It is then that she places a large plastic bag on his lap. Momentarily taken aback, he looks down to discover that the bag is filled with pairs of panties.
‘I’ve been saving these up for you, babikins,’ Myriam says, her voice filled with a mocking confidence. ‘A week’s worth of my panties…each one worn and unwashed. Each one to remind you of me and what you’ll be missing in your little baby paradise. And each week, I’ll make sure you get a fresh supply.’
Before he can work out why she has given him this bizarre gift, Prunela steps forward to oversee the next stage of his outrageous ordeal.
A small plastic table is slotted onto the arms of the high chair, pressing him even more tightly into its humiliating embrace. The bag of panties is pulled from his lap. Then two pint sized baby bottles are placed on the table. One is filled with a cream-coloured liquid he takes to be milk, but the second contains a disturbingly caramel-coloured liquid.
‘Tea time for baby!’ Prunela snaps. ‘A bottle of sugared full cream milk and a bottle of my own special protein drink. Between them, more than enough to fill that naughty little dummy. This is what you’ll be fed three times a day from now on, so I suggest you make the most of it. The protein drink contains a powerful laxative which should help clear you out in the morning, although once the daily enema regime is in full swing, we won’t need to resort to chemicals to ensure that baby is clean and regular.’
He listens in stunned silence, tears continuing to trickle from his eyes. There is very little fight left in him now, even as Myriam, laughing loudly and cruelly at the prospect of his feeding, ties a large baby’s bib around his satin encased neck. Before securing it, she holds it directly in front of his face. On the bib his a picture of a babified china doll and beneath it the words “Baby Petal”
‘Your new name, sweetness,’ his gorgeous, long suffering wide announces, ‘pretty Baby Petal.’
She then stands back, her fiery gaze never leaving him, and Prunela takes up the bottle of “protein drink”. Despite everything, he is again aroused by the teasing fact of her proximity, his eyes pulled from Myriam and now pinned to her generous, heaving bosom. Momentarily his eyes focus on the unusually long rubber teat fixed to the end of the large bottle. The need for such a singular teat is quickly explained when Prunela uses her free hand to remove the front piece of the dummy’s plastic plate.
‘A little innovation of my own, Petal’ she says, ‘that means you can be permanently gagged and fed.’
She then pushes the teat into the space left by the removal of the front piece. There is a momentarily sense of pressure – the teat is pressing against some unseen covering. Then there is a small jerk as the teat breaks through the covering and enters the hollow centre of the much larger, ball-shaped teat that has been so effectively silencing him since he awoke in the cot.
‘There is a film of very slender clear rubber stretched over the centre of the plastic plate cover,’ Prunela explains. ‘There is a small hole in the middle of the film that, with pressure, allows the teat to enter the larger ball shaped teat. The ball teat is in fact covered in tiny perforations. This allows the liquid to seep into the mouth and down the throat. All nice and seamless…and quiet.’
He stares at her in astonishment and terror as she begins to squeeze the centre of the bottle. Very quickly, he is aware of the liquid being forced out of the bottle through the teat and into the fat rubber ball filling his mouth. Very soon after this, he feels the warm liquid begin to seep through the perforations and into his mouth. In order to avoid choking, he is then forced to swallow the liquid, which has a strange rubbery taste that is quite unpleasant.
‘I thought about flavouring the drink to make it more palatable,’ Prunela says, noticing his look of disgust, ‘but I think you’ll have to earn a tastier meal. If you demonstrate good behaviour, then you’ll get a nicer meal. You will see that I can balance punishment with reward. And you’ll also see that some of the rewards are rather lovely.’
It takes nearly ten minutes to empty the bottle via the dummy gag into his mouth. During this time, Myriam explores the nursery and Prunela takes great pleasure in explaining each piece of furniture and babywear in detail. Then, after the protein drink, it is time for the milk. This bottle, however, is to be fed to him by Myriam herself.
The sadistic pleasure she takes in force feeding her babified husband the bottle of heavily sugared full cream milk is obvious. In her glamorous, provocative clothing, she is reborn. A fierce, life hungry energy seems to pour out of her beautiful dark brown eyes like a soul-burning fire. There is confidence in her mocking words and power in her elegant movements. His transformation into a feminised infant seems to have allowed an inverse transformation in his wife: Myriam is now truly a woman, an astonishing female determined to realise her full potential.
Their eyes are locked together as she squeezes the milk into the dummy gag.
‘There’s a good little sissy,’ Myriam teases, ‘take every last drop for mummy.’
His sex burns like a length of molten steel in the absurd and inescapable nappy. Her strong perfume is a dreadful torture, as is the striking fact of her generous, deliberately displayed bosom. How could he have allowed this to happen? How had he managed to spend the last six months sacrificing his right to this gorgeous creature? A sense of deeper shame floods over his babified form as he remembers the wallowing self pity that had marked the heart of his depressive illness. Yes, in a way, he deserved this strange, awful punishment. He had made her life a misery, and now she and her beautiful, ingenious mother will have their revenge.
And eventually, the bottle is empty. Myriam pulls the long teat from the dummy and steps back. Prunela once again fills his tormented vision and delicately replaces the dummy’s pink plastic front piece.
‘That should keep you going until breakfast,’ she says, her own gaze filled with dark amusement.
He looks up at her and then over to Myriam. He moans with a helpless, violently frustrated desire and the two women burst into more mocking laughter.
‘I suggest we put him in the playpen to cool down a little,’ Prunela continues. ‘The weakening drug has worn off, and I don’t wan’t to use anymore until bedtime, so I suggest we put him in bondage.’
Myriam’s eyes light up. ‘That sounds like fun!’
Prunela nods and smiles. ‘For us...but certainly not for pretty little Baby Petal!’
His beautiful, buxom mother-in-law then releases the thick leather straps holding him firmly in place and helps him step down from the high chair. Despite his renewed physical energy, he makes no further attempt to escape the control of his two gorgeous, vengeful captors. A sense of even more intense shame and defeat has washed over him during the feeding, and he knows any real attempt to free himself from this perverse fate will most probably end in further pathetic failure.
So he allows himself to be led over to the large, circular playpen, his plastic panties squeaking ridiculously, the plug fitted so tightly and deeply into arse making every movement a terrible sexual tease and forcing him to take small, delightfully feminine steps that earn loud, teasing praise from both Prunella and Myriam.
Prunela opens a latch fixed to one of the curving panels of the playpen, revealing a perfect doorway. He is led into the centre of the pen and then ordered to kneel before his beautiful and determined mistresses. He does so slowly, aware all the time of the strangeness of the soft baby attire and the restrictive pressures of the restrainer and the plug. The floor of the pen is covered in a thick pink rubber mattress that fits the oval space marked out by the bars exactly. The silken fabric of the booties make this surface feel particularly slippery, and this adds to his considerable care as he lowers himself onto his nylon sheathed knees.
‘Hands behind your back,’ Prunela orders, as soon as he is in position.
He stares up at her with deeply forelorn, exhausted eyes, still overwhelmed by her ample sexual beauty, his erection more desperate than ever, his sex need burning
all resistance into an ash of despair.
He places his mittened hands behind his back, aware that as he does so the short dress rises up to reveal his semi-transparent plastic panties and the thick nappy beneath. The women smile and laugh and unleash a torrent of humiliating baby talk. He moans pathetically into the ingenious and profoundly silencing dummy gag. His erection continues to stretch painfully against the layers of cruel and unyielding restraint.
He stares down at Prunella’s beautiful, gleaming black patent court shoes and her perfectly formed, hosed ankles. He feels not only his profound helplessness but also her great and unquestionable power. When he looks up, she is holding four lengths of pink, rubber coated cording. Her golden brown eyes are filled with arousal as she moves around his kneeling form. Then she is leaning forward and using the first length of cording to bind his wrists tightly together behind his back. He squeaks into the gag and she ties the knot ultra-tight, ensuring his hands are utterly immobilised. Yet this discomfort is quickly made much worse as she proceeds to use the second length of cording to bind his upper arms together, forcing his elbows painfully together and pushing his chest forward in a way that makes the pretty baby dress rise even further up his body. And as Prunela secures a further painful knot, he looks up at his beautiful wife, her face flush with arousal and triumph, the goddess of a strange and particularly terrible vengeance.
With his arms secured, Prunela then, with one careful shove, forces him to tip forward onto his stomach. He squeals with surprise and fear. He is aware of Prunela once more kneeling down beside him. Then her hands at his ankles, using the third length of cording to bind them tightly together. His face presses into the rubber floor covering and hot tears stain its smooth, slightly scented surface, this new and cruel bondage making any form of movement virtually impossible. This immobility is further assured by the application of the forth length of cording to his legs just above his knees.
‘Right,’ Prunela says, her voice above him and slightly breathless ‘Get me the lose stockings from the wardrobe drawer and bring the panties.’
There is a period of brief, fear-filled silence. He is aware that Myriam has left the pen. Then, merely seconds later, she is back, moving much closer to Prunela.
‘Help me with the hogtie,’ Prunela says, once more kneeling down beside him, ‘then you can fit the panties.’
He moans at the mention of “the hogtie” and is immediately aware that Myriam is now also kneeling at his tethered side. It is she who holds his tethered arms still as Prunela moves around so that her knees are just inches from his face. She holds a very sheer black nylon stocking in front of his face and then lets it brush teasingly against his alabaster cheek, its electric softness sending a shiver of intense and helpless pleasure across his babified form.
“The stocking will bind tighter than the cord and hold the hogtie more securely.”
He stares at her nyloned sheathed knees and smells her strong musky perfume. His desire for her is greater than ever. Despite the discomfort and absurdity of this forced transformation, he feels wave after wave of an intense, aching need crash against his tormented body and mind. As she moves back to work on the binding, the sound of her nyloned thighs pressing together is like the most unbearably arousing sexual caress.
He lies helpless as Myriam takes a strong grip of his tightly bound, stockinged and bootied ankles and pulls them up towards his tethered, mittened hands. She forces her weight down on his bent legs so that the tips of the pink booties meet the tops of the mittens. This is very painful and produces an immediate squeal from the helpless sissy slave. But Myriam doubles her efforts to hold him firmly in place while Prunela ties one end of the stocking to the cording binding his ankles and then secures the other end to the cording binding his wrists. He feels her pull the stocking very tight, thus holding the hogtie firm, before she secures it with an utterly inescapable knot. Then suddenly, Myriam releases the pressure on his arms and Prunela releases his legs. He is left tied in a painful and utterly unyielding hogtie. He squeals his discomfort, but his mistresses only response is more mocking laughter.
‘Right,’ Prunela says after a while. ‘Let’s get him fitted with a pair of panties. You can do the honours.’
Then Myriam is in front of him, her hosed knees all he can see, his desire as powerful as ever, his regret bottomless.
‘Obviously I’m no longer interested in you as a man, because from now on you’re going to be mummy’s pretty little sissy. But I thought it would be too cruel to abandon you completely, Baby Petal. I’ll come to visit regularly, and we can play, and I can feed you. But when I’m not here, you’ll have something to remember me by, something to let you know all that you’re missing. ‘
Then she drops the bag of panties down in front of him and unties the ribbon holding the bonnet in place before pulling it free to reveal his silky smooth, shaven head. A surprised and deeply mocking laugh is her immediate response to this particularly humiliating facet of his transformation. Appalled at this awful revelation, he fights back tears of soul crushing embarrassment and self disgust. But Myriam’s mockery is short lived. Taking the bag from the rubber flooring, she opens its zip locked top and extracts a particularly fetching pair of pink silk panties.
‘I wore these today…so they’ll be nice and fresh.’
As he struggles to see what strange torment his gorgeous, vengeful wife is preparing, he feels her warm hand run over his perfectly bald head.
‘Soft and silky as a new born baby,’ she whispers.
Then, very suddenly, she pulls the panties over his face, with the gusset section exposed so that it is forced up against his nose and stopped mouth. He squeals with shock and horror as Myriam then stretches the two leg sections around the back of his head. Soon after, he is aware of her leaning over him to tie the panties very tightly at the back of his head using the second nylon stocking, leaving the panties fitted like a strange mask covering his lower face, nose and forehead, with his eyes peering out through the stretched leg sections.
Immediately he is aware of the powerful odour of her sex. Each desperate breath is filled with the intimate smell of her, a dreadful, furiously exciting tease that is obviously quite deliberate. As she re- secures the bonnet over his pantied head, he moans with shock and a dark, deep and quite agonising sexual arousal. His cock, so rock hard, stretches uselessly against its metal and rubber restraint, his body fights its rigid and utterly unforgiving bondage. His silky smooth, closely shaven skin is even more tormented by the soft baby attire. Despite the absurdity of his position and the stress of the tight bondage, the sex madness inspired by the chemicals flooding his body and the presence of these two cruel and utterly gorgeous women is stronger than ever.
‘There, snug as a bug in a rug,’ Myriam teases, gently patting him on his head and climbing to her stiletto heeled feet.
‘I have to get going – I’m meeting the new man at eight,’ Myriam continues. ‘He’s a city banker and utterly stunning. This outfit should get him into bed tonight. My panties will probably be soaked, so I’ll make sure I get them to you for Petal to wear tomorrow night.’
He squeals angrily into the fat dummy gag and struggles uselessly in the tight hogtie. The women laugh at his helpless protests and then leave him locked in the playpen. The sound of voices and cruel laughter echoes across the nursery and then reduces to muffled tease as the nursery door is closed and locked.
He is left alone, painfully bound, tightly gagged, intimately and outrageously babified. He is tied so tightly he can hardly move a muscle. He rests his head against the soft rubber mattress, taking deep, desperate breaths and thus helplessly tormenting himself with the unbearably erotic odour of his wife’s sex. His own sex aches and animal need burns deep into his body and soul. The hogtie creates a network of balancing and immobilising pressures, one of which forces the humiliating and teasing butt plug even deeper into his arse, creating an embarrassingly pleasant stretching force. Anger and arousal fight for dominanc
e in his confused mind. Strong mental images of his gorgeous mother-in-law and beautiful wife remain to torture him. His future as a pathetic, enslaved adult baby appears inescapable. Desire and anger mix with a deep, painful shame. Yet, to his horror, there is also an inescapable fact: the pleasure he feels in being so completely controlled and dominated, a profound masochistic excitement. Yes, his confusion is great and quite beyond reasonable analysis.
Unable to move hardly an inch, he is left to contemplate his strange fate for what must be over an hour. And by the time Prunela returns, he is squealing with aching desire (the effect of the sex chemicals having increased dramatically after the feeding) and even more aching limbs.
He is aware of her moving across the room, but he is also aware that her steps appear much softer and quieter. Then she is in the pen, and the first thing he sees are, to his surprise, her beautiful bare feet with toenails painted a striking blood red.
‘Time for bedibyes, Baby Petal,’ she says, her husky voice once again a terrible torment.
Then she kneeling by his side and working free the stocking holding the painfully tight hogtie in place. As his tethered arms and legs are released from the stocking’s rigid grip, a well muffled gasp of deep and helpless relief fights its way past the fat dummy gag.
Then she rolls him over onto his back and reveals a truly startling sight: Prunela has changed from her erotic daywear into an ankle length white silk nightdress with long sleeves and a plunging neckline. Even more amazing is the fact that the nightdress is semi-transparent, and even in the soft pink light of the nursery, it is clear she is today naked beneath it.
A moan of astonished arousal slips from his well gagged mouth. A teasing smile crosses Prunela’s voluptuous, cherry red lips. Then she leans forward, provocatively providing him with an eye full of her full, firm bosom, and pulls him into a sitting position. Then, in another display of her considerable physical strength, she pulls him up onto his bound, bootied feet. Once upright, he is immediately aware of how stiff his stockinged legs are and moans his discomfort into the dummy gag. Prunela whispers a teasing “ahhh, poor babikins” before making it clear that she now requires him to hop out of the playpen and over to the large, adult-sized cot.
Silken Tales Page 13