One Distressed Little Damsel

A big shoutout to our awesome Gold-tier patron Samantha for commissioning this one!

***

You know, if anyone else saw what I'm about to do right now, they'd probably think I'm crazy. Well... anyone except Corey, that is.

My heart is thumping as I kneel down in front of our special fun-time dresser. The very bottom drawer, unassuming and ordinary on the outside, has a little lock into which I now insert the key. Some might suppose I've got my valuables in here: insurance policies, maybe, or some fancy jewelry. Not a chance - but there's definitely some stuff inside that I would never, ever want to see in another's hands.

I slide the drawer open now and survey the eyebrow-raising contents within. A stack of neatly-folded white rectangles. A few jars and bottles containing things as ordinary as baby powder lotion. And on the right, a mass of leather and metal and rope that to the untrained eye would seem to fit better in a kennel or a horse barn than in the lower dresser of an unassuming, twenty-something wedding planner.

My hands are trembling slightly as I reach out - not into the drawer, but behind me. Off with this blouse. No need for it anymore today. And off comes the skirt as well, followed by the pantyhose, slipping over my ass and down my legs with practiced ease. Ah, so much better already!

My eye catches my reflection momentarily in the bedroom mirror, and I flush in rush of quiet self-approval. I'm attractive, I can't deny it. I'm reasonably curvy, my brown skin is glowing and smooth, and the lips I'm biting as I stare back at myself express a hot, anticipatory sensuality...

Get moving, Alesha! I scold myself. Off with the bra. And the panties too. I've got something far better in mind to replace both.

First things first. Out comes one of those folded rectangles, to be teased and pulled and smoothed outward, blossoming into the enormous - and to me, beautiful - shape of a freshly crinkling adult diaper. Oh, yes - you heard me. I told you folks would think I'm crazy, wouldn't they?

Then for the love of god don't let them see what I'm doing next.

I shiver with anticipation as the generous fall of powder brushes over my outspread and neatly groomed crotch. Open goes another jar - and up go my legs. One, and then another, and then a third translucent lozenge slip inside me, disappearing into my bumhole without a trace. No one would even know the little devils are in there... at least, for now.

Once I've taped myself securely into my diaper, I sit up with a crinkle and a puff of powder, looking for all the world like an overgrown - and very curvaceous - toddler. Time for the serious stuff. Oh, I may look like a womanly infant right now, but just you wait...

My lips are trembling as they part, as I slip between them the large blue ball that fills my mouth and removes my power of speech. Ooh, yeah - pull that strap nice and tight behind my head! I don't need to be talking right now anyway - and besides, Corey loves it when I'm a gagged, drooling mess for him.

Now then, who needs a boring, ordinary bra when you can strap this little beauty around you? Complete with collar and harness, all in supple black leather?

Every addition is getting harder than the last: the wrist cuffs, the ankle cuffs, the spreader bar. But at last I'm ready for the coup de grâce: the final touch that will well and truly lock me away in my self-imposed bondage for good. Well... that is, until Corey comes and rescues me, naturally.

I gulp back the saliva that is already welling behind my gag, then slip down onto the bed, kneeling awkwardly in place. I can do this. This is fine. It's only for an hour or two, anyway. And then Corey will step through that door and find me, his hapless, diapered, bare-breasted little prisoner, trussed and gagged and writhing in desperation for him to set me free...

I resolutely reach backward, feeling the metallic clips slip down, opening- and then it sounds. Click-click. The twin carabiners of my cuff-bound wrists, now inseparable from the spreader bar between my ankles. And with a muffled gurgle of anxious satisfaction, I tilt forward, tumbling face-first into the pillows.

Did I mention that even now I can feel the burn of those suppositories setting to work on my innards?

I can already picture it in my mind. It'll be an hour and a half until Corey's back - two at the most. I'll still be lying here, of course: struggling like the damsel in distress he loves me to be. Oh, how humiliated I'll look and feel! His little Alesha: face bathed in drool, ass diapered like an absolute infant, wrists twisting helplessly, ball-filled mouth gurgling as I beg him frantically to set me free. Corey, please, I'm begging you! I'll implore with my wide eyes. I'm so desperate. Use me, take me, anything you want - just let me use the toilet first!

It's been nearly a week since our last bout of lovemaking, and I'm horny as hell. You see, there's something about bondage - about losing control of my own body - about struggling and failing and struggling again - that ignites some hot, primal instinct within me. Sure, I'm a strong and self-assured woman on the outside. But I secretly crave these sensations of being a captive, of falling completely helpless and at the mercy of another... Oh, yes. I'll struggle, I'll fight, I'll try so hard to get away. But no matter how hard I try, he's just tied me up too tight! I'm his little plaything, his dirty little fucktoy, his stupid little captive who probably can't even help shitting herself before he sets her free...

Or maybe it's just that I'm bored as the minutes tick by. But there's no denying the growing heat between my powdered thighs, the wetness and aching desire pulsing through me. I have to grind. I have to feel that incomparable sensation of soft cotton yielding between my legs. I need him inside me so badly - but until then, I need to feel other things, too. The burning, churning turmoil in my intestines. The growing need to relieve myself. The sordid, secret pleasure at the thought of seeing myself in that mirror, whimpering and struggling to keep my bowels from helplessly exploding into my diaper as I lay here. The cheek-flushing loathing and shame at the thought that I could even find such a thought arousing...

I'm teetering on the verge of that first delicious orgasm when I hear the buzz from my phone. Fuck, what now? I crane my collared neck upward in irritation, my eyes catching just the last of the message before the screen goes dark once more. What the hell?!

"Sorry Leash - gonna be late. Last minute emergency meeting. Be home nineish, so save me supper pls? Love ya!"

Wait, no, no, no- That can't be right! He- I- I can't wait until- I'm scrambling now inelegantly, flailing desperately toward the dresser. I have to get the phone, have to tell him somehow. He has to get his ass home right now or- or-

It happens in a blink of an eye. I'm not even sure how. All I know is that one minute I'm scrabbling along the edge of the bed... and the next I'm tumbling, sprawling, hitting the floor in an explosion of sound and the clank of cuffs and a burst of pain.

Oww. Fuck! That was my knee... But the cuffs are solid as ever, and I'm still just as firmly bound as before - just a bit worse for the wear. At least nothing feels broken, I reflect as I stare up at the ceiling, wriggling my bound and aching arms behind me. Though my gut is feeling very, very unhappy...

And then, only a minute or two later, I hear it: a sudden, heart-stopping burst of sound. Tock-tock-tock. "Um, hey, Miss Torres? Miss Torres? Are you okay? Just holler if you're okay. It's just me - I'm your downstairs neighbor, Harry - you know? I just heard a big thud up there, and I want to make sure you're okay..."

"Mmmpphh!" I'm screaming inside, yelling that I'm all right, that he doesn't need to worry. But despite my most desperate efforts, all I can manage is a muffled little whimper. And as I lay there, heart thudding - and mentally cursing my decision to buy the larger, two-and-a-quarter-inch ball gag - his voice comes again, as if to himself. "Dammit, hope nothing's wrong. Better call the front desk, get some-..."

Oh, fuck it all! I hear his voice and footsteps receding, and I know he's on his way to get help. Poor, foolish, well-meaning guy that he is, right now I want nothing more than to strangle him. Because honestly, the last thing I need right now is for some dudes to come bursting to our apartment and find me... you know, like this.

But only a few minutes later, as if fate has decided that I haven't had quite enough just yet, it hits: the first of what I know from experience will be a series of unstoppable, gut-wrenching cramps. Cramps that end only one way. Holy shit, I didn't think they'd work so fast! Fuck, fuck, fuck-

As the first muffled explosions sound from beneath me, and as I feel the hot mass of excrement begin to spurt messily through my quivering bumhole and into my expanding diaper, my eyes, now level with the carpet catch sight of my panicked reflection once more. What a helpless, pathetic sight I make! If only it were Corey that was going to find me like this, not a couple of unsuspecting strangers...

Well, nothing more a bound, gagged, and diapered damsel in distress can do now... except maybe hope that her saviors aren't too squeamish.