This story is an intense modification of "I'm A Babypants Prisoner", which has been posted anonymously in the Internet. Steve Leiting, Ryan Verderaime et al. have later claimed to be the authors, but they are no more attainable. I have edited and altered the story to give it a new direction and to smooth out some things I found disturbing. Also I added a new ending.
Revised version, copyright © 2000 by the author. All rights reserved. For personal use only. No permission granted for printed copies. Transmission in electronic form is permitted provided copyright and warning remarks are not removed or changed, no abridgements or alterations are made to the text and no fee in any form is charged. Giving access for minors is strictly forbidden by law and not tolerated by the authors. Providing in any publicly accessible form (eg. Internet sites) requires written permission.
Warning:
This story contains explicit sexual descriptions. It is intended as a fantasy for adults only. If you are offended by such texts or if you are at an age where reading material of this kind is illegal in your country, please stop reading NOW. Any attempt to re-enact the situations could be dangerous. You have been warned!
I did finally get some sleep. It was almost noon when Joan came in to release me. She was all dressed up and I wondered what was planned. No clues were forthcoming while she unlocked the spreader bar and removed my mittens. She unlocked the chain from my belt and told me to shower, put on make-up and be ready for her to supervise my dressing in ten minutes.
Groggy from sleep and stiff from being bound all night, I went stumbling to the bathroom.
The shower revived me. I tried not to get my hair wet, to save time. As soon as I was toweled off, I ran back to my room. There I did a fast make-up job on my face. I was just dabbing on the perfume when she walked in with the air of a sergeant major. As I put the perfume bottle back on the dresser, I saw the dildo and harness again. I wondered when I would be able to work up the courage to cope with that.
"We will be shopping today, dear. Your wardrobe needs a few additions."
Joan went to the closet and tossed out my red silk blouse and a black A-line skirt that came well above the knee. I gulped. The blouse was OK but I had never worn a garter belt under that skirt because my stocking tops showed through the rear slit. Since I hadn't been spoken to, I couldn't object without risking a punishment. I decided that showing a little stocking wasn't as bad as what Joan could hand out.
I took too long to think about all this. Joan grabbed a garter belt and a new pair of stockings, still in the package, and handed them to me. She leaned against the doorframe while I struggled with the belt. Joan looked on with amusement.
"Hurry, now, dear. You don't want me to assign you another punishment for tardiness, now do you?"
Finally the belt was on and I sat on the floor to work on the stockings. They were black and had the reinforced heels that make some men slobber. I would be a sight, all right, especially in the four inch, black spike pumps that Joan was holding.
Once I had the stockings on and fastened, I stood up and immediately felt this damned rough panty rub my crotch. I let out a little gasp and Joan noticed.
I looked up at her with the blankest face I could muster. I hated the pressure she had me under.
It took a few minutes before I got my seams straight. Having Joan stare at me didn't help my concentration. Every so often I stole a glance at the waiting dildo and it's harness. It didn't look as big as some I had seen. Perversely, I wondered how it would feel to have that locked inside me for four hours.
The skirt barely fit over my hips and bottom. A chill ran down my spine as I looked in the mirror. Surely everyone would guess my secret with just one glance. The fear of discovery made me gasp. Joan cleared her throat as a warning.
I took the shoes from Joan and slipped them on. It felt so strange to feel so sexy in one sense and so bound up in another. I knew I looked good from the outside but the small item between my legs and the heat generated by unfulfilled desire dampened any vanity.
Joan inspected me and even made me turn around so she could judge my seams. It was worse than being busted. She even made me take a few steps.
"You'll be happy to know that the tops of your stockings just show through the slit in your skirt," she said lightly.
I blushed by way of response.
I looked for my purse and Joan reminded me:
"Take some make-up if you want. And don't forget your little toy on the dresser!"
She watched the look of horror on my face for a few seconds and then slipped out the door. It was almost more than I could bear. I felt tears form in my eyes while I stared at the dildo and its harness. I couldn't cry or it would mean another make-up job, and a delay, that might mean another punishment. I sniffled back my tears, picked up the dildo and shoved it deep inside the purse. I hated to touch it. Then I hurriedly followed Joan.
I suddenly realized how much I had come to think in terms of avoiding a punishment, even though I had yet to experience my first one!
Joan had prepared a light breakfast. I just managed to stop myself from sitting at the table. I took my food and a large cup of coffee and slipped out of my pumps before kneeling on the floor. Joan cleared her throat and pointed to the shoes. I sadly guessed her meaning and stepped into them again before kneeling. Nothing helped pad my bottom from the sharp heels that dug into it, and there was no help for my feet, who protested painfully at being made to kneel in high heels. Joan wouldn't let me up until I had drained two cups of coffee.
*****************
My worse fears about attracting attention were confirmed as soon as we set foot inside the mall. I was in the wrong colors and definitely over dressed for a hot summer day. Joan, on the other hand, looked cool and efficient in a light summer dress, no hosiery and low heels.
So it was I who got the hungry stares from the men, you know, the casual turning of the head as you pass. As I walked along I could feel the rough panty rubbing between my legs. It was getting heavier by the minute as I got more and more aroused. All this had distracted me from where Joan was taking me; one look at the lingerie store snapped me back to reality.
"Come, dear," she said sweetly, as if I were her niece, "We must improve your foundations wardrobe."
I felt my face blanch and my throat go dry. I knew this store well; especially it's oversized changing rooms and the attentive staff that often came in with you to check the fitting. Normally I didn't mind it but then I wasn't in this special gear either. My mouth moved to make words but no sound came out. Then Joan grabbed one of my wrists and physically pulled me into the store.
Fifteen minutes later we were in one of those change rooms. Joan had gathered up a couple of lace up corsets and some garter belts. She had engaged the attention of a pert young sales clerk who had made a point of staring at me as soon as she saw my somehow strange way of walking.
"Strip down to your hosiery dear." Joan said sweetly.
Anyone overhearing her would never guess the evil in her intentions. I felt my hands begin to tremble. I looked at her, terrified of the sales clerk coming in. I shook my head, making my eyes do the pleading that was forbidden from my voice.
"You may speak," she said softly, finally.
"Please don't make me do this!" I whispered, trying to sound respectful and contrite at the same time.
"Do what? Dear. I simply don't understand."
"I'm shaved" I whined and felt more than ever like a little girl. "Please, please, don't let the girl come in!"
I was almost sobbing with fear and shame but Joan didn't react at all.
I took a deep breath and began to fumble with the tiny buttons on my blouse. I was breathing heavily, trying not to sob out loud. Just then the sales girl came in with another corset.
"This is the heaviest boning we carry, Madam," she said and handed it to Joan. Then she looked at me. "Is she alright? Is there anything I can do?"
"No, thank you," Joan, said with artificial sadness. "She has a little problem but we're about to take care of it. Would you please bring us some garters for this corset?"
The girl had caught sight of the open purse and its contents. I felt her staring at me. I could have died right then. The girl mumbled something and then disappeared.
Somehow I managed to get my blouse off, but my hands were trembling too badly to manage the button at the back of the skirt. Joan had to unfasten it for me.
"You'd better make this a fast change if you want to be covered by the time she comes back."
I let the skirt drop to the floor and stepped out of it. Then I fumbled with the garter belt until it too was loose. There I stood, in seamed stockings and high heels when the sales clerk strolled right in.
We both gave little gasps, me from embarrassment and her from surprise. Stunned, we seemed to stare at each other for a few seconds. Then Joan calmly took the garters from the girl's outstretched hand.
My face felt hot and flushed and I was transfixed by terror, frozen. The girl began to back out of the room with her mouth hanging open. Soon I could hear excited voices talking about me.
"Look what you've done!" I blurted out and instantly was sorry for it. Joan's face showed a flash of smile and then took on that stern facade that I had already equated with trouble.
"Get on with it!" she hissed. "It's a good thing we brought your little toy along. You can cope with it for six hours -- starting now!"
I gulped and sobbed but Joan had succeeded in breaking my trance. Tears ran down my cheeks. I didn't care about my make-up any more. Joan had taken the dildo out of the bag and was untangling its harness. My rosebud tensed up in fear of its impending violation. I peeled down my panties and Joan whispered that I was to kneel on all fours.
It must surely be the most humiliating position there is. I did as she asked, presenting my bottom high in the air, ready for its punishment. I watched her shoes pace around until she was in front of me. The black plastic intruder was presented to my lips.
"Lick it!" she hissed, "Or do you want me to put it in dry?"
I closed my eyes and licked.
Suddenly she pulled it away and went around behind me again. I was choking with fear of what it would feel like. Never had I allowed anybody to penetrate me from the rear in any way. And there was the thought that the sales girl could walk in at any moment. The seconds dragged by. I dared not turn and look. I stared at the carpet. Then I felt it, a gentle pressure at first but then opening me, forcing me apart. I remembered that the dildo had a bulge near the tip that was wider than the shaft. I bit my lip and tried to keep myself loose back there but fear made me want to tighten up. Deeper and deeper it came, parting me more widely that I had ever been before. I gasped and sobbed but Joan took no notice. I imagined its progress and prayed for the bulge to pass soon.
Finally I felt the worst was over. There was only the thick, black shaft to distend my virgin rose bud. It was not as uncomfortable now but the device's steady progress reminded me with every fraction of an inch that I was being violated. It was all I could do to hold still while this slow careful rape was being perpetrated on my body.
When I felt Joan fumble with the harness a great rush of breath came out of me. I felt weak, dirty and shamed. The invader was stuck inside me like a finger pointing to my sins. Joan tightened the harness slowly, making sure I was away of every strap and every buckle.
As I got up, I felt the intruder shift a little. It couldn't be ignored. Every little movement reminded me of its presence. I had just pulled my panties into place when the clerk came back. Silently she began to fumble with my garter belt.
"Put her into this corset and come for me when she's ready," Joan said with authority and left.
She had chosen her words carefully, the suggested meaning registered on the girl's face.
The girl loosened the laces and I lifted my arms while she wrapped the heavily boned garment around my body. Then she started the slow task of passing those thin strands through the tiny eyelets.
"I'm Carole," she whispered.
I didn't want to talk but I whispered my name.
"It must be awful, I mean, about the dildo."
"You don't know the half of it."
"Is she mean to you?"
I nodded. It was better not to say anything Joan might overhear.
"She wants this tight, you know. Can you stand it? I can adjust it so it looks tighter than it is."
"She would find out." I said in a choked voice.
"I like the seams."
"That's so I'll get more attention."
Carole knew her stuff when it came to lacing corsets. She pulled and tugged, starting at the bottom, which gave her ample opportunity to brush my panties. Near the end I was grunting every time she pulled hard. She attached the garters, stepped back while I pulled up my stockings and then helped me straighten the seams.
I felt so imprisoned, so bound. Worst of all was the hard plug in my behind that moved with me, reminding me of Joan and her power over me. I noticed that even the garters seemed unusually tight when I took a few trial steps. It was hard to breathe. Carole went to fetch Joan.
Joan did her inspection.
"Good!" she exclaimed. "Perfect. She'll wear it home. We'll take the other corsets and the garter belts. Have you any stockings, and I mean stockings, like the one's she's wearing?"
Carole nodded and Joan ordered six pairs.
I took my time getting ready to leave the change room. Miserable as I was from the restricting corset, my hornyness and the damned plug in my rear, I was more afraid of facing the sales clerks who must surely have been told about me. I tried to repair my make-up. Finally there was nothing left to do. I picked up my purse and felt my knees shake as I stepped back out into the real world.
The only clerk not at the back of the store to get a good look at me was the girl who had seen my dildo. She was at the cash with Joan. The others stopped their conversation and stared at me. I could feel their eyes searching me for some visible sign of what they had been told. My lower lip began to tremble. I was close to tears. I saw Joan watching me, smiling with the satisfaction of torturing me with public exposure. Part of me wanted to scream but the butt plug was a constant reminder to be good. Always be a good little girl, Sandy.
[ Story Continues in Part 3 ]
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Page last updated 00-Dec-02 by: Altairboy@aol.com