Synopsis: Husband plays his part to meet Amy's needs. She regresses to a
teenager in need of punishment, and finally a baby in diapers.
Sometimes life can be real strange. Often some of the strangest
behaviour stirs from deep inside us and manifests itself as our sexual
urges. A bewildering mix of our past experiences and our present desires.
My wife, Amy and I have been married for almost 20 years. Our sex life
is always interesting, with mild bondage, spanking, and other
variations, and the lust has not diminished despite the years. However
you would call our sex life relatively normal, even if somewhat mildly
However there is another side of my wife, and another side to our sex
life. The interesting thing is I never know when this other side of Amy
will emerge, which adds to the intrigue. Often the first indication I
get is when I notice she has disappeared into the bathroom and I hear
the shower running, despite the fact it is still only early evening.
Sometimes I even sense it prior to her going to have a shower. There are
subtle changes to her demeanour. She becomes quiet, pensive, and mooches
around like a cat. Saying nothing and looking at a loose end. I know
better now than to say anything. It is better to let things run their
She always showers for far longer than normal, and then lingers in the
bathroom. I am not sure if she is pampering herself, or it is all part
of her ritual to build her mood and her courage. And it does take her
courage. Despite the fact we have played out this little ‘game' several
dozen times over the recent four years, Amy is always nervous,
embarrassed, and unsure of herself at the outset. For whatever reason
she needs to do it, despite the incredible humiliation it causes her.
And despite my reassurances, I think, even after all this time, she
still worries about how I might react, and what I may think of her. The
reality is I do not understand her desires, or needs. But then we are
all different, and have different needs. I do not try to rationalize. I
am more than happy to play my role, and I must admit I have come to find
it exciting, unpredictable, and more than just a little sexy.
Tonight I was only vaguely aware she had disappeared early evening to
shower. I was focused on getting a business report finished and Amy had
been watching television. If I had been more alert I would probably have
seen the tell tale signs. She had given me lovely sloppy cuddles when
she arrived home from work shortly after I did, had picked away at her
dinner, and her conversation was somewhat distracted. Unfortunately I
was also distracted by report deadlines and the work I had ahead of me
for the evening. So on this occasion I failed to see it coming, which is
As I punch away at the keyboard in my computer room I sense, rather than
see, that someone is standing behind me. I swivel in the chair to be
confronted by an object of beauty. Even after all these years of
marriage the sight of Amy standing there wrapped only in a towel
immediately lifts the heart rate. Her short-cropped hair is damp and
combed back, bringing a fresh innocence to her facial features. Her head
is tilted to the side, and her hands are clasped together nervously in
front of her. I quickly realise the signs, and mentally chastise myself
for not picking them up earlier.
For a long moment I stare into her eyes, making sure I have not misread
the moment. Amy responds with a nervous smile and a half-hearted shrug
of her shoulders. There is no doubt what she has in mind. I briefly
struggle with the dilemma of needing to complete my report in time for
tomorrow mornings meeting. However it was only a brief struggle, and
work commitments were never going to win the day.
I reach out both arms and invite Amy to sit in my lap. She immediately
does so, and nuzzles her head into my shoulder. For several minutes she
rests there, content, while I gentle stroke her damp hair.
Eventually I whisper into her ear, “You go and get your things and I
will meet you in the study”. It is always the study we use. Not totally
sure why. Perhaps because it is a smaller intimate room with bright
coloured walls. It is Amy's preference of course. This is all 100% about
meeting Amy's needs. And there is nothing wrong with that.
Amy continues to cuddle up on my lap, nervous about going the next step.
Her petite body is alive and her skin flushed around her neck, and I
hear her moaning gentle. I suspect if I were to reach down and touch her
vagina at this moment I would already find her lips starting to swell
and dampen. With my hands I gentle lever her to her feet, playfully
spank her bottom, and point in the direction of the door. Without
looking back she slowly shuffles out of the room.
I wait a lot longer than I need to. I have heard her open the door to
the study, and know that she will be standing inside, waiting, full of
apprehension, feeling humiliation at what she is about to do. But in the
past she has confessed to me that she wants to be made to wait. I
believe it gives her more time to psyche herself up fully into her
fantasy, to regress into the sexual role she wants to play out. Amy
needs. Amy needs.
After a full ten minutes, that I know to Amy will seem like an eternity,
I enter the study. Amy is standing in the middle of room, still wrapped
in the towel. The flush of her skin has now spread from her neck to her
chest also. She has her hands clasped under her chin. As I enter the
room her eyes lock onto mine. They are wide with intensity and
apprehension. I lock into her gaze for a moment before glancing down at
the carpet. At her feet I see the large fluffy towel carefully laid out.
Beside the towel I see the talcum powder, baby oil, her favourite
vibrator, and the adult sized diaper. The thought of what lies ahead
makes my penis uncomfortably hard in my trousers, but I know there will
be no release for me for a while yet.
My gaze gradually travels up, taking in Amy's lithe body as I do so. At
42 years of age, she is in her prime, and a sight to behold. She wears
her naturally blonde hair short cropped to less than an inch in length.
She is slim, 5ft 9inches, with pert breasts, and small nipples that go
rock hard when she is excited. Despite her slim build her buttocks are
full and tight. The sort that always seem to beg to be squeezed,
spanked, or both. Her pubic hair is blond and absolutely straight. She
shaves it very short, and combined with being blond it hides very little
of her vagina. Not that I can see any of this at the moment as Amy's
modesty is still protected by the towel around her body.
My eyes lock into her gaze again. I can feel the intensity in the room.
After several minutes she breaks away from my gaze, looking around the
room, then finally down at the towel. It is time to move on.
“Take off the towel, little one”, my voice sounding surprisingly calm.
Slowly she shakes her head from side to side.
I smile, trying to look reassuring, and then repeat the command
“Come on little darling, take off the towel”
I know she will. I know she wants to. I don't hurry her.
Eventually her hands move to the top of the towel and she loosens it.
She holds it in place for a long moment before I hear her sigh heavily
and the towel falls in a heap at her feet. She is, of course, totally
Now it is my turn to dictate the pace. I take in her nakedness for
several, long minutes. From the movement of my eyes she can see me take
in her breasts. Her nipples are already hard, and the fact that I can
see she is so visibly aroused will embarrass her. My eyes slide down to
her pubic region. I can see the swell of her lips protruding from the
short blond hair. I glance up at her and give her a knowing smile. I see
the humiliation well up in her eyes. Her eyes are moist, and her bottom
I decide to give her a short respite.
“Turn around and let Daddy have a look at that tight little butt of
She needs no second prompting this time, turning to face the far wall
that contains our library of books.
That is one gorgeous arse. I fight off an overwhelming desire to grab
her buttocks and pull her closely to me.
Referring to myself as ‘Daddy' is obviously deliberate. She wants me to
do it. I use to find it very hard to call myself ‘Daddy' to my own wife,
and although I still find it strange I happily do it during these
fantasy charades. Amy has largely written the script over recent years,
but I am a willing actor in our own X-rated live show.
Fortunately for Amy she does not know all the outcomes, which adds to
the anticipation and ultimate pleasure.
Eventually I request she turns back to face me. I swear her body is
almost glowing with sexual tension. Her skin is flushed, she has goose
pimples, and her little nipples are as firm as rocks (and it is not from
the cold as the room is very warm).
Again I take in her body. Amy has admitted to me in the past that
although both of us frequently see each other naked, it is a totally
different feeling to stand in front of someone who is fully dressed,
even your spouse, and strip totally naked and stand there while they
blatantly soak up your nakedness. I agree with her. I am not sure I
would want to do it. But then my needs are different to Amy's. She does
need it. Why? I am not totally sure, and I am not sure even Amy does.
She has said it is a part of giving away her ‘adultness', whatever that
means. And she also confesses to getting very turned on, despite the
very real feelings of humiliation she feels at such times.
Eventually I quietly ask her to lie down. It is an invitation, not a
command. And I know when she is ready she will comply. Amy steps onto
the towel, briefly curling her toes into the soft material, before
slowly lowering herself to a seated position, her knees curled up under
her chin. Her arms wrap around her legs tightly. She looks vulnerable
and unsure. I kneel in front of her, smile reassuringly, and wait.
Again the deep sigh of resignation, as if she is letting go of the
natural inclination to not reveal herself any further, both physically
and mentally. In a graceful movement she unwraps her arms and lowers her
upper body onto the towel. She is hidden from me by her legs, which are
still bent at the knees and tightly pressed together.
Gradually, almost imperceptible at first, Amy begins to move her knees
outwards. Wider and wider they rotate outwards, and I delight at the
first sight of her lovely blond tush. Soon she has reached the point
where she has strained her knees to the widest she can go, The palms of
her feet are touching together, tucked up tightly against her buttocks.
Her vaginal lips are open. Her clitoris is engorged. It is a heady sight
and I take it all in.
Amy has confessed to me that this moment to her is like an unveiling, a
moment of release. It is a turning point. It takes her maximum courage
to expose herself in this manner, and once she has done so it gives her
the strength to continue.
We remain motionless, as if captured in a photograph. The exhibitionist
exposed, and the voyeur enjoying.
I reach down and touch her vagina. She is warm and damp. Gently I stroke
my fingers up and down, while my thumb encircles her engorged clit. She
moans long and low. A primal noise of need. Amy's need. She strains to
open her legs wider, but they are already as wide as her nimble muscles
will allow her. Her buttocks rise off the ground, reaching up to me,
asking for more. Her modesty and embarrassment now gone, replaced by a
need to be satisfied.
I continue to stroke Amy, and I feel her orgasm building. But now
instead of stroking her, the palm of my hand begins to spank her pussy.
Very lightly at first, but the spanks soon increase in frequency and
hardness. She fights to keep the momentum of her orgasm, wanting to
come. But the stinging pain of the spanking on her pussy stops the
orgasm in its tracks. Her hips remain in the air, her legs as wide open
as is physically possible. She does not try to pull back. She is holding
her breath, teeth gritted, nose and eyes screwed up as if in intense
concentration. The only noise filling the room is the sound of my palm
spanking her pussy with increasing intensity.
I begin to see the tears well up in her eyes. The spanking continues,
slowing the frequency but further increasing the severity of each spank.
Eventually she is crying, her breath coming in sobs, tears rolling down
her cheeks. She can take no more, despite the fact she doggedly holds
her pelvis up and legs wide open as if inviting more pain. I stop, but
it takes several seconds to register in her brain that the spanking is
no more. She lowers her butt to the towel, but her legs remain open,
either in abject surrender or because she is too drained to close them.
I reach out for the baby oil, and gently massage it over her very pink
pussy lips, soothing the tenderness I know she must be feeling.
Initially I just rub her nether lips, but soon my fingers work towards
her inner labia. Again my thumb begins to encircle her clit. The low
moaning returns. I apply more oil and continue my ministrations, moving
away from her clit if I feel she is working too close to an orgasm. I
try to hold her close to the brink for as long as I can.
Her hips begin to buck up and down and her hands claw away at the towel.
Amy needs. Amy needs. Amy needs!
I reach over and pick up her favourite vibrator, coat it liberally with
her baby oil, turn it on, open her pussy lips with my other hand, and
slide the vibrator in deep. Amy's eyes widen in ecstasy. She is
literally in seventh heaven and I am sure a runaway truck could crash
through the study and she would be totally unaware of it.
She quickly builds to her first orgasm, her pelvis held luridly high in
the air, her calf muscles straining, her hands now balled into fists
holding handfuls of the towel. She screams noisily. The first orgasm is
quickly followed by a second. If the first orgasm was akin to a runaway
bull, the second is more like a charging buffalo. For a little lady she
makes one hell of a statement when in the throws of an orgasm. If only
you could see it, I am sure you would be suitably impressed. I am sure
the walls vibrate.
Gradually the second orgasm subsides and her sweat covered body lowers
down onto a very dishevelled towel. Amy is well and truly spent. Gently
I retract the vibrator, switch it off, and lay it at her side. She looks
at me with a very satisfied expression, mouths ‘thank you', and closes
her eyes contentedly. She needs a rest before we move on. Quietly I
stand up, my legs stiff from kneeling all that time. And yes, something
else is quite naturally stiff as well. But my time will come. I exit the
room and close the door. I know she will soon be asleep, if she is not
Generally I will let her sleep for 30 to 45 minutes. I return to my
computer room and attempt to refocus on the report I had been
constructing. Not a chance. My mind is elsewhere. I give up and go to
make myself a cup of coffee. I flick on the TV and channel hop
aimlessly. I constantly glance at my watch, willing the time to race by.
Not before time, I see that thirty minutes are up, and I am impatient to
continue. Amy may initiate all this sexual fantasy we are acting out,
but you can see that I am a willing participant. My initial reticence
has been replaced with a desire to play my role as if an Oscar was at
stake. Improving on my performance with each curtain rise. Becoming more
inventive, pushing the boundaries, and trying to keep an element of
unpredictability in what I do.
I open the door to the study. Amy appears to have not moved since I left
her thirty minutes earlier. I study her naked form from head to toe,
before kneeling down beside her. I flick my finger gently over her right
nipple, then the left. They respond instantly, even before Amy has
opened her eyes. She smiles and reaches out to hold my hand.
“Come and have coffee with me”, I request as I stand up and pull her to
“Can I put something on first” she asks sheepishly.
“You know Daddy likes you naked little one”. She knows I will decline. I
always do, but she still asks. She is genuinely embarrassed by the fact
that I have called myself ‘Daddy', and that she will walk around naked
in my presence. She looks down at the carpet and cannot meet my gaze.
Holding her hand I lead her out of the study and down the hallway to the
kitchen. All the curtains are closed, but still she looks around
furtively, as if the neighbours are gazing upon her nakedness.
I make her a cup of coffee and hand it to her. She goes to sit down but
I ask her to remain standing. I do not do her the same courtesy. I pull
out a chair from the dining table and sit down directly in front of her.
Her breasts and pubic hair are directly in my view. My gaze very
deliberately travels from her breasts to her pubic region, over and over
again. Occasionally I glance up into her eyes. She is clearly
embarrassed, and her body begins to twitch nervously.
With some difficulty she finishes her coffee and places it on the
kitchen table beside her.
“Right my little angel, it is time to move on”. Amy begins to walk from
the kitchen back to the study, however I reach out and stop her in her
tracks. She looks back at me, puzzled.
“The punishment will take place in here tonight” I add, trying to sound
Amy is alarmed and unsure, but I place my finger over her lips in a
clear sign that I do not expect her to question me.
I should at this point explain a couple of things to the reader. The
first is that during these fantasy sessions Amy is spanked twice, but
each of these spankings serve a different purpose. The pussy spanking
she has already had is a necessary, and powerful, prelude for Amy to her
orgasm. She has frequently told me the orgasms that follow the pussy
spanking are some of the most intense she has had. Her second spanking
is on the bottom. This is a punishment. If you ask for what
misdemeanour, I do not know. To Amy, it is a humiliating, and painful,
spanking. It hurts, but Amy needs it. Amy needs. Amy needs.
She has explained to me that during these spankings she feels like a
teenager again, going over the knee of her father for a good
old-fashioned hand spanking. Amy has confessed she was spanked as a
teenager, right up until she was seventeen. Initially I was quite
shocked, even angered by this revelation. But to be honest, it does not
bother me now. Is this a root cause of her ‘deviant behaviour'? Who
knows, who cares. Life is too short to analyse, particularly if the
manifestation gives us pleasure.
The second thing I need to explain is that this bare bottom spanking
normally takes place in the study with Amy draped humiliatingly across
my knee. Tonight I plan to be different. This is the unpredictable
element I like to introduce to an otherwise predicable script.
Amy's face continues to be masked with puzzlement as I navigate her to
the dining room table. I move the chairs out of the way.
“Your behaviour, my little one, has been a lot worse than a father can
reasonably expect from a young lady” I chastise her while staring
directly into her eyes. She is concerned, uncertain, embarrassed, but I
can read in her eyes she is also very excited. Uncertainty for Amy is
laced with a surge of sexual enticement.
“Tonight you will be dealt with here in the dining room. I have a good
mind to open the curtains.”
Amy's eyes are like saucers.
“In fact I almost think your behaviour is so bad I should invite the
neighbours over to see you being naked and punished”
Amy's bottom lip drops and quivers. Her eyelids flutter. She does not
dare call my bluff, fearing I might be nuts enough to carry out my
“Now move over to the dining room table, face it, and open your legs as
wide as they can go”
Amy does not hesitate to follow my instructions. Almost instinctively
she puts her hips forward so that her pubic bone is resting level with
the tabletop. I rest my hand on her back and slowly lever her forward.
She bends at the waist, and lowers herself until her pert breasts are
flattened on the tabletop. Not for the first time tonight I get a
delicious view of her vagina, moist and puffy.
Amy groans, but this time it is not ecstasy, it is humiliation. She has
never been in this position before; never had to expose herself in such
a manner before. She is not emotionally prepared for it, and I expect
she is downright embarrassed. At least I hope so, because I know this is
what Amy needs.
I rest my hand on her bottom. She shudders
“Open your legs wider”
The spanking begins, but unlike the pussy spanking I do not start
lightly. The first spanks are hard enough to take her breath away and
she cries out. After ten spanks her bottom is squirming, trying to
lessen the blows. After twenty she begins to close her legs. I command
her to open them again, but I do not stop. She only half opens her legs,
however I take sympathy. She is giving all of herself she can.
I stop after thirty blows. She is sobbing quietly into the tabletop. I
let her recover for a couple of minutes, before helping her upright and
leading her down the hall to the study. She is shaky on her feet so we
In the study I smooth out the ruffled towel on the carpet and help Amy
to lower herself so she is lying down on her back. I tap her knees and
she raises them and once again ratchets her legs open so that she is
I pick up the talcum powder and sprinkle it liberally over her nether
legions. I lift up her feet and push them above her. Her very red bottom
comes into view, as does her tight little puckered anus. Nothing of
Amy's body is private. I sprinkle talcum powder on her bottom, and rub
it in with my hand. She flinches at the pain but doggedly holds her
position without complaint. I lower her feet and as her bottom connects
with the towel a brief cloud of talcum dust rises around her. It is a
“Take a look at yourself little lady.”
Wearily Amy sits up and stairs down at her pubic region. Her blond hair
is now totally white, as is much of her mid-drift. She is clearly
humiliated by her unladylike appearance. She smiles sheepishly, but her
eyes are transfixed on the talc-covered area of her body.
I reach over to the adult sized diaper. I have no idea where Amy gets
these from. Obviously there is a store or website where they can be
purchased. I unfold it, and slide it down under Amy's thighs. She winces
as the diaper contacts her tender bottom, but she does not look away, as
if to do so will break the intensity of the charade being acted out. Amy
needs. Amy needs.
Without being asked she lifts her hips and I slide the diaper into
place. She opens her legs widely for one more time, and yet again I take
in the sight of her open labia before enveloping her in the diaper and
sealing it with the little blue self-adhesive tabs on the side.
Amy started the evening as a mature married woman, became a recalcitrant
teenager, and is now Daddy's little baby. It is enough to make a
Psychiatrist's head spin in wonderment.
I allow Amy to soak up the sights and sounds of her regressed state of
dress before taking her hand and leading her out of the study and off to
My thoughts wander back to when Amy first ‘came out of the closet as a
sexual deviant', as we jokingly refer to it between ourselves. It was
around four years ago.