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Wednesday, March 23, 2011

Letters from WS #8 Pt.24 From Zeta

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Subject: Letters from WS #8 Pt.24 From Zeta Reproduced from "Wet Set" magazine #8 by kind permission of the publishers. Wet Set, P O Box 392 Turramurra, NSW 2074, Australia. From Sally, Leicester: I have enjoyed reading all the letters in your different issues, but my special interest is girls who wet their pants when being caned, as the same thing happened to me on numerous occasions at school. The first time it happened was also the first time I was given the cane, for being consistently late in the morning. I was sent to the headmistress' study, and as I waited in trepidation outside, the fear I felt caused an urgent need to visit the bathroom. I asked her secretary if I could go to the loo but she said I had to wait until the headmistress came back. I ground my thighs together, but the need to pee became more and more urgent. By the time the headmistress returned I was close to wetting myself I haltingly asked her if I could visit the toilet, but to my horror she refused, saying that she was very busy and that I could go after I had received my punishment. By now I was getting really desperate, grinding my thighs together in an effort to contain my pee. Her tone of voice indicated she was amused by my predicament and I realise now she probably relished the thought that I might wet my pants as I was being caned. She called me into her room and I stood fidgeting in front of her desk, pressing my thighs together and bobbing up and down in a desperate attempt to prevent an accident. She told me to stay still and to stand with my legs apart. As I obeyed I felt a trickle of wetness soak into the crotch of my panties. She walked over to a cupboard and took out a long, thin cane and swished it through the air, saying that she was going to give me ten strokes on the behind. The shock caused me to relax my muscles slightly, and a spurt of pee jetted into my pants and trickled down my leg. She smiled when she saw this, and said she hoped I wasn't going to behave like a baby. She told me to bend over and grasp my ankles, and flipping up my skirt to reveal my powder blue panties she commented on the darker stain at the crotch. I was still trying to keep control of my bladder, but the first stroke of the cane was too much for me. As it sliced into my bum, the shock caused me to instantly go to the toilet in my pants. I started to cry in shame as my bladder emptied itself down my legs, but the headmistress continued to cane me another nine times, and then made me mop up the mess I had caused. She then dismissed me saying that she hoped I had learned my lesson. I dashed off to the loo, but by the time I reached there I realised that the wet warmth in my pants was actually turning me on. I then sat on the loo and rubbed myself to a gasping orgasm. That was the start of my addiction to knicker wetting, and from then on I purposely did things to get the cane, and wet myself each time despite being sent to the loo beforehand. Sometimes it was accidental, but more often on purpose. I also used to wee myself out of school hours, and managed to get some diuretic tablets from the doctor by feigning a bladder infection. I would drink lots of water along with a couple of tablets, and within a few hours would be absolutely desperate for a pee. If my parents were out for the day I would get a large basin from downstairs, put a pair of leotards on, and stand in it in front of my mirror. By this time I would be hopping from one foot to another, trying to prevent a wet accident until I was ready. When I couldn't hold out any longer, I would force myself to stand still and pretend I was getting the cane. In a few moments a damp patch would appear on the crotch of my leotards, growing larger as I gradually lost control of my bladder he wanted to tell me about three months into our relationship. We were having a quiet drink in a pub when he asked me if I was easily shocked. 'No,' I said hesitantly, but was secretly dreading what was coming next. As it turned out, his confessions about nappy wearing and wetting himself did not seem that bad to me. I was imagining something much worse. After the initial surprise I must admit I felt the urge to laugh, not at my boyfriend, but at the picture it created in my mind. Fortunately I was able to control myself, and told him that his 'baby' side would not pose a problem for me. In fact the idea quite appealed to the dominant side of my nature. I respected his honesty and bravery to 'come out' and tell me exactly what turned him on. After all, I could have walked out in disgust, and I am pleased to say we have carried that honesty through into all areas of our life. After we were married and installed in our first flat, we started playing the games that my husband had been dreaming about for years. The first step was to put together a layette for my new 'baby'. I started by ordering plastic incontinence pants, and made nappies from large white towels. It also came as a surprise to me that my new husband was very creative, and he soon made up some rather good 'baby' clothes. As the years go by, our activities in the nappy department become more and more erotic to both of us. One game we both like to act out is as follows: I play the role of nanny/nurse who is left in charge of a 'grown up boy'. Of course she soon finds out what he is wearing when she starts to undress him for his full examination and bath. On finding his nappy and plastic pants I demand an explanation. His response is feeble as usual, and he mumbles to me that he is wetting himself as I stand and watch. I tell him that such behaviour is not acceptable, and he must be taught a lesson. He is then marched into the bathroom and made to stand in the bath to avoid any mess. Then it is down with the nappy and out with the spanking paddle. I make him touch his toes and ask why he wet himself. He doesn't answer, and I inform him that his impudence has just earned him six extra strokes. As he starts to cry I take aim, his bottom making a superb target, and with relish I land the first stroke on his squirming buttock. After eleven further stingers on his wet bottom I pull up his very soggy nappy. He is then made to stand in the corner till I am ready to change him. It pleases me much to think of his backside covered in red marks inside that very uncomfortable nappy. An hour is allowed to pass, by which time I feel he has suffered enough. He is then undressed and put in the bath where I wash him all over before leaving him to play a while. While he is in the bath I go to the cupboard where all his nappies and baby pants are kept. I select the ones I want, plus an all in one romper suit. Once he is dry I lead him to the bedroom and tell him to lie on the rubber sheet I have placed on the bed. I then put powder all over him, and cream on his bottom to avoid nappy rash. Once I am satisfied that I have not missed any important bits, I lift up his legs and place a warm fluffy nappy under his bum, pulling it up between his legs and pinning it in place. Next I roll up his plastic pants and put his feet through the leg holes, making it easier to slide them up his legs and over his nappy clad bottom. Once they are on him I check all round the elasticated waist and legs to avoid any leaks. He is then told to stand up and step into his romper suit When I have cleared up, 'baby' and me like to cuddle on the bed and we both get very turned on. Needless to say we both end up very sexually satisfied at the end of this game. At this point I would like to explain that our relationship is not always physical. You see my husband likes to dress up to unwind after work, and I allow this as I know how much he enjoys it. For example, he loves to sit in the lounge as I watch television, in his nappy and plastic pants while I am dressed normally. This especially turns him on as I make no comment on what he is wearing, but simply carry on a non sexual conversation. As the years have passed it's almost not an act any more, as I h his nappy. Another big turn on for my husband is to wear his nappy under his clothes when we visit relatives and friends, or just when going to the supermarket I think it's the dare factor of our outings that really turns him on - that, and the fact of being different from everyone else. I must admit it's also quite a turn on for me being the only one who knows his naughty secret. Often when we are in crowded shops I pat his bottom and ask if he has been a good boy. This keeps him on his toes, as it makes quite a rustle, and there is a chance people might hear. This to me is a real power trip, and I love being in control of 'baby'. After all, if he ever really upset me, all I would have to do is yank his trousers down and show the world what hubby is wearing. Once home after a long day out I give my 'little boy' his tea and then a wash before bed, by which time he is getting tired. All that is left for me to do is to put on his thick night time nappy and waterproof pants and give him his bottle. I let him sit with me until we both feel like going to bed. Once in bed my 'baby' likes me to cuddle him and gently pat his bottom until he is asleep. In the morning I have to check to see if he has wet himself during the night. I do this by putting my hand down the front of his pants, and if he is wet I turn him over and slap his legs. He pretends to cry and says it will not happen again, but I know it win. Sometimes I wonder if I will ever get him out of nappies, but somehow I don't think so. Whilst I am sure the readers of Wet Set share my attitude to 'fetish' sex, I would just like to add that my partner is a good husband, and these games in no way lessen his masculinity in my eyes. So if your partner asks to wear nappies and plastic pants, ask yourself what harm will it do? After all, you might start to enjoy it too.

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