Return To The Nursery Chap. 21 free porn video

Dear everyone.... WOW! Thank you for all those lovely reviews! I'm overwhelmed that so many of you took a few minutes to let me now what you think of my little story. And let me tell you, I read your suggestions with interest - sometimes including my fans' ideas into my naughty narrative. WARNING! This chapter contains forced pee-drinking scenes and threats of worse! If these things might offend your delicate sensibilities, please stop reading now. Otherwise, read on, dear reader. Read on! BJ Chapter 21. Potty Dreams "Buckle baby into the carseat, please Rose." The pink plastic carseat looked weirdly out of place on the cream leather bench seat of Helen's maroon Rolls-Royce. The attractive chauffeur tried to keep her expression neutral - but failed - as she helped Daphne climb into her high padded toddler's seat. She buckled the restraining straps in place, pulling the overgrown infant's dribble-bib free when it got caught under the H-straps. Rose was a mid-twenties Filipino woman of mixed heritage, with dark olive skin and dark-brown almond eyes, her dead-straight jet-black bob usually tucked neatly under the brim of her grey peaked driver's cap. She said not a word to the dummy-sucking sissy as she obeyed Helen's instructions, but her scornful brown eyes and sneering red lips spoke volumes. Helen slid into the roomy back seat beside Daphne's carseat and waited until Rose climbed behind the wheel before speaking. "You have the address, Rose. Pause at the entrance to the street, and let me make a call first. Okay?" "I'll let you know when we're a block from our destination, Mrs Baxter," Rose replied. Her voice carried a faint hint of American twang, but not enough to annoy the fussy aristocrat. The chauffeur adjusted the rear-view mirror so she could keep one eye on the embarrassed sissy in the oversized toddler's car seat. She grimaced and shook her head in disbelief at the big dummy bobbing in his mouth. Rose was the one who took the Rolls to the shop a few weeks ago, to have the pink car seat installed in the back - the largest child seat they made. It was easily big enough to fit Baby Daphne. Rose thought she knew for whom the car seat was intended. She'd overheard Helen and her daughter Jane chatting in the back seat on a couple of occasions a few months back, plotting the downfall of Jane's cheating husband. She knew some of what the conniving women were up to, and when she overheard the silly sissy actually enjoyed being diapered, petticoated, disciplined and humiliated, she found it hard to believe her ears. But then Rose finally met Baby Daphne. The attractive Filipino couldn't believe how feminine David looked, especially with his head covered in a platinum mass of Shirley Temple ringlets. He had high delicate arched eyebrows, plucked into fine thin lines, and huge fluttering lashes like a porcelain doll. And on the few brief occasions Rose had seen him without that oversized pacifier in his mouth, his shiny drool-covered lips looked huge and pink and puffy - like he was wearing smudge-proof fuchsia lipstick. If she hadn't known there was a male under the cute toddler frock and frilly rumba panties, Rose would have assumed she was looking at a girl - a pre-teen girl, for sure - but no way would she have ever mistaken the diapered sissy for a grown man! Daphne sucked on her dum-dums, trickles of drool running unnoticed down her chin to dampen her white terry bib. It had purple running- writing spelling out the humiliating words, 'Mummy's Potty Princess.' No one was paying her any attention, and she reached down and patted the bulging front of her baby panties. Daphne slid her palm over the slithering nylon covering until she found the warmest spot, and she pressed the delightful damp padding inside against her clittie. It stiffened in response and she sighed in pleasure. Her day had started out normally enough when Mummy woke her up in the Nursery. Jane threw back the curtains and lowered the side of the crib, but instead of ordering Daphne to crawl out, Mummy climbed in. Jane took Daphne's pillow from under her head and pressed it against the wooden bars on the far side, at the head end. "Lift your head, baby," she commanded, and she turned around and sat up with her back resting on the pillow. Mummy was wearing a shortie pyjama set made from pale green nylon, and the top had delicate ribbon lacing down the front, tying the sides together. Mummy unfastened the white satin lacing and pulled aside her slithering green nightie, exposing her right breast. It looked hard and swollen like the night before, and when Mummy massaged the turgid flesh towards the stiffening russet cap, a couple of beads of watery milk appeared at the tip. Daphne inhaled sharply at the thrilling sight and sucked harder on her dum-dums, suddenly dissatisfied with the substitute nipple in her mouth. Her nostrils filled with the delicious scent of Mummy's body, redolent of sleep and the faintest trace of sour milk. The big baby lay back expectantly with her head in Mummy's lap, her legs curled up under her as she turned her face adoringly towards Jane's beautiful full breast. "Here sweetie. Have a lovely suck, baby." Jane ripped out her baby's dum-dums and replaced it with her tingling nipple, sighing in pleasure when her baby greedily latched on. It was confusing for Jane - the feeling of maternal care warring with the normal sexual arousal she always experienced when Daphne nursed on her breasts. "Mmm. Good girl," she whispered in the little girl's ear. "Suck hard, baby. Mmm, that's right! Mummy needs you to suck out all the milk. Mmm! Good girl!" Her crooned words only encouraged her feeding baby's efforts, and the intensity of Daphne's suckling increased, making Jane sigh in pleasure. Daphne concentrated on feeding properly, milking Mummy's beautiful breast with her curled fingers as she urgently sucked and swallowed, fighting to avoid becoming aroused. She settled into the familiar comforting rhythm; suck, suck, suck and swallow, suck, suck, suck and swallow. Now that she was aware Mummy was lactating, Daphne could taste her milk. She tried to pretend she was a real baby, an infant being lovingly breastfed by her beautiful Mummy, but the normal sexual excitement she felt whenever Mummy let her nurse fought for dominance in her head. Daphne whimpered into the full warm breast pressed against her cheek when the clittie-cage cut into her, forcing her to suppress her normal masculine urges in an effort to be more feminine, more baby-like - the way Mummy wanted her. Jane let Daphne suckle for about ten minutes on each breast, only letting the little girl stop when her massive mammaries had softened and felt more normal. They stopped aching too, and Jane wondered if that was a normal part of breastfeeding real babies. She realised she had a lot to learn, and decided to do some research - when she had some free time. When she slipped a fingertip between Daphne's suctioning lips and pushed her mewling little girl away, Mummy couldn't help smiling at the streams of milky dribble seeping from the corners of the panting baby's mouth. "That's enough for now, baby," Jane chided her disappointed child. "Sit up. Move out of Mummy's way." She tucked her breasts back inside her nightie and when Daphne moved aside, Jane slid out of the crib. She turned around and held out her hands to help her little girl climb down, then led her waddling charge to the change table where she removed Daphne's drenched night nappy. As usual, Jane had to pause and rapidly re-cover Daphne's caged clittie when it started spraying urine, the moment as it was exposed to the cool morning air. Jane simply shook her head and rolled her eyes in contempt, her smile tolerant. The embarrassed little girl's cheeks turned pink with shame, despite the fact that Mummy didn't bother commenting on the ready evidence of her lack of control. After Daphne cleaned her teeth and showered, Mummy diapered her for the day as usual - two thick cloth nappies with a disposable liner. "Upsy-daisy," Jane sang, and when the diapered sissy lifted her bum, Mummy slid some white satin rumba panties over the top. They had three rows of dark-green lace across the tushie, and tight wetproof leg elastics which Mummy safely tucked under the crotch of her thick nappy. Since she was taking her little girl to Nanna's, Jane had decided to dress Daphne in something special this morning - a bottle- green velvet toddler frock with a broad white lace bib sewn to the front, with row of decorative pearl buttons in the centre. It was made in the classic little-girl style, high waisted and heavily flounced, the brief hemline failing to cover the shiny white crotch of her rumba panties. Daphne's dummy chain was temporarily clipped to the lacy bib front, until Mummy could clip a bib around her neck. Her lace-trimmed anklet socks were plain white this morning, and Mummy buckled Daphne's shiny black patent Maryjanes on her little feet. Mummy used a green Alice band to help keep her little girl's blonde ringlets off her heart-shaped face, then turned her sissy baby to face the mirror. Daphne gasped around the teat of her dum-dums. She couldn't believe how feminine she looked - or how juvenile. Her Alice band kept her tight blonde curls sitting up in a bouffant mass on top of her head, looking so little-girly. Despite the big pink dummy in her mouth, she actually looked like a little girl - although still too big to be diapered and sucking a pacifier like a silly toddler. Jane smiled at the vain little Princess admiring her reflection, then encouraged her to get on with her morning chores. When she was buckled in her highchair as usual, Mummy didn't offer Daphne any breakfast. She still had to have a bib clipped around her neck, bearing the usual humiliating legend. '"Nanna asked me to make you skip breakfast this morning, baby girl," she explained to the confused child, handing Daphne a huge baby bottle full of watered down apple juice instead. "Here, have a drink from your bottle. I think Nanna wants to feed you something special later on. Besides," she added, dimpling at the memory, "you already had a lovely little feed from Mummy's boosies this morning, didn't you?" She grinned at the blushing baby's abashed expression and she couldn't help pinching one rosy pink cheek. "So you won't starve, baby girl," she giggled. When Jane returned to the kitchen after showering and dressing for work, she was carrying Daphne's pink leather mittens and the reel of hot-pink satin ribbon. She was wearing her tailored black pants-suit with a black satin blouse underneath, her black patent stiletto court shoes adding four inches to her impressive stature. Her honey-blonde hair was bound in a tight chignon, pulled back severely from her beautiful face. Her rear-fastening top had a low round neckline, which allowed Jane to display her magnificent mammaries to great effect. A fresh stream of drool trailed down Daphne's chin as she watched Mummy toss the empty baby bottle in the sink. She stared hungrily at Mummy's big bouncing breasts as Jane scrubbed clean her hands and face, whimpering in pain when the clittie-cage pinched. Before Mummy let her out of the highchair, she ordered Daphne to hold out her hands. The little girl frowned in resentment as she let Mummy slip the tight leather mittens over her hands, the fat rubber balls inside forcing her thumbs and spread fingers to curl uselessly around them. "Nanna wants you wearing your mittens for your visit today, baby," Mummy explained. "I think she plans on letting you out of your clittie-cage sometime this morning! Aren't you a lucky baby girl?" Daphne's frown disappeared and she nodded eagerly in agreement, smiling brokenly. Mummy chuckled as she buckled the straps around the baby's slender wrists, then she tied them closed with short strips of hot-pink ribbon. Daphne glanced up at Mummy, a slight frown returning to mar her pretty features. "Mummy? You'll wemember to tell Nanna today I've earned enough cawwots to pway wif my cwittie, won't you Mummy?" "Of course I will, sweetie!" Jane reassured her concerned sissy with a condescending smile. "I told you I would - and you know Mummy always keeps her promises. Now gather up Nancy and her change bag. I've packed it already, and I put in one of your Barbies, too. Take everything out to the car and wait for Mummy. Okay? Good girl!" Despite the mittens binding her hands into useless puffy balls, Daphne collected her infant doll and the change bag and awkwardly carried them down to the front door. Fortunately Mummy had left it open, when she went out to pack some of Daphne's other belongings in the SUV. There was no way Daphne could open a doorknob wearing her mittens. She waddled out to the driveway, threw her things in the open boot, and then dashed back inside - hopefully before any neighbours caught sight of her. Five minutes late Mummy dragged her back outside again and buckled her in the toddler carseat. When Jane let Daphne out of the car at her mother's place, she was already in a rush. The twenty minutes she'd devoted to relieving her aching breasts by breastfeeding her overgrown infant had already put her behind schedule. It had been necessary. Jane didn't think she could concentrate on work while her tits were aching and hard. Plus the office had called her at home to say there was a problem with the Los Angeles bureau, and there was a dispute over contractual liability. She needed to race in and ring them from her office, when she had the contracts in front of her to confirm the details. It annoyed Jane both personally and professionally that her useless sissy baby had been the one to organise the deal and oversee the signing of the contracts - when Baby Daphne was still pretending to be a man. It was the last contract David had organised for the family company, during his final trip to the States. 'My silly baby was probably too preoccupied organising her visits to that dominatrix in New York to properly concentrate on business,' Jane thought with sneer, shaking her head in disgust at Daphne's incorrigible baby ways. When they arrived at Nanna's, Helen wanted to broach the subject of toilet-training her sissy son-in-law with her daughter, but she found it difficult to get a word in edgewise this morning. "My tits are leaking! Leaking milk, I tell you!" Jane vociferously complained, cupping her magnificent breasts in her palms and practically shoving them at her mother's face by way of greeting. "And good morning to you, too, darling! I did warn you," Helen reminded her frazzled daughter, eyeing her full outstanding bosoms with a tinge of envy mixed with sympathy. She pulled her fluffy white terry-towelling robe tighter around her slender waist, unconsciously poking out her own generous DD-cup bosoms. "I know," Jane replied sourly. "Sorry Mum. Good morning. I've got a folded tissue stuffed in each bra cup to catch the dribbles. I don't have time for this, Mum!" "Then you'll just have to stop nursing her," Helen sensibly advised, glancing pointedly towards the figure in the carseat. "Stop at the pharmacy on the way to work and buy some breast pads." Jane bit her plump red bottom lip with her top front teeth in anguish, her expression woebegone. She gazed down at her prominent bosom and shook her head in regret, making her tight chignon barely wobble. "I guess I'll have to give up breastfeeding my baby! Dammit! Wait a second, Mum." She opened the back door, leaned into the back seat and unbuckled Daphne's harness, and helped her little girl climb down. "Good morning, Nanna," Daphne politely mumbled around the sloppy pink guard of her dum-dums, performing a neat curtsey. The women smiled at the bowing little girl's pretty performance. "Ooo! Look at you, Princess! What a gorgeous frock!" Nanna crooned, straightening the velvet dress over her diapered hips and smoothing out the bib clipped around her neck. Today Daphne's plastic-backed dribble bib read, 'Mummy's Potty Princess,' making Helen chuckle. 'How apt,' she thought. Aloud she said, "You had a dress exactly like this when you were about three or four, Jane." "I know, Mum. I remember. It was one of my favourites - although I don't remember wearing it very often." Helen rubbed the luxurious green fabric between her thumb and forefinger. "It was too dressy to wear too often," she explained to her daughter, "and it needed to be dry-cleaned. That's why you only wore your velvet frock to Sunday school. It was your best dress." "That's right," Jane recalled, nodding and smiling fondly at the memory. "But now you're the mother, you can dress your little girl any way you want," Helen reminded her daughter. "I'm no longer responsible for the laundry." "Neither am I," Jane rejoined with a gay laugh. She took Daphne's wheeled pink Barbie flight bag from the back seat and dumped it on the drive, extended the plastic handle and then reached inside the SUV to draw out Daphne's tutu on a hanger. She thrust the frothy ballerina dress at her little girl, ordering, "Take this inside for Mummy and hang it up somewhere, sweetie, and leave this bag inside the front door. Then hurry back here and get the rest of your stuff." The big baby clumsily clutched the bodice of the tutu to her bosom with one mittened fist, and awkwardly hooked her other pink leather mitten under the extended handle of the flight bag. The women watched the oversized toddler struggle to wheel the bag down the path, grinning in amusement as she waddled towards the house to do Mummy's bidding. As soon as Daphne was out of earshot, Helen demanded in confusion, "What's the problem? If you want to stop lactating, just stop letting her suck on your tits!" It seemed like the logical solution to her. Jane waited until her waddling baby girl disappeared inside the house before attempting to explain. "I love the way she sucks on my boobies, Mum!" When Helen looked sceptical, Jane added, "She does a better job than any man - or woman - I've ever met! She sucks my nipples really hard, just the way I like it, and when she's nursing... Well, it's kind of hard to explain." "Try," her mother dryly suggested. "She's totally dedicated! It's like her whole world is focused on you! On me," Jane clarified. "On my tits, at least. It's like they're the sole reason for her existence. As though her only reason for living is to nurse from my beautiful big breasts." She possessively cupped her heavy orbs and mashed them against her body, then glanced down at the bulging fleshy mounds with a rueful smile. "Without these, she'd die!" "Just like any normal infant," Helen huffed, grimacing in contempt. Jane looked askance at her mother as she unloaded Daphne's doll pram from the boot, making sure Nancy's full change bag was also packed inside. "Did you enjoy it, Mum? Breastfeeding us, I mean." "Of course," Helen reassured her daughter, her frown vanishing to be replaced by a fond smile. "It's meant to pleasurable - to encourage us to do it. It's not all about the baby, you know?" 'I don't mean just pleasurable - I mean sexually stimulating ! Did you find it sexually arousing to breastfeed me and Sheila, Mum? Did it turn you on?" "Well, it was an awfully long time ago," Helen demurred, her cheeks turning pink. She swiftly twirled around when she heard Baby Daphne shuffling up behind them. "We can talk about it later," she promised her inquisitive daughter, deftly avoiding the embarrassing topic. Jane had acknowledged her mother's lack of response with an enigmatic smile and a farewell wave. "I have to run anyway, Mum. I'll talk to you later. Although I probably won't get a chance to call you today." She kissed her mother's cheek and squeezed her shoulder. "Okay, honey. Good luck sorting out the contract dispute, and enjoy your long weekend with Jake." Helen stepped aside so Jane could crouch down in front of her sissy baby. "Okay Daphne, Mummy has to go to work. I want you to be a good little girl for Nanna, and do whatever she tells you over the next few days. Alright?" "Yeth Mummy," Daphne fervently agreed, but then she screwed up her little face and whined, "But Mummy - you pwomithed!" Jane gave her desperate child a farewell peck on the cheek, wiping away the lipstick smear with an indulgent chuckle. "Yes baby! Alright! Mummy hasn't forgotten." She climbed behind the wheel and closed the door, smiling mischievously as she watched her worried little girl dance from foot to foot in anxiety. She switched on the engine and revved it into life, then the window slid down with an electric hum and Jane called out; "By the way, Mum! Daphne has earned enough carrots to have her clittie-cage removed! She can have it off for one whole session between nappy changes today, Nanna." "Really? What a lucky baby girl!" Helen retorted with a sly chuckle, turning to gaze down at the hopefully nodding sissy. "Wave bye-byes to Mummy, Baby Daphne." Nanna - true to her word - had unlocked and removed her clittie-cage during Daphne's first nappy change that morning at her place. Daphne didn't think her nappy was that wet, but if Nanna wanted to change her now - and remove the horrid clittie-cage - who was she to object? Daphne had been lying back on the change table in Nanna's Nursery upstairs, a clean diaper already laid out underneath her before Nanna pulled down her rumba panties. Helen already knew about their baby's loss of bladder control. Sure enough, as soon as Nanna lowered the damp front flap, Baby Daphne's bladder cut loose. Uncertain of Nanna's reaction, the helpless little girl cringed in embarrassment and fear. Instead of being annoyed, Helen merely laughed as she swiftly covered the baby's spurting genitals once more. "My Sheila was like that when she was a baby," Nanna commented airily as she pressed the damp nappy front over Daphne's leaking pee-pee. "She was a regular little fountain at nappy-changing time! Just like you, little girl." She chuckled at the memory and kept Daphne's nappy in place for another minute, just to be sure. Helen insisted on wiping clean every smelly square millimetre of the little girl's glistening bits and pieces before she would deign to unlock the silver rings. Daphne had been so excited, her hands instinctively reached down to caress her freed organ - despite the restrictive leather mittens still buckled around her wrists. Nanna slapped her useless hands aside. "No baby! Don't touch!" she scolded the desperate child. Daphne tucked her mittens under her chin, sucking noisily on her soother and looking aggrieved. Helen had to laugh at her appropriately child-like sulky expression. "Ah-ah-ah! Remember? You have to ask Nanna first, if you want to play with your clittie. Just like you do with Mummy," she reminded the pouting baby girl. "Oh pweathe, Nanna? Pweathe can I pway wif my cwittie? Pweathe?" Daphne begged, her wide blue eyes pleading for permission. She smiled hopefully around her dum-dums and batted her long black lashes endearingly, and Helen chuckled as she shook her head in denial. "What do I get in return, baby?" Nanna demanded, her expression sly. "I- I -I-" she stammered uncertainly. Helen's white terry robe had become untied while she was cleaning the baby, and the front flaps gaped open, revealing a hint of her generous bosoms. She didn't seem concerned by her wardrobe malfunction - or Daphne's hungry gaze. "I want to take you on a little trip this morning, to meet a friend. Don't worry. It's someone you know. Someone who's already met Baby Daphne. Plus my bridge group is coming over this afternoon. It's Thursday, remember? I've already told them all about you, little girl. They're dying to meet you! If you agree to let me take you out for a few hours and introduce you to my friends this afternoon, I'll give you a special treat this morning," Nanna promised with an enticing smile. Daphne's mittens were shaking with the effort of keeping them away from her uncaged genitals. She raised her eyes from the thrilling glimpse of Nanna's bare bosoms and looked up at her smiling face instead. "Oh Nanna! If- if I thay 'yeth,' can I have my cwittie-cage off all day? Pweathe Nanna? Pwetty pweathe?" She batted her long black lashes at Nanna in feminine entreaty, and Helen had to laugh. The silly sissy was trying to bargain with her! But Nanna knew she held all the cards. "If you promise to be a good little girl for me this morning, and agree to meet Nanna's friends - and do everything Nanna tells you to do all day today - I will leave it off for a few hours this morning - until your next nappy change - and maybe during nap-time this afternoon, as well," Helen offered. "Okay?" "Ooo!" Daphne loved the way her excitable little clittie stiffened at the thought of leisurely playing with herself in her crib at Nanna's this afternoon. It was so good to be free! Helen rubbed the powder into Daphne's thickening genitals, careful not to stimulate her sissy baby too much. After hearing the post-hypnotic suggestions, she suspected what the end result would probably be, and she wanted the big baby girl safely pinned in a nappy before that happened! "What do you say, sugarplum? Are you going to be a good little girl for Nanna today, and let her show off her precious baby to a few of her friends?" Nanna insisted. "Then you can play with this silly little thing for hours!" She curled her fingers around the slender shaft, feeling it swell and throb as she gently stroked her baby, coaxing the submissive sissy to agree. "Oh Nanna! Yeth Nanna!" Daphne squeaked around her dummy teat. It felt so wonderful to be free of the restrictive restraint, and her stiffening clittie revelled in the temporary freedom. If only Nanna would take off her mittens, too! Helen massaged the powder along the length of her slender shaft, milking Daphne's tiny tool with her fingers as she demanded, "Do you promise to be a good baby girl for Nanna?" "Ooo! Oh Nanna! Yeth Nanna! Yeth! I pwomithe, Nanna! I pwomithe!" the sissy fervently guaranteed. "Weally-twuly!" "Good girl!" Helen released her throbbing stiff clittie with a grimace of distaste and swiftly taped a disposable around Daphne's slender hips, then wrapped the double-thickness terry nappies around her tiny waist and pinned them closed. Helen re-tied her robe before she slid the same plastic-lined rumba panties over the top, the white satin ones with the green lace frills across the seat. Nanna took the sissy baby downstairs and locked her in the white wooden highchair with a bottle of water while she went to shower and dress. Daphne wasn't thirsty, but after ten minutes of sitting in the tilted-back highchair with nothing to do but rub her stiff clittie against the fluffy front of her dry diaper, she spat out her dum-dums and stuck the bottle teat in her mouth without thinking about it. It wasn't easy gripping the slippery plastic vessel using her leather mittens, but she'd had enough practice to master the infantile art. She drained the big baby bottle before Nanna returned, wearing a calf- length cream mink coat over some towering black high heeled boots. The raised collar was high enough to mostly conceal her honey-blonde hair, and the buttoned fur was bulky enough to conceal any hint of her voluptuous figure. Daphne thought Nanna was wearing more make-up than usual, although her heart-shaped face did look gorgeous. She was wearing long fluttering false eyelashes to rival Daphne's own salon-lengthened lashes. Nanna's arched eyebrows seemed heavier and darker, lengthened out to her temples, and black eyeliner top and bottom made her sapphire eyes look huge. Her full shapely lips were painted crimson to match her manicured oval nails, Daphne noticed. Funnily enough; the heavy darker make-up made Helen seem older - closer to her real age - but nowhere less desirable in Daphne's adoring eyes. It was the sound of Nanna's click-clacking stiletto heels which made the baby focus on her feet. Nanna was wearing glossy black boots with unbelievable spiked six-inch heels and tiny platform soles. They disappeared under the flowing hem of her luxurious fur coat, which covered her from her chin to her calves. Helen's honey-blonde bob was pulled back in a severe high short ponytail, darkened and slick with gel to keep the straying locks in place. "Are - are we going out somewhere, Nanna?" Daphne nervously asked, as Helen removed the tray and unfastened her restraints. She spied the familiar packed pink vinyl diaper bag leaning against the doorframe. "Yes we are, baby girl!" Nanna brightly replied. "I told you I was taking you out this morning, to meet an old friend - somebody you've already met. Down we hop! Let Nanna take you out to the car and Rose can get you sorted." It was embarrassing being helped into the back seat and into her toddler car seat by the attractive mulatto chauffeur. Rose's grey uniform skirt seemed daringly short to Daphne, although her matching jacket was always demurely buttoned over her healthy bosoms. The naughty little girl couldn't help peeking whenever the chauffeur looked like she was about to bend over, hoping for an accidental panty-flash. And she didn't understand how the woman could drive in those stiletto-heeled knee-high black boots. Daphne had no idea where Nanna was taking her, until the driver took the exit to a small suburb close to the city. She vaguely recognised the area. The little girl's trepidation grew as Rose drove them closer to their destination. When Rose announced, "We're a block from the street, Madam," Daphne felt certain she knew where they were going. The little girl's tummy flip-flopped in alarm, thinking, 'Is Nanna taking me to visit Aunty Amanda? How does Nanna know about Aunty Amanda? What does she know? How much does she know? Does Mummy know?' These alarming thoughts flashed through her troubled mind in rapid succession, and she was unable to think clearly. She didn't even notice she was drenching her nappy. Daphne knew there was only one reason to visit Aunty Amanda's. Potty-training! Had Nanna learned about that perverted side of her bizarre sexual desires, too? As soon as her stream trickled to a halt, her clittie started to stiffen again. She cringed back in her high padded toddler seat from a combination of terror, embarrassment - and uncontrollable sexual arousal. Daphne had some idea about the roots of her perverse fascination. The initial 'trigger' was all due to a silly accident. When David was seventeen and still living with his Aunty and his cousins, he tripped over in the (only) bathroom and knocked down one of the shelves attached to the wall opposite the toilet. It was his own fault. He'd been peeing in the toilet - he always sat to pee like a girl - but he'd been in a hurry not to miss any of his favourite Friday night TV show. 'Buffy' was about to start. He jumped to his feet when he heard the familiar opening refrain from the lounge room, and he tried to run out of the bathroom before properly pulling up his pants. He tripped, stumbled and fell - smashing into the shelves opposite. He knocked down the lowest wooden shelf holding spare rolls of toilet paper and cleaning supplies. Everything flew to the floor and Aunty Betty stormed down the hallway and threw open the bathroom door. "What was all that noise?" she demanded, standing over the prone boy with his shorts and underwear around his ankles. She frowned at the mess on the floor. "Oh no! Look what you've done!" David was torn between rubbing his bruised shoulder and pulling up his pants. Embarrassment won and he turned his back on Aunty Betty as he clumsily climbed to his feet and pulled up his tangled underwear and shorts. His frowning Aunty thought to ask, "Are you alright, child? Did you hurt yourself?" "No Aunty," David mumbled, his cheeks blazing with shame. Aunty Betty pursed her lips and sniffed in disapproval. "That's good. That means you can clean up this mess." She pointed to the broken shelf. "And I want that fixed before the end of the weekend. Understood?" "Yes Aunty Betty." The wooden shelf itself was undamaged, but one of the brackets had broken free from the wall, leaving two small triangular holes in the plasterboard, one a few inches above the other. David decided to simply move the bracket in an inch to one side and screw it back on the wall. But that meant he had to drill some new holes. Aunty Betty didn't own a drill, so he borrowed an old electric drill from their elderly next-door neighbour. David took the bracket with him, to match the holes to the drill bit. Unfortunately, the only steel bit the old man had in the right size was about eight inches long. "It'll do," he assured the novice handyman, as he used a chuck to fix the unwieldy bit in place. He handed the drill to a hesitant David, warning him, "Just be careful." David wasn't careful. His first timid effort barely made an indentation in the plasterboard panelling, so he pressed really hard. The whirring drill bit went straight through the panelling but missed the wall stud, and when a kneeling David accidentally fell forward into the movement, he drilled right through the wall - into his bedroom. He switched off the drill and ripped the bit out of the wall, but there was only minor damage- a small smashed hole on his side, not much larger than the drill bit. When he checked the other side of the wall in his bedroom, he found a spray of plaster dust on his pillow and a slightly larger jagged hole in the plasterboard, big enough to slide his index finger inside. He hurriedly cleaned up the mess on his bed before Aunty noticed what he'd done, returned to the bathroom, and his next attempt was more successful. He drilled another hole between the original hole and the messy one he'd made, and this time he managed to hit the stud. He stopped when he guessed he had drilled an inch or so into the solid timber. He drilled a second hole three inches below that one, in line with the original jagged holes. He screwed the bracket in place, fitted the shelf on top, cleaned up the mess and replaced all the bathroom items before returning the drill to the neighbour. "How did you go?" the elderly gent inquired. "Get everything fixed?" "Yes thanks," David replied. "Thanks for the use of your drill and stuff." "Good, good." Aunty Betty seemed pleased when he showed her he'd cleaned up everything and repaired the broken bottom shelf. It was a good thing she didn't look too closely - although the minor damage to the bathroom wall was mostly hidden under the low shelf. Because it was level with David's knees, he assumed his overweight Aunty wouldn't check under there too often. She'd have to be down on her hands and knees on the bathroom floor with her face almost on the tiles to notice the broken patches, and he doubted she'd be doing that very often. David forgot about the hole he'd accidentally drilled in his bedroom wall until after he climbed into bed that night and turned out the light. He was settling in for his usual nightly wank, wrapping an old bath towel around his loins like a nappy - to catch his uncontrollable ejaculations, he rationalised. He didn't know why it felt so thrilling to pretend to be diapered like a toddler while he frantically masturbated. He sometimes used a pair of large safety pins to hold the folded towel in place, the better to catch his spurties, wishing he could be brave enough to actually try wetting his makeshift diaper. His infantile musings were disturbed when one of his relatives went into the bathroom next door and closed the door. When she switched on the bathroom light, a tiny beam of light illuminated the darkness of David's small bedroom. He tilted his head back on his pillow, searching for the source of the beam, and he realised it was the hole he'd unintentionally drilled in the wall over his head. He sat up and rolled onto his hands and knees to check the extent of the damage, and his eye was caught by a flash of movement. With a start he realised he was looking straight at the porcelain toilet fixed to the wall opposite, and his cousin Lily had moved in front of it, her back to the white bowl. The slender teen lowered her lavender cotton pyjama panties to her knees, obviously with the intention of using the commode. He leaned closer to the wall, pressing his right eye against the hole, trying to move silently. David could only see her from the waist down, but he recognised Lily's smooth shapely thighs and her slender hips. He knew he shouldn't look. He knew it was wrong to peep on his younger female cousin - for so many reasons! But he'd never seen a woman naked, and fourteen-year-old Lily had matured at lot over the last eighteen months. In many ways, she was much more mature than him. He knew the cute blonde wore bras these days - real grown-up ladies' bras, with proper cups and everything. He'd surreptitiously inspected his cousins' pretty underwear while her 'unmentionables' had been hanging on the line - as he often did - and David knew how much Lily had developed. But further evidence of her recent maturation was suddenly on display, and he couldn't tear his eye from the peephole. Lily had a sparse upside-down triangle of pale-brown curls at the junction of her slim legs, and when she raised the front of her matching lavender shortie nightie out of harm's way before sitting, he could see the fair curls petered out over the lower curve of her smooth pale tummy, not even reaching halfway to her belly button. Lily plonked down on the toilet seat and sighed loudly as she began to urinate. He could see her from her shins to the tops of her shoulders, the wooden bathroom shelf cutting off everything above that. He admired the shifting swell of her braless B-cup breasts beneath the lightweight cotton top, rising and falling with her breathing. David could barely hear the sound of her water splashing into the bottom of the bowel, but his vivid imagination filled in the details. Lily carelessly let her knees drift open and closed as she peed, unaware she had an audience. David strained to see any details, but her crotch was mostly hidden in shadow and the details remained a mystery. He wished he was closer - underneath her - so he could see everything! That was the first time David ever wished he was a toilet. A lady's toilet! He wanted to see everything! He wanted an uninterrupted view of every gritty little detail of a woman's beautiful body, and he imagined that would only be possible if he took the place of the toilet bowl. He didn't realise he was still masturbating as he perved on his peeing younger cousin - not until his tiny erection exploded in his jerking fist. He fought to keep quiet his uncontrollable grunts of excitement, and luckily the makeshift nappy was still pinned around his hips. It managed to catch every drop of his bad baby juice. As he imagined himself looking up at a woman trying to use the toilet, his climax was mind-blowing. His eyes lost focus and he collapsed back onto his bed, the loud sounds of the flushing toilet covering the noisy panting sounds he was making. Ashamed of his depraved behaviour, the next morning David covered the hole with a small magazine poster - one he cadged from his twelve- year-old cousin Jasmine, showing the Spice Girls in smiling array. This one featured Baby Spice posing in front, and David secretly thought the busty blonde looked adorable with her high floppy pigtails and her cute pastel-pink baby-doll mini-dress and shiny white patent Maryjanes. She even wore fluffy pink hair ties and gorgeous frilly anklet socks, like a pre-schooler! David was envious that a grown woman could dress like a little girl in public, and everyone thought she was cute. 'But if I was caught wearing something like that...?' David shuddered in terror and didn't allow himself to finish the thought. He wished his pretty younger cousins were more inclined to emulate the gorgeous blonde girly-girl from the all-girl band, but they usually preferred to dress like Posh Spice - or even Sporty Spice! Eww! He used Blue-tac adhesive putty to fasten the poster in place, which also meant it could be easily removed - and replaced - without any trouble. He tried to restrain himself from using the accidental peephole - but it was hard. Hard as hell! Hard as the boner in his pants! It was one thing to dimly hear the bathroom coming sounds from next door. It was another thing entirely to know you could watch a female performing some of the most intimate acts of her life - and she had no idea! He felt like a disgusting pervert, but he couldn't stop himself from peeping when he heard his Aunty shuffle into the bathroom early the following morning. David didn't consider his Aunty Betty at all sexually attractive. She was really old - at least thirty-nine or forty - and quite overweight, with an unattractive pear-shaped body. Even so, she was a real grown- up woman - and David had to see. He had to! He still had his crusty towel pinned around his hips when he knelt up on his single bed, his face pressed against the wall, watching his Aunty pull up her knee- length floral-print nightie and lower her matching panties, both in lurid shades of purple and hot pink. Her pale plump thighs were dimpled with cellulite - "hail damage," Aunty Betty called it. She had a big floppy tummy hanging halfway over her groin, and he couldn't believe how hairy she was! A mass of dark brown curls concealed practically everything from his prying eyes, rising up all the way to her navel. He watched Aunt Betty sit on the commode to perform her normal morning toilet routine before using the shower - peeing first, then grunting quietly and straining to empty her bowels. He heard the distinct splashing sounds as her turds hit the water in the bowl and like the night before, he climaxed in his makeshift nappy within seconds. The orgasm had been mind-blowing, and it took him several minutes to recover his breath! After that - despite his best intentions - he replaced the Spice Girls poster and never repaired the jagged hole. Not until just before he was ready to leave his Aunt's place to attend University, almost a year later. His conscience prevented him from using it daily, but not a week passed when he didn't take advantage of his unintentional peephole. Fantasies of watching women pee and poop became part of his regular masturbation fantasies. The second memorable 'trigger' was the discovery of a soft-core porn novel in a second-hand thrift shop, shortly before his eighteenth birthday. During his last year of high school, he used to wander around the local charity stores on the odd Saturday morning. He liked to check out the range of cheap second-hand female clothes available, even if he lacked the courage, the availability of space - or the funds - to indulge his secret transvestite fetish. That was where he came across the tattered paperback book - 'The Happy Hooker,' by Xaviera Hollander. It was the autobiography of a pretty Dutch prostitute who became famous in the 70's for being a Madam in New York. David vaguely recognised the title of the book and after reading a few pages, decided on a whim to buy the well-thumbed paperback. It was only 50 p, and if he didn't purchase something occasionally, the volunteer staff usually grew suspicious of his loitering. The book was full of graphic descriptions of naughty sex scenes - involving lesbian and straight sex, plus the odd reference to bondage and discipline. David devoured stories about men - transvestites - who paid women to force them to dress like girls, and he wondered if any of those men wanted to be little girls - even baby girls - like him. Xaviera's enthusiastic descriptions of receiving oral sex and how much she enjoyed anilingus drove him wild, and he wondered if any girl would ever let him lick and suck on her wee-wee hole or her bottom. It sounded so dirty! So filthy! So thrilling! David hid the naughty book on a shelf in his bedroom stuffed amongst a row of his textbooks, and it provided him hours of private masturbatory pleasure. It took him months to slowly work his way through the 370 page novel, but it wasn't till he was two-thirds of the way through before he hit the chapters ! Chapter 12. 'Whipped (S)Cream.' It and the following chapter contained details about men with masochistic fetishes - men who liked being spanked, paddled or whipped - or preferred 'golden showers' - being peed on, or even drinking a woman's urine. His peenie exploded in his fist when he read those paragraphs, imagining it was him serving as a gorgeous woman's toilet. There was even a description of one of Xaviera's clients - 'Mr Filthyrich' - a young, handsome Hollywood producer who paid beautiful young women to spoon-feed him their freshly-excreted shit! He gasped in arousal when he read that bit, his tiny erection like a molten steel pencil in his jerking fist as the hot jism erupted from the tip. Later when her re-read that exciting part, he wondered if the beautiful blonde dominatrix strapped Mr Filthyrich in a big baby's highchair to force-feed him, and his shrivelling post-orgasmic erection surged to new life. He read those naughty chapters again and again, holding the paperback in one hand whilst furiously masturbating into an old towel pinned like a nappy around his hips. He fantasised that he was the dirty masochist being diapered and dressed like a sissy baby and forced to undergo the indignity of serving as a receptacle for a gorgeous woman's waste. He imagined being forced to drink her piss from her vagina or eat her shit straight from her puckered arsehole, and he would cum and cum and cum - although after each glorious masturbation session, he would vow never to think such vile thoughts again. But the depraved mental images were never far from his mind when he needed to cum. After David left his Aunty's home and moved into his shared digs near the University, he was old enough to visit the seedy dirty bookstores scattered around town - provided he showed them his ID. The shops contained a treasure trove of fem-dom B&D material, including a limited supply of sissy-baby porn. One of the copies of 'Dominated and Diapered' or 'Tales from the Crib' he purchased featured a cartoon drawing on the back cover - the third 'trigger.' It featured a gorgeous, plump, voluptuous woman kneeling astride a young man's face, facing his feet. She was naked except for her exotic stiletto heels, which were pressed together under the male's head, trapping his face in place. The young man in the drawing was wearing a bulky cloth nappy pinned tightly around his slender hips, and there were thick leather cuffs binding his ankles together and trapping his flailing wrists to the wide black belt buckled around his waist. He was trapped, helpless, totally under her control. His nose was buried between the buxom woman's massive round buttocks and in David's imagination, his open mouth was sealed against her wrinkled anus, ready to receive her precious gift. The woman on top was sitting back comfortably and smiling in delight at the artist, obviously enjoying using the lips and tongue of her toilet-slave. The perverted image was often foremost in his mind when David masturbated, usually triggering a violent orgasm. From reading 'The Happy Hooker,' David had learned that bizarre sexual services were sometimes available at some houses of prostitution. When he purchased his first laptop and logged onto the internet, he found there were a dozen or more brothels scattered all over the city, and some advertised that they catered to clients with the more 'unusual' requests. Several websites displayed a list of possible services, and 'golden showers' featured in a couple. Too ashamed of his weird fetishes to ever confess them to a girlfriend, it was only a matter of time before young David sought out the services of a professional dominatrix. It took him years to work up the nerve. David had turned twenty before he made an appointment to see one of the Mistresses at a professional bondage and discipline 'dungeon. Called 'The Sisters Of Dominance,' it was located in a rather normal-looking house in an average street in one of the inner-city suburbs, behind a low brick fence and a slightly-tatty front yard. David was shaking with fear and excitement as he walked up the concrete front path to the front stoop and rang the bell, carrying an overnight bag of supplies in one hand. He's briefly discussed his needs on the phone the day before with the parlour receptionist, and he hoped they wouldn't be too disgusted with him when he turned up in person. The pale brunette who greeted him at the door was only averagely pretty, and despite the heavy make-up painted on her sharp triangular face, she looked barely a day older than David. She was quite slim - almost scrawny - and only a little taller than him in her four-inch heels and black leather miniskirt. Her tightly-laced red satin corset pushed her little titties high under her chin, making them almost bulge over the tops of the stiff padded cups. "You must be Daphne," she greeted him with a wide red-lipped smile, taking in his feminine face and long blonde hair in a single glance and thinking, 'What a pretty little thing!' "I'm Mistress Barbara. Come in." The front sitting room was set up like a dentist's waiting room, with overstuffed green lounge chairs and a matching two-seater leather lounge, with a low glass-topped coffee table in front of it. Only the naughty poster-sized prints on the walls gave the game away. On the table were tooled leather menu folders - and when Barbara encouraged him to examine one, they contained explicit descriptions of the services available - and the accompanying pricelist. Barbara noticed the blushing boy's hands were shaking and she asked, "First time?" He timidly nodded and she asked, "How old are you?" "Twenty," David replied - although she didn't believe him. No one ever did. It was both the curse - and the blessing - of his youthful complexion and slight build. He remembered having to pull out his wallet and show her his driver's license before the young Mistress would believe him. "Sorry. I had to check," she apologised. She seen enough fakes to know his license was genuine. But the ID photo he showed her looked more like a young girl than a boy. "You barely look fifteen, and I won't have anything to do with underage kids," Barbara explained. Privately she thought, 'You skinny little thing! You barely look twelve! No wonder you can't get laid! But what a cute baby face!' Aloud she said, "I'll leave you to go through the menu and choose what you like, then when I come back you can tell me what you want - and we can sort out the payment. Okay?" "Yes, fine," David squeaked nervously, his high-pitched voice rising with tension. David paid the young Mistress 150 to dress him up like a little girl - or more importantly, to force him to dress like a baby girl! The money bought him one hour of her time. She happily agreed to his pleas to dominate and diaper him, and Barbara smiled at his shivering excitement when she led him into the parlour's 'Sissy Room.' It was a spacious bedroom decorated in pinks and creams, with a big four-poster bed dominating the space, covered in a mushroom-pink silk coverlet. Barbara giggled at the big white disposable diaper the nervous boy produced from the overnight bag, but willingly took it from him. She ordered him to strip and made him climb up on the high bed and lie on his back, naked, excited, afraid. Barbara powdered his erect genitals and taped the puffy diaper around the excited sissy's hips while he was lying back on the four-poster bed, gazing up at his reflection in the overhead ceiling mirror. She didn't mention his lack of equipment, and actually felt sorry for the poor little tyke. His erection was so tiny and slender! He had his own plastic panties, too - pink ones, naturally - but he was eager for her to dress him in a couple of frilly girly frocks she produced from the built-in wardrobe. Most of them were too large for the tiny sissy - they had been purchased with more 'robust' men in mind. But Daphne was in sissy-baby heaven and she didn't care. He masturbated while Barbara pretended to breast-feed him, and even though she had small bosoms and tiny, child-like, pale-pink nipples - privately very disappointing for David - he climaxed in a couple of minutes regardless. After that, he was so ashamed of himself, he had to shower and change immediately and then flee the place. "You've paid for the full hour," Barbara advised him as he hurriedly dressed. "You can dress up again and we can do the other things you've paid for - you know? I can spank you and do the queening session and stuff." "No, no!" the embarrassed boy protested, stuffing his rustling baby panties in the overnight bag. "It's okay. I'm fine! Thank you for a wonderful time! It was fantastic!" He sped from the house of ill-repute only twenty-five minutes after he'd entered, and most of that time he'd spent in the waiting room. Even so, he returned to the brothel several more times, each time booking in with Mistress Barbara - and each time revealing a little more of his secret taboo obsessions. During his second visit, he managed to delay his orgasm by not touching himself while Barbara breastfed him, but it was sheer agony for the excited sissy! When the skinny brunette lay him back and sat on his face, she was still wearing her tiny black nylon panties - and he climaxed as soon as he wormed his hand inside the front of his warm wet diaper. One again he was forced by shame and embarrassment to flee almost immediately afterwards, although Barbara couldn't stop giggling at his flushed features or his mortified behaviour while he was dressing. The kind-hearted Mistress reached under her tiny black mini and pulled it up around her boyish hips, revealing her lace-edged black nylon bikini panties. While the poor boy watched, Barbara used two fingers to push the cotton-lined crotch an inch or so inside her steamy opening, moistening the gusset with her fragrant juices. She was surprised at how open and wet she was, although the way the sissy-boy sucked on her nipples had really turned her on. When she'd made sure the crotch of her panties was moist and sodden with her juices, she pulled down her knickers and kicked them over to him with a sympathetic smile. "Take those with you," Barbara offered. "You can smell my pussy while you're having a wank later. That way you can imagine I'm sitting on your face, watching you do it!" David gratefully accepted the silken treasure and as Barbara predicted, her fading aroma became a focal point of his nightly masturbation fantasies for several months. He had to be careful not to fall asleep with the young Dom's unwashed black knickers wrapped around his head, the aromatic cotton gusset stretched over his nose and mouth. He didn't want his flatmates catching him and learning the truth. On his fourth visit to the B&D parlour he was surprised to find Mistress Barbara had left the brothel. The receptionist hadn't bothered to tell him they'd booked him a session with a different girl - Mistress Lisa. She was a tall, fair-skinned blonde in her late twenties or early thirties, of robust Nordic heritage. At five-eight in her stockings, the voluptuous blonde towered over the tiny lad in high heels. She certainly better suited his fantasy ideal of a stern dominant Mistress, in her black leather corset and matching thigh-high leather boots. Voluptuous Mistress Lisa loved wearing high heels, and her exotic platform boots had skinny six-inch heels, making her well over six feet tall. With her big bosoms and heavy caboose, she outweighed the slender petite sissy by a dozen or more kilos. David loved the way she loomed over him at the front door, intimidating him with her sheer physical presence, making him feel tiny and helpless. "Come in, Baby Daphne," she cooed to the slender sissy, her painted red smile indulgent - yet mocking. "Mistress Barbara couldn't make it today, so I'm in charge of you this morning. Come in! I'm Mistress Lisa, and Mistress Barbara told me all about you, you naughty little girl!" She wagged a finger in his face in playful remonstration. "Now get inside!" She pointed inside the house and shook her head in disbelief at the worried little boy shuffling down the hallway ahead of her clutching his overnight bag. She'd been warned Baby Daphne was a diminutive adult male - over 18 - and effeminate - but nothing had prepared her for the sight of the pretty, petite little sissy. With his shoulder-blade length, straight platinum locks and tiny heart- shaped face, Lisa thought he looked more like a pre-teen girl than an adult male. It took only a few minutes of conversation in the waiting room for David to relax with the new Mistress. Lisa had years of experience dealing with sissies like him, and deftly steered the conversation to reveal his innermost desires. Despite being more attractive than Barbara, and much more womanly - and thus intimidating - David felt he could tell Mistress Lisa things he could never tell the younger Mistress. The beefy blonde seemed more mature - more experienced - more daring - more open to his perverted suggestions. After explaining his secret fantasies, Lisa took him to the Sissy Room and stripped him down to his diaper and baby panties. He always wore a disposable diaper to his sessions these days, and it was usually wet on arrival. She inspected the contents of his overnight bag - his makeshift diaper bag - and offered to change him into a clean diaper. She chuckled when he hastily demurred. It was obvious the sissy baby liked being wet. Instead Lisa dressed him in one of the pretty lace- lavished baby doll nightgowns from the collection of girly clothes in the wardrobe, put up his long platinum locks in sweet fluffy pigtails, and then she produced the shiny pink mittens. "Mistress Barbara told me how quickly you cum," she explained as she fitted a puffy satin-covered mitten over his right hand and buckled it around his wrist. "She told everyone how fast you were! These pretty baby mittens will help slow you down a bit, baby girl." Mistress Lisa buckled the second mitten around the embarrassed boy's slender left wrist and David discovered the slippery satin mittens had cotton gloves inside, the palms and fingers glued to a stiff plastic piece bigger than his spread fingers, and filled with dense stuffing to make his trapped fingers almost useless. He couldn't close his fingers to grasp anything, and he was thrilled to feel more like a helpless little baby. He perched on the end of bed and watched the tall buxom blonde loosen and slip out of her boned leather corset. Despite being a few kilos overweight, Lisa still had an amazing wasp-waist (from years of corset-training, he'd later learn.) Her full round D-cup breasts sagged and swayed under their own weight, her russet areolae the size of half-dollars. He could see a faint tracery of fine blue veins through her alabaster skin, either side of her nipples. Those darker- red nipples were already stiffening - either from cold or excitement, he couldn't tell - and they were larger than thimbles. David licked his suddenly-dry lips in anticipation. Lisa smiled knowingly at his hungry expression and slipped off her brief red leather miniskirt, too. She was wearing a tiny pair of lace- edged black nylon panties underneath, perfectly sheer, with a black satin suspender belt edged with matching narrow black lace. It held up her shimmering silk stockings, the lacy tops barely visible above her exotic thigh-high boots. His eyes roamed from her plump milky thighs above the stocking tops to the shadowed crease of her hairless vagina, barely concealed by the see-through black knickers, then up to those magnificent jiggling orbs hanging from her chest. Lisa sat on the king-size bed at the head end, leaning her back against the many stuffed pillows, and swung her booted legs onto the mattress. She patted her leather-clad thighs and indicated David should lie over her lap. "Come here to Aunty Lisa, baby girl," she crooned affectionately, cupping her meaty breasts and pressing them against her chest. Soft feminine flesh bulged around her spread fingers in all directions, impossible to ignore "I'm going to give my little girl a lovely feed from my breasts. Come here, baby! Good girl." She settled him across her lap facing her, arranging his head so she was comfortable, then steered her stiff nipple between his pouting lips. Lisa sighed in delight when the baby latched on, and in gentle mothering tones, the dominatrix taught him how to worship her breasts and nurse from her nipples the way she liked - to her total satisfaction. "Gently, baby, Gently - to start off with," she crooned in his ear. As a true dominant, she took great pains to educate the ignorant sissy-baby. As a devout submissive, David adored being told what to do by a strong maternal woman, and responded accordingly. Lisa smelled different to Mistress Barbara and her skin tasted different, too. Her fuller, heavier breasts felt softer, the skin smoother and silkier. David didn't know if she smelled better. Not worse. Just different. The only trouble for David was - he couldn't play with himself while Lisa was feeding him from her big round cushiony titties. Unlike Barbara, Lisa had large womanly nipples - beautiful big russet caps which stiffened and lengthened and grew to fill his slobbering mouth when he sucked on them. Their sheer size made him feel more like a real baby and he grew so excited! When he naturally reached down to play with his hard peenie, the stiff puffy mittens prevented him from worming his hand inside his plastic panties. He could only clumsily caress himself through his baby panties and clinging wet diaper, the slithery satin mittens slipping and sliding too easily over the tenting front of his plastic panties. The Mistress chortled as she watched his frustrated attempts to caress his genitals. "See?" she crowed. "My little girl can't play with her clittie, can she? She has to wait until Aunty Lisa gives her permission." Despite his frustration - or perhaps because of it - David was more aroused than ever! The voluptuous beauty was dominating him the way he had always dreamed about, and he wondered how far she would be prepared to go. "Stop playing with yourself, Baby Daphne! That's naughty!" She smacked his useless hands away from his nappy crotch and he whimpered against her warm soft titty in frustration. She scolded him, "Bad girl! Bad baby girl!" She replaced his mittened hands with one of her own, pressing the warm wet diaper against his slender stiffie and rubbing her palm over the slick front of his baby panties. Lisa gently patted his sodden diaper crotch with her cupped fingers, making that 'thwack-thwack-thwack' sound beloved by all infantilists. In sugary toddler tones she coaxed Daphne, "If you're a good girl and suck nice and hard on my titties - after I've given you a feed, you can play with your clittie while you're licking my pussy and bottom. Okay baby?" It was a good thing she'd stopped rubbing the crotch of his baby panties when she suggested this - otherwise David might have exploded untouched inside his lovely wet diaper. Lisa loved bossing men around, and she enjoyed teaching Daphne how to worship her breasts She took her time instructing him on how to lick and suck her nipples at the same time, how to pleasure a woman's nipples with his lips and tongue, and she coached the inexperienced sissy through the techniques of squeezing and fondling a woman's breast, gently milking her titties without hurting her - even with his stiff mittens in place. Lisa let him suckle for about twenty mutually satisfying minutes - ten blissful minutes on each big bouncy breast - before she announced herself satisfied. The sissy baby was doing such a good job of nursing on her sensitive nipples, it was actually turning on the experienced Mistress. She could feel her pussy getting wetter, and she was eager t