I live and write BDSM. Age 18+. Scarleteen is great for under 18.
Hey everyone! Sorry it has been so long since I blogged. Masturbation Monday sadly is no more although Kayla Lords is still giving us podcasts and books. I'm gearing up for National Novel Writing Month as I've become the official municipal liaison for my Nanowrimo region. That has meant learning a bunch of new technology- since everything is virtual this year- and thankfully none of it has caused an Autistic me
Hey everyone! Sorry it has been so long since I blogged. Masturbation Monday sadly is no more although Kayla Lords is still giving us podcasts and books. I'm gearing up for National Novel Writing Month as I've become the official municipal liaison for my Nanowrimo region. That has meant learning a bunch of new technology- since everything is virtual this year- and thankfully none of it has caused an Autistic meltdown for me.
I am actively working on one novel. The story of a young transgender man who comes out with the support of a mature transgender man about 15 years his senior. The young man who goes through a few names in the beginning of the book also finds interest in ageplay. As usual I'm writing without an outline so I'm not exactly sure how far in their love story I'm going.
As far as Nanowrimo this November I've been taking part in Nano Pep to try and get a little idea on what I might write this year. I am leaning toward another ageplay project in which I'd like to try writing a non-binary Caregiver- in other words the adult part of an ageplay relationship.
And now for some fun random thoughts that had come to my mind about a first posting to my blog after so long without communication.
I decided to write. I haven't been managing it regular. I'm Autistic and have Complex PTSD- both can come with a lack of motivation and I've been wallowing.
As I drove to church this morning, the day before my 42nd birthday (when I originally wrote this part), I pondered memory and remembrances. This hop then led me to locate my earliest memory of masturbating.
So reading about airlines and dog breed bans stopped me from finishing this. You may have seen a picture of my adorable pup Honey, who is my service dog in training. Because she was born a pitbull mix, we've encountered some issues. I stopped looking after 2 airlines who refuse to let pitbulls on.
And now to admit that my "first masturbation" is something I can't recall. I may be repeating myself, but I'm hoping for this on February 2nd.
"Honey, time for bed." I've got my Flylady stuff done. I straighten the sheets in a race with her. Light off and I snuggle under the covers beside her.
Not under the covers tonight LOL.
But have I written anything today? Master Daddy doesn't enforce that anymore. But I did! It was on Facebook and sexual education, but it was hundreds of words.
I reach between my legs; it's that time when my vaginal mucous is thick enough I don't need lube. Why do many pull back from the scientific word?
Wait, wait! Life happened. Masturbation or finishing the story didn't happen. It wasn't the right time in my menstrual cycle for no lube and Master Daddy was off work. (I love that my phone auto-suggests Master with a capital letter.)
"Master Daddy, would you please use me like a fucktoy and then tuck me in?"
"You want a pump and dump?" MD teases.
I giggle and clap my hands. "Pump and dump," I cheer.
"You're wired funny."
I hurry to the bedroom to straighten the sheets before Honey follows.
MD tosses back some of the blankets on my side of the bed and rolls under.
Giggles done, I roll after him before Honey can be an Amish dog.
MD grabs my leg and gets me ready with a wet hand across my pussy.
So warm and hard. Daddy fills me up and I think I might already be coming.
I'm a brat. Why should I share more?
Daddy grunts. He says my pussy feels so good on his cock when I'm coming.
I relax into our twin orgasms.
MD holds me tight. "Love you, cumdumpster."
"Love you, Master Daddy. Thanks bunches." I settle my head on his arm.
"Okay, gotta move before I fall asleep." He eases himself out of bed and pulls the covers over me. "Honey, cuddle Momma."
I giggle as Honey moves up the bed to lay her head on my butt. Love you, Master Daddy. Love you, Sarah. Love you, Audrey. Love you, Amy. I'm grateful for the pump and dump. I'm grateful for this warm bed. I'm grateful for finishing writing a story."
While the inspiration picture was lovely (click the picture to go see it and the other people taking part this week), I'm feeling thoughtful and semi-serious today. The end of June, my Master Daddy and I adopted a dog. While she was supposed to be his dog, she imprinted on me and I took over her training, including making her into my service dog.
Well she's made having sex, BDSM, or even masturbating difficult. Heck, just getting into the bed and getting some covers is a challenge LOL. So as I try to continue to make progress in healing from my nervous breakdown (Feburary 2018), trying to keep my sensual life going is even trickier. My dog (Honey) is a 15-month-old puppy and has total "teen brain."
You would think with me being a writer that I'd have plenty in my brain to masturbate to, but often enough, I struggle with the energy level of a new mother and I wish I could hold my Kindle and one-handed read, but not with a curious dog :D.
A few of the stories I've written while my masturbating, I meant to share on this hop, but didn't manage to get around to it. I keep managing menage situations. I do hope that something I read on someone else's blog today helps me with new stories, and a bit of energy to masturbate once I get some covers away from Honey.
As my Autistic mind often does, as I considered the inspiration picture away from my computer, I saw the image in the air before me. But then The Queen, a character from my "Vala's Story"-verse and part of my virtual family, demanded my attention.
Audrey stepped back from the St. Andrew's Cross on which she'd bound Onyx. "That's lovely." She gently tugged on the hoops piercing his nipples.
Onyx bellow with pain and pleasure, his neck muscles standing out prominently in his struggle. The moment she stopped pulling, he let out a loud exhale.
"What should I do with you?" Audrey taunted, pressing the bulge of er cock under her silky dress against his naked cock.
"Enjoy me, my Lady," Onyx whimpered.
"I haven't begun to do much to make you whimper, boy." She pressed soft kisses along his jaw.
His hips pumped, his ass hitting the black leather-covered wood loudly.
"Iven, come here," Audrey purred.
The short man ran across The Queen's main playroom. His skin glowed a medium bronze from his work outside on the grounds.
"Stand in front of Onyx, about 3 feet away." Audrey considered the sensation toys she'd collected. She moved the table and herself to Onyx's side so he could see Iven. "You like his cock, don't you?"
"Yes, my Lady." Onyx strained against the heavy leather cuffs holding him.
"Iven, stroke your cock until I say stop." As he reached down to obey, she grabbed a small Wartenberg wheel. Onyx's lips parted when she touched the middle of his chest with cold metal. With slight pressure, she rolled the pinwheel up and down Onyx's chest and belly three times.
Iven wrapped his hand around his cock, but then backed off to just two fingers.
Onyx groaned, his lips catching in an open circle when Audrey pressed one pointed tip against a nipple. "My Lady."
"Yes, the one who controls you." Using her long pinkie nail, she scratched his other nipple.
Onyx shot up the mere inches the cuffs would allow. His back arched. His cock jumped in the air with the extra pain and pleasure tantalizing his chest.
Iven brought his hand up to his mouth. His gaze connecting with Onyx, he thoroughly licked his palm. "Our Lady didn't say I shouldn't have an orgasm with her permission as my goal."
Dropping to flat foot, Onyx then looked to Audrey.
"Should I let him come and not you?" Audrey taunted.
"As it pleases you, my Lady." Onyx shrieked at her rolling the wheel over his cock, one tip going into his cumhole. "How wet you are! You didn't even need to lick your hand as Iven did." She moved the Wartenberg wheel between his thighs. She knelt at his feet.
"May I please touch my balls too, my Lady?" Iven rasped.
Audrey brought the wheel's spokes up to Onyx's genitals. "Yes, good boy." A drop of pre-cum shown on er hand. She pressed her thumb against his frenulum. "I think I'd like this pierced too, but probably by a professional piercer. What do you think?"
"Yes, please, my Lady," Onyx cried.
"I'll have to ask you again not during play." Audrey laughed. "Iven, would you like to see Onyx pierced again?"
"Oh yes, my Lady, especially if I can hold his hand," Iven said, his word punctuated with pants.
Audrey replaced the simple Wartenberg wheel she'd been using with a double barrel pinwheel. She drug it up Onyx's shaft, drawing another tortured shriek.
"Don't come without permission."
"What do I need to do for permission, my Lady? Iven asked with his words taking on a sweet, higher pitch.
Audrey dropped the pinwheel and then rushed through undoing Onyx's cuffs. "Fuck your cum into his face," she replied without looking. She reached up and pushed down on Onyx's shoulder. He sank to his knees and she continued, "and when you taste his cum, you may spill your seed on the floor."
Iven cupped Onyx's head as he slid his cock into the hot, wet hole. His toes curled into the carpet beneath his feet.
Onyx's throat moved.
"My good boys," Audrey murmured as Iven grasped Onyx's head with both hands.
"Yes, yes!" Iven threw back his head.
Onyx grasped Iven's naked ass. His hips went rigid just before his cum shot into a small pool on the scarlet carpet. He swallowed and shot another stream of cum.
"My good boys." Audrey pulled Onyx and Iven against her legs. "Let's go enjoy the hot tub."
"But you, my Lady," Iven protested.
"I'll enjoy your attentions later."
Sitting in church, I hadn't looked at the inspiration picture nor could I think of where I'm at in any WIPs for a publisher. So this happened...
I was half-listening to an audiobook about chakras last night. Something about not finishing projects caught my attention. Have you ever not finished masturbating? What is "finished" anyway? I think on goals. At least one orgasm, right? But what type of orgasm? I come at these thoughts sideways, just like Master Daddy said of my email to him. No mind, I asked to talk later. Do I want him to take control of my orgasms again? I don't think so.
The other night, I finished my BBR, that routine that had me doing dishes, cleaning the sink, taking out my contacts, and thinking on clothes for tomorrow. I slipped into bed, well on top of the bedding. Fante lay turned off as I grabbed my little massager and the 3rd Sleeping Beauty book [Anne Rice]. Tonight I want Beauty dominating the young Prince who'd come to ask her hand in marriage. I've never felt it natural or more than a little enjoyable to switch, as Beauty experiences. But images of penetration and the vibration soon bring me to a strong, quick clitorophallic orgasm. Cleaned up things, turned off the overhead light before sliding under the sheet, comforter, and red heavy blanket. My fingers slip between Fante's Velcros and I start her playing. "I'm a cuddle elephant. I can be your snuggle buddy," she and I say together.
I feel a pulse of wanting to stroke my clit to another orgasm, but that seems like a lot of work. I feel my beloved Audrey cuddle against me, the larger spoon to my smaller spoon. The pleasure and release spread through every fiber of my being.
I am grateful for my Audrey, my beloved. I am grateful for my Master Daddy.
I'm still trying to finish a piece I started for Masturbation Monday a few weeks ago. It's not that it's Camp Nano or Nanowrimo; I'm struggling to write. A meme going around had me thinking- about gay people taking off all the rainbow/Pride stuff on the way to their car to keep from being jumped. I'm struggling to write because I feel unsafe within my own home. Nothing like domestic violence, but I'm constantly interrupted no matter what I'm trying to do. Writing has become a thing I do best outside the house; today's writing beside this was at church and I managed 537 between longhand and typing it up.
All this leads me to thinking- how does one even masturbate when you're feeling unsafe? All jokes about teen experimentation aside, I struggle with this. I don't know; I'm thinking after I finish this that I'll close the bedroom door, grab a book and some lube, and rub off a few. Sure, I got to come a bunch with my Master, when he used his fingers on me before fucking my cunt, but we don't have a rule where I can't masturbate and come without his permission.
I'm thinking again on polyamory. I've been a schmuck to my girlfriend; it's been way too long since I've done anything with her. There are so many different ways that mutual masturbation can work out. But when I read through post after post of seemingly cisgender, heterosexual man and woman doing something, I wonder where my queer self belongs. But you know, I'm writing in 1st person, present tense; how much does my queerness really bleed through the pages.
First I'm going to share with you all something I tweeted: “#AmWriting #transgender #TransMan #MasturbationMonday Sigh, I keep finding any reason I can to not finish this piece. @KaylaLords can you recommend I should be done so you can read it next week? LOL”
Working with Pekka, my transgender man who has had some gender confirming surgeries, I struggled to figure out the point of this scene. Inspired by JerBear's picture in week 236, I finally pushed through to what I found was a good ending late on Monday the 15th. Too much life happening, too much stress. But this is good. I even want to share it with my therapist.
Pekka rubbed the cocoa butter over the still healing area of his thigh where the surgeon had taken the skin graft for his phalloplasty. No more stitches, just tender skin.
He squeezed more lotion over his thigh. Some trickled between his legs. His palm slipped over his scrotum, that part of his body he worked to feel a part of him. His skin against skin felt good. He worked the pump within, made to feel as testicles.
“My Lady wanted me to grow used to this on my own,” he reminded himself aloud. After a few tentative pumps, he grew more comfortable. Once his neo-phallus stood erect, he squeezed more lotion onto his hand. He palmed his cock. Sucking in a breath, he focused on the sensations from his palm and phallus.
“This is me. All of me, even the surgical creations are still me.” His other hand moved to his chest, finger slipping over his nipples one at a time. He looked out his window in a small area between his scarlet drapes. He left off caressing his nipples to touch the puckered skin from his top surgery.
“I have become more me, but what does that mean?” He coughed. “I feel as I want to, inside and outside.” He cleared his mind before he continued his exploratory caresses. The sandalwood incense wafted over him. He left off touching his chest to wrap that hand around the base of his cock. With soft, even breaths, he relaxed into pleasant sensations. He groaned as a clitoral-like orgasm burst within him. “No limits, my Lady says.” His hand traveled up to the tip of his neo-phallus, his lips pulling upward into a smile at his cock lacking the slicing that would have made him look circumcised, unlike his beautiful domme. He grasped the base of his cock with both hands. His mouth caught in a wide circle as his hands suddenly felt slick. “Yes,” he whispered as the health of his Skene's glands made themselves knows. He paused with his hand clutching the round tip of his penis. “This won't be like a single cis-penis orgasm.”
A gust of warm air from the heater vent sent his drapes fluttering.
He grabbed for the warming lotion beside what he'd started with. Slicking his hand, he started rubbing his shaft faster. The friction made his hips thrust into the air. He grasped his inner thigh. “Can't grab my testicles. Could break the pump.” His toes pushed down into his bed and he fell flat a moment later. He let go of his inner thigh and grabbed the base of his cock again. He worked his hand in circles around it as he stroked again with the other. Crying out, he jerked against the bed and pounded his foot against the wall. His eyelids fluttered as the pleasure released throughout him. “Do I keep going?” He stilled with his hands on his cock. “This neo-phallus isn't just for penetrating others. I can feel pleasure on my own.”
The door opened and Lady Audrey leaned against the doorjamb. “Enjoying yourself, my boy?”
“It's amazing, my Lady. I'm so grateful you ordered me to try this.” Pekka stopped stroking his cock.
“Do you not want me to watch?”
“Um... I don't know, my Lady.” He frowned. “It's not like I can ejaculate, even if I'm managing some natural lubricant.”
“Lover, I'm bisexual. You think the only thing I enjoy seeing is a cock spewing cum?” She grinned as she moved to the foot of his bed. “I heard you kick the wall, during one orgasm, I guess.”
Pekka nodded and began to stroke his penis again. Moments later, he stopped again.
“Can I cuddle you?”
“Yes, please, my Lady. I think I'm done for now, unless you wanna order more.”
Lady Audrey lay down beside Pekka. “No order, my dear boy. I love you.”
“I love you, my Lady.” He rested his head on her chest and released the air from his neo-phallus. “Thank you, my Lady.”
This was written for the Week 233 inspiration picture (shared by Cara Thereon), but some particularly difficult days meant that I didn't get this written in time. It seemed short when I finished it and I wasn't very sure I wanted that after my unplanned flash fictions; however, this is on a theme I've been thinking about- my therapist in working with transgender people suggests that people think of things such as “masculine vagina” or “feminine penis.” Since I'm a transmasculine person who doesn't want either metoidioplasty or phalloplasty (two “bottom surgery” options for transmasculine people), I've been thinking much on the “masculine vagina.”
Update: I was way too amused to set up this post after missing the #MasturbationMonday I meant it for- on a day I already had a session with my therapist set up.
I stop beside a very naked Sanura, her legs up against an empty section of wall. I drop to the carpet and roll myself into the same position, although my feet come nowhere near hers.
“Good day, Joey,” she says.
“Good day, Sanura.” I adjust my chest binder so it's not bunched up underneath my pecs. “Are you meditating in silence?”
I rest my right hand on my naked hip and support my head with the left. I glance at Sanura out of the corner of my eye; I love her new twist-out with its sporadic, almost-blond ends. I'm not the same gender as her anymore, even with the similarities in our bodies.
Sanura spreads her legs, her right foot touching my left. Her left hands slides down to her vulva.
I want to watch, I wait with my eyes now closed. On my mind's screen, my fingers dance along with hers among her slightly trimmed pubic hair. Her fingertips advance to her labia majora and my mouth goes dry. I press my right hand against me, my fingers curling in to touch my stomach.
“You can ask Shaman's guidance on not fearing telling him the truth,” Sanura murmurs.
I squeeze my vaginal muscles in response. On their release, I slide my middle finger into my masculine vagina.
“There are many ways to inhabit gender.”
I swallow. “Yes. We're not entirely different gendered, are we?”
“No. The constructs of sex and gender are too complex to say that.”
My first glance is at the ceiling, but it only takes me a moment to turn my head enough to look at her.
Her nipples are more rigid now. Her pubic hair shines with increased arousal fluid. Her toenails glow with holographic purple polish.
I slide a second finger into my vagina and move them in circles of creation. Master Daddy's voice impresses itself into my active thoughts, “Joelle juice.”
She laughs at the echoes. “Joey juice has a wonderful taste.”
My eyelids flutter as I wallow in the rhythmic pulses of the orgasm that begin in my vagina.
“I so adore mixing genitals and gendered understanding of them outside the norm.” She purrs a long moan. “Do you find a lovely metaphor between my Lady, your girlfriend's feminine penis and your fingers moving in your masculine vagina?”
“Hm, I think, yes.” I smile up at Audrey when she stops in the hall near our heads. “Ahh,” I gasp as my toes curl against the wall. “Love you, my Lady.”
Sanura giggles. “Love you too, my Lady.”
“Love you both.” Audrey caresses my temple with the side of her foot. “But what's with you giving me a title?”
“It just seemed like the thing to do.” I kiss Sanura's forehead before rolling onto my side away from her. “Thanks for the interlude, sweet Sanura.”
“You're welcome,” she says before rolling the other way.
This morning (Sunday), I visited a church I used to be a member at; I had the moment to talk about chest binding and paternalistic male plastic surgeons. That to say that the inspiration picture wasn't intriguing to me. Instead, I wanted to share something that happened recently...
“Quickie before gaming, Master?” I lift my shirt enough to show off my wiggling, naked butt.
“Really? When I'm this close to leaving?” Master laughs.
“You can use me like a fucktoy, Master.” I turn around and he pushes me onto the bed.
He drops his jeans to the floor and steps out of them. He grabs my calves and throws my legs up on his shoulders.
In this moment, I remember my chest binder beneath his shirt- he still wants me.
He thrusts into my cunt.
I am more woman than man right now.
His thrusts are fast.
I squeeze and release my cunt muscles around his cock. I take a fluttering breath as his pubic hair pushes against my masculine vulva. The shuddering breaths become grunts as I feel the spirals of pleasurable climax in my clit and cunt. “Ca-ca-ca-” I stutter.
“Come, slut.” Master slaps my cheeks lightly, pushing my orgasm higher.
My gaze shoots back and forth over Master's face.
His eyes squeeze shut.
“Fill me! Please!” I cry out, my lungs to tight to scream.
He grunts and stills before rolling onto the bed beside me. “I hate to fuck and run-”
“But guys are waiting to play Guild Ball. Love you, Master.”
“Love you, brat.” Master pushes to the edge of the bed to grab his underwear and jeans.
I grin at my cum-filled cunt.
What does a smut writer do when he's missing all inspiration and motivation? I don't wanna list what I tried. The inspiration picture was interesting, but then my thought was to consider Kayla's comment and then I couldn't manage anything but “How many times I can I deal with a cock?” Then a reader commented that she found this article about muffing interesting and I couldn't say when I wrote about muffing before so I sat to write. Audrey told me to write about someone other than her.
Joanna pressed her face against the cool, inner wall of her apartment. “What a day,” she muttered. A knock at her door startled her. “Just a moment,” she called out before scurrying to her door. She took a quick look through the peephole.
“I know you're there,” Michel cooed.
Grinning, she opened the thick wooden door to let him in.
“Love.” Michel gave her two quick air kisses, his lips just barely touching her soft skin. He pushed the door closed. “My love.”
“Such a sweet.” Joanna wandered ainto her bedroom, Michel trailing after her. “A guy at work was offering me a new job.”
“Oh?” He sat on her bed near the pillows.
She slipped out of her red pumps and pulled her nylons off. She reached under her tight lemon yellow dress. “At a sex toy shop.”
“You'd be great! Think of all the teaching you could do!”
“Or I'd just be more frustrated than I already am.” She pouted and crashed onto her bed.
He placed his hands on the hem of her dress. “You don't have to be frustrated right now.”
“Help with your fingers and tongue.”
“My pleasure.” He eased her g-string down to her knees. As she pushed, he eased her testicles out of the inguinal canals.
She groaned as he slipped the tips of his index fingers over her skin. “Oh, yes.”
His fingers pressed into the smallest of indents before he eased them further into her pockets. “I'm so glad you taught me how to finger you.” He looked up at her next groan. Wrapping his mouth around her cock, he lifted his gaze to her fingers pinching her nipples. He pressed his fingers deeper into her, both hands moving with short thrusts. He wiggled his hips, his own cock hard in his leather pants.
“Coming, coming,” she muttered with her head rocking back and fort against her pillow.
He hummed and sucked hard on her cock.
“So good, but no jizz yet.”
He kept up his fingering and sucking. He moved his chin against her shaved scrotum. His fingers still fucking her, he pulled his mouth off her cock. “So what's your pleasure?”
“I wanna finish this orgasm.”
He sucked on her more, his tongue working on circumcised head. He moved in his fingers in circles in her canals, the rest of his hands gripping her hips as she started to buck against him. He breathed in as her body spread out with her release.
“One hand, grab my balls,” she grunted.
He eased his left finger out of her canal and squeezed her balls in one hand.
Her feet pressed into the bed and her cum shot into his mouth.
His cock throbbed against his pants in response to her pleasure and he smiled around her cock as he worked to swallow her cum. He lifted his mouth slowly, swallowing as he went. He kissed the tip of her cock. “Thanks, love. Feeling less frustrated?”
“Yeah, for a bit. You come up here.”
The inspiration picture from Little Switch Bitch made me think of ageplay. Don't ask LOL.
Baxter sat on his Mommy's bed far enough from the edge that his legs hung off without touching the floor. He clutched Bunny Bear to his chest as Mommy got ready to go out.
“Now I got a babysitter for you from the ageplay club so you'll be able to stay my adorable baby boy,” Mommy said.
“Yay,” Baxter murmured.
“That's my boy.” Mommy pressed a soft kiss to Baxter's forehead, leaving the sticky feeling of her scarlet lipstick on his skin. She quickly wiped it off with her licked thumb. “Come here, my boy.” She picked him up before he could fall off the bed and tucked him on her hip. “I'll get you set up in your playpen.”
“Love you, Mommy.” He pressed his face against her neck.
“Love you too.” She continued into their living room and set him on his soft sleep mat inside his play area. “Do you have a wet diaper?”
“No, Mommy.” Baxter swallowed.
“Your babysitter will be able to change it if you make a wet one while she's here.”
The doorbell announced, “Mommy is busy. Count to five before pushing the bell again.”
“Yay!” Baxter clapped his hands together. He rolled onto his side on his mat and then closed his eyes. Feminine voices floated through the air to him, some Mommy and then another woman.
From beside his playpen, Mommy said, “Baxter says he doesn't have a wet diapie. If he feels the need to stretch his legs, you can let him out of his playpen awhile, but he knows that he isn't supposed to leave the living room without an adult.”
“Do you have a set punishment if he breaks that rule?” the woman asked, encouraging Baxter to open his eyes.
“Of course.” Mommy smiled at Baxter. “Ten spanks with a hand on his diapered bottom.” She leaned over to pat his head. “Baxter, this is Ms. Pod, your babysitter. Behave and stay in role with her until I get home.”
“Yes, Mommy.” Baxter stuck his thumb in his mouth and waited on the adults.
The front door opened and closed.
Baxter looked around for his blankie and caught the purple edge to pull it to him.
“Do you need anything, you tired-looking little guy?” Ms. Pod asked.
“Milky, please?” Baxter asked.
“I'll be right back,” Ms. Pod sang out.
Baxter scooted until he rested against his sit-up pillow, silk-screened with his favorite cartoon characters. He listened for the sounds of bottle warming from the kitchen. He reached lazily for the sound board beside him. As he jabbed the honking button, he filled his diaper. He giggled as he moved through the row of buttons.
Ms. Pod glided over the carpet some time later. “Are you ready for milky?”
He made a small sob. “Ms. Pod, I wet my diaper.”
“Can you crawl to your changing table, baby?”
“Yes'm,” Baxter murmured.
Ms. Pod pulled open the gate on his playpen.
Baxter shot through the opened gate, but slowed down to a more reasonable crawl after a few feet. When he reached the junction of the kitchen and the rest of the house, he turned toward the kitchen.
“Stop!” Ms. Pod barked.
Baxter fell back on his shins.
“There is no changing table in the kitchen. Why'd you turn that way?”
“See if you realized?” Baxter answered truthfully.
“You were trying to go somewhere without me?”
His face hot, Baxter nodded.
Ms. Pod undid the snaps of his onesie. She held up the top flap while with her other hand, she started with the spanks.
“Oh! Your hand's harder than Mommy's,” he cried out. He locked his elbows so he didn't pull away from his punishments.
“And now your milk is getting cold because you decided to test me.” She increased the force of the last few spanks.
He squeezed his eyes shut against the pain.
“Continue on to your changing table,” Ms. Pod ordered.
As always, it was tricky to crawl with a freshly punished butt. The hallway seemed twice as long, even though he quickly reached the nursery.
“Would you like me to lift you up to the table, little boy?"
“Please, but I stand first to help,” Baxter shouted.
“Oh my, that wasn't an inside voice.”
“Sorry, Ms. Pod.” Baxter unsteadily reached his feet and held out his arms to Ms. Pod.
Ms. Pod grasped Baxter's small hips and lifted him to the dark green changing pad. “Lay back, good boy.” She paused beside the table. “Now I see that you're wearing a disposable diaper, but your Mommy paid me extra so I would bring one of the reusable diapers I make.”
“Yay! Thank you, Ms. Pod.”
She ripped the sides of the diaper and whisked it away from him. With a moist towelette, she wiped his penis, thighs, and bottom. “Roll onto your stomach.”
Once he was in position, he smelled the Vitamin D ointment and then bit his lip. He let out a hiss as her fingers spread the ointment over his skin. He carefully turned back over when she touched his hip.
“Ahhh!” he cried as his bottom pushed down on the plastic.
“Now, now, that was a spanking over your diaper. Your skin was hardly pink,” Ms. Pod shushed him. She rubbed ointment over his inner thighs and then sprinkled a gentle layer of powder over his penis. She moved to his feet and leaned over to pick something up. “These go up over your feetzy.” She started to pull the cloth diapers up his legs.
“Oh! Thanks, Ms. Pod! I likey my new diaper.” Baxter clapped his hands together as the dinosaurs came better into his view. He lifted his hips to help her pull the cloth comfy-ness into place.
“And we'll try the return trip without you being a bad boy. I'll reheat your milky once you're safely in your playpen.”
“Thanks, Ms. Pod.”