Sissy Baby

BJ Bib

"Mommy's on her time of the month, so guess what that means, sweetie? Yep! You get the special bib this week!

That's right, cucky! You're on sucky duty!

Awww! No pouting, princess! Don't give Mommy that lip. You knew this was cumming the second your Auntie Flo showed up, didn't you??

So pick your little head up, sweetheart. That's enough of the pity party. Pull back your piggie tails and let Mommy get this on you!

Snap

Theeerrre we gooo!! Awww!! Don't you look adorable in your wittle dwess and bibby?

Now listen close, cleanup boi: You need to put that pretty mouth to good use tonight and keep Daddy happy. You don't want him getting all fwustwated and grumpy because Mommy can't play, do you?? Noooo, you sure don't! We both know what happens when Daddy gets fwustwated, don't we?

Mmm...yea. He takes it out on your soft little sissy bum bum, doesn't he? Mhm. So you're going to be a very good helper and give him the extra sloppy toppy he deserves.

You better keep it nice and wet, baby. I want rivers of drool running down your chin the whole time. I want to see you blowing bubbles on that fat cock while you suck and slurp like the greedy little cock-warmer you are. This bib better be fucking soaked by the time he's done, do you understand me? Dripping. Heavy. Clinging to your chest like one of your wet, pissy pampers. You're going to earn every single diaper change this week with your mouth, aren't you, princess?

Open wide for Mommy. Show me that tongue. Further. Good girl. Such a pretty sight.

Now, you're going to suck it exactly like it's your favorite paci. Except… oopsie! It isn't a paci tonight, is it? Nooo… it's a big, thick, meaty ba-ba! Your special grown-up ba-ba that gives you all your yummy milkies straight from the tap and into your tummy. Mmm, that's right. You're gonna wrap those pretty painted lips around it and suckle like a good little nurser. Loud. Sloppy. I want to hear it, sweetie. I want you doing the gluck gluck like a good little cuck. Let the whole room hear how grateful you are.

You'll lick his balls and you'll even lick his asshole if he tells you to like the filthy little bib-boi you are. And when he's ready? When you hear those deep grunts, feel his thighs flex and his balls draw up tight?

You pull off just enough, open that mouth reaaally wide, stick your tongue out flat like a little pink landing strip, and you say: "Ahhh!!" You hear me?? You fucking goo-goo and ga-ga and beg for him to give you his goo goo. Nice and loud and pathetic so he knows exactly where to aim. Then you stay perfectly still while he paints your face… your tongue… and especially this pretty bib. Every hot, sticky rope belongs right here on your reward napkin.

And when he's finished? You don't wipe. You don't swallow unless I say so. You just kneel there letting it cool and dry on your skin and plastic while Mommy takes a few pictures of her pretty little helper for the scrapbook. Because this, all of this, is what good little cuckies do when Mommy's week comes.

Ohp! I think I hear him down stairs!!

Fifteen minutes later, he said he needed to check my diaper. Suddenly, he was tender, although he was talking to me as though I were a child.

“Uh oh, babygirl, you’re not just wet. It looks to me like I something else happened in the front of your diaper. Did my sweet sissy girl have happy time while she was taking care of Daddy?”

Mommy made me recreate one of my favorite videos and it’s so embarrassing 😭

You were told to lock your sissy cock in an extra small pink chastity cage. Then wrap yourself in 2 diapers. The man you met on Tumblr wants you to dress up in a cute yellow baby girl outfit and drive to meet him at his hotel room. As you were instructed you locked your tiny sissy cock away. Then you applied 2 thick diapers, then dressed in your outfit as your new alpha friend has demanded. Then you packed your diaper bag with the exact things you were told. You didnt want to disappoint this man. He said that after he puts a gag in your mouth you will refer to him as Daddy at all times. The last step is to enter his hotel get into the elevator and press every floor and once she's on the correct floor. she will then send a picture of herself standing outside her Daddys hotel door. Once Daddy receives this picture he will open the door and gag you immediately.

The Leaky List

The mall’s Christmas village glowed under soft amber lights long after closing hours, the gates locked tight for tonight’s private adults-only “Naughty List” event. The air was thick with cinnamon and pine, and the only people left in line were grown-ups in frills, leather, or footed pajamas.

Emily—formerly known as Emmett—stood there in the most humiliating outfit Miranda had chosen: a baby-pink satin dress with extravagantly puffed sleeves and a ruffled bodice that cinched tight at the waist before flaring into a short, frilly skirt. The glossy fabric shimmered under the lights, and the skirt was so brief it barely skimmed the tops of her thighs, offering no cover at all for the thick, white disposable diaper beneath. The padding bulged obviously, forcing her thighs apart into an awkward waddle.

Miranda had made it very clear in the car: four big bottles of juice, no bathroom, and a bright, cheerful reminder in that syrupy voice she used when she was being extra cruel:

“No potty until after you sit on Santa’s lap and read your list. Be a good little girl and hold it, okay? We don’t want another accident in public again, do we?”

Emily’s thighs kept scissoring together, knees knocking, hands pressed between her legs as she tried to dance in place without being obvious. The pressure was unbearable. Her bladder felt like it was about to explode.

The elf—a six-foot domme in a candy-cane corset—smirked and waved her forward. “Next! Come on up, princess!”

Santa waited on his throne, all jolly red velvet and snowy white beard, belly laughing as Emily toddled up the steps.

“Ho ho ho! Well, who do we have here?” he boomed, voice warm and cheerful. “Come sit on Santa’s lap, sweetheart, and tell me if you’ve been naughty or nice!”

Emily climbed up, the satin skirt fluffing everywhere, diaper crinkling like a crunched-up shopping bag. The second her padded bottom settled, his big gloved hands locked around her waist and pulled her snug against him. That was when she felt it: the thick, hard ridge of his cock pressing up under the velvet. Santa’s jolly smile never wavered, but his eyes went dark and sharp, like he was waiting for her to make the right moves.

“H-hi… Santa…” Emily squeaked in a quivering voice, trying to break the awkwardness.

He gave an exaggerated, delighted chuckle for the audience, bouncing her once so the diaper crinkled loudly.

“Oh! Such good manners!” His hand slid to her hips, pressing her harder against his erection. “Now tell Santa: have you been a naughty little girl this year?”

Emily glanced to his wife Miranda, who narrowed her eyes and nodded back at him. Emily  swallowed, cheeks burning, and managed a tiny nod.

“Y-yes, Santa… vewy naughty…”

The crowd laughed softly. Santa’s eyes flashed.

“Ohhh, I know you have, sweetheart,” he said, loud enough for everyone, then lowered his voice again to that filthy growl. “But guess what? Santa’s been naughty too.”

He leaned closer, lips brushing her ear.

“Santa’s been having a jolly ‘ole time… with your wife.”

Emily’s whole body went rigid. A broken whimper escaped.

“Last night, while you were locked in your crib with your mittens pinned and your paci popped in, I had your wife spread wide on the big grown-up bed you’re never allowed in anymore. I fucked her so hard she screamed my name into the pillow that you used to drool on. She came over and over. Soaked the sheets way worse than your little bedwetting accidents ever did. Then she rolled over, looked me in the eye, and begged me to come here tonight so we could finish turning her pathetic little sissy husband into a crying, leaking mess together!”

Emily’s stomach dropped straight through the floor. The man currently holding her on his lap, the man whose thick cock she could feel throbbing under her diaper, had spent last night balls-deep in Miranda.

She tried to wriggle away, a panicked little squeak escaping her throat, but his arms tightened like steel bands.

“Nuh-uh. Stay right here and be a good little sissy girl,” Santa boomed cheerfully for the crowd, then leaned in so only she could hear the steel underneath. “You’re not going anywhere until you read every single wobbly word of that baby scribble your Mommy made you write with your wrong hand. Out loud. Let everyone hear exactly what a silly, diapered sissy wants for Christmas.”

He shoved the glittery pink paper into her hands and forced her arms up so the whole room could see the shaky, left-handed scrawl and the messy hearts doodled in the corners.

Emily swallowed hard, cheeks burning, and tried to save whatever tiny scrap of dignity she had left. She opened her mouth and forced out the deepest, most adult voice she could manage:

“D-dear S-s-s-santa, I’ve been a very naughty sissy this year and I—”

Santa cut her off with a loud, disapproving tut-tut-tut, wagging one gloved finger in her face like she was a toddler who just said a swear word.

“No no no, princess. That won’t do at all.” He gave her a hard bounce that made the thick diaper rub against her cage and her bladder scream. “We don’t use big-boy voices here. Try again, baby girl. High and lispy, just like Mommy taught you, or Santa will spank that bottom right here in front of everyone.”

Emily’s thighs clamped together, knees knocking. She could feel the pressure building so fast it made her eyes water. She tried one more time, whispering, “Please, I—”

Another sharp tut. Another cruel bounce. A warning spurt leaked out; she felt the warmth bloom against her skin.

“Last chance, sweetheart,” he sing-songed, loud enough for the front row to hear. “Talk like the dumb little baby you are, or I’ll make you stand up and show everyone how close you are to flooding that diaper.”

Tears spilled over. Emily gave up.

Her voice cracked into the high, quivering, lispy mess Miranda had drilled into her for weeks:

“D-deaw Santa…” she hiccup-sobbed. “I-I’ve b-been a vewy n-naughty sissy dis yeaw an’… an’ I want…”

Her legs scissored frantically, thighs rubbing together, trying anything to hold it back. Santa started the slow, deliberate bouncing again, each movement grinding the thick padding against her caged clitty and pressing on her aching bladder.

“Go on, potty-pants,” he cooed. “Tell Santa before you have a big accident.”

Another hot spurt escaped, longer this time. Emily squeaked, high and panicked, and the words tumbled out in a desperate, lisping rush:

“I w-w-want p-pwetty pastel dwesses dat shine when I move… a b-big sissy dowwy to cuddwe when Mommy wocks me in my cwib… a w-wocking diwdo paci so I stop tawking back…”

Her whole body was shaking now. She was openly potty-dancing on his lap, knees bouncing, bottom lip wobbling, tears dripping onto the paper.

Santa just laughed and bounced her harder.

Another spurt and, finally, the dam broke.

A loud, shameful hiss filled the air as Emily completely lost control, flooding the diaper in one long, helpless torrent. The padding swelled hot and heavy, sagging between her thighs, leaking warm trickles down her bare legs while the entire room heard every second of it.

Santa clapped like she had just done a cute trick.

“Aww, there it is!” he boomed, jolly as ever. “Baby couldn’t even finish one little sentence without making a great big pee-pee in her princess diaper! Who’s the most pathetic potty-pants in the whole mall? You are! Yes you are!”

He booped the tip of her runny nose with one white-gloved finger, then leaned in so his beard scratched her tear-soaked cheek.

“Keep reading, pissy girl,” he growled, low and lethal. “Every single baby word. And don’t you dare stop grinding.”

Emily was sobbing too hard to breathe properly, but the words still spilled out in a cracked, lisping wail:

“T-twaining bwas fow my puffy nipples… w-wumba panties to go ovah my diapurrs… an’ an even tiny-err cage pwease Santa… da kind dat pinches all day so I nevew fowget I’m nuffin but a…”

Santa’s free hand slipped under the frilled shirt and found her swollen little breasts. He trapped one aching, hormone-puffed nipple between thumb and forefinger and twisted slowly, cruelly, with increasing pressure.

Emily shrieked a high, broken sound and her hips jerked forward on their own, mashing the sloppy padding harder against his thigh.

“Look at that,” he laughed to the crowd, twisting the other nipple now, rolling both until she was shaking. “Sissy’s titties are almost as leaky as her diaper!”

He switched to the other nipple, tugging and squeezing, sending sparks straight to her cage. The diaper was a hot, squelching mess; every grind rubbed the soaked padding over her trapped clitty in slick, relentless strokes.

Her voice dissolved into pathetic whimpers:

“P-pwease gif me a whole case of diapees wif baybee pwints… an’ wocking pwastic pants to keep me fwum getting out of dem… an’ an’ pwease Santa make me stay wike dis fowevew, a dumb wittle sissy who can’t even sit on your wap without wetting an’ makin’ stickies—”

The last word broke into a mortified wail because Emily felt it happen: her caged clitty spasmed hard, again and again, spurting useless ropes of cum into the already drenched diaper. The ruined orgasm rippled through her while she was still grinding, still being groped, still lisping her  Christmas list like a broken doll.

Santa threw his head back and roared with laughter.

“Oh ho ho! Did someone just cream her pissy diaper on Santa’s lap? In front of everyone?” He gave her nipple one last vicious twist that made her sob. “What a dirty little dolly!”

He lifted a hand and beckoned with two fingers.

“Miranda! Come check your husband. I think she made a big sticky in her already-soaked diaper.”

Miranda sauntered over, phone up and recording, wicked smirk sharp as knives. Her smile was half amused, half disappointed, like she was looking at a puppy that had just piddled on the carpet again.

She stopped right in front of Emily, eyes flicking from the blotchy, tear-streaked face down to the sagging, yellowed bulge beneath the pink satin skirt.

“Again?” she sighed, shaking her head with mock sorrow. “You couldn’t even last five minutes on Santa’s lap without cumming your diaper like a desperate little sissy?”

Santa flipped the skirt of the satin dress up so that Miranda could slip two manicured fingers into the elastic of the diaper. Emily felt them push past the warm, swollen padding and slide right along her caged clitty.

Miranda’s eyebrows shot up. She let out a soft, pitying laugh.

“Oh honey… you really did it! All those sticky cummies floating in your pee-pee padding.” She swirled her fingers once more, just to make Emily whimper, then pulled them out glistening. “What a pathetic little mess.”

Only then, with the whole room watching, did Miranda grab the front of the diaper with both hands and yank the tapes open in one sharp RRRRIP!

The heavy, sodden padding flopped down between Emily’s spread thighs with a wet slap, exposing everything: the tiny pink cage still dripping, the yellowed inner lining streaked with thick white ropes.

Miranda left the ruined diaper open like a curtain so every phone in the room got a perfect shot.

“Look at that, everyone,” she announced, voice dripping with fond disappointment. “My big strong husband, reduced to a leaky, cum-stained sissy!”

She scooped up another glob of the mixed mess and smeared it slowly across Emily’s trembling lower lip.

“Say thank you to Santa, sweetheart,” she cooed. “Thank him for helping Mommy show the whole room exactly what a worthless little potty-pants you really are!”

Emily garbled out some broken babbles and garbles, face flushed crimson.

“Come on, sweetheart,” Miranda cooed, her voice dripping with syrupy sweetness loud enough for the entire crowd to savor every word. “Let’s go home.”

She glanced down at the sodden, sagging padding still dangling from Emily’s hips, the swollen inner gel a deep, shameful yellow, streaked with thick ropes of ruined sissy cum, and her wicked smile sharpened into something almost fond.

“Oh no, baby girl. We’re not wasting a perfectly good diaper.”

Miranda seized the dripping front panel and yanked it back up between Emily’s trembling thighs with a loud, wet, squelching slap. The hot, sloshy mess pressed instantly against Emily’s caged clitty and tender skin, forcing a high, broken whimper from her throat as she squirmed helplessly.

Miranda smoothed the soaked padding into place with slow, deliberate pats, savoring every flinch. Then, accepting a roll of tape from one of the grinning elves, she sealed the same ruined diaper back around Emily’s waist.

“There we go!!” she purred, delivering a sharp, resounding smack to the bulging, discolored seat. The impact forced a fresh, hiccuping sob from Emily. “You made this big sticky mess all by yourself, so you get to marinate in it all the way home! Maybe next year my little potty-pants will learn to hold her pee-pee and cummies a tiny bit longer.”

Santa chuckled deeply and gave Emily’s freshly re-taped bottom one final playful bounce before lifting her down. The re-sealed diaper squished warmly with every tiny movement, the sticky heat clinging relentlessly to her skin like a second, shameful layer.

Miranda clipped the short, jingling leash to the delicate heart-shaped ring on Emily’s collar and gave it a gentle, commanding tug.

“Come on… let’s go home, potty-pants.”

She turned to the crowd with a dazzling, triumphant smile. “Santa’s going to make sure every single wish on that precious little list comes true this year.”

Then she leaned in close, lips brushing Emily’s tear-damp ear, voice dropping to a velvet whisper meant only for her humiliated sissy.

Whata the matter sissy girl? Are we hungry? Yes I'm sure we are. Its been about 16 hours since you had anything to eat. We'll guess what Molly has a very special baba for you. It's already got some very yummy milk inside of it that is very high in protein and testosterone. Well ok to be fare you can't get any other testosterone from eating it but you can definitely taste it. Now that we have you on your special shots you won't have much if any testosterone in your while sissy body plenty of estrogen, female growth hormones so make your breast nice and big as well as make your sissy cock shrink up into a cute little sissy vagina. Once we get you fed mommy wants to get you changed and dressed in your absolute cutest outfit.

Do big girls suck a paci at bedtime?

No, daddy.

No. No they don’t. Do big girls drink juice from their baba?

No, daddy.

Nope. They don’t. Do big girls need to sleep with peepee pads to protect their sheets, or plastic panties to catch their leaks?

No, daddy.

Nooo. Big girls don’t. Do big girls have accidents and need thick, daytime pampers to keep them dry?

No, dada.

She laid you down on the floor of the shower, quickly getting to work with cleaning the disgusting poopy mess off of your bottom. The smell was unbearable; WAY worse than earlier, but eventually the smell of poop dissipated into the smells of soap and shampoo. When that bit of cleaning was done, she climbed into the shower with you. Your cage hurt at the sight of her beautiful body, glistening from the water. Noticing this, she gently took your caged cock into her hand.

"Is someone a little excited to see mommy again?" She said, putting her mouth inches from the end of your cage. "You poor poor thing. Your lockup has just started, pumpkin." She said seductively, causing you to strain wildly against the bars of your cage. "Shhh, you'll get used to it with time." She kissed the tip, then turned back to the showerhead to wash her hair. You watched her gorgeous locks cascade down her back, almost framing the perfect ass that you called yours for the last 2 months. Right now- well, you know.

The two of you took your time washing each other, making out, and pretty much everything but having sex in the shower. Your poor little cock felt the consequences of this, but you felt it was worth it.

After the shower, you're laid out on the couch on your open diaper, your arms bound to your sides by a tightly tied towel "to keep you out of trouble". Mommy takes her sweet time going through every stage of your diaper change, making sure to tease your poor caged little cock during every step. Your pampers are finally taped on, and mommy goes to the kitchen for a second, coming back with a sharpie marker. You can only lay there and squirm while she writes humiliating things about how much of a cuck you are, how small your cock is, and about how you'll be a pissy pants princess soon. When she's satisfied, she goes into the bedroom closet, coming back with a frilly, pastel pink nightgown. She quickly dressed you in the garmet that barely covered the top of your diaper.

"Look at my adorable little princess!!" She teased, standing you up and poking fun at your thick diaper. "Don't worry sweetie, mommy will unlock you tomorrow night. But then.." She leaned in close, wrapping her arms around you. "Your sentence is doubled."

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The next day, when mommy was leaving for work, she had a "brilliant" idea to use on you. Before getting ready, mommy taped a second and third diaper over your already decently wet night time diaper. She took your arms, binding them behind you with handcuffs. Next came your feet, a 1 foot ankle chain kept your feet from being able to escape. Your ankles and wrists are finally cuffed together, and as a final testimony to the diapercuck you are, soaked diapers are taped over your hands and feet. Headphones are placed over your ears, leaving the entire room in silence until Mommy presses play.

A robotic but feminine voice begins, "You are a cuck. Cucks don't cum. Cucks stay locked. Soak your diapers for mommy."

The sound loops, repeating the mantra repeatedly. Muffled behind the headphones you hear mommy one last time before you're left alone with your hypnosis. "I'l be home in 12 hours, baby."

12 hours tied up and hypnotized..

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"Baby? Baaaaby?" You hear as the headphones are finally removed. You must have dozed off finally. The position your bondage had left you in was surprisingly comfortable. "Hi there cucky!!" Mommy says, noticing you trying to get your bearings.

"H-hi Mommy." You say sheepishly. "Let's get you out of all of this. You are SOAKED!" She teases. You feel your massive diapers being removed first, then next comes all the bondage equipment. You're left now lying on the floor in just your chastity cage.

"I think it's time someone finally has a little freedom, hm?" Mommy says, taking the key from her necklace. Your dick strained harder than it had ever before. 2 days of no masturbation after years of roughly every 12 hours, and it was finally time to have sex with your gorgeous gorgeous girlfriend. Or, so you thought. Your cage is unlocked and you're set free. A new diaper is laid out under you, though, and taped on quickly. "Now baby, I know you wanted to have sex, but mommy has a bit of a different idea. See baby, you don't last very long in bed with mommy, and usually this means mommy doesn't get the same pleasure as you. So, I've found a way for both of us to have all the pleasure we could want!" She took you by the hand, bringing you into the bedroom where you both crawled into bed. She produced from the bedside table her favorite dildo and a big bottle of lube. Your heart sank.

"Now, now. This big one isn't for you. The lube is!" She said teasingly, pulling back the front of your diaper and pouring lube down it. "Mommy is going to have her fun, and cucky is going to have hers! Now hump your pillow for me, cuck. You have 2 minutes to cum. Put on a show for your owner." 2 minutes?! You know you last so much longer than that. You didn't want to lose your only opportunity to cum, so, despite your humiliation, you decide to hump...

The sensation overwhelms you nearly immediately. The lube sliding your sensitive cock up and down on your soaked diaper. You moan into your pacifier, immediately starting to rhythmically repeat. You hear giggles from your owner, the click of her camera, but you don't care. You're already in this deep, and god, you're so so horny.

Just a little list of ideas that I came up with on the topic of speech control. Some of these are about in person speaking, some are about texting, some are applicable to both. Some of these I’d like to try, some of these I have tried, some of these I would probably not want to do, some I’m indifferent to.

Word Restrictions

No swearing.

No puns.

Only being allowed to use words once per day. 

Only being allowed to use words from a list of pre-approved words chosen by my partner.

Not being allowed to use words from a list of off limits words chosen by my partner, but otherwise able to speak freely.

Not being allowed to use words containing a certain letter of the alphabet, but otherwise able to speak freely.

Only being allowed to use short and simple words, limited by number of letters or number of syllables, or simply at my partner’s discretion. (Imagine typing out an entire text and being met with “hmm, I think that word might be too big for you,” and having to agree and reword what you’ve said.)

Having to refer to myself in the third person.

Having to refer to my partner by a title, honorific, or nickname they have chosen.

Having to use a lowercase “i” to refer to myself. 

Having to use capitalized pronouns to refer to my partner. 

Limited Speech

Only being allowed to say a certain number of words (or less) per day.

Only being allowed to say a certain number of words (or less) per text message. No double messaging, of course.

Having to keep track of how many words my partner uses, and always using less throughout the day.

Having to start each sentence with “Please” and/or end it with “Thank you,” even if it doesn’t technically make sense. 

Having to rhyme. Or else fulfil the requirements of some kind of specific poetry such as a haiku. 

Having to ask permission to ask for things. “Please may I ask to use the bathroom?” 

Only being allowed to say “Please” and “Thank you.”

Not being allowed to ask for anything.

Only allowed to speak to my partner in public. 

Not being allowed to speak on specific topics, particularly when they’re super relevant. For example, we go to the zoo and I’m not allowed to talk about animals. 

Only being allowed to say the opposite of what I mean/want. 

Restricted Speech

Having to ask permission to speak at all, either through a non-verbal signal, or else the only thing I’m allowed to say without permission is “Please may I speak?”

Only allowed to speak when spoken to.

Having to be in a specific position - the more submissive or uncomfortable, the better - to speak. Additionally, having to wait in that position until I am acknowledged and allowed to speak. 

Having to go a set length of time without speaking each day. The timer starts over each time I speak. (Imagine it’s an hour and at 55 minutes you get asked a question you can’t ignore. Each attempt like that would mean you talk less throughout the day.)

When possible, set entire days, or even a weekend as “quiet time.”

Surprise quiet time. That is, a spoken or text command, “It’s quiet time,” and I am expected to be silent until I am released. (A potential training opportunity: this could happen many times throughout the day, each session lasting only a few minutes before the next.)

Starting every day without the ability to speak until I have completed my morning routine. Finishing each day by not being allowed to speak once my nighttime routine is done. 

Having a set day of the week during which I am expected to remain silent. 

Having a cost to speak. A mild-moderate punishment for each time I wish to speak, such as having to put nipple clamps on first or having to write lines for each time I spoke afterwards.

Having to trade my ability to speak for rewards, such as not being allowed to orgasm unless I agree to a two days of no speaking.

Trading chunks of silent time for edges. Each edge is half an hour of silence. Maybe I know before I start edging, maybe I don’t. 

Having to be silent until I have completed a task, such as linewriting, or an edging session, or even something mundane like having to stay silent on a long drive, even while playing a board game. 

Having recurring tasks during which I am not allowed to speak, such as never being allowed to speak during meals or while watching movies. 

Only being allowed to speak while wearing my collar. 

Not being allowed to speak while wearing my collar. 

Only being allowed to speak while naked. 

No words, only sounds. Easy enough when you’re gagged, but having to make the deliberate effort to only make sounds is nice. 

Wearing a bark collar. Each time I speak, I get shocked, until I learn not to speak while wearing it. It then becomes a very effective gag. 

Forced to Speak

Being asked a series of questions and having to provide at least X words to answer, on topic. (It wouldn’t even have to be a high number. Imagine having to use 50 words to answer a yes or no question. Even 20 might be a challenge. But being asked to say/text 300 words on why I shouldn’t have an orgasm? Just a thought.)

Agreeing to X number of questions (number could be in trade for edges, or in trade for lessening a punishment) and having to answer them fully, even if it’s embarrassing. (Obviously within limits. Questions I refuse to answer don’t count towards the number.)

Having a mantra to repeat every time my partner says a certain word, whether that word is part of the mantra or not. (Having someone trigger a mantra like this is great fun, especially mid-conversation, or while I’m trying to ask for something, or while I’m trying to explain something.)

Having to repeat after my partner, perhaps modifying pronouns. (“You will obey” being modified to “I will obey.”)

Being tasked with writing up a fantasy, and then being made to read it aloud.

Being Physically Gagged

Being expected to be gagged or otherwise prevented from speaking at all times. (Ballgag might be too harsh for “at all times,” but tape is effective, too.)

Being gagged at random. Not just during scenes, but during mundane activities, such as watching a movie together or doing housework. (I like the idea of being interrupted while in the middle of something, maybe even in the middle of a conversation, and my partner simply holds out a gag. Or sitting at my desk working when my partner comes up behind me and slips my gag between my lips. Being told to kneel and open my mouth, excited to get to suck cock, and instead gagged. Comes with a bonus of being trained to readily take my gag.) 

Being told I can only speak while being gagged, despite knowing it will be unintelligible.

Planning a voice call with my partner, but right before we begin I am instructed to put a gag on so that at no point during the call can I actually speak.

Games

Playing the quiet game, either with my partner or with another submissive. I am rewarded if I win, and punished if I lose. 

thats a good little girl. still tied up with her collar on just like I left you. Such a good little baby. Here you go, little one. Daddy has a very special bottle for you. its feeding time and I know how much you love drinking your special milk!.

Whats that sweetheart? of course theres nothing wrong with this bottle. You're so silly. just keep drinking and you'll feel super silly in no time. Daddy will take care of you. Even when all of your big girl thoughts float away.