Drinking in the Humiliation – Part 1 of 2

Gulp. Whimper. Gulp. Whine. Gulp. Shifting uneasily in place…

Gulp.

My wife Brenna's voice cuts through the haze of my mounting discomfort. "Don't even think about trying to stop this, baby. You know how well I do at making those straps… inescapable." Her lips are brushing against my ear now, and I flinch and almost choke, distracted by the heady scent of her womanly perfume and the sight of her alluring cleavage. God, she's so… so devious. So beautiful. So… in control.

Because flinch and choke and whine as I might, there's nothing I can do but remain squatting here on all fours before her, a naked, bound and helpless plaything for her amusement.

Brenna straightens with a smile, and now she clicks on her stately high heels out of sight behind me.  She's probably checking the large enema bag suspended above me – probably making sure that it is still emptying precisely as she intends. Which, of course, it is. The pressure is mounting within my poor belly – swelling slowly but steadily by the inexorable flow of warm, soapy water into my defenseless ass…

I could tell her, of course. That is, were it not for the jaw-cramping girth of the feeding gag strapped tightly into my mouth.

I gulp once more, willing myself not to gag on the vaguely bitter, oily concoction that keeps forcing its revolting way into my waiting mouth. Oh, she's outdoing herself this afternoon. I may not have been privy to the exact contents of that bulging feeding bag that she produced from the kitchen not half an hour ago. Nor am I an expert when it comes to identifying ingredients in the pasty, greasy pablum that she has decided I will consume. But something tells me that it contains no small amount of fiber. And castor oil. And probably the same sort of diuretics that she tried on me last month – the ones that had me pissing myself to the point of leaking out of doubled and boosted Megamaxes.

"That's a good boy," she commends, though I'm literally unable to do anything but moan and gulp and shudder here in my bonds. Her manicured, blood-red nails are sifting through my tousled hair, her fingers pausing only to tighten ever so slightly, to tug upward… a silent reminder of the possessive power she has over me. "There's nothing you can do but accept your punishment, is there? Oh, what a pathetic, dumb little brat you must be, to think that you can get away with trying to be a big boy on my watch!"

Yes, Mommy, yes. yes… I mean- no! I'm reflexively agreeing with her in my mind, then pausing in silent horror as I realize that now my very thoughts are making me even more pathetic than before. But of course she can't hear my desperate musings. "You know what I mean, baby. You know exactly what I mean. Not once, not twice, but three times this week alone…"

A cramp racks my entire lower abdomen, and I choke and splutter in desperation mid-gulp. "Oh, don't want to accept the consequences of your own stupid actions, hmm?" she mocks, and as the cramp passes I blink the tears out of my eyes and furiously gulp to regain my composure. "I bet you thought you were being so sneaky, too! Taking off that diaper as soon as you got to work… Hiding it in your backpack… Trotting around work with nothing under your pants…"

It's as if she can read my very memory. As I stare hopelessly down into the velvety bedroom carpet beneath me, the scenes are flashing before my teary eyes. The liberating sensation of loose adult trousers against my newly freed cock. The silky silence with which I could finally walk once more, unaccompanied by the infantile rustle and crinkle of hidden padding. The confidence with which I'd once again been able to lean into Marjie's office, flashing a casual, manly smile and asking if she didn't need someone to go over those numbers with her. How freeing it had all been…

And how short-lived.

"God, how stupid do you think I am not to have noticed?!" Brenna snaps, and I wince as her fingers clench and she jerks my mute, full-cheeked visage to gaze helplessly up into hers. "Your powder-covered baby ass left powder in the seat of your pants, you know. Your stinky crack left streaks there too – not to mention dribbles of pee from your dumb little cock. And then, as if to mock your own wife's intelligence, you have the gall to slip your diaper back on and trot back here with it barely wet, your pathetic excuse being that you'd forgotten to drink during the day?!"

Stupid. Dumb. Pathetic. That was me, I realized now, even as she dropped my head and I drew a shuddery breath between gulps. I really had done all that. I really had jumped at the chance to escape her so-called diaper discipline, to revel in the sensation of being a free agent, a manly man without attachments who could flirt once more with whomever he pleased…

Which, it must be admitted, was what had landed me in Brenna's precious "diaper discipline" in the first place.

"But I get it," she mutters, and now I can feel her tugging the enema hose from my greased and spasmodically clenching bumhole. "You think flirting around and making passes at other women is just fine, don't you? You think that's what being a man is, clearly – nothing but fucking around and acting all cool and sexy to get into the panties of any woman who crosses your path. So of course you're stupid enough to keep on trying the same shit over and over – even when you've already been caught and punished for it…"

"Well, no more." A shiver racks my body, as much at the cold steel in her tone as at the sensation of the rubber plug being forced deep into my unwilling and aching ass. "You're not going to have a chance after tonight."

Tonight? What- what happens tonight? My eyes are asking the questions that my well-silenced mouth cannot. "See… I have a plan for you, dear," she smiles, and in that cold grimace I read nothing but pain for me. "A plan for putting you in your place for good. And believe me – after I'm done I can practically guarantee that you'll never be tempted to fuck around with any of your coworkers again."

I feel now the brush of thick cotton and plastic against my upturned ass, and I realize with a start the sadistic side of this part of her punishment. Plugged as my ass now is, my distended and enema-gorged belly will have no outlet – and yet I'll be wrapped in a garment granting me precisely that tantalizing, albeit disgusting, outlet I'll soon come to need. She wants me to become desperate for relief – painfully so. And in the end, I can sense that I'm going to be groveling, half-mad with pain, begging her for nothing less than the laughable privilege of filling my own diaper with a gigantic, smelly flood of diarrhea…

That can't be her entire plan, though… right?

"Oh, I think you'll figure it out soon enough," she chortles, and I give another tired gulp as the tapes tighten around my waist. "I'm getting you nice and ready for a lovely long evening together with me, babe. And I don't think I told you this yet, but we're having company for supper! Whomever do you think it could be, hmm?"

Wait- uh-oh. She invited someone? But none of our friends know about her kinky side – not about the ways I now have given her more and more control over me, and definitely not about the punishments she's been dealing out. If she invited someone, that means she's planning on exposing me- forcing me to- Oh, god, no, no, no-!

"It's only that girl from work you mentioned to me once. You know, Marjie? The one with whom you've been exchanging so many messages?"

Ohhhhh… fuck.

A whimper of muffled fear and pain escapes my aching jaw – but Brenna merely bursts into laughter and deals a harsh smack to my now-padded rump. "Oh, I knew you'd be excited to hear that, baby! Now, come on – finish the rest of your formula for me like a good baby. She's going to be here in less than an hour, you know. And we really wouldn't want her to see you like this…"

"Or I don't know… maybe we do?"

(To be concluded in Part Two!)