On Wednesday I was instructed to complete a thoroughly humiliating task. I had mentioned that loss of control/giving up control were things that turn me on. So it was decided that I would give up control of the most basic functions: peeing and shitting. Just typing that makes me squirm and blush. Re-living the experience as I write this report will turn my cheeks positively crimson.
I work from home one day a week. This particular day I didn’t have any conference calls or video meetings, just an average day of work. When I woke up I was tasked with inserting two extra strength glycerin suppositories into my ass and then pushing them in as deeply as I could. Seating them that deep into my ass would delay and prolong their inevitable reaction.
As soon as the suppositories were in place I was to pull on an adult diaper. The only other items I was permitted to wear that day were my highest heels (4 inch) and a blanket for warmth if needed.
Looking in the mirror it was quite the humiliating site. The contrast of the sexy heels and the degrading diaper. Every move that I made caused the material of the diaper to crinkle, which was so embarrassing.
By the time I had accomplished these tasks it was about time for me to log into work. That was another mental obstacle. There I was, doing my day to day job, my coworkers none the wiser that I was doing such a depraved task.
Within 30 minutes the need to pee increased and I felt the suppositories activating deep within me. Small gurgles, little cramps…all teasing and foreshadowing that I had given up all control for the day.
By 45 minutes I was squirming, hearing the diaper material crinkle and crunch under me. Stubbornness starting to slip away, but still struggling to hold onto what little control and pride I had.
Around an hour after I had inserted the suppositories, I couldn’t hold off any longer. I whined and blushes crimson as my resolve crumbled and I let the flow of hot piss pour into the diaper. Feeling the heat and wetness flood between my legs and knowing that the sensation was only going to get more vile, more disgusting, more degrading in a hurry.
Because once the urgency and desperation of needed to pee was relieved, the intense need to shit followed. I whimpered and tried to hold back as long as I could, but the glycerin had worked through my system and made it impossible to prevent was what about to happen. I was literally in disbelief as I shit myself in the diaper. It felt hot, squishy, messy, dirty and disgusting. Even the slightest movement caused every one of those sensations to spread. And what made the predicament that much more was that I knew I would have to repeat this process for the rest of the day but with added complications.
You see I had also been given a limitation on the number of diapers/diaper changes I was allowed. This was diaper 1 and I was allowed 4 more between that point (about 8:30 a.m.) and 8 p.m. So I was destined to sit in my own filth for at least several long stretches of the day.
I was told to change this diaper immediately after I relieved myself and to insert my hollow butt plug. These are also known as tunnel plugs and they keep your asshole stretched open. Mine has an opening about an inch across. And I was curious to see how it would work.
Over the course of the day I was to drink at least one 8oz glass of water an hour. I quickly learned that the result of the tunnel plug and the remaining effect of the laxative suppositories was a slow leak of sorts. Not as overwhelmingly messy an experience, but more a constant nagging sensation of something discomforting. Add to the fact that with all that water I had to pee once an hour and pair with it that I couldn’t change often and you’ll understand that I was left sitting in my own mess much of the day.
It turned out to be a stressful day at work, and I have to field a lot of issues. It distracted me on some level, but when I would take a moment to step away from the stress I would immediately he flung into the feeling of shame and humiliation at the task I was completing. It was enough to keep me very wound up and wet the entire day. As my current mantra states:
“Being humiliated and treated like a thing makes my bimbo pussy wet. I’m only good for my throat and my ass and they must be trained.”
I changed again shortly before lunch and just as I was about to do my third change of the day (around 2 or 3pm) I was reminded that I needed to insert another two suppositories deeply up my ass and seat them inside me with the 18 inch dildo.
The results of this action was a much more pronounced “leak” at around 4pm. The sensation of shitting yourself without having control over even the muscles in your ass is somehow even more embarrassing and shameful than simply messing yourself in a diaper. I was feeling quite certain at this point that all the blood in my body was residing permanently and glowingly in my cheeks for the duration of the day.
I changed just prior to preparing my dinner, around 5:30 or so and I knew this two hours would be the longest. It’s always the longest wait when you know you are nearing the finish line and the challenge is differentiated when you know you no longer have any form of relief left until the end. I had no more changes left. Whatever mess happened in the next two hours I was stuck with until I had permission to clean myself up.
This last stretch of the task really played mentally. It made me embrace the core of my submission, my willingness to degrade myself for the pleasure of others, the pleasure I feel from giving up complete control and allowing another to have that much power over me. At the same time, the strong and independent side of me was fighting internally…it flares up from time to time and is a perfect counterpoint to my submissive side. When I am bearing the end of a task it often rears its head and makes me question “How low are you willing to go? Can you believe you are actually doing this? What else would you do if instructed?”
The last 30 minutes dragged. Sitting had become uncomfortable from the squishy, messy wetness. Walking was also uncomfortable from wearing the 4 inch heels the entire day. The shift from mental challenge to physical challenge was seamless and quick. Seconds dragged by like minutes. I tried not watching the clock. At the point where 10 minutes remained I found myself pacing impatiently in the bathroom. The stubborn side reared its head again “You could change now you know, no one would know the difference.” That’s not true. I would know. And I would know that I had failed at this task. Above all, I get off on the idea of pleasing others with my wanton, dirty, depraved fantasies and activities.
I decided to repeat my mantra until the time elapsed to remind myself that my preferences are irrelevant. That I’ve agreed to this power exchanged and the terms associated with it. That my submission and completion of these challenges is for the pleasure of others (and a very pleasant byproduct is that they both push me and press the buttons that arouse me).
Looking in the mirror and repeating the mantra made the last few minutes soar by. I turned on a nice hot shower and washed away the remnants of the task. I felt proud of myself. I like the idea of scat play. Yes I know how taboo it is, but often it’s the taboo things that can seem most appealing because of their forbidden nature. This task was a good stepping stone towards broaching that taboo and I know that was one of the intentions when the challenge was set. At the end of the day, as I showered and looked back on the day, I dipped my fingers into my slit and found my pussy dripping. Because, after all I am a bimbo, and being humiliated and treated like a thing makes my bimbo pussy wet…..
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