Return To The Nursery Chap. 6 free porn video

Chapter 6. Mummy Takes Charge. David half-listened to his wife tell the familiar humiliating story. He remembered that fateful day when he boarded the plane at Kennedy airport. Jane had texted him as he found his seat to settle into some British Airways Business Class comfort for the overnight flight home. She told him she had cancelled his prearranged taxi and would be meeting him at the airport herself. He was both surprised and pleased by his wife's unexpected thoughtfulness - and a little alarmed. His suitcases contained as many baby clothes as suits. The thick disposable snugged under his slacks mopping up a careful slow release of dribbles, would have to be disposed of somewhere on the plane or at Heathrow. He had padded out his business trip so that he could enjoy a couple of prolonged session with one of his favourite New York Nannies. He had planned on returning to England on Thursday afternoon so he could take the following Friday off work, and spend the entire day alone at home in a nappy - under the pretext of suffering jet lag. The fact that all his junior executives travelled economy and came straight to the office after a red-eye flight, was conveniently dismissed. 'There's no point in being married to the founder's daughter, if you couldn't take advantage of situations like this,' was David's view. It infuriated everybody, from the most junior salesman to the Chairman - chairperson - Helen! He couldn't imagine why Jane would interrupt her busy schedule to meet him, but there she stood, bright and bubbly, searching the crowd for him. Even after three years, he still found it hard to believe this stunning woman had agreed to marry him. Her long honey-blonde hair was pulled away from her beautiful heart-shaped face in a severe high ponytail, and her full red-painted mouth glistened wetly in the bright overhead spotlights, smiling in greeting when she spotted him. As always she looked fabulous! Her short black leather skirt and towering high heels showed off her long shapely legs to great advantage. David was a little surprised by her choice of footwear. She usually wore flats or low heels around him, in deference to his lack of stature. Under a high-waisted black cotton jacket, Jane's generous breasts thrust out proudly beneath an expensive cream silk blouse. A wide black leather belt nipped in her wasp-waist to breathtaking proportions, emphasising her wide child-bearing hips and curvaceous big bottom. David noticed with smug satisfaction the numerous discreet glances her beautiful face and buxom figure drew from the young and old men milling around them. He thought little of it when she cooed, "Welcome home, baby." Jane gave him a warm hug and brief kiss in greeting, and announced herself ready to take him home. He didn't notice when she briefly patted his bottom, discretely checking his choice of underwear. David was pleased there appeared to be nothing wrong - although he was slightly miffed that his anticipated day of secret baby play wasn't going to happen as planned. He worried about the suitcases in the trolley he pushed, stuffed full of his baby things. He needed somehow to unpack them and stash the incriminating items in his hidey-hole without Jane noticing. Somehow he would manage it - he hoped. When they got to the house, Jane told him to leave his bags in the hallway, and trot upstairs and shower and change while she made drinks. He could still feel the shock of that day even after three months; the panic which raised the hairs on the back of his neck that Thursday afternoon, when he walked into their bedroom. There on the king-size bed lay a complete layette! Cloth nappies, disposables, plastic panties, frilly anklet socks, his black patent Maryjanes, a flounced chiffon petticoat and a pretty little pink gingham toddler frock - all laid out and waiting for him, as though they should be put on straight away. There were tubs of baby wipes and powder, nappy rash cream and four big pink- capped nappy pins sitting on his bedside table, along with his adult- sized dummy. Most of the items he recognised from his secret stash! He didn't know what to do! In the lounge room Jane checked her laptop and made sure the webcams hidden in the master bedroom were working. An indicator on the right side of the screen told her that the scene on the monitor was being recorded by three different cameras. Helen had insisted on a record. Jane's vindictive mother had wanted to watch every minute of the sissy baby's planned humiliation and punishment. Jane watched her stunned husband reeling in shock before the bed covered in big baby girl clothes, and made sure each camera was properly focused. The brightly-lit colour images were clear as crystal. She returned to the hallway and keeping her tone neutral, called up the stairs; "I'll be up in a minute with something to drink, sweetie. Hurry up and have a shower and get changed." David stood in the bedroom writhing in silent misery, uncertain what to do. What the hell was going on? Jane sounded so normal! He could only imagine the worst; tears, acrimony, divorce. He might even lose his job! Only the lamest of excuses came to mind. He felt dirty and guilty. Jane strolled into the master bedroom looking completely unfazed. She held a tumbler of Scotch and dry ginger ale in one hand, and a huge plastic baby bottle filled with the some amber liquid in the other. She put both vessels on top of his dresser and pointed at the bottle, stating needlessly; "That one's for you." Davis stammered, "L- look Jane, I- I don't know....." Jane leapt over to him and pressed a finger to his trembling lips to silence his protestations. She towered over him in her high heels and he had to crane his neck back to see her beautifully made-up face. "Shh baby! Shower first, and then come back here and put your clean clothes on." Jane pointed to the items on the bed, making it quite clear to which 'clothes' she was referring. "When you're properly dressed, you can have a suck on your bottle. Then we'll talk," she advised him. With that she turned on her heel and marched out of the room. He heard her stride downstairs and David stood there in stunned silence. It was the longest, slowest shower of his life. When he eventually emerged from the en suite, he noticed his discarded clothes had vanished. His suitcases had been opened and the incriminating contents unpacked on the far side of the roomy bed. Despite his trepidation, he picked up the bottle from the dresser and took a quick suck to moisten his dry mouth It was apple juice, cold and refreshing, and he sucked even harder, thinking, 'Jane must have found my nappies and all the rest of my baby stuff! Oh my God! There were some adult-baby magazines in there as well! 'Sissies on Parade,' and some very old 'Tales from the Crib.' Issues I found in Lee's Mardi Gras years ago. What if she reads the stories and the letters? And the pictures of diapered sissies!' His mind whirled in panic. The bedroom door opened and Jane strolled in, flicking through one of those missing issues of 'Sissies on Parade.' She'd obviously been reading the adult sissy-baby magazine. He shuddered as he plucked the teat from his lips, embarrassed to be caught sucking on a baby bottle. What on earth would she think? Jane smiled at his cowering nakedness and ordered a trifle impatiently, "Come on, sweetie! Hurry up and get dressed in the outfit I laid out for you. They're all your things, you know? I'll wait downstairs, and you can call me when you're dressed and ready for me. Okay, baby?" She gave him no hint of her true feelings. Maybe she wasn't angry. He couldn't tell. It was most unsettling. Jane left him standing there pondering, 'What should I do?' Almost in a trance, David slowly lay on the bed on the two cloth nappies laid out for him. He powdered himself as he normally did, and his penis stirred to life - as it always did when he babied himself. He pinned the nappy closed with one big pink pin either side, made sure it was tight enough, then he shakily climbed to his feet. He stepped into some thick pink vinyl baby panties, pulling the tight elastic waistband over his bulky swaddling until it was hugging his slender waistline. David then slipped on the very outfit he would probably have chosen to wear that afternoon - had he been home alone. The outfit he secretly wanted to wear - but this time, it felt so different. Less a feeling of excitement or arousal, more like humiliation and unease. His frothy white chiffon petticoat was short enough to leave his panty bottom on display, and the pink gingham frock was a fraction shorter. He checked his reflection in the mirror in a welter of embarrassment. Instead of finding the sight thrilling, he shuddered in shame. Eventually he buckled the single-strap Maryjane shoes over his lace-topped white anklet socks. He stood in the bedroom doorway and sheepishly called to her down the stairs, his squeaky voice cracking with humiliation. He dashed back into the room and snatched up the pink-capped baby bottle, taking a few sucks of cool juice to wet his dry mouth. As he listened to Jane marching back up the stairs, it felt like the longest wait of his life. He glumly sat on the edge of the bed in his baby nappy, plastic panties, short petticoat and dress, clutching the half-empty baby bottle, staring at the frilly socks and black patent Maryjanes on his petite feet, waiting for his wife to enter the room. What on earth would she say? When she waltzed in, Jane was smiling - barely. She couldn't believe how feminine he looked in his pink gingham frock and frothy petties, despite his ragged blonde bob. And he looked so young! Like a young teen! When Jane first met David, she assumed he was much younger than her. She was surprised to learn he was only two years her junior. After they'd been dating for a few weeks and she introduced him to her friends, she couldn't wait to meet up with them again afterwards, to hear their opinions of her new beau. "Isn't he a bit young for you?" her best friend Cathy asked, frowning in concern. "He's only two years younger than me," Jane replied, trying not to sound defensive. She had always looked more mature than her age, and privately worried about the apparent age gap. "He looks like a teenager!" Isabell commented, tossing back her long blonde locks in disdain. "He's got a baby face," Jane explained. "A pretty face!" Fiona retorted with a snort of derision. She screwed up her pug features in disgust. "I could never go out with a man who was prettier than me!" Isabell unkindly thought, 'That must limit your selection drastically.' Aloud she said, "It's a good thing our Jane doesn't have to worry about that then, isn't it?" The women cackled at Isabell's clever rejoinder. Jane was easily the prettiest girl in their little clique. In the bedroom, Jane held her half-drained tumbler of Scotch and dry ginger ale in one hand, the ice cubes rattling against the glass - but the other clutched another oversized plastic baby bottle full of warm milk. She silently took the almost drained bottle of cold apple juice and handed him the warm bottle instead, dumping the empty on her chest of drawers. He accepted the sloshing vessel and pleaded, "Jane, I'm sorry! I'm so, so sorry! I can explain everything! We don't have to do this. I can stop - if you want me to?" Jane interrupted his abject apologies to scornfully demand, "Oh really?" She raised one perfectly arched eyebrow at him, staring at him in frank disbelief. "Yes! I'll stop right now!" He guiltily plucked at the lace-edge hem of his pretty gingham frock. "I'll throw all these things away. I promise!" He himself didn't really believe his whispered protestations. Jane's expression hardened and she snarled, "Shut up! Shut up and listen to me! You are a sissy baby! You can't stop yourself! You've being doing this for years - I know! Long before you married me." She was firm; slightly edgy - but confident her research was accurate. She took a healthy slug of liquor to moisten her parched throat and give her the Dutch courage to proceed. David stared at his wife in shock. How did she know? What did she know? His mouth opened and closed, but no words came out. Jane had read dozens of his emails to his other sissy-baby friends on the net, so she spoke with some authority. She recognised that the next hour or so would be the trickiest part of carrying out her and her mother Helen's plans. She must give David no clue as to her true feelings or intentions. Confusion and uncertainty would further undermine his will to resist. As Jane examined his flushed features over the rim of her glass, she saw that he was already conceding to her with his frightened blue eyes. "Seeing that you like wearing nappies and baby dresses - you may wear them around the house," she frostily declared. 'And later; outside as well,' she thought with a grim smile. Aloud she continued, "But I need to sort out something else with my baby first." Jane marched to the dresser and put down her drink, picking up his white Nuk No. 4 pacifier instead. She used the amber rubber teat to point to the pack of pampers wipes, plastic bottles of nappy rash cream and talcum on the bedside table. "You had travel packs of these in your suitcase, plus a couple of adult disposable diapers. I found a huge supply of big baby things hidden away in that sneaky locker of yours in the loft, too. We're not yet potty-trained, I assume?" David's face couldn't have been redder. Beads of perspiration broke out on his forehead and above his upper lip. He didn't need to answer. His guilty expression spoke volumes. "Uh-huh. I see." Jane cruelly pressed on, driving home her advantage. "I found half a package of big disposable diapers in your stash, as well. You wear those when?" "When- when I go out, sometimes," he haltingly confessed. "Or - or I wear them inside the terry ones, occasionally," he mumbled, wracked with guilt. Jane had read about that too, but needed to be sure. The next phase was the key to dominating and humiliating him. She made her pronouncements slowly, spaced out, with a deliberate condescending tone. "To help contain your nasty messes, I assume?" He could only nod, his checks crimson with shame. "So we are a dirty little baby, as well as a wet one?" He couldn't look at her scornful face. Jane sneered and demanded, "Are we, baby? We do our poo-poos in our nappies too, do we?" Her laughter was brittle, cruel. "You don't have to reply. I know the answer - baby!" Her voice held the perfect amount of disdain, but David couldn't tell whether she was truly angry - or just playing the role of a cranky domineering wife. He could only sit there clutching his warm bottle in red-faced sweaty silence, head bowed. He stared at her shiny stiletto-heeled shoes in shame. His silence was all the admission she needed. Jane stepped over in front of him and announced, "Well, this weekend you are going to be my baby! Understand?" He nodded, his watery eyes lighting up with hope - even as his fading erection surged to new life inside his nappy. She flicked up the lacy hem of his gingham frock. "And it seems I have a big baby girl - as I have discovered my baby only owns girly baby panties and frilly baby frocks. Is that right?" He nodded, grimacing in mortification, and she snapped, "Answer me, child!" "Yes," he mumbled, his voice cracking with guilt and remorse - yet his erection was hard and pounding inside his nappy. "Yes Mummy," she corrected him. "Yes Mummy," he quietly repeated. When he dared glance up at her, she was frowning and shaking her head. "Make your voice higher - more babyish," Jane sternly commanded. "If you want to look like a little girl, you should sound like one, too." David cleared his dry throat, took a sip from his bottle of warm milk, and tried again. "Yeth Mummy," he squeaked in a high-pitched sissy lisp. "That's better," Jane purred, as she took away his bottle. She placed the bottle of milk on the bedside table on David's side and returned to stand in front of her confused husband. She kept her voice light and cajoling when she insisted, "Now you sound like Mummy's little baby girl! You must use that voice whenever you speak to Mummy. Do you understand?" "Yeth Mummy." "Good girl!" Jane licked the amber rubber nipple and the inside of the white plastic guard, till the big baby soother was sloppy with her saliva. "Here baby," she commanded in honeyed tones, "suck your dum-dums for Mummy." His lips closed automatically around the drool-covered nipple and he tentatively sucked on the adult pacifier, seeking the comfort it normally provided. "Good girl," Jane praised him when she heard him noisily sucking. She reached down and pressed her palm against the front of his slick plastic panties, right over his erection. She could feel he was hard even through the bulk of his nappies. "Ooo!" she crooned, her tone sly and teasing. "My baby girl is all excited inside her nappies! Do you like the thought of being Mummy's baby girl? Do you?" "Oh yeth! Yeth Mummy!" He squeaked in response, spreading his thighs wider and thrusting himself against her playful hand. Jane caressed his raging hard-on through his fluffy nappy as she softly demanded, " Is that what you want, darling? Look at me, baby. Do you want to be Mummy's little baby girl this weekend?" David's mind boggled at the erotic possibilities and he mumbled around the fat rubber teat in his mouth, "Yeth pweathe! Yeth pweathe Mummy! I mean, if you-" She cut him off to insist, "If you're a baby and I'm the Mummy, then Mummy is in charge of baby. Understand?" He nodded and she gently demanded, "Answer Mummy, baby." "Yeth," he softly mumbled. "Mummy ith in charge." She squeezed his rock- hard erection in reward and he moaned at the thrilling erotic sensations. "Good girl!" she praised him. "That's Mummy's good baby girl!" Jane's red-lipped smile was radiant and David gave a quiet sigh of relief. His wife no longer seemed upset with him. In fact she seemed to be accepting of his bizarre fetish. In a light conversational tone Jane continued, "That means Mummy is in charge of when and where baby sits on the potty. Doesn't it?" He nodded uncertainly, unsure where she was heading. "But you're just a baby girl. Aren't you? You like wearing nappies, don't you?" He nodded again in silent agreement and sucked harder on the soothing rubber teat in his mouth. "Do you think you're ready to start potty-training yet?" He shook his head in denial even as his chin drooped in shame, but he couldn't hide the glimmer of desire in his eyes. "Look at Mummy," Jane softly commanded. She stopped caressing his tenting nappy front and used one finger to lift his chin till their eyes met. "Look at me. No, you're not ready to start potty-training yet. Are you, sweetie?" "No Jane," he whispered, his mind awhirl with sexual thoughts. "No Mummy," she corrected him again with a quick warning frown. "Using the potty like a big girl is a privilege," Jane informed her diapered husband. "Isn't it, baby? You only earn those privileges by behaving like a big girl. Do you want Mummy to take away your potty-training privileges and treat you like a real baby? To keep you in nappies like a little diaper-girl?" She smiled at the excitement she could read in his watering blue eyes as he hesitantly nodded. But that wasn't good enough for Jane. She was aware of the webcams on top of the wardrobes and the one concealed in the bed-head, all recording their conversation, and she wanted his request clearly on the record. She released his chin and leaned back. "Tell Mummy," she insisted. "Tell Mummy you want her to take away your potty-privileges." He chewed on his pacifier nipple for reassurance before he obediently mumbled, "Pweathe Jane - I mean, Mummy? Mummy, will you take away my potty-twaining pwivilgeth?" She stepped away from the sissy baby sitting on the bed and walked to the other end of the bedroom, shaking her head slightly as if she couldn't believe her ears. "What was that, baby?" Jane demanded, raising her voice. "I didn't quite hear you. Tell Mummy what you want?" In a louder sissy-baby voice he squeaked, "Pweathe Mummy? Will you pweathe take away my potty-twaining pwivilegeth?" She had to chortle at his high-pitched baby lisp, then she demanded, "Is that what you really want, baby? Really-truly? For Mummy to keep you in nappies? I will - if you want me to." David almost swooned at the thought of his long-time fantasies being realised at last. "Yeth Mummy! Pweathe take away my potty-twaining privileges and keep me in nappieth," he begged. Jane had to hide her smile of delight. "Alright, darling," she agreed, striding over till she was standing right in front of him again. "Mummy will keep her little girl in nappies from now on. No more potty- privileges for you - and I mean that! Mummy will keep her baby girl in nappies all the time, and change her diapers when necessary. Look at me! Say 'thank you, Mummy,' Baby Daphne!" He was jerked out of his thrilling fantasy. How did she know his sissy baby name? David's hesitant smile of delight vanished and he whimpered, "But Jane?" "Say thank you, Mummy," Jane growled as she fetched his bottle. Time to switch from being loving and maternal, to strict and severe. It kept the sissy baby off-balance and easier to manipulate. "Fank you Mummy. But what are you going to-?" She cut off his question by snatching his dummy from his lips. "Shh baby. No more talking." She thrust the teat of the baby bottle between his lips instead, tilting the base up so the warm milk gushed into his mouth. "Be quiet and drink your bottle. That's right. Good girl. Now hold your own bottle for Mummy. When you finish half that bottle, take off your dress and petticoats. Then put on your nightie, and we'll put you to bed for a little nap. After your long flight, my poor baby must need one. Then we'll see. Don't worry, there is a rubber sheet under your side of the bed, to protect Mummy's mattress. Come on, quick-sticks, Daphne! Oh, I'll not answer to Jane from you any longer. It's Mummy to you from now on. Yes?" "Yeth Mummy." He stuck the nipple back in his mouth and slurped down a few more mouthfuls of warm milk, then placed the plastic vessel on the bedside table. In a daze David slipped out of his lace-edged cotton dress and petticoat, handing them to Jane when she held out her hand for the feminine items. He put on his pink cotton 'Winnie the Pooh' nightie she produced from his dresser drawer, then he crawled into bed. The only change from when David had left his favourite nightie hidden away was a new dummy holder clipped to the collar. Jane stood over him and thrust the bottle teat between his lips, holding it in place until he meekly took it from her hands. He sucked shamefacedly on the silicon nipple, feeling the cool rubber undersheet crinkling beneath the fitted sheet as he wriggled about. Jane clipped the ring of his dummy to the plastic chain while he was slurping on the teat, then she picked up his discarded gingham frock and his petties. She hung up his girly clothes in the wardrobe, and he noticed his other baby dresses hanging there. Jane had apparently found his secret baby stash while he was away, and re-packed everything in his wardrobe! His mind whirled in turmoil. Every adult sissy baby wanted his wife to baby him, but was it meant to be like this? "You are not to climb out of bed," Jane sternly commanded, wagging a finger at him like he was a small child. "You are not allowed to use the toilet. If you disobey Mummy, I will have to smack your bottom." She watched the bed-bound sissy baby wriggle from a combination of fear and arousal. "When you finish that bottle, toss it on the floor and stick that dummy back in your mouth. I better see it in there when I come back. If you need anything, you must call out for Mummy." She drained her glass and glared at him in warning. "You better not need anything, little girl." As Jane marched from the room she pulled the door closed, and David noticed a long bamboo cane hanging from a leather strap on a hook on the back of the door. That was new! He winced as he realised she must have bought it recently, possibly from one of those seedy shops in Soho he sometimes frequented. He wrestled with what to do. David ever so quietly climbed out of bed to sneak a peek in the wardrobe. It had been emptied of his adult clothes, the same with his dresser drawers. Where had Jane put all his stuff? Nearly everything from his secret sissy-AB horde in the loft now resided in their bedroom wardrobe. He noticed the only things missing were his dirty magazines. Jane must have taken away the sissy-baby porn to examine them. Yet she was acting as though she was happy to cater to his baby girl side. Or was she? Was it all an act? He couldn't be sure. She had sounded quite cold and formal at times. Fortunately for him, Jane didn't have time to return to her laptop before he crept back into bed and started sucking on his bottle of milk. She watched the big sissy baby on the screen wriggle about on the rubber sheet under the fitted sheet, and she could see he enjoyed the crinkling sound. David liked that, and he started to feel a little more secure. The bottle was soon finished and his hands become free. His right hand wandered down inside the waistband of his plastic panties, into the folds of his thick nappy to caress his excited member - which sprang back to full attention. Slowly he started to stroke himself. Oh, that was nice! He slipped the familiar dummy teat back in his mouth and simultaneously he felt happier, safer - and much hornier. Fantasies about Jane being his Mummy and what had just occurred became jumbled in his head. As he fantasised and leisurely masturbated, the gorgeous erotic sensations surfed up and down like waves on the shore of pleasure. He kept himself on the edge for ages, enjoying the soft stroking. Fantasy and reality became indelibly intertwined. Jane wanted to be his Mummy, and they would play baby games together. Memories of her inscrutable demeanour clouded his pleasurable illusions occasionally. Fear of rejection and divorce suddenly intruded, only to be replaced by rays of hope. He was careful not to climax, as he knew he wouldn't be able to face Jane wearing a cum-stained nappy. He quietly played with himself for half an hour or so, and he was almost drifting off to sleep when the bedroom door burst open. Jane stood there, arms crossed under her generous breasts, looking furious! He sheepishly withdrew his self-pleasuring hand from under the bedcovers. Realising what he was still sucking, he yanked the dummy teat from his mouth in a flurry of embarrassment. "Leave that there!" Jane commanded, pointing to the pacifier he guiltily clutched. "You obviously like sucking a dummy, so keep it in your mouth." When he didn't immediately obey, she leaped over to him and snatched the pacifier from his fingers. She thrust the oversized baby soother back into his gaping mouth. "Suck, baby!" When she heard him sucking noisily she continued berating him. "You've been putting your hand in your nappy! Haven't you?" Jane demanded. "You've been playing with your - what do you sissies call it? Oh, that's right. Your clittie! You've been playing with your clittie! Haven't you, Baby Daphne?" David shook his head in mute denial even as he wondered, 'How does she know?' The furious woman barked, "How is it you can play with yourself for the best part of thirty-five minutes - but when you try to make love to me, we have a sticky mess in seconds?" David reeled in shock and a burst of hot urine jetted from his shrivelling pee-pee. He was too startled to try and stop the flow. How did she know what he'd been up to? And if she had a crueller question, he couldn't imagine it. Standing there with her fists on her leather-clad hips, looking cold and contemptuous, she watched him blush afresh as the implications of her accusations sank in. "Don't bother answering, baby! It doesn't matter anymore," she sneered, dismissing his response and his sexual abilities in one fell swoop. She pulled back the curtains so the room was flooded with late afternoon sunlight, and he felt his nappy grow warm around his bottom. "Now Daphne, some new ground rules around here. If you insist on showing me what a real sissy baby you are, by playing with that useless little clittie of yours in your nappy, you can do it whenever you feel like! Won't that be wonderful? The only rule is - you have to ask Mummy for permission first - with your dummy in your mouth, and in that sweet sissy-baby voice of yours. Understand?" Her tone was intentionally patronising. "I would hope that might deter my sissy baby somewhat - but somehow, I suspect it won't. Will it?" He remained silent and Jane shook her head in doubt. "In fact, you may only speak to your Mummy with that stupid dummy in your mouth. It rather puts whatever you say into proper perspective, don't you think? All your words will be slurred and difficult to understand, because you have an infant soother in your mouth. Do you think I'll take much notice of what you say, Baby Daphne?" She laughed at the thought, and it was a harsh cruel sound. "I already told you I was rebuking your potty-privileges until further notice, and I really meant that! 'Number twos,' as well! I'll have the doubtful pleasure of changing your nasty poopy nappies when they need changing." She laughed in scorn at the look of horror on his face. "Are you shocked? Still want to go on? Well, you don't have a choice! Get used to it, baby. It seems as if you are having all your secret sissy-baby dreams fulfilled - all at once! Aren't you the lucky one? Oh; and what happens if we are naughty? Well, Mummy has lots of ideas about that! It might be some corner-time; or writing lines for Mummy; or perhaps some time thinking about how naughty you've been while lying bare-bottomed across my knee. Like now!" She roared the last two words with a snarl that terrified David! She ripped back the bedclothes and yanked at the arm of her shocked, red- faced husband. He couldn't fathom what was happening. Was this some kind of bizarre role-playing game? Was Jane really angry? Did she want revenge? Was it...? He didn't know. He meekly followed her to the only high-backed chair in the bedroom. Jane sat down, stood him in front of her, and yanked down his plastic panties. She shook her head at the distinct yellow patch on the crotch of his nappy. "Wet already, I see," she snorted in contempt. "You really are a baby, aren't you?" Jane pulled down his nappy without unfastening the pins. Leaving these symbols of a bed wetter trapped around his ankles, she motioned for him to lie across her lap. She was as assured as he was uncertain, forcibly guiding him into the required position. Before he could gather his thoughts, he was lying bare-bottomed across his wife's lap - like a small child being manhandled by his Mummy - or a sissy being prepared for punishment by his Dom. "I said we needed to have a chat," Jane informed the snivelling sissy. "I think this is the perfect time to find out about what my naughty baby girl has been up to, behind Mummy's back. Don't you?" David whimpered wordlessly in response. Jane gently stroked his trembling bottom cheeks with her soft hand, and she reached down to pick up the long-handled, flat-backed wooden hairbrush lying ready beside the chair leg. "Now I want you to tell Mummy the truth, baby." It is a golden rule of lawyers that when you cross-examine someone; you never ask a question to which you don't already know the answer. This way, you know whether you are being lied to or not. Jane's months of diligent homework on David's computer had told her pretty well everything she needed to know. She had also bought a program that enabled her to track the calls on his mobile. The owners of some of those numbers were going to form an interesting part of their next conversation. Her frosty tone turned arctic when she shouted, "Have you been paying women for sex?" "No Jane! No, honestly!" he squeaked in panic. Six hard smacks with the back of the heavy hairbrush had him bouncing and yelping in pain. His dummy tumbled from his lips, dangling at the end of the short plastic chain. "That's six for calling me Jane! Call me Mummy! If you've been fibbing, you'll get twelve more. Shall we call this number? It's mid-morning in New York, so someone should answer." She leant forward and thrust her mobile in front of his face so he could see the number on the screen. David couldn't believe she had the number of Mistress Natasha in New York; his favourite American Nanny! The one who had looked after him twice on his last trip. He felt so helpless and vulnerable over his wife's broad lap. He also couldn't see Jane's face, which put him at a distinct disadvantage. "Er, Mummy? Pweathe don't call that number? I didn't have sex with her! She ith a Nanny! A pwofessional Nanny who lookth after Adult Babieth! Mummy, pweathe don't be cross?" The words were hardly out of his mouth when the first of twelve more vicious blows landed. By the time she halted, he was yelping and crying, wriggling hard - but not quite able to free himself from her iron grip. "How much did you pay her?" David didn't really get it. A lifetime of evasion and half-truths had served him well in the past. But his wife saw right through his lies. She realised at work, his slippery attitude to business hardly helped the reputation of her family firm. He was as bad if not worse, on a personal level. David thought the truth was whatever he wanted it to be. Jane had already checked his wallet, his bank accounts and credit card slips. She knew that nearly $2000 had gone missing this trip, over and above the hotel bills. So when he replied, "$500," she roughly pushed him off her lap and onto the floor. Leaving him lying in a heap, she strode over to the door and reached for the cane. David was horrified as she marched back to him, her beautiful face a picture of fury, slashing the cane in the air. Jane screamed, "Get out of here, you lying creep!" She pointed to the open bedroom door with the menacing implement. "Fuck off and never come back! You spent $2000! You know that, and I know that! $2000 - on an effing tart!" It was part controlled acting, part real anger over the fact that he had visited a prostitute and squandered so much of their money. David climbed shakily to his feet, his bunched damp nappy trapped around his ankles. His short Winnie the Pooh nightie failed to cover his shrivelled privates. He had never seen Jane so angry! He didn't realise he was clutching his dummy for comfort. Her beautiful face was contorted with rage, and the dimple in her right cheek was flushed crimson. "Please Jane! I'm sorry!" he whimpered, forgetting to lisp in his terror. "Yes! Yes! You're right! It was $2000! You don't know how sorry I am. I didn't mean to lie. I'm so ashamed of myself! Please, please don't make me leave?" Jane snapped, "Use your baby voice! What do you deserve, you dirty lying little creep?" She stood there, imperious, angry and determined. The end of cane tapped purposefully against her left hand; her sapphire eyes sparkling with righteous anger. The answer was obvious - it was in her hand. He barely realised his hand was rising to his face, and he pressed the soft rubber teat between his lips and chewed on his dum-dums in anxiety. "I- I- I detherve the cane, Mummy," he remembered whispering to her in shame. "Yes you do, don't you?" The words were spoken firmly yet calmly, with complete assurance. Jane was still fuming, but the raw edge had eased from her voice. "Now bend over, you pathetic little liar! Spread those feet wider - as wide as your baby panties allow you. That's better. Now hold onto that wet nappy for your life! If you stand up, try to avoid me, or put your hands in the way - you are out! Get it? This is seriously your last chance. You deserve to be punished, and I promise you - this will really hurt!" Bending over and waiting, David was terrified! He knew he was a wimp, with a low pain threshold. When he was being beaten, holding still and waiting for the next blow to land wasn't one of his strong points. He had been in this very same position many times before in the hands of half a dozen professional dominants. Then it was easier to wriggle and squirm away. You were the paying client, so to speak. But now somehow he had to obey Jane. He dared not risk being kicked out of the house. Too much money, his job and position all rested on his marriage. He hesitantly gripped the nappy trapped round his ankles, his body trembling with apprehension. "How many, Mummy?" he squeaked in terror. "Pweathe, I'm tho thowwy." 'Pleas for mercy from a submissive bent over in that position are so comical,' thought Jane with a sadistic smile. She gently stroked his burning red bottom with the tip of the cane, delving deep into his shivering crack. "How many, Mummy?" she mimicked his frightened voice. In sing-song baby tones she demanded, "Aww! Is my big bad baby man afraid?" In a cranky adult voice she demanded, "How many cuts do wicked little sissy babies deserve, for wasting our money on tarts? Then telling lies to Mummy? Oh, that's even worse! Isn't it?" "Ohh, yeth Mummy." Her cool hand stroked his hot red buttocks softly and sensuously, in contradiction to her harsh tone. "More than six, little girl? Yes, oh yes! It must be more than six. Twelve, maybe? But then that is six for wasting money, and only six for lying. That can't be right, can it?" She mixed the cruel questions with a hand that ran softly over his shivering red cheeks, before delving down between his spread legs. She stroked, felt and fondled his clittie, manipulating him until he was fully erect again. Jane knew she had to alternate hard and soft, to keep him off- balance and confused about her intentions and unsure of her true feelings. It made him indecisive and weak. "It must be eighteen hard ones for you, my precious baby!" Jane crooned, "You'll have to be a brave little girl for Mummy. No standing up, no putting our hands in the way. Be a good girl and hold on to the front of your nappy. Go on, Baby Daphne! Bend right over and grip those baby panties around your ankles. When we are finished, you can be the little sissy baby you so long to be. If you don't, then..." Jane paused for effect and lowered her voice menacingly. "It's on your bike, creep!" She said the last with such determination that David knew, knew he had survive somehow. "Mummy, pweathe be kind? Not too hard, Mummy? Pweathe?" His high-pitched lisp came so naturally. She responded by ordering him to kiss the tip of her bamboo cane once more. Jane dandled the end in front of Daphne's lips while he slavishly kissed it. "Again," she firmly commanded, relishing his submissiveness. Jane backed away and gave the long bamboo implement a couple of trial swings, smiling at the familiar menacing 'swish, swish!' "Now why are we being caned, little girl? Tell Mummy." "For telling lieth to Mummy," Daphne snivelled. "Yes Baby Daphne," Jane sadly agreed, taking her position a few feet to his left and a foot behind his outthrust buttocks. "For telling Mummy lies."