Making Them Sit Between Your Legs While You Lazily Get Them Off And Every Time They Twitch Or Squirm

It was only a month ago that Angie had joined the company and was assigned the desk adjacent to Jack’s. She seemed nice and polite enough, while also being efficient and skilled at her job. A perfectly acceptable work partner.

She did though have one habit that he found… distracting. Whenever she would make casual conversation with him she had this habit of turning toward him, her sleek, toned leg swaying in a rhythmic, mesmerizing way.

Not wanting to risk being called to HR Jack did his best to avert his gaze and look away when she spoke to him. Unfortunately, she had this way about her… an authoritative demeanor… that made it difficult.

All it took was for Angie to say, “Jack? I’m talking to you… look at me,” in her soft, yet assertive tone of voice. Just a few words and he would find himself looking her way again, and without fail his gaze would inevitably drift back to the captivating sway of her leg.

Within a few days of working with her Jack found his mind beginning to drift with thoughts of her… inappropriate thoughts… fantasies of what it might be like to be with her.

Even though he found them to be unnerving in a way her couldn’t quite put his finger on Jack began to look forward to their casual chats.

There was something about the way she spoke to him… her choice of words… the cadence… the silky tone of her voice. He found it to be mesmerizing, as if Angie’s voice was weaving around him and drawing him in.

There were times when he found himself zoning out, like he was hearing her voice her but not the actual words she was saying. Instead he found himself gazing at her legs, his mouth hanging open, his mind disoriented… dazed… empty… and unwittingly now fully under Angie’s control.

He nodded mindlessly as her voice softly urged, “That’s it, Jack…. look at my legs…. watch them… they’re so sexy… they turn you on, don’t they?… you can’t look at them without getting hard… you can’t think about them without getting hard… you can’t think about me without getting hard…”

Day after day her suggestions continued, drawing him in deeper, becoming bolder, strengthening her hold over him until Jack was utterly defenseless against her.

Now, all that could save him were those times when Angie was merciful, flipping the switches and triggers in his mind in such a way that would allow him a chance to be productive at work and offer him a respite from the state of near constant arousal in which he now found himself.

But, the rest of the time?

Jack was a wreck.

And it wasn’t just the dreams when he’d wake up in a sweat, feverishly aroused, achingly hard, night after night cruelly waking from his dream just as Angie was about to fulfill his fantasy and give him the orgasm he so desperately needed. When without fail Jack would wake a moment too soon, deprived of his relief, so desperately frustrated that even his own efforts to find release proved to be futile. Instead, he was left to find his way back to sleep still desperate… aching… mindlessly whimpering Angie’s name.

It was also his conversations in the office with her. Those moments of feeling as if he were zoning out as they chatted began taking on a different tone. More erotic. More visual. And in a surreal way, more life-like.

The first time had left him feeling dazed, disoriented, and even embarrassed. As he listened to Angie’s voice he found himself losing focus, his mind drifting off to a fantasy in which he imagined he were kneeling before her, kissing her feminine polished toes, working his way up her sleek, sexy legs, adoringly worshipping them…. becoming so turned on… so hard…

Only to feel himself snapping out of his fantasy at the sound of her voice. “Jack?…. sweetie?… everything ok? We’re done talking now and need to get back to work, okay?”

He was mortified. Had he said anything? Oh god, had she noticed his face was flushed and his cock was straining against his pants? Fortunately, apparently he was safe, Angie seemed oblivious to his plight and was already back at work.

To his dismay these occurrences became more frequent. More erotic. More vivid.

The next time Jack imagined Angie’s voice urging him on even further, instructing him, guiding him. His mouth drifting higher up her calves… to her shapely thighs… her fingers entwining in his hair, nudging him higher… until he was between her thighs, kissing, licking, sucking… until it was as if his senses were being overwhelmed by the heat, scent, and taste of creamy female arousal.

But as suddenly as the fantasy began it was gone and once again he was sitting at his desk, frazzled, Angie’s voice bringing him back to reality.

Jack was at the point where just walking into his office and seeing Angie was unnerving, his cock stiffening, his mind whirring with a sense of helplessness as he wondered whether or not today he would again be slipping into one of those dream-like fantasies when they chatted.

They began to take on a new twist, not only did Jack imagine himself worshiping and pleasuring his work partner, but she was doing the same for him. Her soft hand stroking him… her tongue teasing him… the only difference was that unlike when he imagined licking Angie to orgasm, Jack always snapped back to reality before he could reach his.

It was becoming maddening to him. Was he losing his mind? Why did this keep happening to him?? Should he set up a session with a therapist??

And why in god’s name could he no longer get all the way to an orgasm?? Why did every fantasy, every dream, every hallucination always end a moment too soon and leave him aching in frustration?

Finally, one day after Jack broke free from one of his surreal fantasies he sat at his desk trembling… lightheaded… so disoriented and aching to cum so badly he thought he might break down and cry.

He began softly muttering to himself to the point that Angie called over to him and asked, “Jack? Are you okay?”

In a soft, weak voice he answered, “N-no…. I’m not. Something’s wrong with me… I… I can’t tell you what it is… but, something’s wrong. I… I think I need to make an appointment to see someone.”

To his surprise, he watched as Angie rose from her desk and approached him, standing behind him. She began speaking in that calm, mesmerizing voice that immediately caused his mind to open to her.

This time though, rather than rendering his mind completely malleable and taking him deep, she allowed a small portion to remain aware, just enough to keep him barely tethered to reality.

Gently raking her fingers through his hair she purred, “You’re fine, Jack… nothing’s wrong with you. I’ve got you.”

“I… I don’t understand?” His voice was soft, distant, but still coherent.

“You don’t need to understand, you just need to know that you’re mine now. All I’m doing is giving you what you want. I could tell the first day we met… how easily your mind surrendered to my will.”

“So… this… is real??”

Laughing softly Angie purred, “Well that depends on what you want. Do you want it to be real, Jack? Do you want more of what you’ve been experiencing?”

“Oh god….,” he moaned in excitement.

Pressing her lips to his ear, she whispered, “Do you want to be mine, Jack?… my toy?… my helpless, little plaything?”

“God yes!” he groaned.

Chuckling softly, Angie purred, “Perfect…. then, cum for me, Jack. Cum for me now.”

To his utter disbelief, a moment later a wave of pleasure washed over him and he felt himself cumming uncontrollably, releasing weeks worth of pent-up cum into his pants.

As one of the most intense, and without a doubt the most unexpected orgasm seemed to go on forever Angie’s voice cooed in his ear, “That’s it… don’t try to fight it, you can’t… cum for me…. don’t stop… give me all of it…. every… last… drop.”

When the waves finally subsided, Angie couldn’t help but smile at the sight of the dazed, disbelieving, and totally spent man. Kissing his ear softly she murmured, “You are sooo mine, Jack… and this is only the beginning.”

"One of the sexiest things about her, is that she is a ton of fun to have around "

-Gerard-

All Part of the Plan, Ch. 1

This caption is part of a series I'm lucky enough to write with the great @boysrbabies! Hope everyone enjoys it as much as me!

“Babe, look at me! You know I love you, you don’t have to be so embarrassed! It’s just a diaper!”

Easy for you to say.

I never thought I’d be in this situation. But here I am, being comforted by my girlfriend after putting me in my first diaper since I was potty trained.

It’s so humiliating.

This diaper, this horrible conversation is the culmination of the most embarrassing two weeks of my life. I have no idea how it got to this point. It all happened so fast.

All I know is ever since she woke me up that first morning in a puddle, my bladder control has cratered. I haven’t woken up to a dry bed since. Stripping the sheets and making the walk of shame to the laundry room became horribly routine.

As humiliating as it is waking up to a wet bed—and boy, is it humiliating—it was just the beginning. My life got much, much worse.

Turns out, peeing yourself in the middle of a bar, surrounded by your friends, makes bedwetting seem fun. I didn’t even know I had to go. One minute, I was sitting down, drinking a beer. The next, I’m looking around, wondering who spilled their beer.

At least, I thought someone spilled until I realized my lap wasn’t cold—it was warm. If I know anything about beer, it’s that beer is not warm. And then it hit me: I, ostensibly an adult, just peed my pants in public.

My girlfriend seemed to put the pieces together before I did. Maybe she saw the look of terror on my face. I don’t know. Luckily for me, she sprang into action, “accidentally” spilling her drink on me to give me an excuse for my now-soaked jeans before telling our friends that she was a little too tipsy, giving us a reason to leave.

I expected her to be angry or embarrassed on the drive home, but she wasn’t. Quite the opposite, really. To be honest, she almost seemed…excited? I don’t know. My wet pants were all I could think about.

She spent the entire drive assuaging my crushed ego, convincing me what had happened was not embarrassing, that it was just one accident, and that it was probably just stress. She promised she’d do whatever it took to help.

I have no idea what I’d have done without her there for me. She never complained about waking up to a wet bed, assuring me that it wasn't a big deal and that she would never judge me for any medical problem like bedwetting or daytime accidents. She will love me no matter what.

She was her cheerful, loving self even after my accident in her brand-new car. She calmly assured me that she understood it was an accident. She would take care of it; nothing to worry about. I shouldn’t worry or feel bad, she loved me all the same. Though she did make me sit in the back seat after.

But even with her promises that she'd love me no matter how many more accidents I had, I couldn’t shake the terror growing inside me. How could she love me when I’m suddenly peeing myself like an unpotty-trained toddler? She deserves to be with a man, not a baby.

I knew exactly what would happen if I didn’t get my accidents under control. And it terrified me.

She never said the word “diapers,” but I knew what she meant when she said we would have to find a “solution” if my accidents continued. As loving and supportive as she was, there was a definite tone of finality when she said it. She was serious. I’d be in diapers very soon unless something drastically changed—and fast.

Which brings me to the diaper she just finished taping on me.

As always, she knew what happened before I did. One second, I was watching the movie, the next I heard: “Babe, you had another accident, didn’t you?”

My cheeks burned so red you could have lit a cigarette off it.

She sighed, as if summoning her strength. “I know you’ve been trying so hard to stop having accidents, but it doesn't look like they’re stopping anytime soon. It’s time you start wearing diapers, babe.”

I sat there, too stunned to speak, as she went into our bedroom without another word. She returned a minute later with the most gut-wrenching armful of supplies I’ve ever seen.

I could have sworn there was a hint of a smile on her face, though admittedly, I was distracted by the thick, poofy diaper in her hand. But it wasn’t just a diaper. She also had a changing pad, wipes, powder, and rash cream.

She was prepared for this…

Thoughts raced in my mind. Why did she have everything ready? When did she even get everything?

"Down on the changing pad," she demanded, the authority in her voice unmistakable. She wasn’t asking.

My pants were off in a flash, wordlessly and unceremoniously stripped away.

She went to work putting me in a diaper with ruthless, expert efficiency. Everything she did was purposeful—this was not her first time putting a diaper on someone.

The implication terrified me.

“All done, baby!” she said proudly, “is your diaper comfortable?”

I’ve never been less comfortable in my life. And did she just call me baby?

She playfully tapped my diaper, forcing my attention to it. The diaper was much thicker than I ever expected, every crinkle booming in my mind as I nervously fidgeted.

How did it come to this?

There was no dignity in this position. Laying on my back, diaper fully exposed, with my girlfriend towering over me, kneeling between my legs and admiring her handiwork.

“Awww, don’t look so grumpy! You’re going to love your diapies, you'll see!”

Something about the way she said diaper—and the triumph in her voice—filled me with dread.

Did she want this?

are you gentle with your new locked boys? how do you not scare them off as you click the lock shut?

I am gentle with my newly locked boys, but by that token, I’m gentle with all my boys. I live to hold their hands, rub their backs, kiss their tears and whisper in their ears. They don’t run away when the lock clicks shut because they can feel my warmth, my affection for them (oh, and they know I’m the only one with the keys).

Tonight I had a newish boy over for dinner. I made him lemongrass citrus salmon with ginger glaze and dumplings. After dinner we cuddled on the couch and I traced the outline of his chin and jaw while nibbling on his ear and running my hands through his hair for an hour or two. I asked him to tell me all about his greatest triumphs and fears while I tweaked his nipples under his shirt. He didn’t get unlocked and he won’t be for another week but I think he left feeling appreciated and loved.

Sydney Sweeny

Reason enough.

The Enchantress #72

Sorry I haven’t been posting as much as before. My cousin is visiting from across the ocean in Hong Kong, so I’ve been keeping busy. Here’s one to make up for the lack of content:

Hero: Hey, where did my money go? Some thief must have stolen my money pouch!

Enchantress: That is so mean, hero! Comparing me to a common thief!

Hero: Oh boy…

The enchantress strolls out from the shadows and winks.

Hero: Give me back my money, Enchantress.

Enchantress: And why would I do that, hero? That would go against my plan to have you spend the night in my luxury mansion.

Hero: Huh?

She points to a mansion by the coast at the edge of the city.

Hero: That’s YOURS?

Enchantress: Just bought it yesterday. You have no food, hero. No money to buy food or a place to rest. Shame.

The enchantress saunters over to the hero, her hips swaying.

Enchantress: Now, normally I know you would rather go without sleep and food for the night than play with me… but you are on an important quest. Lives might be at stake if you aren’t at top form tomorrow, right? And we’re in a very dangerous area… who knows who’s out there, waiting to take advantage of a hungry, sleepy hero?

The enchantress giggles at the blatant irony. The hero fidgets…

Enchantress: Come with me, hero. Spend the night at my mercy, in my enchanted mansion. Let me do whatever I wish with you tonight… I will feed you… I will make sure you’re well rested… Just surrender yourself to me.

The hero swallows, considering his options for a moment… the enchantress smirks as his composure breaks down more and more, realizing the inevitability of his decision.

* * * * *

Enchantress: Welcome to Chateau Enchantress, hero. Take your shoes off before stepping in, if you will.

Enchantress: Just drop your bag off right there in the closet. Ah! Don’t worry about the magic hand grabbing your bags and weapons. They’ll be kept safe until tomorrow. Here! Let me help you take off that coat! *Finger Snap*

Enchantress: Whoops! Looks like I took off a little more than just the coat! Sorry, dear. Force of habit. Here’s your shirt back. Oh? Having regrets are we? *chuckles* Oh, hero… that door won’t open no matter how much you jiggle that handle. You were doomed the moment you stepped through that door. Please, come and sit. This sofa was made for two.

Enchantress: See? That’s a good boy. Settle down and let me take care of you. 

Enchantress: Here! Allow me to massage those shoulders. No, no, I insist. Mmm, there we go… 

* * * * * *

Enchantress: This is the closet of which I keep some summer clothing I don’t want to clutter my actual palace with. What’s that? It’s as vast as a small house? Well, I have garnered quite the collection over the years…

Enchantress: Oops! It seems one of them has latched onto you! No, don’t fight against it, it’ll be easier to just let it take you. I’m sorry, hero. I must have left the automatic dressing spell on that one the last time I wore it.

Enchantress: No no, don’t fight the dress. Just let it latch onto you. See? It’s holding you down now because you tried to fight it! Wrapping around you, slowly inserting you into it… I’d love to help, but the sight is so mesmerizing… 

Enchantress: And… done. It’s too late, hero, stop squirming. You’ve been dressed. I dare say, that dress brings out your body much better than my own. *chuckles*

Enchantress: I… I kind of want to see what other clothes of mine you’d do well in…

* * * * * *

Enchantress: A lovely dining room, isn’t it? What’s the matter, hurry up and come on in! Don’t be shy. I promised to feed you, didn’t I? And I won’t pull any fast ones over you by serving you cheap, peasant food, either. Please, come in.

Enchantress: A sublime chandelier centered room, isn’t it? Pardon me for showing off. You must be starving. Ah! My magical aberrations bring us our meal.

Enchantress: Well? Doesn’t it look and smell gorgeous? Why do you stare as though you suspect something? The food is quite real, I assure you. There are no illusions. Let us dine.

Enchantress: What’s that? The big strong hero can’t seem to lift his fork? Like it weighs a ton, you say? Isn’t that strange? I can lift it just fine. They must be bewitched. Huh.

Enchantress: Looks like we have no choice. Let me feed you, little baby. Open wide.

Enchantress: …Come on, now. You know rebelling won’t do you any good. Open up. That’s it… good baby…

* * * * * *

Enchantress: Shh, there’s no resisting. Hmm? Oh yes, I might have put something in your food. I promised it would be real and I promised that there were no illusions, but of course I added my own special ingredients into them. 

Enchantress: Look at you, all helpless. Getting dragged into my bedroom as easily as a child. Come on, we’re almost there…

* * * * *

Enchantress: Now, now… we must get you cleaned up. You’ll find my shower room to be incredibly efficient at cleansing…

Enchantress: Let’s get those clothes off of you… Oh, you’re trying to fight me off, but it’s useless. I can slide these clothes off your squirmy body as slowly as I like… feel the elastic on your pants as it slides down your crotch… you’re helpless… oh no, if you don’t fight me off you won’t be able to stop me from touching your- *Whoops!* Too late!

Enchantress: *Giggling* Alright, enough messing about. Time to get in the bath.

Enchantress: *stripping down* Don’t think I didn’t see you watching me, hero. Don’t think that for a moment. Come on, we’re both adults. Alone. Naked. Now come with me and we’ll get cleaned together.

Enchantress: … The water is quite soothing, isn’t it? The nozzle lightly targets specific parts of both your scalp and other parts of your body to subtly soothe you. It massages, it stimulates blood flow, and it wipes away one’s worries and fight or flight instincts. 

Enchantress: And if I turn the knob from “subtle” to “intense” like so… You might as well give up on coherent thought. Oh, feel the pressure around your weak spots, vibrating in such precise ways… around your crotch, sure, but also pushing down your head, swirling around your thighs, and gently tickling your fingers… it’s okay, hero. I’ll hold you so you don’t slip.

Enchantress: My, you’re so out of it right now that I may just have to soap you up myself. *Lathers*

* * * * *

Enchantress: Yes, I know I promised that you will be well rested for tomorrow. However, the night is still young…

Enchantress: Down you go! *Shove* Lie down and smell the bed, hero. 

Enchantress: With the special herbal ingredients I put in your food, along with the sinful shower I’ve put you through, there is nothing you can do. Oh, groan for me… Just lie down and try to relax. I’ll get to you in a moment…

Enchantress: But first, you must let me get reacquainted with this rump of your… Oh, I’ve missed it so much…

Enchantress: Yes… don’t resist, hero. Don’t fight back.

Enchantress: Now let’s take off this towel… just slowly slide it off your body…

Enchantress: Now you may lie on your front. Just relax… no need to try and fight me off. It’s hopeless.

Enchantress: Try and ease up, let your mind travel into a happy place. I know you might have many warm memories in your mind to retreat to that calms you down. Wholesome memories, with your cute little princess. But I know you have room for me too, in there.

Enchantress: You’re going to remember tonight, hero. This beautiful mansion and I shall become one of your most comforting memories, keeping you warm in the most bitter of nights. You’re going to think of me and feel oh so safe, and one day you’ll come to me willingly, begging me to take you with me here again just to relive the experience. And I may just oblige…

Enchantress: Enough. Let me keep your body warm with my own, now…

* * * * *

Enchantress: You must be so exhausted… sleep now, hero. I promised you a good night’s rest, and I meant it.

Enchantress: Oh? You’re alarmed that you’re sinking into the soft, silky mattress? Don’t worry, dear. It’ll keep you comfortable and rested. 

Enchantress: Shh… Believe me, it’ll be impossible not to be resting once you’re enveloped in a soft, smooth mattress. Good night, hero. We’ll meet again soon.

Enchantress: What’s that? … . . No, you may not have your money back. 

Enchantress: Sweet dreams.

Extraordinary Ordinary Women #391