I first read the Beauty trilogy in late junior high or high school. It wasn't the first sex I'd ever read, but it left quite the impression. The idea of being dominated, being controlled, told what to do excited me. Even when I was little and playing with my barbies, they were always being captured and held prisoner, tied up and ordered around.

I grew older, discovered erotica stories online, more romance novels. I learned more and more about BDSM and the lifestyle, and wondered if I'd ever really get to play with it anywhere but my dreams.

I had several relationships where it was mentioned, only to discover my partners were also subs. And things don't work so well when both people are wishing the other would tell them what to do.

I found a dom, finally. But the relationship wasn't one. It was--and is--simply a wonderful friendship that also involved sex. Incredibly good sex, but of no more emotional impact than a good game of chess. It was simply something we both enjoyed, and a way to pass the time. But my own deep response to his dominance scared me, and I backed away, realizing I could lose myself much too easily if I didn't take steps.


And then, in the course of conversation with my best friend, it came out that she enjoyed peeing desperation. I had, over the course of the several months before that, discovered an interest in water sports myself. Quite by accident. I'd been looking for hypnosis CDs on eBay, having had some luck with it before, knowing I was beyond suggestible. And I found one that was designed to turn a person into a bed wetter, and even have accidents during the day, if they wanted. At first I shrugged, and moved on, but I found myself going back, reading the description again and again. And then doing a search, finding more about infantilism.

But, despite some amusement in playing with the thought, it wasn't the infantilism that drew me so much as the diapers. The idea of being forced to wear one, and made to use it. Of having an accident, of losing control of such a vital, private part of yourself. That was when I discovered I wasn't at all alone. Plenty of people were interested in the same idea.

And then this conversation. About how it was hot. I started telling her when I had to go. We realized that we were on opposite sides...she liked watching someone desperate because she liked to see them squirm. I liked it because I wanted to be the one squirming.

And then came the day we were speaking online--she lives half a country away from me--and I told her how badly I had to go, how I was squirming, shaking my legs, shifting in my seat. And she directed me to get a pillow, put it between my thighs, hump it. And when the friction got me off, I lost control, pissing my pants.

And she got off on it.

We haven't looked back.


Since then, she's become my dom. We're not in a romantic relationship, and our friendship remains unchanged, just as close as it was before, with the same silliness and the same teasing, and the same spats and arguments when they come up. We're not dating, we're not in love, and--though we care about each other very much--we're not going to be.

But, for now, I belong to her. When she gives an order, I follow it. We spend just as much time if not more talking and planning as we do playing, of course, and not all my assignments are directly sexual. I write down ideas as they come to me. I think of her, as directed, before I use the toilet, whether we're playing or not.

But I also drink as much as I can hold on certain days, only to find myself later sweating and gasping, groaning and crying out as I hump a stack of pillows, following her whispered directions in my ear, or reading them from the computer screen.

Or, as today, I don't urinate in the toilet at all, instead using the diapers I purchased after that first unintentional accident. I've worn a thick dildo all day, to work and home again, out to dinner with friends, all with them unknowing. I had lunch with a friend today, having to pee the entire time, and finally actually losing it, crossing the street back to my office building. I had to be careful to give no sign, as my bladder emptied itself into the padding between my legs while I was there, in the middle of the downtown of one of the largest cities in the country.

She put her collar around my neck, when she visited not long ago, and a frequent part of her play is referring to me as her pet. I'm taunted with not being allowed out to relieve myself until my mistress gets home, because pets aren't supposed to go until their owner says they can, and wouldn't know what to do in the bathroom anyway.

She teases me, she embarrasses me, she makes me lose control and wet myself, until I'm sitting, gasping, in soaked jeans, or a wet diaper, being told only little girls or animals do what I've just done, and loving every moment of my red-faced shame.

She shares kinks I have always been embarrassed to admit I have, she pushes me to do things, to admit things that I wasn't certain I could, and she gifts me with the incredible joy of her control, her dominance, her acceptance, her approval and her love.

I never thought I'd find someone I could share all of this with, and still have all the rest be so good, too. I never thought I'd find someone who would enjoy the other side of it so much. I'm still amazed, on occasion, wondering what she could possibly be getting out of it, but accept and believe that she does love it just as much as I, even if I'm not always sure how she could.

For both of us, this is the first time we've explored these things seriously, taken them this far, and being able to build on the trust and friendship of the past two years to communicate fully and totally with each other has made this work far beyond my wildest dreams.

Thank you, my Lady, for the gift of myself.


As I sit here, needing to pee, knowing when I do it won't be in the toilet, as that's not allowed me today, I can't help but be grateful. No standard relationship, no prospect of one, and yet I've never been more sexually satisfied in my life. Or, conversely, more consistently aroused.

Hmm, what to say?

I'm a a twenty-seven year old "good" girl who's tired of hiding just how kinky she really is. It's been my experience that you gain more acceptance by being confident in yourself and not hiding or feeling ashamed over what you want.

So I've created this journal as a place where I won't be. No lying, no tricks, just me. All the same, I won't be linking my mother here. ;)

The list of the things I'm into is pretty long, as I've had the internet and access to dozens of story archives for a long time now. But what's getting me off at the moment is power exchange--I'm very sub--and in that, pet play and urine control.

But it doesn't stop there. My interests have a bunch of things listed, but there are more. Ask if you're interested.


*copied from my profile page