To Outsiders, The Act Of Licking The Dirt From A Woman's Shoes Would Seem Degrading, But For A Submissive

Possible Application for our Modular Bed Segufix Set!

Record me… not to blackmail me, but to remind me how much of a slut I am for you and how happy it makes you to see me completely surrender to your desire.

Today's release is postponed. No, no reason. Your behavior is adequate for release. I just like to do this to you. Because I can.

Dommes remind your submissive that he will be serving you for the rest of his life.

Submissives love that kind of finalty... it gives him a sense of security.

He loves knowing his place.

Let him know that he is yours. And that he's not going anywhere.

It's a good idea to make friends with others in a FLR, so that he can meet other subs that have been owned for 10-15 or 20 years.

Once owned, always owned.

Remind him. He will be grateful.

Part of the standard Asbethserilian training for slavegirls involves maintain the same submissive pose for long periods showing minimal to no motion at all.

Chains and leashes are placed on the slave not so much to prevent  an escape attempt (at this point of her training a slavegirl’s spirit is usually so broken that even thinking of being “set free” can cause her to faint from fear and despair) but rather to make sure the required pose is kept as the leads attached to the slave collar are connected to machinery registering any significant shift in the slavegirl balance or to a Governess’ wrist for the very same reason.

Should’ve Said No

The early afternoon sun trickles into your room, easing you awake. Your thick diaper crinkles gently as you stretch, your toes rubbing against the railing.

You’re warm despite not wearing anything but your diaper. Mommy never put you down for naps in anything but a diaper.

You stare at the door for a few minutes, hoping Mommy comes to get you soon. But a delicious smell wafts into your room, setting off an adorable series of rumbles in your tummy. It smells familiar, though you can’t place where.

Your hunger gets the better of you. Surely Mommy won’t mind if you get out of bed this one time?

You slowly lower your crib's railing and swing your legs down, not paying the slightest attention to your diaper on the brink of leaking. Your diaper hasn’t been your concern for months.

Your diaper crinkles loudly as you head to the kitchen, foreclosing any hope of moving around silently. But it didn’t matter. You want to find Mommy anyway.

The delicious smell grows strong as you turn the corner to the kitchen, expecting to find Mommy cooking lunch.

It wasn’t Mommy. You stop dead in your tracks—terrified of the woman sitting at the kitchen table. She was the last person in this world you wanted to see.

Especially in nothing but a drooping, soggy diaper.

“Hey, buddy! How was your nappypoo? You looked so adorable sleeping in your crib! I can see why you need those diapers! It wasn’t that soggy when I checked it earlier!”

You didn’t answer. How could you?

“Did you make it stinky? Is that why you’re out of your crib without permission?”

You shake your head meekly.

“Well, just because I’m not your Mommy doesn’t mean your rules don’t apply. Are you allowed to be out of your crib?”

You shake your head again.

“No, kiddo. I asked you a question. Answer it.”

“No,” you whisper.

She smiles. “That’s right. You stay in your crib until an adult lets you out. And did an adult let you out?”

“No,” you whisper again.

“Then why are you out of your crib?”

You shuffle nervously. Your diaper crinkles merrily each time you move.

“Did you smell my famous blueberry waffles?”

You should have known. That’s what that smell was.

Five years ago, you woke up to the same smell—though the circumstances couldn’t have been more different.

Back then, she was your girlfriend. That night had been the first time you ever slept together.

“Want some?” she asks sweetly, “I know you love them. Come sit down. I’ll fix you up a plate.”

You don’t move. Your eyes never leave the floor.

“No need to be shy, silly. We can talk about your punishments for sneaking out after you eat. Come on, eat ‘em while they’re hot.”

You slowly head to the table.

She playfully pats your diaper as you reach the chair. “There’s a good boy!” she coos.

A loud squelch escapes your diaper as you sit causing her to erupt in giggles. “Stop! That’s adorable!”

A plate of blueberry waffles is put in front of you. “Oh wait!” she says, “I almost forgot!” She grabs a knife and cuts your waffles into bite-size pieces. “There, all better! Eat up!”

“I…I need a fork,” you ask.

“Fork?” she answers cheerfully, “No, you don’t, silly! Just use your hands!”

You sigh, grabbing a piece. They’re just as good as you remember.

Last time you had these, you told her you loved her. She did, too. You conveniently left out the part that you were also fucking her best friend.

She smiled as you ate. “Yummy, aren’t they?”

“Mmh,” you answered between a bite.

By the time you finish, your tummy is heavily protruding out. She gasps at the sight. “So cute, little guy! Much better with a belly full of nummies, huh?”

You look down, realizing what she’s talking about. You blush deeply, trying to suck it in.

“Don’t be embarrassed! I think it’s adorable!” she says, pinching your tummy, “Besides, impressing women should be the last thing on your mind!”

You feel your diaper growing warm, looking down at it reflexively. Your face burns in utter humiliation.

She laughs again. “You deserve this, you know. You deserve your incontinence. You deserve to lose your adulthood. You deserve never being with another woman in your life.”

A heavy, unbearable silence hangs over the room.

“I….I’m sorry…”

“Sweetie, I didn’t come here for an apology. I don’t care if you’re sorry. You got the life you deserve.”

She doesn’t give you a chance to explain or argue your case.

“I hope it sucks, little boy. I hope it sucks losing all your freedom and autonomy. I hope it sucks spending the rest of your life in diapers. And I hope it sucks seeing beautiful women knowing you’re nothing but some pathetic baby to them. You thought you were such a big man…you’ll never feel like a man again.”

You stand up, wanting to run as far away from her as possible. As you do, your diaper droops dangerously low, stopping you from running.

“Where do you think you’re going, mister?”

Two minutes later, you’re hiding your face with a stuffy on the changing table.

“What’s it like, little one, having a beautiful woman about to touch your special parts?”

She rips your first diaper tab.

“But knowing it has nothing to do with big boy fun?”

Your second tab rips.

“Because she’s not there for your pleasure, is she?”

Your third tab rips.

“No, she’s changing your very thick, very soggy diaper!”

Your fourth tab rips.

“Yes, she is!”

Your diaper is pulled back, cold air rushing into your exposed parts.

She giggles. “Awwwww, hi little cutie! Don’t worry, you’ll be back safe in a diaper in a jiffy!”

She grabs some wipes, still giggling.

“Isn’t this better than fucking my best friend?” She says wiping you, “I bet it feels so good getting clean!”

She throws the wipes away.

“All clean! Isn’t this better than icky orgasms? Just a few wipes and done!”

She grabs the baby powder, holding a few feet above you.

“Time for powder! Doesn’t it smell like babyhood?”

A comical amount of powder is dumped on you.

“I want you to smell soooo clean! Because once the laxatives in your waffles hit, you’re gonna smell like poopy!”

She wipes in the powder.

“Don’t look so sad, silly! After you poop your diaper for me you’ll get right back on this table and you’ll get another few wipes! Isn’t that fun?”

She pulls up your next diaper.

“Bye bye little guy! I’ll see you in a bit when your covered in poopies!”

She tapes your diaper and pats it proudly. As she does, powder poofs out.

“There, all clean in a new diaper!”

“Can…can I have a shirt, please?” you ask.

“No, honey. I think I’ll keep you in just a diaper for now. Especially if you’re due for a poopoo.”

You huff dejectedly but don’t argue.

“Oh don’t pout! We’re gonna have fun! Your mommy tells me you have the cutest Baby Shark dance! Why don’t you show me?”

“I…no thank you.”

“I wasn’t asking, silly. Besides, you loved taking me to the club! And when are you going to get a chance to dance for a girl again?”