek, the sound of her humming nursery songs to me, and the sucking sensation of drawing from the nipple. And, I had a stiffie.
Nurse Pyre took her free hand and rubbed the front of my plastic pants and they made a crinkly sound as she rubbed them. She must have known that I was erect, but said nothing and soon took her hand away. Soon the bottle had been sucked dry. “Okay baby Tommy, let’s get you in your high chair,” she said sweetly, pushing me up and off of her, “But first I will finished getting you dressed.” She produced a plastic onesie from a cabinet drawer, slipped it over my shoulders and snapped the crotch closed, securing the closure with another tiny padlock. “Okay, sweetie, up in the high chair.”
“No, please, Nurse Pyre, not a high chair,” I weakly protested, realizing that I would concede any battle.
“Babies can’t talk, Tommy. If you continue to talk I will have to do something about it. Babies cry, babies burp, babies coo, but babies don’t talk. I don’t want to hear another word out of you!” she said in a no-nonsense tone.
I made my way to the high chair where she strapped my legs in and secured my arms to the sides, then put a large plastic bib on me and secured the tray to the high chair. I was virtually immobile, was not allowed to speak, and all I could do is open my mouth when she began to offer spoonfuls of applesauce and strained peas. Yuck. Good thing I was hungry. Nurse Pyre seemed to be going out of her way to slop applesauce and peas onto my chin and cheeks.
The door opened and it was Ms. Jensen. “Looks like you have things under control here Nurse Pyre,” she laughed, “Did you put the laxative in the bottle like Ms. Panington wanted?”
“Sure did. And I put a mild diuretic in as well,” Nurse Pyre responded, much to my horror.
“Well, when you are done feeding him I am ready to bring him to his cage,” Ms. Jensen said, “He’ll be spending some time there in his diaper—give him some time to think about his selfish ejaculations. By the way, how long should we let him go between changings do you think?”
“Well, that completely depends on how humiliating Ms. Panington wants it to be. I suspect that he will be filling the diaper within the next hour. The longer he remains in a wet or messy diaper, the more he should learn his lesson, don’t you think?” Nurse Pyre responded.
“Oh, yes. Almost forgot. Do you have those kneed pads so that he can crawl back to his room. We don’t want his knees all scraped up. And those bondage mittens? Ms. Panington wants them on him before I leave him in the cage,” Ms. Jensen asked Nurse Pyre.
“Sure. Anything else?”
“Umm, how ’bout if you leave the mess on his face until I get him to his room. You never know who we might meet in the hallway. And I love the onesie. Nice touch.”
It was crystal clear to me what was going to happen. I would be crawling back to my room on my hands and knees, diapered and covered only in this transparent plastic onesie, green mess from the feeding on my face, then I was to be locked in a cage like an animal. With the laxative and diuretic there is no way I could avoid filling the diaper I was wearing. The only question was how long they would make me remain in my soiled diaper before I got changed. If I wasn’t already dependent on these women, I would be even more so. I would have to depend on them to unlock my cage, feed me, and unlock my plastic pants and onesie so that my diaper could be changed. I couldn’t explain it, but as the two women talked about their plans for me, my little cock had grown and was pushing into the soft cotton of the diaper. Why?
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