July 14, 2015
Apology not accepted Ariana F***** Grande.
July 14, 2015
Apology not accepted Ariana F***** Grande.
July 14, 2015
1) If you are a girl, do you have natural breasts or use fake breast forms which is therefore acting?
2) If you don’t like your naturally given dick and balls, do you tuck?
3) If you take androgen blockers to stop erection, it means you can’t masturbate like even girls do. How can you call yourself a girl?
4) If you still have you naturally given male genitalia, you definitely can’t menstruate. How can you call yourself a teenage girl who needs to buy pads/tampons and can’t do stuff during her time of the month?
5) Why dont you cut off your own penis?
July 5, 2015
It was a steaming hot airport and not exactly helped as the crowds of passengers that seemed to increase by the minute. Finally, after a sweltering fifty minute wait, I depositing my backpack on the conveyor belt and walked through the metal detector. There was no buzz but immediately, the officer in front of me signalled for me to stand at the side.
“Yes officer?” I wasn’t familiar with he fanciful rank so I didn’t know what to call him.
“Open,” he pointed to my bag.
“Why?” I immediately said but he just repeated himself in his heavy accent.
I finally complied though naturally I was bewildered. Just as I opened it, another officer, this then with more fanciful embroidery on his epaulette, immediately reached in and yanked out something. It was that rather intricately designed doll that I bought at the local market. I thought it was a great gift for my little sister.
“Hey, that’s my…” suddenly the senior officer, twisted the doll’s head and it snapped open. He tilted the body of the doll and out came a huge load of powder. I heard all of the airport security men suddenly mutter something in their local dialect.
“You under….” I didn’t catch the last word from the senior man as the guy who motioned to me touched my arm. “Hey! Cut that…ow!” I felt cold, thick metallic steel around me wrists—I was handcuffed behind my back. “This is wrong! I demand….ow!” I cried again as I felt the same metal just above my ankles–they had put leg irons around me legs. “This is uncalled for! I demand an explanation!”
“Open mouth,” the senior man said.
“Why? Look I want to know what’s going on. I just bought the doll in an open market..”
“Open mouth,” he said again in his heavy accent. I started to protest once more when suddenly something rubbery was jammed into my open mouth. I naturally tried to get it out but that was so impossible with my handcuffed arms. “Mmmmph!” I cried as straps cut across my cheeks and I felt the device secured behind my ponytail. A ball gag! I knew what it was from watching lots of adult movies despite my young age. What the hell, they had ball-gagged me?
With another undecipherable command, I felt myself literally whisked off the ground and half-carried, half dag through the airport into a dark, windowless van. Inside were several tough looking guards, or rather goons. two of them “attached” me to a rather torn hard seat–first the strapped me bound figure with four point restraints and second, they yanked my legs apart, jerking the leg irons and double securing my feet to the side of the bench or chair. “Mmmph!” I cried through the gag, more due to the conscious fact that opened my dress and revealed my panties to all these guys. “Mmmph!” I cried again as the vehicle spluttered to life and zoomed off so fast that I was jerked back and forth.
Before I could even bring my thoughts together, the vehicle stopped. The door opened to reveal a dark garage. I was roughly brought out and prodded like an animal towards a narrow corridor. Ten minutes or painful prodding and walking, my eyes fluttered as I entered a brightly lit room. In front of me was another male officer–wasn’t there a single female officer in this island? Before I knew it, he spun me around and raised my bound wrists, pressing my thumb against some soft object. It took me a few seconds to figure out that I was being fingerprinted? The fingerprinting took I don’t know, several painful minutes due to my fetters and muscles being stretch. My arms were finally released but that was not the end of it as my heels were unceremoniously removed and I was pushed against a wall. Wait, it was a wall with some scribblings on it. SNAP! SNAP! They were taking mug shots at me!!! And the didn’t even remove the ball gag!
What happened next was the most humiliating part of my life. They brought me into a side room where two men, this time dressed in plain clothes were waiting. They both had rubber gloves on and I immediately yelped through my gag knowing what this was. But alas, I was help tightly still by one of them while the other, who reeked of a foul breath, intensively rummaged through my hair, removing my hairclips, and scrunngie in the process. Next, he targeted my ears, uncliping my favourite pair of earrings! Despite my mmmmphing and limited struggling, his gloved hands ran all over my face. Momentarily, the red ball was yanked off–thankfully without any of my teeth and I scream the loudest. Before I knew it, his fingers were deep inside my oral cavity, causing me to momentarily gag. I couldn’t scream further as the ball was secured once more between my teeth. Then, an even more humiliating part as both of them drew my dress down to my fettered ankles, exposing my dark blue bra and my black bikini-like panties. “Mmmmmpph!!” I cried.
But it was to no avail as the lead guy unclipped my bra, exposing my 36C boobs. I yelp continuously, but that didn’t stop him from lifting both breasts several times, running his hands around them. Jeez, like there was anything incriminating on my boobs! As he did so I felt a tingling sensation, one I have felt since I kissed my ex-boyfriend. Oh my gosh, I was feeling aroused by his touches! With my armpit grouped, he left my boobs exposed and then yanked down my underwear. I always hated medical check ups but this forced cavity search was no where near anything I experience. I could only continue to yelp as the fingers entered my anus and then vaginal cavity.
They helped or rather roughly dressed me back in my clothes minus my bra!! Then with the manacles and gag on once more on, I was again dragged to another room with just a wooden desk and chair. I was roughly restrained to the chair, hands still behind my back, rope below and above my bra-less breasts and legs tied to each leg of the chair so much that my crotch was exposed for all to see. Finally they left and a bright light shown down on me. It not only continued to disorientate me but made me perspire even more.
Before I could even think straight, a burly man dressed in a pink short sleeved shirt and and formal trousers entered, along with a shorter guy in dark shirt and jeans. The taller guy rattled off in the local dialect and then I heard the shorter guy translate. The stuff inside the doll were extremely powerful drugs and I was to be jailed for ten years under their laws. “Mmmmpphh!!!” I cried repeatedly through my gag, wanting to defend myself. I’m entitled to rights aren’t I?
The taller flunky left, slamming the door behind him. The shorter one circled me for a while, almost akin to a hawk circling his prey. Finally he reached down and yanked my ball gag out, letting the saliva-coated ball drop down to my deck.
“Thank…you,” I groaned, my throat dried out from the gagging. “Please, let me see someone from my embassy! I did nothing wrong! I know nothing about those drugs!!”
“Silence!” He yelled at me. “Your country has no diplomatic relations here and in fact, you as a student should know both our countries hate each other. Our laws are strict and final. Now, my senior will ensure you go to jail for a long time. I can, however, get you a special pass for a shorter period of say at least two weeks and then you can go home.”
“Two weeks?!! I did nothing wrong!! And I’m treated like some animal! I want to get out of here!”
“The only way out of here is via me girl, or via my boss who will treat you even worse. Now,” he unfolded a document from his pocket and produced a pen. My left hand was uncuffed–how did he know I was left handed–and drew my hand up to the document.
“Sign,” he said.
“I don’t get this; it’s not in English,” I protested.
“You have no choice, lady. Sign Or I’ll leave you to spend your life in our prisons.”
“Ok,” he recuffed me and started to get out. He lifted the gag up and pried open my mouth. “Wait, wait,” I cried, “I’ll do it.”
“Good,” he muttered then with a shaking hand, I scribbled my scrawly signature.
“Wait here,” he said and before I could protest, I was bound and re-gagged. As the guy disappeared I pondered. Could he really give me a lesser sentence? Why was his English so fluent?
It was less than five minutes later that he returned with something in his hand. He came over and I was freed from the restraints to the chair, although my wrists and legs were still shackled and mouth still gagged. I then saw what was in his hand–it was a dark blak skit mask with no holes. “Mmmmpph,” I cried in protest.
“This is necessary during the transportation of all prisoners,” the man/officer/whatever he was said. “Either this, or I leave you with others.” Still with uncertainty, I let him drape the hood over me. “You can still breathe normally,” he said, although I didn’t feel so. Before I knew it, I was led out again, and soon enough into the scorching sunshine. Blindfolded, I could only guess I was in some large car or mini an I was laid, cuffed hands down and surprisingly strapped to the seat. If the ride from the airport to the station was painful, this was ten times, no hundred times worse, especially when the vehicle travelled over potholes.
Finally, after 1 and a half, no 2 hours, the car stopped and I was released from my vertical position. Even from the dark hood, I could guess with certainty that I was in some sort of underground location. Through several flights of stairs, which further strained my ankles, I was guided through several clanging doors before I was stopped. With the sound of a locked keypad, I was brought in to another room and then forced to the ground. Click,click click, my bonds were linked to some rings or chains attached to the wall or ground then my legs bend and parted. “Stay,” was his command but I immediately shifted my legs. “No, open your legs as before and keep them there. There’s video feed in this room; I’ll be watching.” With that I heard him leave and the door lock. What the hell did I get myself into? I sobbed. I was suppose to be on a flight home. Instead, I’m treated like an animal and locked up in some unknown dungeon with some guy I don’t know and him or some others looking at my knickers. I want to go home, please someone let me go home…
The door opened again and I tensed as someone (the man?) approached me. “I’m going to remove your hood and gag, not a word, got it?” It was the same old gun. I heaved a sigh of relief as the hood came off, then the ball gag was unstrapped. Despite the warning, I coughed and saliva ran down my jaw and neck. “Drink,” was his next order, and a straw was passed to my lips. It was a refreshing drink indeed given the heat and all the torture I had gone through. “Ok, enough, I don’t want to fill your bladder,” he said. “Open your mouth,” Noo…I cried silently, but it was still forced open and I tasted another rubbery device, this time a tube. It didn’t take me long to figure out that I was now gagged with a panel gag; yeah I’ve seen them but not wore them before. Ball gags, panel gags, hoods, chains. Where did this small dictatorship get all this from?
Left chained and gagged (not blindfolded but that wasn’t much comfort) and legs open, I was left alone again. The room I was in was bare with nothing but the rings and chains I was attached to in. Where was I going to sleep, or relieve myself? What the hell is this place? Despite the camera–yes there was a camera above in the ceiling–I still shifted around but I was firmly locked to the ground. Damnit, this is really worse than any jail. This is like Guantanamo…
I drifted a bit to sleep–the whole ordeal was really tiring. Once again, the door was unlocked, waking me up. “Toilet time,” he announced, bending down to unlock the chain that locked me to the wall and ground. I in fact felt a bit of urge to, so this was a thankful move. But it also meant that I was to be blindfolded again, this time with a simple dark piece of cloth. The toilet was a simple sit down toilet, and thankfully not a squatting one. He helped me down then re-locked my hands to the front.
“Mmmph,” I groaned through me gag. Couldn’t I relieve myself in private?
“Hurry up, you don’t have all day, no I’m not leaving.” Great, a guy watching me pee. With much difficulty, I lowered my black knickers with my bound hands and relieved myself. It was just as difficult wiping myself. Just as I was pulling them up, he remarked, “This is your only toilet break for now. Better do both; if you dirty the cell, you clean it.”
What?! Well, I didn’t have any filled stomach so I shook my head. “Ok,” once more my wrists were cuffed behind me and with the toilet flushed, I was brought back once more to my cell.
I dozed off again until the cell door clanged open. In his hand was a tray of something mushy. Dinner time? Gosh I was immediately hungry since I was arrested close to lunchtime. But strangely, he placed the tray down and advanced towards me. “Mm? Mmmmpph!” I cried seeing the blindfold in his hands. “Yes, you’re getting blindfolded while you eat, Miss Charlotte Hawkins,” the man said and once again I was blindfolded. With my sense of sight cut off again, my noise picked up rather pungent smells and I easily judged that the dinner, whatever the heck it was, wasn’t going to pleasant. He unbuckled my gag and with the command to open my mouth, I was spoon fed.
“Ha…bleah,” I coughed, spitting out some of the dry, revolting substance.
“Oh please, behave yourself, girlie,” he changed his tone. “You would get even worse food it you were in the real prison.” Wait, how real can a prison get, especially since I’m shackled like this all the time.
“Shut the hell up and take your food. Unless you want to go hungry.” So I endured fifteen minutes of being spoon fed the revolting stuff, sometimes still chocking, causing some of the food to dribble down my chin to my boobs. Finally, it was over and he wiped my face and body clean. “You have five minutes of your mouth free before your gag goes back on, enjoy it.” I did savour those five minutes, before the dreaded gag was placed back on, blindfold off, and I was left alone.
I spent the next few hours thinking again about my predicament. Chained, gagged, bra removed, forcibly strip and cavity search, charged with some unjustifiable crime, and now placed in the hands of a don’t-know-who, and locked in don’t-know-where. Hmmpph, I grunted silently. In any other circumstance, this could be the scene for a RA movie of torture. I always liked such movies, but never expected to experience it in real life….Suddenly, I felt a sharp pain in my stomach. I knew this signal–I was getting a stomach ache! I shifted as best as I could but the pain continued to increase. “Mmmmpph, mmmppph,” I cried through the gag and looked directly at the CCTV. Please, get me out to the toilet!!!!
The minutes tickled by, but the door remained shut. Please, please please, respond, I thought silently, and then wailed more though my gag. Please, I don’t want to and poop through my knickers and dirty the floor and then have to clean it and…suddenly the door clanged open and there he was! “Mmmmph!! Mmmppph!!!” I cried in relief as he advanced towards me. “Shut the hell up,” he whined as he blindfolded me and released me from the chains. Once again without any sight, I was guided out of the cell, my gut now increasing its signal each step of the way. Finally, I was positioned on the shape of the toilet seat. I felt my knickers being yanked down and I didn’t protest. Just as it went down, I couldn’t hold it further and released myself.
“Mmm…” I groaned as the diarrhoea came out. I was still blindfolded and my hands were still locked behind my back. “Mmmmpph?” I queried, wondering if they could be locked in front. “No, girl, you hurry with you smelly poop. I don’t have all evening. It stinks.” Of course it does, I thought, smelling it. Around ten minutes later, I had released everything. “Mmmm…” I grunted as I felt him wipe my anus and front. “Get used to it,” he commented. With my undies up and toilet flushed, I was dragged back again. But instead of having the blindfold removed, he positioned me to lie on the ground and used a new chain to lock me in place. “Mmmpph?” I queried. “Sleep time,” he said. “No, you’re not getting a mattress tonight; You’re on the floor. No, don’t you protest, or I’ll treat you worse like normal prisoners. Now, hold still.” Suddenly I felt a prick on my left arm. “Mmmm..” I cried, what the hell was that? “It will help control your diarrhoea; you’re not allowed out of your cell at night.” But before I could speak back in gag speech, I drifted to sleep.
The next morning…
I was awaken by the opening of the door again. Still blindfolded, I could only mummur a sleepy gag talk as I was released. “Shower time,” was his only comment and I was a bit elated, not having changed or cleaned at all for almost 24 hours. Out of the cell I went and soon enough, my bare feet detected different titles. “I’m going to remove your wrist restraints, don’t you try to do anything silly, got it?” I nodded, thinking what on earth could I do with my feet bound, mouth gagged and eyes blindfolded? Click, click, finally, the tight cuffs came off. And great, he removed my blindfold as well, and yes it was a shower area, with only one stall, no curtains or door. “Ok, Charlotte, strip.”
“You want to show with your clothes on? Strip!”
Turning red once more, I dropped my dress to the ground and lowered my black knickers but before I could get signal him to remove my leg-irons, he reached and snipped them off. “MMMpph!” I cried.
“You’ll see why later. Now, hands in front,” he re-cuffed then, with a different chain. “Ten minutes. The shower will turn off exactly then.” I stepped into the empty stall and received and immediate burst of cold water, screaming through my gag. “Shower silently!” he cried and with a bit of soap squirted on my cuffed hands, I managed a bit of showering, even washing my hair. Soon enough the shower water stopped. He pulled me out and dried me thoroughly with a towel. Guided out, I soon found myself near a basin. He ran the water and washed my face for me, although with the gag on, not every part was cleaned. “You’ll get your teeth brushed later,” he commented. I then expected him to let me dress again, but instead, my hands were recuffed behind me to a waist chain, then he held blindfold up.
“Oh wait,” I heard him mutter, then felt myself guided out. Push down, I felt the feeling of a toilet seat again. “Do you business”. I was then conscious that I was naked, chained and gagged in front of this guy. “Mmmph, camm i hmmm sommm tmmwww,” I asked for some clothing.
“No bloody way. Piss and shit. You won’t get another chance.” Still groaning, I did so, really turning red with this humiliation. Finally I was escorted, still naked, back to my cell. “Stand here, and don’t move,” he ordered. “Mmmpph?” I queried.
“You dumb or what. Don’t move from this spot.” With that, I heard him leave. Oh please, I wailed silently, just do what the heck you want to do to me. Just end this misery…a few minutes later I heard him return and I heaved a short sigh of relief. Once more I was down on the ground, legs bent and pried wide open and he secured my wrists, ankles and even waist to the ground. Finally, He pulled out the gag and let it hang around my neck.
‘Thank..you. Could you please..”
“I said shut the hell up. Or you won’t get any breakfast.” His English and swearing was too good; did he study in my country? “Open wide,” I tasted a rather salty and gooey substance. At least this was a little more appetising than the dinner the night before. After that came a bit of sweet water–‘tea’ he called it. “Ok, that’s enough. Brushing teeth time.” I expected my hands to be released but no, he instead started brushing my teeth with bland tasting toothpaste, part of which dropped down to my breasts.
With a blindfold still on, he told me to move my jaw around in chewing actions. I did so for a minute or so before he called stop and pried my mouth open. Once more, I was gagged and groaned softly. “Ok, I’m going to release your leg bonds. Don’t you dare try anything stupid.” I nodded, hoping this would mean that I would be clothed. Within seconds, my legs were freed. “Roll slightly over to your left,” he ordered. This wasn’t easy with with my hands locked to the floor but I did so. I then felt a rubbery material being slid up my legs. This can;t be my knickers or any underwear, I thought. What is it? Could it be some kinky stuff?
I then felt him move and then something clad my big 36C boobs. But wait, I felt the clothing being tied to my neck and behind my beck. Damnit, it’s a halter bikini. Finally, he told me he was undoing my my wrists bonds. Finally free of any chains, I was ordered to stand up and with some difficulty, I did so, still unable to see. It was only then he removed the tight blindfold. Looking down, I was clad in one of my black thin string bikinis. Looking at the colour, it definitely matched the panel gag I had.
“Rub your wrists, ankles and arms.” I didn’t move immediately. “Go on, you don’t have this chance for a long while,” he added. I did so but like five minutes later he told me to stop and bend down on the floor. Nooo….I thought as I flet my ankles cuffed once more. “Hands in front,” I heard then thought I was going to be given a more relaxed position. “You’re no long on holiday, Charlie,” he changed his tone, then out of no where, he produced a series of cleaning equipment. “You are to clean this whole area, floor and walls, as far as you can reach and you have two hours starting from now!”
Left alone, I nearly the cleaning equipment and smelt a not-so-sweetly odour. Great, I would be stuck smelling this odour once I’m complete. There was a thin, plastic set of gloves which were snap on so they could fit around my cuffed hands. Soaking the sponge and squeezing it, I began to wipe the floor. It wasn’t a very big sponge and soon enough my muscles began to ache being on all fours the pain was worse around my kneecaps. I stopped around half way but suddenly his voice yelled, “no stopping, move it!” Over the next few hours, I tackled every square inch of the floor and the parts of the wall I could reach until I collapsed on the floor in utter exhaustion.
“Aw poor little girl from the West can’t even endure some some area cleaning,” I heard the captor comment as he re-entered. I was too lethargic too comment and did not resist as he picked me up. It was then I noticed he had brought two chairs inside. I was placed down on one and again gave no resistance as my ankle cuffs were removed and then my ankles cuffed to the sides of the chair. Rope, no, long plastic ties bound my torso to the chair, stretch below my boobs. My two arms were also bound to the sides of the metal chair. Finally, another lot of plastic ties secured my cuffed wrists to some bars at the back of my chair. It was only then he removed my panel gag.
So there I was chained and strapped to a chair with my gag just removed again. “Thank you…ow!” I cried as he pinched my right breast. “Did I tell you you could talk?”
I felt silent then watch him bring out another plate of food. This time the food didn’t smell so bad and neither did it taste that terrible as the previous meals, though it lacked some salt. He even gave me a few sips of water. With a signal to be quiet, I didn’t expect him to reached over and uncuff my handcuffs. Within the minutes, my bonds were free and her even removed the saliva-soaked gag from my neck.
“Stand up,” he ordered.
“Now, stretch your arms and massage your legs again,” he ordered. I did so and was only told stop twenty minutes later. “Turn around, hands behind you.”
Oh shit, chains time again, I thought then felt some different material drawing my wrists together.
June 2, 2015
The very first thing I noticed when I stepped out was an eerie silence. Normally, schools would be filled with the sounds of school kids chatting and yelling. There was definitely none in this case. Just as I was about to venture further, out popped a rather tall lady with dark hair and a large waist.
“Harriet Galpin?” She uttered my name.
“Yes,” I answered.
“It’s yes, Ms Cleaveworth. I’ll be your main dorm mistress while you board over here. Come along,” and before I knew it, she had grasp my right arm and lead be through a side gate. As I walked/was dragged, I passed by several girl’s. They were dressed in their school uniform of blazer, blouse, skirt, tights but what was really shocking was that they hands were bound behind their their back with rope and there was a large piece of duct tape over their mouths!
“What the hell..” I started
“Language young lady, and be quiet. You’ll understand soon.” After a tedious walk up several flights of stairs, I was shown into a room with two beds. “Yours is there, and there’s you set of uniform. Make sure you put on 60 denier tights, you have ten minutes.” Still bewildered, I changed out of my jeans, shirt and hoodie into the prescribed school uniform and lingerie. Just as I exited, Ms Cleaveworth grabbed both of my arms and yanked them behind my back. Suddenly, I felt my wrists being bound together with coarse rope. “Hey!!!!” I yelled. “What’s this? What’s going on?”
“Silence,” was her only replied.
“This is unacceptable! This is inhuman! I demand….mmmmmphh!!!” my cries were cut of as a silvery piece of tape was pasted over my lips. “Move,” she commanded me as if I was a dog, and I was literally pushed down the stairs. Unable to balance well with my hands tied behind me, I stumbled across the corridor. Finally after a painful walk, I was shown into an auditorium with other female students similarly bound and gagged, sitting on the chairs. She ushered me to a seat and before I could struggle further, my nylon-clad legs were bound the lower legs of the chair with more rope then a thick strap was attached below my boobs, keeping me on the chair.
“Mmmphh!!! Mmmpphh!!” I cried but she left. All around me, frightened girls also echoed the same gagged cries. What on earth was going on? Why were we restrained and gagged? My parents told me this would be a school to improve my weak grades, not a school that kidnaps girls? As I struggled and cried out, another girl, a blonde hair taller girl, was placed down next to me by Cleaveworth and similarly secured.
“MmmVicmmp,” I heard her mumble through her tape gag and saw her name tag reading, “Victoria Seager.”
“Harrimmm,” I spoke gag. “Dmm u knmmm wmm wmmm armm bmmadagg?” (Do you know why we are bound and gagged?)
She shrugged and just then some one called “Silence!” A burly man in suit and tie stepped up to the stage. “Good morning, new ladies. I’m Principal Bebbbington and welcome to Wounding Boarding School. You all may be wondering why bound and gagged. This is our long standing school policy. With all of you coming with weak grades, you will be treated like such. Recent statistical analysis showed that girls with their mouths shut and hands behind perform better with their studies.” We all emitted cries of disbelief and protest. “Silence! All of will be treated as such through your school and living life here. Only when you are required to speak and write will your gags be removed and hands freed. Otherwise, you will remain bound and gagged. As you see, all of you are just tape gagged and rope tied and only released for a while to circulate your muscles. As you progress, certain teachers will change you bindings to their needs. The rules and regulations will be handed out to you shortly and I expect all of you to obey them. Good day.”
As soon as the Principal left, that lady teacher (or was she even a teacher?) Cleaveworth returned and release me and my new friend Harriet. Before we could shift, she looped some sort of think band around both of us, covering our breasts and thus locking our arms together. we wee yanked, like dogs on a chain, to another corridor. Harriet was “mmmpphing” through her gag but I felt silent. First, because I knew that if I screamed too much, my throat would dry out faster and second, I secretly liked this kind of treatment. I always played cops and robbers and adventure games with boys when young, and was always the victim bound. So being bound and gagged wasn’t exactly new to me.
May 17, 2015
And losing money over a 16 year old who IS NOT A FREEDOM FIGHTER! Anus Yee Pang Sai.
May 16, 2015
Up yours anti-Christian Amos Yee!
May 10, 2015
Based on recent events in the UK…
“Come on Jem you lost bet, now wear them,” my boyfriend Tom said, pointing at the package.
“Noo, that’s embarrassing, that degrading,” I said trying to shift away but he hand held on strongly to mine.
“Tom…” I cried then his other hand began tickling my sensitive sides. “Stop it stop it!”
“Labour lost, Now wear it as you promised.”
Red in the face I slowly lifted the package and proceeded to head to the bedroom. “No, no, here.” He demanded.
“WHAT?!” I exclaimed.
“Come on, we’ve seen each other naked before, change here,” he said, now tearing open the package and taking out one of the items.
Gingerly taking it, I lowered first my shorts, then next, red in the face, my pink knickers too, exposing my pretty hairless vulva. I unfolded the cloth-backed item then stop. “Err…I’m not sure…”
“Let me help then,” he took the darn item from me.
“Tom…” I pleaded, increasingly not liking this forfeit.
“Roll over,” he commanded, as if I was a dog. I regrettably did so and the plastickly item was place flat under my bum. I expected him to tape it up but instead heard him unscrew some jar. “What…the heck is that?” I stammered, seeing the cream on his fingers.
“Anti-fungal cream, it’s to help prevent you from getting rash,” he said then before I could say more, I felt a warm icky sensation against my private part. Despite my oohs and aahs, he spread the cream all over my external genitalia. “Tom…” I pleaded
“Part your legs more.” Then the dread part happened, He pulled the back sides over and tightly taped the adult nappy against me. Me, a twenty year old student, was now wearing something only babies and incontinent people would wear.
I tried to stand up but he kept me down. “What…” I heard the sound of more plastic and he lifted my legs. Something like a large plastic bag was slide down my legs and surrounded the nappy. Click, click, I heard then he helped me up.
“What the hell is that?” I looked down at the plastic cover, then figured out it was some sort of underwear. “Locking panties,” he used the American term. “It helps hold back any leaks and prevents you from untaping the nappy.”
“Helps me from unta…?!!!” I did complete my sentence. ” I was trapped.