A FantasyThis is something I’d like to try…or something similar (btw, i put this in a couple of different experience sites, but it fits all of them)
We were at a restaurant having a nice meal to celebrate my graduation. We had a fabulous 4 course meal at my favorite restuarunt, a little romatinc fondue plae known for its wine selection. We had two bottles of wine with the meal, plus water and coffee with Baily’s before we headed across the street to the little pub to relax and enjoy some friendly chat. I had tried using the bathroom twice, but you told me to wait, so I waited. But I got really desperate drinking my beer and get up to pee. But you grabbed my arm and held me in place, telling me to wait again. I couldn’t stop myself from dancing around, pleading softly that if I didn’t go to the bathroom now I’d wet my pants. But you tell me to wait like an adult and sit down for the rest of our evening. So I do, squirming and dancing around on my bar stool as I try to keep control.
We get up to go have a smoke, taking our drinks with us. As soon as I stand up I feel my desperation increase drastically. “Please can I use the bathroom…I’m about to have an accident…I can’t wait any longer…please?” I beg softly. But your hand grasps my free arm and you drag me outside to where the other smokers are, and I shut up, concentrating solely on not wetting my pants. But it’s a losing game and as soon as I relax enough to light my cigarette, I feel my control break. My panties are soaked with pee, and then it’s running down my legs and making a puddle on the sidewalk beneath me. People near me jump away and everyone turns to look at me, shocked. Some people are disgusted, and some look like they feel sorry for me. And a few look positively aroused.
You made this happen, forced me to wait till I wet my pants. But you still scold me and tell me that I’m a bad, dirty little girl, wetting my panties like a three-year-old. When the pee finally stops trickling down my legs, you give our glasses to someone nearby and take my hand, dragging me back to the car. I can’t really understand what’s going on, but I know I like it, liked being forced to lose control and liked being yelled at. And I liked how you are dragging me to the car in my wet skirt, legs dripping with pee and soaking panties.
When we get there you pull out a towel and lie me down on it in the back seat. You force me back and into a diaper, telling me that if I can’t make it to the bathroom before wetting myself I would have to wear diapers, especially in the car. I am horrified and aroused as I am wrapped helplessly into a diaper and strapped into a harness in the backseat. I can’t move much, and you grab my hands to secure them to the door of the car with handcuffs. You leave my legs free only because there’s nothing handy in the car to attach them to.
“What are you doing?” I ask as I realize that I’m effectively locked in place.
You look at me and toss my wet skirt and panties on the floor of the backseat. “Punishing you for being such a naughty, dirty little girl,” you reply. I feel a shiver go through me as I realize how much I’m liking this game.
The harness is something similar to what I’ve seen in commercials for Nascar, and I can’t move my body away from the seat. I’m loving the feeling of being restrained and helpless, sitting in a diaper and tank-top and nothing else. I feel so naughty, and am loving my punishment. You have total control over me, and I like how it feels. You start the car and drive off, and you put my widow all the way down so that I’m even more exposed, wearing a diaper and tied up. We pass the bar and you slow down so everyone can see what you’ve done to me. The humiliation crashes over me in waves of arousal. The diaper rubs against my ***** and gets me wet. You start talking and I love the tone of authority you have.
“You’ve been very naughty tonight, disobeying me and peeing all over yourself like that. You obviously can’t be trusted to not wet your pants, so you have to wear a diaper. When you can control yourself, you can try wearing big girl pants again. But you still have to be punished for making such a mess of yourself in front of everyone like that,” You reply, leaving me to ponder what my punishment will be.
You’re driving the speed limit exactly and taking forever to get home. I’m getting really turned on from being in the restrains and I start to feel a strong need to pee again, and ask you, “How much longer is it going to take to get home? We should have been there already?”
“We are going the speed limit and taking the road suggested by the GPS. This is how long the drive should take. Also, I have to stop by the drugstore before we get home.” A whimper escapes my lips and I see you smile in the mirror. “Why? Did you need something?” I see your face in the mirror; you know I have to go to the bathroom again.
I feel my desperation growing by the minute. I can’t believe that I have to pee again after only a half-hour. I wonder how I’m going to keep myself from having another accident before we get home. I’m squirming the best I can in my restraints, and my thighs are squeezed together. We finally turn into our drugstore and you park.
“I’m just going to run in for a couple of things we need. You can stay here or come in with me as you are. Which do you prefer?” You ask. You can see I’m desperate for the bathroom, and you smile wickedly at me. “You ok, baby? You seem to be fidgeting an awful lot.” You add with a knowing smile.
“I really have to pee again. Can I go with you but wear my skirt? Please? I really have to pee,” I say, desperate but feeling so turned on by it.
“No, you can’t have your skirt. This is your punishment for peeing all over your skirt like a little girl. I can’t just let you wet yourself, let you pee all over yourself without punishment. So you can go into the store in your diaper or you can stay here, strapped in so I know you will be safe and won’t wander off. But you had better not have another accident or I will have to punish you more. Don’t pee in your diaper. You can hold it till we get home.”
I moan, then whisper, “Ok, I’ll wait for you here.” You get out of the car and head towards the entrance. I briefly wonder what you need so badly, but can’t be bothered enough to care. I’m too busy concentrating on not peeing myself again. Each time you said something like ‘wetting’ or ‘pee’ or ‘accident’ I remembered how it felt to lose control and wet myself, and I crept closer to losing control again. But the thought of wetting a diaper is still a bit strange and just…wrong. I don’t want to pee while wearing it. I’m sure I’ll make it.
Finally you get back in the car. “You didn’t have an accident in your diaper while I was in the store, did you?” You ask.
“No, but can I please use the bathroom here? I really have to go bad…please can I?” I beg.
“We’ll be home soon enough. Wait. You’re a big girl, there’s no reason for you to wet your diaper. Only little girls who can’t control themselves wet their pants and diapers,” you say, then start the car.
I whimper, but say, “Ok.” Your words made my desperation much worse, and I can almost feel the pee building up. You drive off, and I hold on, moaning and whimpering the whole time. Then you turn onto a street with speed bumps. You don’t slow down for the first one, and I am bounced up and down in my harness. I’m momentarily stunned, but that’s all I needed to lose control. I feel the area inside my diaper get hot as I pee uncontrollably.
“Noooooo,” I moan. I try to stop myself, but I have no control. I’m wetting in my diaper, filling it with warmth. I realized how good it feels, even though it also feels so wrong.
“What? What’s wrong? Tell me,” you command. I have to answer.
“I’m sorry…I couldn’t help it, the bump…I can’t stop it…I’m sorry…” I moan. I can’t say what I’ve done
“Tell me what exactly you are doing.” It’s an order, and must be obeyed.
“I’m having an accident. I’m sorry. I couldn’t help it. I’m wetting my diaper,” I say, getting a bit breathless with both horrified humiliation and naughty arousal.
“Oh my god! You couldn’t wait 4 more blocks? You are a very naughty, dirty girl. Two accidents in one night? You’re staying diapered. And your punishment will be extended.” You are breathless too, I can hear the arousal in your voice, and I like it.
I feel my pee trickle to a stop. I squish around in my newly wet diaper and decide that it’s not so bad, and defiantly hot.
We arrive at home and you take forever to unfasten me. I still have to pee some and I’m anxious to get inside before the neighbors see me. Finally I’m free, and you hand me my skirt and panties and pick up your bags. I stand up a bit shakily as the blood rushes to parts that were under my bindings. I feel a flush of wamth in my ***** and grab the diaper between my legs. But it’s just bloodflow returning to normal. I sigh in relief and let go of the diaper. But as soon as I let go I realize that I wasn’t done peeing when I stopped wetting my diaper and felt another strong urge to pee.
I start to put my skirt on, but you stopped me. “No, you have been so bad, the neighbors should see what you did. They should know what a naughty, dirty girl you are, wetting your panties and even in your diaper. Come out from behind the door and stand next to me.” Horrified, I do as I’m ordered.
But standing still is making me desperate, and I’m anxious to get inside. “Can we go inside, please?” I ask. “I’m getting cold,” I add, which is not a lie and is also making my desperation worse.
“Sure, baby, come on,” you say and you take my hand to lead me to the door. You stop and can’t seem to find your keys. You search all over but finally you say to me, “Honey, we need your keys. I only brought the car keys.”
I moan and fidget a bit as I realize my purse is back in the car. “It’s in the car, are you sure you don’t have the keys with you?” I ask, but know I’m about to be sent back to the car.
“No, I don’t have them. Here’s the car keys, just run over there and get them,” you say, and I know there’s no point in arguing. I drop my skirt and panties on the stoop and walk briskly to the car with my head down. I unlock the door and get my purse out, checking to see that the keys are there. They are, and I lock up the car and hurry back to the front door. I hand you the keys and stand next to you as you slowly open the door.
I’m finally home and inside, and I head straight for the bathroom, but you grab my arm like you did at the bar and I spin around. “What is it?” I ask in my most polite voice.
“Where do you think you’re going, young lady?” you ask me in a hard tone.
“Ummm….the bathroom? I really need to get cleaned up, and I also really need to pee,” I stammer. I wonder what’s going on and if we’re still playing his game.
“No. That all will have to wait. You need your punishment first.” I stare at you open-mouthed, wondering what you are on about, my punishment?
“What do you mean, my punishment?” I ask.
My response is to be lifted up and carried like a little girl into the living room. You put me down and sit on the couch, then pull me hard so I fall over your knee with my bottom in the air. You ***** off the dirty diaper and put it in a plastic bag and I’m starting to get scared.
Your hand decends on my bum with a hard slap. I yelp and try to jump up, but you’ve accounted for this and have my arms pulled tightly down so I can’t move from your lap. “You are to receive 10 spankings for each time you wet yourself. That’s 20 spanks. Stay still and take your punishment.”
I’m so shocked that I do just stay still while I receive two more spanks. Then I realize what’s going on, and I can’t help but squirm against your lap. I like this part too, this punishment, and my ***** is practically dripping by now. Plus my bladder is pushing against your leg and it’s becoming difficult to hold it in again. I endure and enjoy my spankings and feel your erection through your pants. I moan and start squirming as I become more and more aroused and desperate.
You finally deliver my 20th spanking and ask me, “Did you have anything to say for yourself?”
I consider my response and say “Thank you, sir, for my punishment. But may I please get up now and use the bathroom? I don’t want to have another accident.”
“Not yet. Come with me first,” you say, than you pick me up and put me on my feet. You take my hand and lead me into the bedroom. “Lie down under the covers,” you order, and I start to ob
I lie down and notice a pair of cuffs about 2/3 of the way up the mattress and another pair at the bottom of the bed. I lay down on my side, where the cuffs are, and you move lightning fast to secure first my hands and then my feet in the cuffs. You put another diaper on me now that I can’t stop you.
“I don’t need this…please, just let me go to the bathroom, and everything will be fine…” I moan, but I’m flatly ignored. I suddenly notice how tired I am and within moments I’m asleep.
You must have given me a sleeping agent, because when I wake up it’s dark throughout the apartment. I’m still bound to the bed, and you are not sleeping next to me. I’m in my diaper still, and I have to pee and want to use the toilet. But I suddenly notice that I’m in a wet diaper already. I start whimpering when I realize I must have peed while I was asleep, just like a little girl, wetting her bed. I start squirming and suddenly I start peeing in the diaper again. I can’t get up or stop myself, so I let it happen. I get sleepy again and fall asleep surrounded by a warm wetness.
When I wake up again it’s morning and you’re sitting in the chair holding a new diaper and waiting for me to awaken. You tell me that I’m to be restrained whenever you like from now on, and diapered all the time. I like the way it feels so much that I don’t realize that you are now in complete control of me and my body. But when I come to that realization a few hours later, I’m happy.