Posted on Fri, 22 March 2019
Hi Mr Washington,
You can call me Celeste. It’s not my real name, but it’s what I go by in at events. My daddy and I are big fans of your site. Daddy hasn’t gotten a lot of ideas from watching your videos. Some I like more than others.
Today, I’m writing to you to detail the punishment I earned this morning. Part of that punishment is to write this email, in the hopes you will publish it, so everyone will know about my shame. Daddy says he will take five demerits off the calendar if it’s good enough to be published. Hopefully you can help me out. 😉
Perhaps I should start by detailing our dynamic. Daddy and I have been together for almost three years and we have a full DDlg relationship. He is always in charge and I am expected to follow the rules or risk punishment. I wear diapers to bed every night and during the day when appropriate. Typical domestic discipline rules apply, but I have a lot of freedom to do the things I want to do.
Anyway, today Daddy had a lunch planned with some people he works with. They are narcissistic buttheads though, so I hate doing anything with them, but Daddy relies on me to distract him from their tedious nature. When I hope up, I just wasn’t feeling it. My anxiety was high and I dreaded the thought of dealing with them. To get out of it, I told Daddy I was sick and had a fever. Obviously, he suspected I was lying, but he’d always let me get away with it before. Not this time.
After checking my forehead, he insisted I didn’t feel hot and wanted to make sure. I was still in my nighttime diaper, so he pulled it down to my thighs and snaked the rectal thermometer into my bottom. When it read normal, he set it aside and started to spank me. Normally, I enjoy being spanked but he went full force from the first swat and I had no warm up to work into it. It hurt a lot and I started flailing, but he kept at it until I broke down crying. Then he inserted the thermometer again. My diaper was pulled back up and he grabbed a pair of cuffs from the nightstand and locked my hands together behind me. My face was pressed into the time out corner and I was warned not to move or make a sound until he said so.
When my tears subsided, I realized I desperately needed to have a poo. I always do that in the morning, but usually right after breakfast. Glancing out of my peripheral vision, I saw the empty mini-enema sitting on the night stand and realized he didn’t take my temperature the second time.
Daddy knows I hate messing my diapers. The idea of it has always been exciting, but the reality is gross and uncomfortable. Regardless, a few minutes later I found myself desperate. I was so tempted to beg him to let me use the toilet, but I knew it wouldn’t work. I contemplated using my safeword, but that would be even worse. Part of our dynamic is that if I use my safeword for anything other than actual emergencies, I’m banned from diapers for two weeks. It’s something we came up with together, because the dynamic is so important to both of us and I was afraid I would use it too easily.
I tried to hold it as long as I could, hoping he would let me use the toilet after my obligatory hour in the corner. It wasn’t working though and I lost control when I tried to release a little gas. I was so embarrassed that I started crying again, which only made me lose all control. I straight broke down as I squatted down and filled my diaper. Daddy came rushing over because he thought I was falling down and he held me while I finished doing my business. When I calmed down, he removed the cuffs and held me for another fifteen minutes.
My punishment wasn’t finished though. Daddy told me that he had to go to his lunch, so I had a choice. I could clean myself up and get the belt when he got home – or I could stay in my messy diaper until he came home to change me and all would be forgiven. Then he grabbed his coat and left the house.
The belt is my most hated spanking implement, so I decided to stay in the messy diaper. After four hours, however, the itch became overpowering and I gave in and showered. Hoping he would show some compassion, I shot a video on my phone with the time stamp turned on to show him I was still in the messy diaper after four hours and was only cleaning up because it felt like I was getting a rash.
It didn’t work. He checked for signs of a rash and found nothing, so he pushed me over the foot board of our bed and gave me fifty strokes of the belt. Then he put a plug in my bottom to “prevent accidents” and made me sit at the table with the knobby mat under me. The knobby mat is a rubber mat designed for wiping mud off your shoes. It feels like sitting on gravel, which really does a number on a well spanked butt. I have to stay here until I finish this email and send it off.
Edit #1: I rewrote parts of this twice already because Daddy didn’t think I was thorough enough.
Edit #2: I had to fix several spelling errors without spell check and Daddy wouldn’t tell me what they were. Took me thirty minutes to find them.
Thank you and I hope you can publish this.
Celeste