Chapter 22. Aunty Amanda's Nursery free porn video

Chapter 22. Aunty Amanda's Nursery Helen pulled out her mobile, punched a number and pressed it to her ear. When someone answered, she quietly spoke. "We're coming up to your street now." She listened for a moment, said, "Thank you," and hung up. She instructed her driver, "Turn right here and drive down this street, all the way to the end, Rose. It's the last house at the end facing the street, the grey one, and the garage door should be open. Drive straight in." Helen glanced at the big baby beside her, relishing the looks of horror and excitement fighting for dominance on the sissy's feminised features. She knew Daphne recognised the street and she must have realised they were going to Aunty Amanda's house. Nanna smiled wolfishly at her frightened baby girl as she pinned a full business envelope to Baby Daphne's breast. Rather than risk marking the sweet velvet frock, she pinned it to her terry bib, and Daphne watched her Nanna's busy fingers with an expression of mounting horror. "I believe this is the way you prefer to do things when you visit your Aunty Amanda?" she informed her worried sissy baby with a sly smile. Daphne looked from the heavy envelope pinned to her bib to Nanna's grinning face and back again, wondering 'How does she know? How much does she know?' Rose headed for the enormous two-storey grey-rendered house at the end of the street and drove up the paved driveway into the empty two-car garage. She switched off the purring engine as the door swung down behind them. The driver jumped out and opened the door for Mrs Baxter, then helped her Mistress alight. Helen held her handbag in one hand and accepted the vinyl baby bag from the chauffeur with the other, and then the young Filipino climbed into the back of the car and knelt on the back seat to unclip the baby's harness. She helped Daphne climb out too, holding her little hands as the terrified toddler seemed unsteady as a real two-year-old. There was a door leading to the house at the end of the garage, and they all turned towards it as it swung open. A pool of light illuminated the swept concrete floor of the dimly-lit space. Helen rearranged the folds of her mink coat and with the diaper bag in one hand, she marched through the open doorway and vanished from sight. Daphne stood beside the car dithering nervously, pawing at the full envelope pinned to her bib with one puffy pink mitten. Nanna reappeared a few seconds later with both hands free and waved to Daphne to follow her inside. The electric garage door started opening again. "You can go now, Rose," Helen crisply commanded her driver. She glanced down at her diamond-studded watch. Right on time. "Come back at one p.m. - but don't wander too far. I might need an earlier pick-up." "Yes Ma'am, certainly Ma'am." Rose touched the peaked brim of her cap and ducked behind the wheel, and she backed the saloon out of the garage without even glancing at Baby Daphne. The little girl shuffled after her Nanna in terror - despite the erection tenting out the front of her rumba panties beneath her short green velvet frock. The leather soles of her black patent Maryjanes clip-clopped noisily across the concrete floor, echoing off the bare concrete blockwork. She sucked harder on her mouth-filling soother, seeking the comfort it usually provided. Baby Daphne had visited Aunty Amanda's Nursery/Dungeon at least half a dozen times over the last four years - her last visit about six months ago. But Daphne had never been this nervous - not even before her momentous first visit. The doorway led into a spacious brightly-lit tiled kitchen, and Daphne found Nanna a few metres inside - talking to Aunty Amanda. Helen was surprised to find the Mistress was at least a decade older than her photos on her website, and she'd dyed her cropped brunette bob to the colour of ripe wheat. Helen could see salt-and-pepper roots in her centre part, and a curled blonde fringe covered most of her forehead. She'd put on a few kilos, too - at least twenty or so, by Helen's critical eye - a shade to heavy to be called merely voluptuous. Amanda was tall - about five-eight or nine, similar in height to Helen - but she appeared much shorter in her flat-heeled black-patent Princess slippers. The Mistress wasn't wearing much make-up. A little mascara around her squinting blue eyes, and splash of vivid red lipstick on her cupid's bow lips. Amanda was dressed very simply, her mammoth breasts on display in a stretchy black cotton/lycra sports bra. It left her plump belly exposed, her navel hidden by the rolls of pale flesh. Below she wore a pleated flared red miniskirt, although on closer inspection it was made of shiny latex, skin-tight across her wide child-bearing hips and flaring out below, falling a few scant inches below her crotch. Below the brief hemline her legs were pale and pudgy, with dimpled knees and thick calves and ankles. The voluptuous blonde greeted her guests with a bright smile, reaching out to shake hands with Helen. "Lovely to meet you, Helen," Amanda murmured, "or would you prefer me to call you Nanna?" The big-breasted bottle-blonde had a pleasant cultured voice, and she sounded reasonably well-educated. Helen was a hopeless snob! "Helen is fine," the older woman replied, smiling cautiously, "although I'm always Nanna to the baby." "Aha!" Amanda cried. "Here's our Baby Daphne! Oh my goodness! Look at you, baby girl!" The nervous little girl offered her grinning Aunty Amanda a quick curtsey, but she was unable to draw her skirts aside properly as her hands were still trapped in the leather mittens. The first thing the Mistress noted was the sissy's complete lack of body hair. Daphne's limbs were baby-smooth, and her little legs looked so sweet and feminine, especially in those frilly anklet socks and black- patent Maryjanes! "Hewwo Aunty Amanda," Daphne shyly greeted the professional dominatrix, her high round cheeks flushed pink with embarrassment - and excitement. "Is it really you, Daphne? Look at you! What a pretty little girl! Your hair is different, too. So pretty! And I love that dress you're wearing! It's gorgeous!" Amanda ignored the shiny streams of drool trickling down the little girl's chin from the bobbing guard of her big pink dum-dums, and smiled in appreciation even as she shook her head in disbelief. "You look like a real little girl!" "Fank you, Aunty Amanda," Daphne lisped, dropping another quick curtsey. She fluttered her long lashes girlishly, her pleased smile obvious even around the wide guard of her dum-dums. Her round pink cheeks turned a rosier hue - from pleasure or embarrassment, Daphne wasn't sure. Amanda stepped closer to the shy little girl and plucked at the envelope pinned to her damp dribble-bib. "Is this for me?" When Daphne looked questioningly at Nanna and then nodded pensively, the Mistress unpinned the envelope, opened it and checked the contents. Apart from a wad of cash - which she put aside on the kitchen table to count later - there was a folded letter addressed to Aunty Amanda. The Mistress opened the letter as she read the embroidered words on the nervous little girl's bib, smiling at the humiliating message. 'Mummy's Potty Princess.' The letter was a printed copy of one Baby Daphne had written to his former Mistress about a year ago, purporting to come from 'Daphne's Mummy.' It even had a blank place at the end for a signature - 'Baby Daphne's Mummy' - which Daphne usually penned in by hand. Helen had filled the space in with her own signature. She had printed out a copy from David's old computer files, outlining her dirty little baby's specific requests in full detail. The dominatrix quickly skimmed through the letter. She'd read the like before - Baby Daphne's requests didn't vary very much. She came to Aunty Amanda for extreme potty-training. Dear Aunty Amanda, I'm afraid my naughty little Baby Daphne has been misbehaving again. No matter how hard I try to get her to stop soiling her nappies, she won't learn! I think she likes her wet and poopy nappies. It seems to excite her, being stinky and dirty! She must like smelling like a toilet - so maybe she needs to be treated like a toilet? I would like to ask for your help in potty-training my little girl. Teach her the consequences of peeing and pooping in her pants. Make her your toilet, and make her consume everything your body puts out. Make her drink your wee-wees and eat your poo-poos! Make it as humiliating and embarrassing as possible for my wicked baby! Maybe that will teach her where her wee-wees and poo-poos are supposed to go. In the potty! Thanking you in advance for your help, Aunty Amanda. Signed, Baby Daphne's Mummy Amanda smiled wolfishly at the blushing little sissy-baby cringing before her. "I see," she harrumphed, letting her smile fade - to be replaced by a menacing glare. "You've been a bad little girl again! Haven't you, Baby Daphne?" She folded up the letter and tossed it on the table with a angry gesture. "Yeth Aunty Amanda! Thowwy Aunty Amanda!" she humbly apologised, looking crestfallen. "I'll show you sorry!" She plump blonde stepped to one side and pointed theatrically to the doorway leading into the rear of the house. "Get in there, you naughty baby! I think we need to change you out of that good frock before Aunty Amanda starts potty-training her dirty little girl all over again!" Helen smiled and nodded in approval at Daphne's cowed posture and cringing haste to obey the strict dominatrix. Amanda smacked his bum viciously hard as he shuffled past, to encourage him on his way, knowing the bulky padding would absorb most of the force. She followed after the waddling baby, motioning Helen to follow. "Come in, Helen," she invited her guest. "Baby Daphne has a locker here where she keeps some of her things. Although you'll probably have to remove her mittens so she can get dressed properly." "A locker? Baby Daphne has some things stored here?" The Mistress nodded, admiring the fall and sway of the taller woman's expensive mink coat. "Yes, I rent lockers to some of my more... privileged clients. They keep the only keys." She led Helen down a dimly-lit hallway to the room at the far end, which opened up to a huge white-tiled space with floor-to-ceiling bi-fold sliding glass doors along the left and right hand sides. They both overlooked lush, green, high-walled gardens. It was a bright, airy, sunny space - quite unlike what Helen imagined a B&D 'dungeon' should look like. Against the far wall stood a strange contraption sticking out of a floor-to-ceiling, two-metre wide mirror. Two parallel one-inch diameter steel pipes protruded about sixty centimetres from holes in the mirror at knee height, set about thirty centimetres apart. Mounted on top of them at the end was a transparent Perspex toilet seat, with a cut-away front - except it faced the wrong way. The toilet seat faced the mirror - so the seated user could watch what was happening between her legs. The odd arrangement drew Helen's eyes like a magnet, and she practically ignored the impressive collection of whips, canes, paddles and leather straps hanging from the walls either side of the doorway behind her. "I'd prefer to keep Daphne in mittens until she's been - until you've finished... using her?" Helen suggested distractedly, looking around the vast room with wide incredulous eyes. In the left near corner stood a black-painted cubical steel cage - about five-foot on a side, with a hot-pink padded vinyl floor and a scattering of toddler toys lying about inside. In the far left corner stood a huge white wooden highchair, with a variety of leather restraining straps hanging from various key points - similar to the one in Helen's home, but larger. A full-length rectangular Cheval mirror stood next to the highchair, and the short stubby legs ended it little wheels, so it could be easily moved about. The only furniture on the right was a black leather three-seater lounge in front of the closed glass doors, and Helen noticed the seat cushions were covered with black towels. "Until I've done my business?" Amanda joked. "Okay," the Mistress readily agreed. "Mittens stay on. She usually has her hands restrained until I'm ready to do 'number twos,' anyway. Okay then, she'll need some help getting changed." There was another open doorway a couple of metres to the right of the mirror, leading to another room - and Daphne lingered there, looking crestfallen. "I'm thowwy, Aunty Amanda. I don't have my key!" she snivelled apologetically, scuffing the toe of one shiny black Maryjane against the wide white porcelain tiles. "Did you mean this?" Helen demanded, fishing a keyring from her handbag and holding it up triumphantly. It was David's old keyring - stripped of all it's keys - bar one. To Amanda she explained, "When Daphne's Mummy and I went through her keys, this is the only one we couldn't place. We wondered what it was for - and I had my suspicions - so I brought it with me today!" "Aren't you a lucky baby girl, having such a clever Nanna?" Amanda insisted with a chuckle for Daphne's astonished expression. "What do you say?" Remembering her place, Daphne squeaked, "Yeth Aunty Amanda. Fank you, Nanna!" "Good girl!" Amanda took the key from Helen's hand and led them into the next room. One wall was lined with two built-in rows of wide wooden cupboards, one above the other, and each had a small numbered keyhole in one corner. At the end of the room was an open tiled bathroom. The space reminded Helen of the change room at their golf club. Amanda headed straight for the bottom left locker - number two - the same age Baby Daphne wished she was, so it was easy to remember. She unlocked the cupboard and threw open the door, stepping back and returning the key to Helen with a flourish. The cupboard was wider than Helen's shoulders and over a metre and a half deep, with a hanging rail across the top and a low wooden shelf on the bottom. It were roomy enough to contain two large, well-packed suitcases - which several of the lockers actually contained - but Daphne's cupboard was practically bare - apart from a shiny pink and white latex outfit hanging from one of the two lonely plastic hangers. There was a grey plastic toiletries bag, and beside it.... Helen pushed the blushing baby aside to lean down and pick up a small glass bottle from the low shelf. She shook the transparent jar full of pills and it rattled noisily. "What's this?" she demanded, looking questioningly at Baby Daphne. The little girl's face was flushed and rosy with fear - or excitement - and she hoped it concealed her guilty blushes when she tried to trick her Nanna. "Magic Fwuit pillth, Nanna." she haltingly replied. "What?" "Magic Fwuit pillth," Dahphne repeated. Helen shook her head in confusion, frowning in annoyance. "Spit out your dummy, baby! Nanna can't understand you!" Amanda reached out and took the jar from Helen's hand. She unscrewed the lid and poured a few pills into the cupped palm of her other hand. "They're called 'Magic Fruit' pills - from South America," Amanda helpfully explained. "It's this odd fruit that contains a natural chemical which tricks your tastebuds into thinking what is sour, is actually sweet. It's really weird! I've tried some. You chew up a tablet and let it dissolve on your tongue for a few minutes. You can eat the most bitter lemon a few minutes later, and it tastes like the sweetest orange!" She offered the handful of pills to Baby Daphne, who after a cautious glance at Nanna for permission, opened her mouth wide. The Mistress obligingly popped one of the speckled pink pills in Daphne's open mouth and the sissy baby made a big production of chewing it up. Daphne wanted to make sure every tastebud in her tongue was saturated with the taste- changing chemical. Amanda noticed Daphne's puffy pink lips for the first time and admired the little girl's feminine fuchsia mouth as she visibly chewed, wondering why her lipstick hadn't been smudged by her constant dummy-sucking. When Helen still looked doubtful, Amanda suggested, "Try one, if you like? The effect only lasts about forty-five minutes to an hour - and I've got a lemon in the kitchen you can try." Intrigued, Helen agreed to try one later. She inspected the speckled pink tablets, then poked one of the pills with her long crimson nail. It was smaller, flatter and cream-coloured, unlike the others. She demanded, "What's that one? That's a different tablet." When Amanda held up the cream pill in question and looked to Daphne for an explanation, Helen's eyes followed hers. The sissy's cheeks were scarlet with shame - or guilt. "Well baby?" the Mistress demanded. "Tell Nanna and Aunty Amanda what this one is for?" "It- it'th a thtomach-thettler," Daphne squeaked nervously in reply, forgetting about her mittens and reaching for the pill. Amanda shook her head slightly and withdrew her hand. "No baby. You can't chew this one. You need to swallow this one with a drink, remember?" "A stomach-settler?" Helen questioned. Daphne nodded and lowered her gaze to her frilly bib, pawing at her dangling dum-dums with her mittens, trying to get a grip on the sloppy soother. "Yeth Nanna" she lied. "To help thettle my tummy and thtop me from fwowwing up." "They stop you throwing up? Vomiting? An anti-emetic? Ohh!" Helen's sapphire eyes widened at the implications of that statement. Amanda poured the rest of the pills back into the bottle, replaced the lid and stuffed the skinny jar inside her bra, in the cleavage between her mammoth breasts. "We can deal with that later. For now, we need to change our baby girl's outfit. Do you want to do it, Nanna? Or should I?" "As I've never done this before, I'd appreciate the chance to watch and learn," the aristocrat politely demurred. Amanda twirled her upraised index finger at Daphne. "Turn around, sweetie, and let Aunty help you out of that gorgeous frock. Good girl." The Mistress unclipped Daphne's frilly bib and tossed it to the floor, and the attached dummy and plastic chain rattled against the white tiles. She unzipped the back of the green velvet frock and drew it over Daphne's head and compliantly-raised arms, and hung it on the spare hanger, murmuring, "What a beautiful dress! It's gorgeous! I'm sure I had one just like it when I was about five or six." "Yes, it's a classic little-girl, Sunday-best dress, isn't it? And I love the colour!" "Me too!" Amanda hung it in the cupboard on the rail and returned to the half-naked sissy. Amanda made a fuss of Daphne's rumba panties, too. She knew how much it excited her sissies when she went into detail over their precious girly outfits. "Ooo! Look at those gorgeous frillies!" She ran her fingers through the floppy rows of dark-green lace decorating the seat and affectionately swatted the baby's protruding padded posterior. "So pretty!" The experienced Mistress stood right behind the tiny sissy and slipped one pudgey arm around his skinny waist, making him start in alarm. She trailed her fingers down over his smooth hairless tummy, laughing inwardly at his trembling nervousness, and over the front of his bulging baby panties. She cupped the shiny satin panties against his stiffie. She leaned her red lips close to his ear and whispered, "Ooo! So soft and smooth! I love the feel of your satin panties, baby girl!" Amanda caressed his slippery padded crotch for a few tantalising seconds, her palm moving in a gentle circling massage, teasing him - but not too much. She knew how premature this sissy could be! "Such a lovely thick nappy," she cooed in Daphne's ear. "It must hold lots of wetties and poo-poos, baby girl!" She released him and stepped back abruptly and the whimpering sissy gasped and stumbled for a moment. Amanda removed the latex dress from the hangar, and there was a white hood dangling underneath. She let the dress fall to the floor while she removed the hood and replaced the hangar. She took off Daphne's green Alice band and handed it to Nanna, advising, "She won't need this for the moment." Amanda shook open the white latex hood and made sure the zipper was lowered, and when she had it sorted, offered the bottom opening to Baby Daphne. "Pop your head in here, baby," she commanded, like she was giving instructions to a shy toddler. Daphne crouched forward and inclined her bowed head towards the Mistress, who with some difficulty wormed the slippery rubber hood over her mass of tight platinum ringlets. "That's it. Good girl," she encored the struggling sissy. The little girl whimpered in pain when some hairs got caught and were ripped out by the roots, but sadistic Aunty Amanda was relentless in her task. With much wriggling, twisting, grunting and groaning, she worked the tight latex hood all the way over Daphne's head. Helen was pleased see the oval cut-out front left the little girl's flushed features exposed. Her mass of blonde curls was completely concealed, but the absence was well compensated by her feminine, fluttering, doll-like lashes and her perfect fuchsia-pink rosebud mouth. She still looked like an anxious little girl. The shiny white hood covered Daphne from her shoulders to the top of her head, but had an oval opening from her forehead down to just below her pointy little chin. When Amanda closed the rear plastic zipper, it tightened around the little girls head and throat, till it was skin-tight. 'Like an old- fashioned nun's hood,' Helen mused, 'only made from wetproof latex. How clever!' Amanda picked up and shook open the slithering pink-and-white latex frock, and Helen could see it was just as short and babyish as all Daphne's toddler frocks. The plump Mistress held the frock open and up for Daphne to step into, and when the little girl's white hood popped through the wide round collar, she helped thread her pink leather mittens through the long cuffed sleeves. Amanda rearranged the sit of the slithering dress, making sure the brief flounced hem sat evenly before raising the rear zipper and sealing the baby girl in her sweet latex outfit. The high-waisted, Empire-style toddler frock barely covered the droopy crotch of her rumba panties, but the round pink collar came up to the base of her white latex-covered throat. The little girl's body was covered in a protective layer of shiny latex from the top of her little head to her padded crotch - except for her pretty heart-shaped face. "Okay, you're all ready, baby girl!" Amanda announced with a self- satisfied smile. The Mistress wrapped her hand around one of Daphne's mittened fists. "Come with Aunty and you can sit in the highchair and have a lovely drinkie-poo, while I have a little chat with your Nanna. Come on!" Daphne was led from the room but her longing backward glances at her dum-dums convinced her Nanna to crouch down and pick up the discarded bib and attached adult-sized baby soother. Nanna knew how much Baby Daphne needed her dum-dums these days. The white wooden highchair in Amanda's dungeon was much larger than the ones Daphne sat in at home or at Nanna's. It was designed to accommodate the biggest adult-babies in Mistress Amanda's stable of clients, not dainty little sissies like Daphne. The seat was wider and deeper, the arms too high for Daphne's comfort, and there was no footrest. Amanda kicked over a low pink plastic stool, positioning it in front of the highchair for the baby to climb onto. Daphne stepped up onto the low stool, her baby-pink latex skirts swirling and swishing over her satin rumba panties. She turned around and let the hefty bigger Mistress half-help half-lift her into the high padded seat. Amanda kicked the stool out of the way and adjusted the waist and crotch straps to Daphne's smaller dimensions, then buckled the little girl into the oversized piece of kiddy furniture. Helen thought she looked smaller and more infantile than ever in the oversized highchair, and couldn't help smiling at the sight. When she was certain the baby couldn't escape, Amanda picked up the white wooden tray sitting behind the chair and slotted it over the arms. The cut-out half-moon top stopped several centimetres short of the little girl's rubber-clad bosom, but that didn't matter. Strapped in, she wasn't going anywhere. Amanda watched Helen clip the frilly terry bib around the little girl's neck and straighten it over her bosom. When she looked questioningly at the older woman - the latex outfit didn't need protecting, after all. Helen smiled and shrugged her shoulders. "Baby always wears a bib when she's in the highchair at home," she explained with a small smile. She stuffed the big dummy in her little girl's gaping mouth and Baby Daphne sucked gratefully on her pacifier teat. Amanda had to smile again at the portentous message on the bib, thinking, 'Mummy's Potty Princess' indeed! My Potty Princess today!' "Come out to the kitchen and I'll make us a cup of tea and get a bottle for Daphne," Amanda suggested to Helen. "Our little girl isn't going anywhere." Helen followed the beefy blonde back to the kitchen where she filled the kettle and switched it on. Amanda picked up the envelope lying on the table and in front of Helen, counted the notes. "Fourteen, fifteen hundred. Excellent! Thank you, Helen." She slipped the cash into a top drawer and then locked it, using a key hanging from a bracelet on her left wrist. "How do you like your tea?" "White with two sugars, please." Helen unfastened her full-length mink coat and shrugged it from her shoulders, draping it over a spare chair. Amanda's eyebrows climbed her forehead and she gave a low appreciative whistle. "Wow! Sensational outfit!" Taking her cue from Mistress Amanda's photos on her website, Helen had visited a specialist latex and rubber wear firm in the city the day before, and splashed out on a whole new ensemble. Her black latex sleeveless top had a low round neck, exposing a wide expanse of heaving feminine flesh. Her shiny top was so snug, her bra-less meaty breasts actually bulged over the top a little. It had a zipper running down from the nadir of her shadowed cleavage, all the way to just below her belly-button. The way her thimble-sized nipples poked out through the thin material, it was obvious Helen wasn't wearing a bra - but the black rubber top was so tight, it mashed her big round titties against her chest, keeping them high and proud. Her cheeky high-waisted little miniskirt was made from red latex, similar to Amanda's, but underneath Helen wore skin- tight black latex stockings, tucked into knee-high black latex high- heeled boots. Her brief skirt barely covered her stocking tops, and the tight latex stockings gave definition to her shapely thighs and calves. With her beautiful face, hourglass waist, big bosoms and wide-child- bearing hips, Helen looked like a gorgeous fantasy dominatrix from some expensive porn film. Helen glanced down at her outrageous outfit and tossed the experienced Mistress a self-deprecating smile. "You don't think it's too much?" Amanda grinned and adamantly shook her head in denial. "No way! You look fantastic! Actually, I owned a few outfits similar to that, but I couldn't fit into them anymore. I gave them away half a decade ago." She gave her bare shoulders a careless shrug. "But the clients I see these days don't need me to be young and slim anymore. In fact, most of them prefer a mature woman on the heftier side." She cupped her massive bosoms in her hands and lifted them up as if displaying ripe fruit to Helen, then let them drop with a chuckle. The meaty orbs bounced and swayed heavily for a few moments, despite her massive underwired sports bra. "And they love my big tits!" When they were both seated at the kitchen table, steaming mugs before them, Amanda asked, "How long have you known about Baby Daphne?" "About nine or ten months," Helen replied. She admired Amanda's delicate China mug, which was twice the size of a normal coffee mug, thinking, 'This Mistress must be a thirsty woman!' "How did you find out about her?" Amanda delicately inquired. "I can't imagine that terrified little sissy ever volunteered the information?" She took a few long swallows of tea, keen to top up her bladder. Having a constantly-full bladder was almost considered one of her job requirements. Helen chuckled and took a cautious sip of her tea - hot, sweet and strong, just the way she liked it. "No, my daughter found out what our sissy baby had been up to when she grew suspicious and searched Daphne's computer." "Oh! That must have been quite a shock?" The experienced Mistress guessed with a sympathetic smile. She knew of many marriages where the poor unsuspecting wives had no idea what perverted dark fantasies turned on their twisted husbands. Helen's return smile was shark-like. "It was - to my daughter. Not so much to me." "You suspected?" "You just needed to look at him - her, I mean. I guessed he was a sissy- boy - I didn't realise he was a big baby, too." Helen grimaced and shook her head in disbelief. "I couldn't believe it when my daughter brought home the little pansy - and when she decided to marry him?" She shrugged her shoulders and sighed in despair. The Mistress put down her half-drained mug and climbed laboriously to her feet. "Hang on a second. I have to make up a bottle for the baby, and give her one of her stomach pills." She took a clear plastic Avent, fifteen-ounce baby bottle from the cupboard over the fridge, and Helen noticed it had an amber rubber Nuk 4 adult-sized teat, like all Daphne's baby bottles at home. Amanda unscrewed the pink-capped teat and asked her guest, "Would you like to watch? After all, you've paid handsomely for the privilege." Intrigued, Helen followed the hefty woman out of the kitchen and back to the rear sunroom. Daphne was still locked in the highchair where they'd left her. The big baby couldn't stop staring at Nanna in her exotic latex outfit, almost losing her sloppy dum-dums when her jaw dropped in astonishment. To David's eyes, Helen looked like a rubber dominatrix fantasy come true. Amanda captured Daphne's attention when she thumped the empty bottle and teat on the wide wooden tray and hoisted up her flared red latex skirt around her chunky waist. She tucked the rubber hem under her bra strap front and back, and Helen standing behind her could see every inch of her big pale bumcheeks through her sheer white nylon knickers. Without a trace of embarrassment or false modesty, the woman pulled down her flimsy panties and kicked the size eighteen underwear aside, then picked up the wide-mouthed plastic baby bottle. Amanda's pale buttocks were fleshy and doughy, dimpled with cellulite, and to Helen's eyes - rather unattractive. She wondered what the sissy baby saw in the overweight bleached-blonde Mistress? "Would Baby Daphne like a drink?" Amanda coyly inquired. The little girl glanced anxiously at her smiling latex Nanna before she hesitantly nodded. Amanda waggled the empty bottle in front of the embarrassed baby's face. "Ask Aunty properly, baby." "Pweathe Aunty Amanda, can I - may I have a dwink?" Daphne squeaked in her little-girl voice, her eyes darting from the bottle in Amanda's hand to the amused face of her rubber Nanna. "Would you like some of Aunty's special drink?" Amanda stepped back a couple of metres so Daphne could see she was naked below the waist, and lowered the bottle to her hairless groin as if her meaning might be unclear. The baby gulped nervously and nodded, her eyes glued to the thrilling sight - her expression torn between excitement and guilt. "Yeth pweathe, Aunty Amanda," Daphne blurted. "May I have thome of your thpecial dwink, pweathe?" "Of course, baby girl! Since you asked so politely." The woman leaned forward and spread her tree-trunk legs and squatted slightly, carefully placing the wide-mouth vessel between her beefy thighs. "Watch, baby. Watch as Aunty makes a special drink for her dirty little potty-girl. Ahhh!" Standing directly behind the squatting woman, Helen could see her pressing the upright baby bottle against her vagina, covering her hairless slit from her perineum to her hooded clit. After the Mistress sighed loudly, Helen spotted - and heard - a tiny trickle. A few seconds later the urine gushed out of Amanda's urethra like she'd turned on a tap. Helen could see the amber torrent swirling and foaming slightly in the bottom of the bottle, and she could hear the hiss of her forceful stream. It looked like pale apple juice to Helen, although she was certain the pungent urine tasted and smelled nothing like fruit juice. She was amazed at how casually the woman urinated in front of Daphne and herself, how relaxed the dominatrix seemed performing a private bodily function so publicly. She didn't realise Amanda had done this a thousand times or more, but guessed she'd had a lot of practice. The fifteen-ounce baby bottle was almost half full by the time Amanda's hissing stream began to slow, and she kept the bottle between her legs for a few more seconds, squeezing out the last few drops. Satisfied she had finished, Amanda raised the bottle to her eye-level and inspected the swirling amber contents, taking a sniff like a sommelier checking a fine wine. "Mmm! Lovely! Nice and fresh," she sang in approval as she stepped closer to the highchair tray and screwed on the teat. She placed the three-quarters full sloshing vessel on the tray, took the glass jar from her cleavage and unscrewed the lid, then shook out some pills. She selected a cream pill, cooed, "Open wide," and placed the pill on the baby's tongue like she was giving him a sacrament. Daphne accepted the tablet and eagerly opened her mouth for Amanda to slip the rubber bottle teat between her pink-stained lips. She sucked hard and noisily swallowed, the warm urine washing the Ecstasy pill down her throat. Helen looked on in amazement as the little girl greedily sucked on the bottle teat, gulping down Amanda's fresh urine like it was the finest nectar. "Can you hold your bottle with your mittens on?" Amanda asked Daphne in syrupy baby talk. "Try for Aunty, baby. Show me if you can." The little girl awkwardly clutched the slippery round plastic bottle with both pink mittens, the fat rubber balls inside making every movement clumsy. She managed to grasp the slick object and pushed the teat more firmly between her puckered pink lips, and she tilted the base of the bottle up high, sucking noisily. "Good girl!" Amanda praised her, smiling and nodding in approval as Daphne thirstily gulped down her precious gift. "Good baby! Mmm! Yum-yums," she sang to the slurping baby in encouragement. "Does that taste nice, Baby Daphne?" She smiled in delight when the suckling sissy baby nodded enthusiastically without removing the bottle teat from his lips. The Mistress casually lowered her red latex skirt as she turned around and picked up her discarded panties. She collected the bottle of pills from the highchair tray, gave Helen a sly wink and suggested, "Another cup of tea, Nanna?" The Mistress led the way out to the kitchen and dumped the pill bottle on the table, commenting, "I need to refill my bladder." Helen was pleased to see the beefy blonde wipe her genitals clean with a hand towel and replace her knickers, then wash her hands before she filled the kettle at the sink. Daphne sucked on the oversized bottle teat, swallowing down Aunty Amanda's revolting gift. Even the Miracle Fruit tablets couldn't overcome the pungent taste of fresh urine, but the excited sissy kept drinking, knowing she would be severely punished if she didn't finish her bottle. The fact that Nanna knew she was a dirty little potty girl made her stiff clittie throb inside the folds of her warm wet nappy. Daphne rocked and rolled her hips in the restrictive leather restraining straps, as much as the tight bonds permitted, rubbing the sensitive underside of her stiff clittie against the puffy swollen wadding. She recalled the first time she'd met Aunty Amanda, and how excited she'd been to meet a Mistress who not only understood her perverse fascination, but obviously enjoyed her work. She was prepared - for a hefty fee - to indulge Daphne's dirtiest, darkest desires. Mistress Amanda was happy to take Daphne's booking, although she charged more than the other place. 200 per hour. Daphne hoped it would be worth the extra cost when she made the booking with the Mistress over the phone. Once Amanda understood Daphne was a sissy-baby looking for full toilet-training, she wouldn't let the excited baby go into too much detail on an open line, instead suggesting Daphne bring a letter from "her Mummy" explaining exactly what she wanted. David remembered massaging his stiffy through his trousers when he hung up, grateful his wide work desk hid any sign of his uncontrollable arousal. David had been impressed when he approached the huge mansion at the end of a street full of similar expensive homes. He stepped onto the wide front porch, the huge dark panelled front door deep in the shadows, and his hand was trembling like a leaf when he rang the bell. When Mistress Amanda opened the front door, David was surprised to see she was a bit older than her website pics, and a few kilos heavier - but he didn't care. The fact that she was almost old enough to be his mother fitted in perfectly with his twisted fantasies. He'd arranged for a two-hour session with the voluptuous smiling brunette. The big-busted, wide-hipped Mistress wore a heavy black, steel-boned leather corset which nipped in her waist to breathtaking proportions, and her massive pale breasts almost exploded over the tops of the shaped, steel-reinforced cups. Her enormous titties heaved and swayed, wobbling like soft pale jellies every time she inhaled and exhaled. She wore a tiny black latex skirt over her wide child-bearing hips and enormous bubble butt. Her meaty pale thighs disappeared into a pair of thigh-high, skin-tight, black leather boots with six-inch heels and three-inch platform soles. Amanda was five-foot-nine in her bare feet, but six-three in her exotic platform heels. She towered over the tiny lad, who couldn't keep his wide eyes off her mammoth bulging breasts, heaving hypnotically right in front of his little snub nose. "You must be Baby Daphne? Come in, darling!" She beckoned him inside with an enticing red-lipped smile, her eyes narrowed in thought. The dainty little thing looked like a pretty petite young girl, despite his faded baggy blue jeans and floppy yellow University sweatshirt."How old are you, sweetheart?" she asked, closing and locking the front door behind him, silently admiring his long platinum locks. "I don't mean your fantasy age. I mean your real age. And can I see some proof?" After congratulating him on his 21st birthday, she led him into the kitchen and seated the nervous little boy at the table. "Do you have something for Aunty Amanda?" she crooned, holding out one palm. She accepted the envelope from his trembling hands and opened it, counting the money and putting it away before unfolding the two-page letter. Dear Aunty Amanda, First let me thank you for offering to wet-nurse Baby Daphne and help potty-train my naughty little girl. Baby Daphne is two years old - almost three - and long past the point where she should have mastered the art of potty-training. Unfortunately, my wicked baby girl loves doing lots of wee-wees and poo-poos in her nappies, making lots of yucky messes for her poor Mummy to clean up. Sometimes my naughty little girl even likes to put her hand in her nappy and have a play with her clittie when she's all wet and messy. Obviously it excites her! How disgusting! Don't you agree? Please check her diaper on arrival at your home. She'll probably be wet - or even a bit messy - she always is. If so, reprimand the useless sissy, and make it as embarrassing and humiliating for her as possible. But don't bother to change her diaper until she's desperately in need of a change. Let my revolting baby wallow in her smelly filth for as long as you can stand it! If my disgusting little girl wants to smell and act like a dirty toilet - I want you to use her as a toilet! Potty-train my little girl - by teaching her how to be your potty! Make her drink down your urine and eat your shit, right from your body! Don't let her try and talk you out of this. This is what Mummy wants - and Mummy is prepared to pay for! Of course, you have my permission to use corporal punishment on my wicked child if she objects to any part of her potty-training, or if she fails to satisfy you in any way, Aunty Amanda. I would suggest starting off with a bare-bottomed hand-spanking - if required - then if necessary, escalate to the paddle or the strap, and finally - in extreme need only - a few cuts of a nice whippy cane! That should really sting - and convince Daphne you are serious about potty- training my vile child! By the way - please don't let my little girl play with her clittie - at least not until after she's been successfully potty-trained. Once she does her bad baby squirties in her nappy, she'll want to pretend this is all a big mistake and want to leave. Do not let her! I am paying for two full hours of babysitting - no more - no less! I cannot return to pick up my little girl until after the designated two hour period, regardless - so I guess you are stuck with her till then. Please do your best to return my disobedient child to me fully potty- trained - if possible. I realise full training may take some time, and if we have any success today, I will assuredly book her in for monthly - if not weekly - training sessions. One day I would like to take my little diaper-girl out somewhere in public, and I worry that I might be 'caught short', a long way from a public lavatory. I think how useful it would be to have a well-trained, portable potty - one I could lead around in her toddler harness and baby reins, ready for me to use at a moment's notice. Of course baby would have to be fully potty-trained to be truly functional. She would be required to swallow the entire contents of my bladder in one 'sitting,' so to speak - but also to eat up a healthy bowel movement without flinching or complaining - or throwing up a perfectly acceptable used meal. While I'm sure Baby Daphne will require many lengthy training sessions over months, if not years, I assure you there will be a substantial bonus payment should you succeed in finally potty-training Baby Daphne to my outlined requirements and my complete satisfaction. Thanking you in advance for your kind efforts, I remain Baby Daphne's Mummy. Amanda grinned at her cringing red-faced charge and tossed the signed letter on the wooden kitchen table. She indicated he should slide the packed overnight bag across the table to her, and she took her time inspecting the contents. The pink plastic panties with the delicate lace edging the waist and leg bands made her smile, then she said,"Before we go any further - the standard dungeon rules apply. Alright?" "The rules?" David bleated in confusion. Amanda smiled forgivingly as she shook her head at his ignorance. He was obviously a real novice. "We use the traffic light system. Green means 'go', orange means 'slow down, you're approaching your limit - and red means 'stop.' Understand?" "Red means stop," David parroted, nodding his head. "That's right, baby" Amanda crooned with a wide smile of approval. "Good girl! That's what we call our 'safety word.' Okay?" David nodded again and beamed at her in reply. He loved it when she spoke to him like he was a silly toddler. It made his stiffening clittie tingle delightfully inside his warm wet diaper. "But if for some reason you can't use your safety word - if your mouth is too full, for instance - you can always tap out." Amanda leaned across the table and tapped his forearm with her stiffened fingertips; once, twice."A double tap like that means 'red.' You follow?" He nodded again. It seemed pretty simple. She picked up his pacifier - a recent purchase from the internet. It was a Nuk No. 4 dummy, plain white - but it the first soother David ever owned where the pliant rubber teat actually felt the right size in his small adult mouth. Amanda watched his wide blue eyes open even wider as she brought the adult pacifier to her own lips, and she popped the amber rubber teat in her mouth and had a few quick loud sucks. She popped it out and inspected the teat, and David saw she had left it dripping with her saliva. Unsatisfied, she also licked the inside of the dummy guard, thickly coating it with her spittle before reaching over and pressing it between his lips. He automatically sucked the familiar rubber teat into his mouth, the dripping-wet guard pressing against his lips like a sloppy kiss from an old maiden Aunt. She gave him a tight smile when she heard him sucking, ordering, "Keep that in your mouth until Aunty takes it out." Finally Amanda tossed the remaining sissy baby items back in the bag and she haughtily gazed at David, frowning in contempt. She stood and stepped around to the anxious client, leaning menacingly close to the frightened sissy. She grabbed him by one ear, using the tender appendage to haul the squealing sissy to his feet. Amanda grabbed his butt, squeezing his puffy wet disposable through his baggy jeans and plastic panties. Her other hand snaked around to his front, her curled fingers pressing against his nappy front until she could locate his little erection. He twitched and jerked in her grasp, his eyes wide as his breathing accelerated. "You're wet!" she announced with the certainty of long experience, massaging the sodden diaper against his straining clittie. "Very wet! You bad baby!" She released him and stepped back, pointing to the doorway leading to a dimly-lit hallway. "Get in there, you naughty little girl!" As he shuffled past her with sly smirk, she walloped his padded bottom good and hard, almost lifting the tiny lad off his feet. He squealed and jumped forward in alarm, almost losing his dum-dums. That certainly wiped the smile from his face! "You're a naughty girl!" Amanda scolded him, sounding completely sincere when she irritably demanded, "How old are you, Daphne? Two? No, almost three! And still you're wetting and pooping your nappies like a silly baby! Well - enough is enough!" She brushed past him to throw open a door on the right, halfway down the hallway. "Get in there!" The room reminded him of the Sissy Room at the 'Sisters of Dominance' dungeon - all pinks and creams - but this room looked like a big baby Nursery! There was an adult-sized cot standing against the far wall, made of white-painted wood, a hip-high padded change table against the wall to his right, and an open built-in wardrobe displaying a feast of feminine finery. The wide vanity mirror sat above a bench littered with an assortment of long wigs on foam heads, in every possible hair colour - plus a few pale-pink and hot-pink fantasy wigs. There were bottles and trays of make-up, a huge red glass tulip jar full of capped lipsticks, and a stunning array of spray-on perfumes. While David glanced around the AB-fantasy room in open-mouthed delight, the experienced Mistress was stripping off his sweater and unbuttoning his jeans. "We need to get you properly dressed. Stand still, little girl! Do as you're told!" He timidly let her unzip his pants and watched as she crouched down to untie and remove his sneakers. When he was naked but for his droopy diaper and pink plastic panties, Amanda stepped over to the wardrobe and flicked through the many coat hangers. She would pull out an adorable girly outfit, hold it up for inspection, turn to look at him thoughtfully - then shake her head. Rejected, it would be hung back up and another chosen. Then another. "Could- could I pick something out?" he hesitantly asked, eyeing the fabulous collection of sissy-baby outfits with wide hopeful eyes. "No darling," Amanda swiftly replied. "I'm in charge of you, little girl - and I will decide what you wear!" It was always best to establish dominance quickly, and she could tell the submissive little sissy craved the guidance of a firm maternal hand. She cried, "Aha! Here's the one!" It was pink - of course, made from brushed cotton, and so little-girly! Puffy elbow-length cuffed sleeves ended in an elaborate spray of gorgeous white lace, the same lace edging the short flounced hemline. There was even a slightly longer petticoat sewn in, just one layer of lace-edged tulle to make the skirts flare out crazily. One of the smallest frocks in Amanda's extensive collection, she estimated it would fit her little girl perfectly. "Hands up, darling. Good girl!" She slipped the Empire-waist dress over his head and raised arms, settled it about his narrow shoulders and zipped up the rear. "Hold your hair up out of Aunty's way, baby. Good girl!" As the bodice tightened around his torso, David felt a thrill of arousal. He realised it was a perfect fit - although when he glanced in the vanity mirror, he could see his toddler frock was too short to cover the shiny pink crotch of his baby panties. Perfect! Amanda made him sit on the change table while she took his frilly anklet socks and his black patent Maryjanes from his overnight bag. She slid the white cotton socks on his tiny feet and buckled on his gleaming shoes for him like a loving mother, then helped the baby climb down. She held out her hand and he took it instinctively, and she gave him a quick smile of approval before she led him from the room. Amanda took him down the hallway to the sunroom at the end, his Maryjanes clip- clopping noisily across the white ceramic tiles. David barely had time to glimpse at the weird collection of big baby furniture scattered about the huge room before Amanda dragged him over to a black leather three seat lounge in front of a row of floor-to-ceiling glass doors. She sat him in the middle of the lounge, and he noticed he was sitting on a thick black towel stretched over the leather cushions.'Probably to protect against wet little bottoms like mine,' he thought as his sodden diaper squished wetly under his bum. Mistress Amanda stood right in front of him and in her towering platform boots, her crotch was almost level with his little snub nose. He stared up at her with adoring puppy eyes as she unzipped the side of her black leather corset, peeling the stiff garment from her voluptuous curves with a sigh of relief. Her waistline spread a few inches but all David could see were her humongous milk-white breasts. Each one was almost the size of his head, and he'd never seen such large prominent nipples or such expansive areolae. The bumpy russet tips were already stiffening, from the change in temperature or anticipation, he couldn't tell. David watched in open-mouthed amazement as Amanda massaged her mammoth titties with surprising ferocity, squeezing the soft flesh hard between her thumbs and fingers, always working towards the swelling russet buds at the ends. He sucked harder on the substitute nipple in his mouth as drops of milk beaded both bumpy tips. She smiled knowingly at his thrilled hungry expression as she stepped aside and sat down at the far right end of the lounge, her huge breasts flopping either side of her broad chest. Amanda patted her broad lap, patting both fleshy thighs in invitation. "Lie down with your head on my lap, baby. It's time for Aunty Amanda to give you a little feed." He lay in the usual position, his feet curled under his bum and his cheek resting against one warm plump thigh. Her massive mammaries filled his field of view, and the sight of her milk letting down caused a gush of saliva to spurt in his mouth. He had to rapidly swallow to prevent himself from drooling. Amanda adjusted her position slightly, making herself more comfortable, then she curled her right arm under his head. She raised him slightly and steered his face towards her right breast, plucking out his dummy with her left hand and dropping it on his tummy. She cupped her right teat in her left hand and steered the swollen russet cap towards his slobbering mouth. She gave a cry of alarm when he greedily latched on, sucking furiously. David was shocked when she slapped him across the cheek - hard enough to really hurt! "Ow!" Amanda cried. "Too hard!" She uncurled her arm slightly and David's face fell away from her breast. He gazed up at the Mistress, cringing in fright. She saw she'd really frightened the poor thing and changed tack. "No darling," she continued in a more soothing tone."You have to suck gently to begin with. Aunty's nipples are very sensitive. Once you've been nursing for a few minutes, I really enjoy it when you suck really hard - just not at first. I'll tell you when. Okay?" "Yeth Aunty Amanda. Thowwy Aunty Amanda." She had to smile at his contrite expression and wondered if he knew he was lisping? "That's alright, baby. All women are different, and they like different things, It's best to start off gently though. Here baby." She guided his lips back to her dripping teat, and he latched on more cautiously this time. "Ahh! Good girl. Suck a little harder, baby. Mmm. Not too much! Gentler, gentler. Mmm! Ooo! That's better." She noticed him massaging the tenting front of his baby panties and smacked his hand aside. "Ah-ah-ah! No touching!" she scolded him. "Good little girls don't do that!" Instead Amanda guided his hands to her breast, using syrupy baby talk to encourage the suckling baby to use her fingers to help squeeze out her milk. David became lost in an adult-baby fantasy land as he tasted and swallowed her breastmilk. Although thin and watery and sickly-sweet, it was the gift of life to him. A baby's prime - nay, only source of nourishment. He had to suck for half a minute or so, taking several snuffling breaths through his flared nostrils before he had a decent mouthful to swallow, but he was so aroused! Especially when a few minutes later Amanda crooned, "Suck harder, baby. Mmm! Ohh! Oh, that's better! Mmm! You can suck harder than that! Come on, baby girl! Show me how hungry you are! Have a lovely big feed from my titties like a good little baby girl!" She wrapped her hand around his tentative fingers and made him squeeze her breasts harder, milking the contents towards her nipple and filling his mouth with a burst of sweet nectar."Suck, baby! Suck!" she throatily urged him, and David could tell by the sexual throb in her voice that the Mistress was getting excited. Her already huge nipple had swollen and lengthened even more, thickening to fill his mouth, and he sucked with such ferocity, the squirting teat was halfway down his throat. Warm sweet milk gushed down his throat to fill his little tummy, and David had never felt so baby-like - or so loved! Amanda let him suckle for about ten or fifteen minutes on her right breast before slipping one bright red nail into the corner of his mouth, breaking his suction seal. His lips parted with an audible 'pop!' and David fell back, gasping for breath. The grinning Mistress used the finger in his mouth to steer his slobbering lips towards her left nipple, already leaking a thin trickle of milk. "Gently, baby," she softly cautioned him."Just like the other side. Start of gently for a few minutes, then you can have a lovely good hard suck! Okay?" He answered her with his adoring puppy-dog eyes and he was gentle as a lamb when he initially latched on. With her crooned words of encouragement she taught him how she loved to be suckled, and a few minutes later she was encouraging him to suck for all he was worth! "Suck harder! Harder, baby! Mmm! Oh yeah, that's better!" He obeyed her explicit instructions, even though he was frightened of hurting her. Although by the changing timbre of her voice, he could tell the buxom Mistress was also becoming aroused. He squeezed her titty ruthlessly hard, forcing the contents towards the tip halfway down his throat. "Did baby enjoy that?" Amanda coyly inquired after she peeled his sweaty face away from her sagging left teat. His head rolled drunkenly back on her lap as he panted noisily, gasping for air. His lips were coated with milk and the cloying sweet taste covered his tongue. He could only nod and raggedly smile in reply before she stuffed his dummy back in his mouth. "Good girl! Now sit up, honey. It's time for Aunty Amanda to begin your potty-training." As soon as he sat up she climbed to her feet and snatched his hand. "Come with me, baby girl." She led him over to the right hand end of the room, to a strange Perspex toilet seat suspended on two chromed steel poles extruding from a floor-to-ceiling mirror. Amanda released his hand to spread a black bath towel on the tiles below the suspended toilet seat. When she saw in the mirror that Baby Daphne was pressing her nappy front against her groin, she whirled around and smacked her right hand away. "Bad baby! Naughty girl!" she scolded him, frowning and shaking her head in disapproval. "You really can't keep your hands away from your clittie, can you? Well, we'll soon see about that!" She pointed to the towel spread on the floor "Sit down there!" David's droopy bottom fell like a stone, squishing wetly when it hit the hard tiled floor despite the plush towel covering. He watched the voluptuous Mistress select a pair of pink latex cuffs from a wide selection on the far wall, and she approached him with an enticing smile. He tore his eyes from the scary collection of punishment implements he could see hanging from the wall when she loomed over him. "Handy-pandies in the air, baby!" she sang. "Stick 'em up!" She buckled a shiny pink cuff around each wrist, then steered the bemused sissy onto his back, the top of his head towards the mirror. The tight cuffs were about two inches wide, with a couple of steel D-rings riveted to opposite sides. There was a pink aluminium carabineer dangling from the D-rings on the outside edge of his wrists, and David wondered at their purpose. "Slide under the potty, darling, That's it!" Amanda crooned. "Wriggle backwards a bit further. Stop there. Good girl! Now give me those handy-pandies." There were two steel rings welded to the bottom of the steel rods, near the ends either side, to which Amanda efficiently clipped each carabineer. His hands were trapped, a few inches above his chest, about a foot apart. He twisted his wrists from side to side, as far as his bonds permitted, trying to reach the carabineers to free himself - but they were tantalisingly just out of reach. He felt trapped - helpless - horny! "There!" Amanda sang, satisfaction evident in her tone. "Now my little girl can't play with herself! Can she?" "No Aunty," he whispered, gazing up her with an expression torn between fear and adoration. Amanda leaned over his upturned face, perfectly framed by the transparent toilet seat, and his eyes grew wider as her huge sagging teats abruptly approached his nose. "Lift your head up and slid back and inch or two more," she commanded. Lift your head higher, higher. That's better, now rest your head on this strap. Perfect!" The rubber strap behind David's head was stretchy enough to give a little when he pressed his head back firmly, but not much. The back of his head was about a foot from the floor. The front of the toilet seat had been cut away, leaving a face-sized opening at the mirror end. David found the smooth rounded edges of the seat touching his cheekbones, his mouth below in the perfect position for the seated user. He barely had time to admire the fantastic set-up before his attention was captured by the sight of the voluptuous brunette standing close beside him, pulling her tight black latex skirt high around her waist. Amanda wore a black pair of full-cut nylon panties, gossamer-sheer, so David could see almost everything! Her loins were baby-smooth - she was completely hairless down there, stubble-free after months of laser electrolysis. He could clearly see her puffy slit, the shadowed crease leading his eyes down to the impenetrable cotton-lined gusset. She unzipped her thigh-high boots and peeled them down her long white legs, her thick calves bearing the imprint of the seams in the leather. Barefoot, she kicked her sexy boots aside and turned to her sissy toilet slave. Amanda smiled briefly at his hungry expression as she casually peeled down her tight black panties and lazily kicked them aside, then wiped the smile from her face like it never existed. She frowned down at the trapped sissy, shaking her head in sorrow. "You've been a bad baby girl, haven't you?" He shook his head in denial, his mouth opening and closing, but no words came out. "Don't try to deny it! I read that letter from your Mummy!" she roared at him. She had to fight not to smile when he visibly cringed. "You've been wetting and pooing your nappies with gay abandon - and then playing with yourself! I know! Mummy knows! We know all about it!" David whimpered in wordless denial but she rode roughshod over his feeble objections. "You need to be potty-trained! And your Mummy has assigned Aunty Amanda the task of training you, little girl!" She straddled his supine body and stepped over the toilet seat facing him. David could see right up inside her, into the pulsating pink core of Amanda's womanhood. As she lowered her bottom onto the seat her labia gaped even more, but then the intimate vision of her secret place became secondary as her hot moist opening pressed against his face. She was wet and juicy with arousal, her scent strong and tinged with an ammoniac hint of stale urine. "Open your mouth, baby!" she commanded in a sultry throaty rasp. "Open nice and wide! Ahh!" He was surprised by the force of the flow jetting into his mouth, and he had to swallow rapidly to avoid drowning. Her pungent salty-sweet urine poured down his throat and his hands writhed in their bonds, fingers straining to reach his erection."Drink up, baby!" Amanda loudly encouraged him. "I want to hear you gulping it down! Ahh! Good girl! Drink up, sweetie! Swallow my hot piss! Show Aunty what a good little potty you are! Ahhh!" After the initial forceful stream, her flow slowed to a more manageable rate, so David could keep swallowing steadily without fear of drowning in her urine. As Amanda's flow began to slow to a trickle, he pressed his lips harder against her sweet moist flesh. He inhaled deeply, sucking hard, drawing the fluid from her bladder with the force of his suction and making her gasp in arousal. "Ohh! Good girl! That's it, baby! Suck hard, darling! Suck all the piss out of Aunty! Ohhh! Good girl! Oh! Ohh!" When he could draw no more from her bladder he began tonguing her urethra, the tip of his tongue trying to burrow inside her as though parched for more of her precious fluid. Amanda reached down between her splayed thighs and grabbed his head, twirling her fingers in his silky platinum locks. She took a tight grip and then pulled his mouth harder against her pulsating opening. "Lick me!" she huskily commanded."Lick Aunty's pussy! Ahh. That's right, baby. Lick me clean! After you've been my potty, you can be Aunty's toilet paper, too. Can't you? Ohh! Good girl! Lick it all up." She used the fingers twined in his hair like reins on a horse, guiding his slobbering lips and tongue to her most sensitive places. She spread her meaty thighs wider and rolled her hips forward, forcing her toilet-slave to concentrate on her pulsating clitoris. "Oh yeah! Yeah, baby! Lick me there! Harder! Faster! Ohhhh! Ohhh! Aaaarrrgh!" David thought she was going to rip his hair out by the roots when she noisily climaxed, but he was distracted by some pulsating bursts of fluid exploding into his mouth. It felt like it came from her urethra, but it tasted different from her pee. As Amanda shuddered and jerked to completion, a few more spoonfuls of watery fluid jetted against the back of his throat. David kept swallowing regardless, knowing that it was his job as her toilet to accept anything and everything Amanda’s luscious body could put out. She rolled her hips backwards with a sigh of contentment, gazing down at the sweat, piss,