Not Only Do You Understand That The Paying Is Going To Escalate, You Are Counting On It.

From:   Lover Of Gorgeous2

Hardcore bondage in full latex catsuit Charlotte Sartre

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When I was thinking that her boyfriend is a friend of mine. I am pretty sure that she will locked him. Not sure that my friend still be one friend again. 😕

N and p and L and barry (Part 1)

[First instalment of my account of L's visit on Wednesday and Thursday of this week]

Barry is funny. L wasn’t kidding when she said he was nervous. OMG! In the restaurant at lunch he spilt water on the table, accidentally poured far too much pepper on his lunch and dropped salad all over the floor. Mucky pup.

I pretended to be annoyed on L's behalf and told him that if he wasn’t more careful, L would make him get down and eat his discarded lettuce off the floor. She hadn't actually said anything about that and I'm sure she had no intention of doing it, but he still apologised profusely to both of us.

Walking back to my place (Ladies in front, boys three steps behind) I waited until we were on a quiet stretch of road, then said, quite loudly, to L:

“So L, when we get in, shall we have the boys strip for action?”

“I think so”, she replied, equally loudly, “And put their collars on”. We looked back, grinning, mainly at Barry. We were just in time to see his head turn into a ripe tomato. I should add that he smiled back at us, so he was clearly excited as well as embarrassed. p was smiling too, no doubt at Barry’s reaction.

As soon as we got in and closed the door behind us, I told both boys to strip off, put their clothes in the top of the hall cupboard and then join me and L in my living room on hands and knees.  We flounced off and sat on my sofa, leaving the door open so we could still just about see them changing.  

Barry was ready first, but started waiting for p instead of coming straight in. I pointed this out to L, who called out to him to hurry. The sound of His Mistress’s voice had an immediate effect. He stopped waiting for p, dropped to the floor and came scurrying in to L like a giant insect with a big red head.

“Good boy!” said L, reaching forward to attach his collar, which wasn’t a fancy metal one like p’s, but an old style leather one with studs. I don’t know if she tied it too tight, but his face stayed red after that. p came in shortly afterwards, padding along like a faithful old hound and holding his head up for me to lock on his own, far more shiny and stylish collar.

“Now”, announced L, “N has suggested that we should let you two out of your chastity devices. Do you think you will be able to control yourself, Barry?”

Barry assured L that he would and she reached in her purse and pulled out the key to unlock him. I gave p a little kick in the side and asked him if he would be able to control himself too. Naturally, he assured me he would and I took his key off my bracelet and unlocked him.

Both cocks looked all squashed up and sad when they were first released, like a couple of little animals in hibernation. It was okay. I knew they would soon wake up. I held my right foot out for p to kiss and thank me for his release. I saw Barry looking out of the corner of his eye.

L flashed her dark eyes at him and gave him the gentlest of slaps. I have to say this for L, she does have beautiful eyes. I always think she looks a bit Spanish. She poked out her podgy foot and Barry kissed it, apologetically. She looked across at me and smiled. She was doing well and I was proud of her.

“When did he last come?” I asked, in my usual, bashful way. L looked at Barry for the answer. She really seem to control him with those eyes.

“Sunday 26 May” he volunteered, immediately. Boys always know exactly. He probably could have given me the time, too.

“Oh, quite recently then”, I teased. “He’s not due for a release for ages”. Barry looked to L in alarm, but she just stared back at him as if to say “What?”

“I hope you’ve not been secretly wanking again,” I added. Now there was panic in his eyes. Again, he looked to L, who just looked back as if to say “Well, have you?”

“Honestly, L, I’ve not, I wouldn’t, I learned my lesson –“ he jabbered. L laughed.

“Don’t panic, pet, N is only teasing”.

L asked me the same question about p. I gestured to him to answer her.  

“Friday, 24 May”.

“So he won’t be coming for a while either, will he?" I commented. "Now what shall we play first?”

“How about ’horsey’?” suggested L, much to my surprise. This must be something she likes doing with Barry, because she didn’t get it off me. .It’s not something I have done much with p because he is bony and not very comfortable to ride. He is also prone to back pain. Still, one must defer to guests, so I agreed. Except that I suggested we swop slaves!

Barry is quite broad and squat and makes quite a good horse. The sight of p, straining under Big L, however, was something else! If he thought he had back pain before, it was nothing compared to what he must have now. I suppose I shouldn’t laugh, but what the hell? I am a cruel, imperious Mistress and my slave is there to suffer for my amusement (and all that).

In fairness, p made a valiant effort – he always does his best, bless him – but L was just too heavy. I thought she was going to break his spine. She used her crop on him – yes, she brought her own – but she was flogging a dead slave. Meanwhile, Barry was ferrying me around the living room like an elephant carrying a little boy. I gave him a few strokes of the crop, but it wasn’t really necessary, he was quite speedy.

I enjoyed it much more than I thought I would, even after we changed ends at half-time and I took my turn on p, who was sagging in the middle and a bit puffed out. He did recover, though, especially after a few liveners across the rump and Barry wasn’t quite so sprightly carrying his own Mistress around. L obviously liked this as both horse and rider worked very well together.

We tried a few variations of this game before we finally decided to rest the horses, the best one probably where we laid biscuits (Oreos) down on the floor and the boys had to find and eat them as we went round. Obvs Barry and L won hands down, though I suspect L may have helped out with the biscuit consumption.

Barry’s reward was to kiss our arses; p’s penalty was a kick in the nuts (or rather several). Barefoot, not shod, as I own those nuts. L declined to participate, though she agreed to give him half a dozen strokes of the crop instead. I made sure he expressed his undying gratitude for both.

N x

[End of Part 1]

[Top and bottom pics from Men are Slaves, middle from Goddess Kitra.com]

Power move: humping and grinding a boy’s butt in the doggy style position without a strap-on to assert your dominance.

yes?? yes????? hello???

Heart-Shaped Box

“Wow, this is so nice! I’m so impressed, cutie!” your babysitter said, “Did you set this all up by yourself without your Mommy helping?”

Your heart sank. All you wanted was to show Claire you weren’t a baby—you were an adult!

Claire was your newest babysitter, though you hated that term. You were so sick of these babysitters seeing you as nothing but an overgrown toddler.

So, you were determined to break the cycle with Claire. Determined to show her you were a man. And what better way to do that than a picnic date?

Sure, Mommy helped you prepare the picnic. You needed her help putting things together.

And sure, there were some setbacks to your plan. Like the messy diaper change lesson Mommy gave Claire the first day you met her. And then you listened to Mommy tell Claire all about your infantile rules and needs right in front of you.

But it didn’t matter. You’d prove to Claire you were more than some adorable, helpless pamper packer. She was so beautiful. So cool.

You had to show her you were an equal.

“You know, I’m not some helpless baby, Claire. I’m two years older than you. I can handle myself!” you said confidently.

Claire stared at you for what seemed an eternity, clearly bemused. You could tell she was searching for the right words.

She sighs deeply. “Look, Benny, don’t make this weird. This is nothing more than a fun activity with your babysitter, okay? This is not a date.”

You were prepared for this; you already practiced the perfect response. “Then why did you agree to a picnic with me? Babysitters don’t go on romantic picnics, do they?”

“Romantic? Do you really think this is romantic? Sweetie, there is nothing romantic about this! I’m not here because I’m interested in you. You know that, right? Your Mommy is paying me to be here!”

“Who cares!” you retort, brushing off her comments, “You agreed to the picnic! Obviously, you want to be here. If all you wanted to do was “babysit” then why didn’t we stay home?”

“Fine,” she hissed, “If this is how you’re going to act, then I wont feel bad telling you the truth. Want to know why I agreed? Because I pitied you. You’re 26 but you live like a toddler! I mean, come on, dude! You’re in diapers and have a Mommy!”

“But that’s just…pretend! It’s not real! I’m not an actual toddler.”

Claire laughs wildly. “Not real? Seriously? That diaper between your legs is real. The poop your Mommy wiped off your tush was definitely real. The money your Mommy is paying me is real. The list of rules and punishments I was given are real. You are a real toddler to me!”

“That’s not what I meant!” you whine.

“Honey, I don’t care what you meant. Did you honestly believe I could see you as anything else? I watched your Mommy lay you on a changing table in nothing but a poopy diaper, rip open your diaper, wipe your poop off you, sprinkle baby powder, and put you in a new diaper.”

“The whole time,” she continued, “You sucked on a paci and giggled when your Mommy told you were her ‘perfect little pamper packer.’ You squealed—literally squealed in delight—when your Mommy blew raspberries on your tummy. And then thanked your Mommy for the clean diaper.”

“I have never seen anything that pathetically adorable in my life. I cannot fathom anything less sexually attractive than that. Don’t get me wrong—it was adorable—but adorable in an ‘awwww, how precious!’ way. The only thing difference between you and a toddler is your size.”

“So, no, sweetie. This is not romantic. It’s sweet and thoughtful, yes. But in the same way a toddler I’m babysitting brings me a dandelion he picked. You’re the sweet toddler handing me a dandelion. I’ll coo and tell you I love this, just like I’d tell that toddler. But I would never, ever, consider it romantic.”

She stopped as suddenly as she started. Her words hung in the air.

“Oh, honey,” she said, rubbing your shoulder, “Don’t pout! I didn’t mean to be mean! I just wanted to be honest. Our time together will be much more enjoyable when you accept that I am your babysitter and you are the baby. Nothing more, okay?”

You try to say something. Anything to save your dignity. “B-but…”

“No buts, little one. All I want to hear from you is ‘Yes, Miss Claire!’ Got it?”

You feel your face burning in shame. “Y-yes, Miss Claire…”

“Good boy!” she cheers, “Now, let’s forget all about that, okay?”

“O-okay, Miss Claire.”

“What a cutie! Now, let’s see what your Mommy packed to eat!”

Claire opens the picnic basket, pulling out its contents. “Oh, look! Peanut butter and jelly sammies!”

“I helped make it!” you said proudly.

“Wow! Mommy’s little chef huh?”

Claire handed you a sandwich. You both ate excitedly, with Claire assuring you it was the best PB & J she’s ever had in her life.

“What do you wanna do now, cutie?” Claire asked sweetly.

As you looked up at her, all you could think about was how beautiful she was.

“Ummm,” you mumble.

“Oh, look!” Claire interrupted, “Your Mommy packed us some cake! Want some?”

“Yes please!” you answer, reaching out for the plate of cake.

As you do, a loud toot breaks the silence. Your eyes go wide in terror as you feel the unmistakable churn of your tummy.

“Uh oh!” Claire says, “Do you have a rumbly tummy, Benny?”

Your body answers for you. You grunt loudly as you push, leaning forward unconsciously to better aid the process. You feel the first wave of mess fill your diaper.

You can feel Claire staring at you. You know you’re proving her right—you’re exactly what she said you were.

“Don’t worry, Benny! Just push!” Claire says, rubbing your back, “Push all the stinkies into your diaper. That’s what it’s there for. I have everything I need to change you when you finish.”

You continue to push, struggling to empty your tummy. Finally, with one last grunt, it’s over.

“All done, Benny?” Claire coos.

“M-mhm,” you answer sheepishly.

“Benny, don’t be embarrassed! I know you can’t help it! That’s why I’m here! I’m your babysitter! And babysitters take care of poopy diapers!”

You don’t answer, face burning red.

“Oh, come here, honey,” Claire says, pointing to the changing pat laid out, “Lay down and Miss Claire will get you alllll clean!”

You obey her, feeling your mess smush against the ground.

“What did I say, Mister?” Claire said in a mock angry voice, “Don’t pout over poopy diapers or I’m gonna—” Claire starts before pulling up your shirt and blowing a series of raspberries on your tummy, “Gonna give you the giggles!”

Claire blows more raspberries. Despite every fiber of your pride resisting, you giggle. Slowly at first. But as she blows a loud raspberry, tickling your sides, you burst into uncontrollable laughter.

“There’s my happy boy!” Claire says triumphantly, “Now let’s get you out of this icky diaper!”