It all began when I asked Shira: “Have you been a good little girl?”
My wife had been dreading this moment for hours. Indeed, she had known about her impending mortification for days. Even so, she began to blush and cry at once. It was bad enough to be treated like a baby, but to be treated so in front of her best friend was particularly humiliating.
Mandy, on the other hand, couldn’t wait for me to begin. Shira was so very pretty, so pert and delectable, that the very idea of what I had in mind made her damp.
After a full minute without an answer, I said to Mandy in an aside: “I can see that this is one of those days that she’s going to be . . . troublesome.”
I had always kept an even tone with Shira, but even so, she had learned to carefully parse my sentences. “Naughty” or “difficult” would have been bad enough, but “troublesome” was just about at the top of the list of words that she didn’t want to hear me say. Rubbing her bottom unconsciously, she quickly tried to make up for her lapse in obedience and said “I’ve been a good girl.” Then, reluctantly trying to answer my actual query, she added: “I didn’t w-wet my, I didn’t w-w-wet, I’m dry…”
“Is that so? It seems to me that a fussy little girl, who doesn’t know how to answer a direct question, is more than a little likely to be confused about such matters.”
She should have left it there; nevertheless Mandy’s presence impelled my wife to whine: “But she’ll see . . . see everything…”
Shira’s submission had never been in any doubt, but even so, I chose to be explicit. “Mandy is here to learn how to take care of you, baby girl. See’s going to see (and do!) everything.”
Like a prisoner denied an unlikely appeal, the last of Shira’s hope had failed. Mandy would be her babysitter while I was away, and there was nothing more that she could do. Thoroughly miserable, her tears quickly swelled to sobs, then soon became full-throated wails; a tantrum.
The worst of it all was that Mandy and I ignored Shira entirely, chatting contentedly for the full five minutes that it took my baby wife to wind all the way up, and then to come back all the way down. If my wife had been an actual baby she would have had her hissy fit, been somehow distracted, and then moved on. Shira had just enough of the adult in her, though, to suffer a more lasting mortification. Yes, she had cried herself out for the moment, but even so, her tears had vented essentially nothing; her misery had yet to find an enduring release.
Reaching down, I picked my undersized wife up off the couch by her armpits, then set her on her feet and said “Lift up you dress, baby girl.”
Shira slowly complied. Regardless, she did so in a way that was unquestionably defiant and sure to earn my displeasure. Tsking, but nonetheless amused by her pointless disobedience, I said: “Silly girl, you and I both knew that I meant for you to lift your petticoats besides.” Then-all in a rush-I scooped her up into my arms and bent her backwards over the right arm of the couch, with her legs pretzeled up and over her head; her dress and petticoats puddled down upon her face, her rear end upmost in the air. This being a simple “attitude adjustment,” and not a full tilt reprimand, I began to spank Shira with nothing more than my hand. I didn’t even take down her training panties. The paddle, not to mention the strap and cane and spoon, would have to wait for another day.
Spank by spank by spank, I offered up a combination of reprimands and helpful hints. To Shira, I said things like “What have I told you about sass? You know that I won’t have any sass!” To Mandy: “You’ll note that I’m spanking little Shira on the couch without any protection, which is never a good idea unless you’ve sent her to the bathroom no more than an hour before…”
I spanked my wife for a good ten minutes. To say that she was humiliated would be a vast understatement. And as I spanked her, I discussed every aspect of her sensitive little body, just as if she wasn’t there. I talked about how often she wet her diapers, how to soothe her rashes, how to pin her in tight. Most mortifying of all, I talked about how it aroused Shira to be forced to play the baby; how her nipples got hard and pointy, how her smooth little slit got oh so damp, how-if done just exactly right-she could be made to thrash and moan uncontrollably for hours on end.
I paid particular attention to our house rules. The number one rule was that Shira should never be taken out of a diaper unless it was wet and she had an orgasm in it too. How Mandy made Shira to cum-excepting a few non-negotiable no-nos-was her own affair, but I paid particular note to the fact that I would be very disappointed if she ever let a single session go without. My baby wife needed to be trained to adore her diapers, and I was quite sure that being forcibly pleasured in them would do the trick.
Shira, of course, cried throughout. It was bad enough to be so summarily disciplined, but to be forced to submit to her best friend must have been particularly distressing.
Motioning Mandy over, I grabbed her right hand then pressed her fingers up and down Shira’s training-panty covered slit; causing my little wife to involuntarily groan. “See how juicy she is? She’ll need to be put into a thick set of diapers right away or she’ll certainly make a mess.”
I expected Mandy to lead Shira back into the baby room in order to get her changed. Instead, she unbuttoned her blouse and sat down next to Shira, then drew my wife’s head into her lap. “I think it’d be best if at first I take things a bit slow. Perhaps a little cummie before I change her would do our baby girl a world of good.” Unhooking the left cup of her nursing bra-she had come prepared-Mandy drew my wife to her teat. It took a bit of coaxing, but before long Shira was suckling with gusto. “See? I knew she’d be a good baby. She only needs a gentle hand.” Then, saying “Speaking of hands,” Mandy slid one into my wife’s training pants, and started to rub her off. Within seconds, Shira was squirming; her pelvis rhythmically pulsing up and down. A minute more and Shira was violently humping her wet pussy against Mandy’s hand. I knew that things were coming along nicely when my wife spread herself completely wide. To be stroked and rubbed was a good preamble, but it was easy to see that Shira wanted more. Gentle measures didn’t do it for my girl. She needed to be taken, needed to be penetrated, need to be forced. Mirroring her own desires, Shira tried to inhale Mandy’s entire breast into her mouth. Her friend countered by hammering her fingers into Shira’s tight little snatch. Within seconds, Shira gyrations stilled-all sensation apparently turned inward-then she exploded into a huge shuddering orgasm.
Watching this little todo, I became as hard as I had ever been. Mandy had done exactly what I’d dreamed about, but even so she needed to be punished for her audacity. Dragging Mandy free of little Shira, I threw her face down over the right arm of the couch then held her in place. Mandy, like Shira, was an exceptionally tiny girl, so this was an easy thing to do. “What did I tell you? I told you there was one thing you could never do to my baby girl? Tell me, Mandy, what was the single one thing that you were never to do?”
Mandy was too stunned to answer, not that she could have said anything that would have had much effect. I subsequently learned that she had only listened to me with half an ear as I went through my rules, fantasizing instead about all the naughty things she could do to little Shira. Since hand fucking my bride was pretty much at the top of her list, it’s unlikely in either case that my warning would have done the trick. Mandy wanted to fuck little Shira. Indeed, I later learned that it was her favorite masturbatory fantasy, so given any chance to do so, the outcome would be inevitable. Regardless, any form of penetration-not even by a teensy little finger-had been explicitly forbidden, so Mandy would have to pay the price.
Even though I was more than a little pleased with how things were turning out, it seemed best to act irate. “I see that I’m going to have to punish another naughty girl today. Silly me, I thought I could trust you, Mandy, but it’s obvious that you didn’t listen to a damn thing I said.” Ripping off her dress and petticoats, I tried to yank her girdle down. This, however, proved to be nearly impossible since she was (a) less than cooperative, and (b) tucked in tight like an overstuffed sausage in its casing.
The first problem, at least, was easy enough to solve. Taking up a thick textbook from the table, I began to wallop Mandy on her behind. From the first, she was screaming and crying, begging me to stop; her undersized body flexing and flailing, trying to get away. By the 20th spank, though, she began to settle down and simply bawl. By the 40th, I could see that her submission was complete; her heiny went totally slack, and she began spread her legs even wider to put more pressure on her pussy. Even so, I spanked her 10 more times, just to reinforce my dominance.
Mandy had told me earlier in the day that she had never been spanked before-not even once in her life-so her punishment must have been especially humiliating. Needless to say, I intended to make it more memorable still.
Shira’s orgasm had been huge, so it took her a bit of time to come back to herself. Somewhere around Mandy’s 10th spank, though, she must have tumbled to what was going on. Rising onto her knees to get a better view, she appeared mesmerized; her eyes locked onto my hand. Like a spectator at a tennis match, she tracked each and every swat; flinching as I slammed the book into Mandy’s behind. Before long, her left thumb was in her mouth, while her right hand was out of view. Her petticoats hid what was going on, but even so I had little problem imagining what my wife was doing. She was obviously fucking herself; the naughty little minx. With each and every spank, I could tell that Shira was slamming her fingers into her no-doubt sopping cunt. If left to her own devices, she would have undoubtedly cum straight away. We had a hard and fast rule in our household, however, that my wife could never (ever!) cum on her own. And, Shira was such a good little submissive that she didn’t even think about doing so without permission. Instead, from the first, she started to plead “Daddy,” over and over again.
I wanted to see Mandy’s cunt. Her crotch was glistening with moisture, her girdle thoroughly soaked with her juices. The sensible thing to do would have been to stand her up and to somehow, through some deliberate method, get her disrobed. The time for sensible measures, however, had utterly passed. Dropping the book, I smacked Mandy once on each of her thighs with my hand, then said “Don’t you move; don’t you dare move an inch.” The writing desk near at hand, I grabbed up a sharp pair of scissors. Lifting Mandy up by the fabric at her crotch a half foot into the air, it took a single snip to set her free. Slamming back down, she simply moaned.
“Stay,” I reiterated, and then to my wife “Almost there, baby girl, just another second and I’ll let you, let you if you really really beg!” Them dropping my pants and unders, I grabbed Mandy’s legs and spread them wide.
Shira, beside herself with arousal, no-doubt frantic for her release, pulled up her petticoats so I could see each and every violation. In a near-hysterical blur, she repeatedly slammed her fingers home. And with each penetration, she moaned “Please daddy, PLEASE!!”
Picking up the book again, but this time with both hands, I slammed it into Mandy’s burning red behind. Over and over and over, at least twenty huge swats without the slightest pause, maybe even thirty; I lost count. From the first, Mandy resumed her screaming, bucking her pudenda violently against the couch arm. Eventually, it was all too much, my cock so excruciatingly hard that the only recourse was to spear her. Pulling both of her burning red cheeks apart with my hands, I slammed my thick cock home. In response, Mandy clenched down hard around me, became totally still for a good five seconds, then exploded into a continuous series of violent orgasms. Her first orgasm was clearly overwhelming, but with each and every thrust, she’d crescendo even higher. And with each and every one of her climaxes she’d clamp down around my cock causing me to spurt and throb. As she shuddered, I thrashed uncontrollably on top of her. Without a doubt: the single best orgasm of my life!
As to Shira, she surpassed all prior bounds on her own. I had lost track of my wife at the critical juncture, so I had failed to give her the promised permission. Even so, no mere mortal could have withstood a single second more. From my first slam into Mandy, her world filled with fire. A multiple orgasm sort of girl, she came over and over again.
I must have passed out from all of the pleasure, since I found myself on the floor. Still panting, I slowly rose to my knees. I had expected the girls to be somnambulant, but much to my surprise they were both naked and very much awake. Mandy was lying on the couch, Shira was on top of her; 69ing.
It was a good thing the couch was so long because I just had enough room to get up on my knees behind my wife. The first moment that she was aware of me was when I plunged my cock-amazingly hard, once again-into her ass. With my first slam she screamed, then arched up her back like a feline then used her thigh muscles to squeeze.
Reaching down and spreading her vagina wide open with both of my hands, I used my lurid handgrip to slide her up and down my shaft. Mandy mewled in displeasure the second I lifted little Shira away, but soon saw the possibilities of the new geometry. Leaning backwards so little Shira was mostly horizontal, but nonetheless still impaled from behind, I offered my wife’s gaping pussy to her best friend, gasping “Fuck her; fuck her hard!”
Mandy didn’t need any more encouragement. Disentangling herself and turning around, she got positioned then slammed her right hand home. Shira was a tiny girl, so an entire hand-however small-was a more than tight fit on its own. With my thick cock rammed up her anus, though, it was beyond tight. Mandy then did this thing that drove us the two of us wild, twisting her hand out with a wet plop, then hauling off and slamming it back home. Twist; plop; wait for it; wait for it; Jesus Christ what the fuck are you waiting for; SLAM, SLAM, SLAM! And again. And again, over and over, until it was all too much for us both. I orgasmed so hard I knocked Shira and myself facedown onto the floor. By some miracle, though, my cock didn’t slide out. For the next few minutes we’d both subside, I’d have another spasm, then she’d clench around me, again and again until we both passed out; spent.
Waking up slowly, I was startled to realize that it was dark outside. Disentangling myself from my wife, I stood up and surveyed the room. I had started the day with one baby girl, but spying Mandy, it was clear to me that I would end the day with two.
Stooping down, I roused Shira then whispered “Time to diaper your babysitter!”
Shira licked her lips then nodded an emphatic “Yes.”
I’m not quite sure what happened to Mandy after we passed out, but it was easy to see that she had enjoyed herself. She was lightly snoring and clearly asleep, but even so she was languidly rubbing her left nipple; undoubtedly having a good dream. Standing over her, I rubbed two of my fingers against her lips. Within seconds she unconsciously breathed my digits into her mouth and began to suck. I had cast Mandy in the role of babysitter, but all of the signs indicated that she’d make a good baby too! With my other hand, I abruptly slammed two of my fingers into her cunt, waking her up with a start. Clenching down, though, there was little doubt that she was ready for more. Even so, it was diaper time.
Throwing Mandy over my shoulder, I carried her upstairs to Shira’s baby room. In the room, but before I laid her down onto the changing table, I swatted her four times in a row on each cheek then said “You better be a good little girl, or you’ll make me mad!” Mandy, of course, had been unquestionably good, but even so it seemed like a good idea to reinforce her new status as a baby. Laying her down on her back across the narrow width of the table, with her head hanging over one edge and her butt slightly overhanging the other, I bent her in half-with her knees against her chest-then strapped her down. When I was done, she was perfectly positioned to be fucked from either the head or the tail.
Looking at me quizzically, Shira asked “Did you know that Mandy was a virgin when you took her?” Then, in a hoarse whisper, she added: “She used to be a naughty little lesbian!”
I had been well pleased by her exceptional tightness, but had no idea. Regardless, it exceeded all of my fantasies to learn that I had taken Mandy’s virginity. I had every intention of possessing her completely, but as a reward to my wife, I decided to let her in on the fun. “Why don’t you start fisting your babysitter while I fuck her in the face.”
Mandy went goggle eyed at my suggestion. As soon as Shira started fingering her, though, she had no recourse but to moan. Her head being flopped backwards over the edge of the table, her mouth was at the perfect height and orientation. Nodding to Shira, we penetrated her from each end at the exact same time. As I violated Mandy with my thick cock, I could see her throat bulge. On the other end, Shira slammed her entire hand in; visibly distending Mandy’s flat belly. Pulling out just as savagely as we had plunged in, Mandy had no recourse but to wail. Then we did it again; and again and again and again.
It quickly became too much, so I filled Mandy’s throat with hot thick cum. As the same time, Shira did this impossible twisting thing with her hand; rotating her entire body in such a way as to do a 360 in Mandy’s cunt. The poor girl had no recourse but explode into yet another a violent orgasm of her own; juddering the heavy table against the floor.
As to Shira, she had concentrated so hard on making Mandy cum that when the whole thing went off she somehow got left by the wayside. A resourceful girl, though, she had one more trick up her sleeve. Unstrapping the still orgasming girl and rotating her 90-degrees, Shira got up on the table so she could kneel down across Mandy’s head and lick her breast. By a happy bit of geometry, Shira’s own breast ended up in Mandy’s mouth. Before long, Mandy began to suckle as Shira did the same. Before today, I knew for a fact that Shira had never once been breastfed. I could tell, though, that she was sure to become a true addict.
The breasts, however, were just a preamble. While Shira kept Mandy preoccupied, I diapered my newest baby. Mandy had these lovely wide hips and smooth little cunt that just begged to be wrapped in cotton. In Mandy’s case, a thick cotton diaper with two stuffers did the trick. I’d normally only use one, but given that this was her first time, I planned the keep Mandy in her diapers for a good long time. To finish her off, I covered her with a snap-on pair of plastic pants.
All the while, there girls were going at things so hot and heavy, that I almost doubted that Mandy realized what I had done. As soon as I pressed down on her bladder, though, I could tell-if only from her frantic squirming-that she realized what I was going to make her wet. Like all such girls, she tried to forestall the inevitable by clamping her legs together, but all at once could hold back no more. With a loud extended hiss, Mandy flooded her diaper. It being her first time, she blushed a deep red right up to her ears then began to bawl. It was one thing to savor Shira earlier humiliation, but quite another thing to be, in her own turn, a helpless little diaper girl.
Needless to say, Shira was thrilled. Crawling further up onto the table, she all but suffocated Mandy with her cunt. Her real objective, though, was Mandy’s pussy, which she began to swat just as hard as she could. Inasmuch as Mandy’s cunt was protected by a huge swaddle of cloth, Shira’s blows were greatly blunted. Even so, the entire thing was really about dominance. Mandy had come over this day thinking that she could lord it over little Shira and make my wife her plaything. It was obvious, though, that the table’s had turned. Repeatedly chanting “Mandy’s a wet little baby” while grinding her cunt into Mandy’s face, my wife was working herself up to a fevered pitch.
The day had been filled with countless orgasms but I had no doubt that this would take the cake. Repositioning myself at the head of the table, I stroked my shaft once again. Shira and I had always had an amazing simpatico, so I knew exactly what she next wanted to do. Even so, I denied her release for whole minutes. At last, when her small frame was wracked with shudders and her eyeballs began to roll up in her head, I jumped up onto the table then gave her the nod.
Like an erotic Rube Goldberg machine, a cascade of erotic actions gave us each our release in turn. It started by little Shira leaning forward to take my thick cock in her mouth. Balls deep, I filled her mouth with so much cum that it spurted out the sides. This, in turn, caused Shira’s bladder to let go; filling Mandy’s mouth with urine. Having dominated Mandy fully, Shira finally had her release; all but battering the poor girl with her convulsing cunt. As to Mandy, I had no idea that a girl could convulse so violently without her very atoms shuddering apart.
For a wonder, I didn’t crash to the floor for a third time. Even so, I tottered greatly as I got down onto my shaky legs. The day had been absolutely unprecedented, so in some sense I should have been ready for more. Being absolutely knackered, though, another go was not in the cards. Expending the last of my energy, I got the girls squared away; re-diapered then laid to rest in the big crib, next door. How I made it to my own bed, I hadn’t a clue.
Waking with a start many hours later, I returned into the baby room only to find the girls still sound asleep. As predicted, Shira had wet, but more pleasingly, Mandy was wet, too. Just as pleasingly, Mandy had sought out Shira’s breast in the night and was gently suckling, even now.
Smiling, I realized I still had to go away on my trip. Now if I could only find a suitable babysitter…