Posted on Wed, 30 May 2018
My name is Millie, a 25 year old girl, and I am sitting here wearing three bambino diapers and pink locking plastic panties. Mommy gave me a three quart enema and then used a large inflatable butt plug to make me hold it in. I have to hold it until I finish my chores. I have already washed the dishes, vacuumed the stairs and folded the laundry. My final chore is to write you this letter. My spelling is horrible, as is my grammar, but Mommy will be proofreading and helping me fix errors. I expect to be holding this enema for at least another hour. At least the majority of the cramps have passed. Now I just feel the desperate urge to defecate.
My living situation is quite unique, as you may have noticed. Mommy keeps me in diapers 24/7 and finds creative ways to punish me often. Unlike most people in similar situations, I do not have a diaper fetish. What I do have is a strong desire for desperation and public humiliation. That means I love to wet my pants in public places and act like it was an accident.
I met Mommy last year at a local fetish club. I was only at the club so I could see the reactions of other kinky people when I wet my pants in the middle of the club. After wetting myself, I intended to give the usual surprised look and excuse myself embarrassingly. However, this woman I hadn’t even noticed grabbed me by the arm and admonished me for wetting my pants and making a mess other people would have to clean up. She grabbed me by the arm and pulled me to the wall where a pile of cleaning supplies were sitting. Apparently fetish clubs have a frequent need for readily available cleaning supplies.
She handed me a handful of paper towels and a spray bottle full of cleaner. With everyone watching us, she grabbed my ear and dragged me back to the puddle I had left on the floor. Using her grip on my ear to direct me, she pushed me onto me knees in front of the puddle. I soaked up the urine with the handful of paper towels and then sprayed the cleaner on the same spot. The cleaner was then wiped up with another handful of paper towels. With her hand still firmly gripping my ear, she led me to the garbage can to deposit to the spoiled towels.
As uncomfortable as it was, the humiliation of this public spectacle was turning me on something fierce. It just got better when she led me to a nearby chair and removed my wet jeans and panties. Naked from the waist down, she bent me over her lap and began to spank me. I struggled at first, but she had a firm grip on my right wrist and twisted it painfully into the center of my back until I stopped struggling. I lost count of how many times she slapped my ass, but she continued until tears began to flow from my eyes.
After the spanking, she stood me up and led me to the corner of the room. She told me she would be back in a moment and if I moved I would be spanked much harder. I was actually quite frightened at this point, as I had just been spanked against my will in front of a room full of strangers and nobody lifted a finger to stop her. I had no way of knowing if they would even let me leave and I chose not to risk further punishment by attempting it.
After the shock and pain of the spanking passed, I began to contemplate what had happened and realized I was turned on beyond belief. Being spanked was a painful experience, but the thought of being spanked in front of all these people was the biggest turn on ever.
I stood there for probably twenty minutes with my reddened ass on display for everyone to see before she returned and pulled me from the corner. She told me it took a little longer than expected to find the supplies she needed as she pulled me by my ear once again to a nearby padded table. She helped me up onto the table by pulling my ear painfully and ordered me to lie on my back. Once I was lying down, she cuffed my wrists above my head and pulled a strap across my chest and fastened it.
Next she moved to the foot of the table and told me to lift my ass up. I looked down and saw her holding two adult diapers. I refused, so she grabbed my legs and lifted them with one hand. I struggled for a moment, but a firm swat on my ass stifled that protest. The diapers were placed under my ass and then pulled up between my legs and fastened tightly around my waist.
Once she was certain the diapers were secure, she moved to my side and explained that if I insisted on wetting my pants like a baby I would be treated like a baby. She then unfastened the restraints and led me to the door. At the door she handed me my keys and told me my pants and panties were in the wash and I could pick them up the next day at noon. If I wished to take this further, I should still be wearing the diapers.
The door was then opened and I was pushed out onto the street wearing only a tank top and double thick diapers. She had kept my wet clothes to prevent me from covering the diapers and I had to ride the bus home dressed this way.
I debated with myself whether I would keep the diaper on all the way home, but the excitement I felt from the glares and chuckles of people on the bus convinced me I wanted to see where it would go. On the trip back to the club I wore a long skirt to cover the diapers. They were soaked at this point and I really needed to poop, but I was certain I could hold it until after this meeting.
At noon exactly, I rang the bell at the front door of the club. A few moments later She answered the door with a smile and invited me inside. Once I was inside, she lifted my skirt to see if I was wearing the diaper. She seemed pleased that I was and removed the skirt altogether.
She invited me to sit on a nearby couch and she seated herself next to me. We talked for quite a while about my desires and how I felt about what had happened the night before. After an hour or so of conversation, I desperately needed to poop and requested use of her restroom. She denied my request and told me I was wearing my bathroom.
I gave her a funny look when I realized she expected me to mess in the diaper. Her reaction was to grab me by the ear once again and drag me across the room to the pillory. She placed my head into the neck hole and insisted my put my hands in the corresponding holes. When I delayed, she twisted my ear painfully and I immediately put my wrists in place. The upper section was quickly lowered and locked, trapping in a bent over position. She told me I would be staying there until she was satisfied I had fully emptied my bowels and then walked away.
As desperately as I needed to go, I couldn’t bring myself to mess myself. The bent over position wasn’t helping. After an hour in the pillory, my lower back was aching and the cramps in my bowels were overwhelming. I knew it had to happen eventually, but I simply couldn’t get my body to do it just yet.
Nearly two hours after being locked into this cruel device, I heard her footsteps on the hardwood floors. She walked up behind me and pulled back the waistband of the diaper to check for a mess. She was clearly surprised that I had yet to mess and commented that I would need some pretty severe reverse potty training.
Next, I heard the unmistakable sound of someone putting on a latex glove and then felt her pulling aside one of the legbands of the diaper. After making a big enough gap to reach my asshole, I felt her press something small into my hole and squeeze out a small amount of liquid. I later learned this was a bisacodyl sodium mini-enema. The diaper was put back in place and she pulled it up at the waist to make sure it was tight.
Within a minute, the cramps went through the roof. I decided to once again try to push it out. When I bore down and pushed with all my might, the full load that was in colon suddenly emptied into the waiting diaper. The initial release wasn’t all though. The mini-enema intended for me to release everything and release I did. Wave after wave of effluent escaped my ass and filled the diaper to capacity.
She left me there for a while to ensure I had emptied my bowels completely. When she returned, she pulled up a chair and sat near my head. She explained what would be expected of me if we made this a permanent thing and told me what I could expect in return. As uncomfortable as I was, my desire for public humiliation was too strong and I agreed to her terms.
Since then, I have been her diapered ‘daughter’. I am publically humiliated in her club nearly every night and often endure other, more public shows. I am not her slave, but I am expected to obey. More like an errant child than a submissive though. I love it.