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                        BRINGING DOWN PET
                            By Parker

     WARNING: This story is a sequel to PARKER06 (Pet Teacher).
     As such, it contains rather a good deal of non-consensual
     and semi-consensual activity between members of the same
     sex. If this bothers or offends you, stop reading now. You
     have been warned.

Copyright 1994 by Parker (me). Feel free to redistribute in
electronic form (unaltered, of course), but be discrete.
=================================================================

     We took my car. Maggie's friend lived only a few miles away,
so the entire trip took no longer than ten minutes. But it seemed
like a lot longer.
      Thanks to Maggie.
     As soon as I sat down on the seat, the extremely short skirt
rode up my legs, giving my young mistress a clear view of my
upper thighs and even my newly-shaved pussy. Maggie wasted no
time in sliding one of her tanned hands along my leg and up
against my crotch. I tried to squirm away, but the pain from the
bruises on my rear end made that painful. So I just sat there and
drove as this young girl - my owner, for all I could refuse her -
rubbed the outside of my hairless pussy and then slipped one...
then two fingers inside.
     I couldn't help but let out a moan. The rush of sexual
pleasure from her touch now outweighed the pain from my beaten
ass, and I felt myself getting moist.
     "Ohh, what's this?" Maggie laughed. "Is my little Pamscunt
getting wet?" I couldn't help but flush red as I supplied the
expected, and truthful answer: "Yes Miss Moore. Your little
Pamscunt is getting wet." The humiliation of being forced to
speak like this in front of a younger girl - one of my
students! - only served to increase the pleasure, and my breath
began to come in short pants. I forced myself to concentrate on
driving. "You are an excitable little slave cunt," she laughed,
pulling her hand away.
     It was all I could do not to whimper in disappointment as I
drove the remaining mile or so, pussy juice rapidly drying on the
inside of my thighs. I was desperate to drop a hand to my crotch
to finish what she had started, but I didn't dare.
     How had I gotten myself into this?

                              *****

     Maggie's friend lived in quite a nice house, set back behind
some trees at the end of a dead end street. I started to pull
into the driveway, but Maggie made me park about half a block
away. "You need the exercise," she laughed.
     By now, I was a little more used to walking in the
ridiculously high-heeled shoes, but I was still forced to take
small, mincing steps to maintain my balance. The walk took
forever, and I was certain that I saw more than one curtain swish
closed when Maggie slipped her hand under the short skirt and
gave my bruised bum an affectionate squeeze. I stumbled and
almost fell, but she kept her hand in place as we reached the
driveway. What a sight we must have made: a woman in her mid-
thirties being walked along by an eighteen year-old girl. Of
course, I reflected, I didn't really look that old any more. The
haircut Maggie had forced on me had seemed to take years off my
appearance. And with the clothing - my 'slutwear' Maggie called
it - I must have looked completely different than my usual self.
I took heart in the realization that even if I were to run into
someone I knew, they would likely never recognize me.

     "Miss Brown!"
      My heart skipped a beat as the front door swung open and a
teenage girl looked out. It was Amy Peterson, a short, heavyish
girl with long brown hair. She was a student at Greenwood,
although she hadn't been in any of my classes. For some reason,
she always looked familiar, but I was never able to put a finger
on the resemblance.
     But she recognized me easily enough.
     "Hi Amy." Maggie took her hand off my ass and started
running it up and down along the back of my head. "Are the others
here."
     Amy, mouth open, nodded. She couldn't stop staring at me as
Maggie guided me into the house with one hand on the back of my
neck. As I came up to the startled teenager, the hand on my neck
tightened, forcing me to stop in my tracks. "Aren't you going to
say hello?" she asked.
     I was puzzled for a second, but quickly picked up on what
was expected of me.
      Or so I thought.
      "Hello Amy," I said miserably, hanging my head.
      The grip on my neck tightened suddenly, and I felt warm,
sweet breath on my ear as Maggie leaned in. "Show respect," she
hissed. "You'll address my friends as 'Miss', and you'll curtsey
when you meet them." Her tongue flicked out and briefly traced
the outside of my earlobe before retreating.
      I felt a warm rush surge through my pussy at that touch.
     And those words.
     Still... blushing what must have been a vivid shade of red,
I faced Amy and executed a deep curtsy. The short skirt rode up
on my legs, giving the teenage girl a clear view of my moist,
shaven crotch.
      "Hello Miss Peterson," I mumbled, straightening my legs.
     Amy brought her hands up to her mouth and tried,
unsuccessfully, to stifle an embarrassed giggle. Then she looked
over at Maggie: "What have you done to her?" she asked, eyes
wide. "She's so... so different."
     Maggie laughed. "Wait'll you see," she said. "Are the other
girls here?" Amy nodded. She backed away from the door and Maggie
guided me in with a firm hand on the back of my neck.
     Other girls?
      Seconds later, we were in the living room, greeting two
teenage girls. I didn't know them, but Maggie assured me that
they would be students at Greenwood the next year. The first
one's name was Brenda Pratt. She was a short, slender girl with
fiery red hair. The other girl, Sandra Tolson was a beautiful
blonde with long legs and brilliant blue eyes.
     I couldn't help myself. I felt my pussy going moist as I did
my little curtsy and greeted the two teenagers.
      The fantasy...
     "Position, slut," Maggie suddenly ordered.
      Immediately, I assumed the position as I had been trained:
standing straight, legs slightly apart, hands at my side and
chest stuck out. I stared straight ahead, but couldn't help but
listen as Maggie laughingly explained the situation: how she had
found out about my secret fantasies; how she had used the
information to get control of me; and, finally, how she had
blackmailed me with the pictures when I had - finally - rebelled.
     "You mean," Brenda asked, eyes wide as she examined Maggie's
pictures, "that this is a teacher! At Greenwood? And she likes
this?"
     In answer, Maggie turned to me and ordered: "Lose the
clothing Pamsy." Blushing, I slipped the short skirt down to my
ankles and stepped out while unbuttoning the blouse. It seemed a
little easier than in the classroom; a little more like my
fantasies. I reached down to remove the 'slut shoes', but Maggie
told me to leave them on and resume the position. So there I was,
naked except for a pair of bright red pumps, standing at
attention in front of a group of teenage girls.
     Maggie walked over and slowly, teasingly, ran a hand along
the front of my breasts, rubbing my exposed nipples. I tried, but
couldn't prevent myself from letting out a moan as she tweaked
them. "Take a look," she said, gesturing at my now rock-hard
nipples as they stood out on my chest. The other three girls
moved in closer.
     Sandra commented on my bruised rear end.
     Next, Maggie dropped her hand and began massaging my pussy.
There was no use even pretending: I let out a loud moan and
shoved my hips forward, hoping to increase the pressure against
my burning pussy. Laughing, my mistress pulled her hand away for
a second and then, ever so slowly, sunk first one, then two...
and then three fingers inside. I sighed and began to pant as she
began to run her fingers in and out... in and out... in and...
     "Well," Maggie asked, her fingers buried deep inside me,
"Think that she likes it?"
      One of the girls giggled uncomfortably, but Sandra, the
beautiful blonde, nodded and whispered: "Oh yes. She likes it."
Our eyes met and I almost came when she parted her lips extended
her small, pink tongue.
     Maggie brought her face up next to mine, blocking my view of the other
girl. "Well what do *you* say, little cunt? Do you like
it?"
     Swallowing slightly, I nodded. "Yes Miss Moore," I answered
hoarsely. "I like it." I loved it.
     "Do you like being my little cunt slave?"
     "Yes Miss Moore."
     She brought her other hand up and began fondling my breasts
again, tweaking and teasing the rock-hard nipples.
     "You're nothing but a cunt slut, are you?"
     "Yes Miss Moore. I'm just a little c-cunt slut."
     By now, I was panting and gasping. The feel of her fingers
in my pussy and the humiliation of being forced to talk like this
in front of a group of teenage girls was just too much. Too much
like my fantasies; Too much...
     A sudden burst of pain shot through my body as Maggie
viciously squeezed and twisted one of my nipples. She withdrew
her hand from my pussy, brought it up and did the same to the
other one. Twisting... kneading... I heard the other girls gasp
and one of them - Sandra I think - laugh as I stood with my hands
at my sides, not daring to move them, even to defend myself,
while the teenaged girl squeezed and pulled at my exposed
nipples. As before, the warm haze of eroticism was driven away by
the torture, and all that was left was the horrible, horrible
pain. I didn't fight back or try to get away, though. I'd been
too well trained for that. All I could do was stand there, biting
my lip, with tears running down my face; trying not to cry out...
waiting for my mistress to stop the pain.
     A few seconds later, she let go and I stumbled backwards,
barely keeping my footing. "That's for trying to have an orgasm
before us," she told me angrily. "Little cunt slaves don't come
until they're told. Is that clear?"
     I nodded through the blur of tears. "Yes Miss Moore," I
mumbled.
     Maggie nodded in satisfaction. "Now apologize to the girls,"
she ordered. "And, to make it up to them, offer to let them
punish you like I just did."
     That brought a fresh wave of tears. Was this what my life
would be like from now on? Humiliation piled on humiliation...
But I obeyed. I had no choice.
      First Amy, and then Brenda: "I'm sorry Miss. Please punish
me." The two girls declined, eyes wide.
      Sandra though... "I'm sorry Miss. Please punish me."
     The blonde smiled and I felt a thrill of fear run through my
body. "Alright," she purred. "Offer me your breasts." Trembling,
I cupped my hands underneath my two breasts and offered them up
to the teenager. To my humiliation, the nipples hardened as I did
so. She brought her hands up and slowly rubbed my nipples,
causing me to moan.
      "You want to be punished?" she asked.
     No. "Yes Miss," I whispered.
     Please don't.
     But she did. The girl used her long fingernails to pinch
down on the outside of my nipples as hard as she could. I howled
at the sudden pain, tears again running down my face, but I
didn't pull away. I just stood there, cupping my breasts, as if
willingly offering them up to be tortured.
     The pain seemed to go on forever, but finally she drew her
hands away, staring at my breasts, fascinated at the marks left
by her fingernails. "There there," she mocked. "All done." She
ran her hands lightly over my breasts. "That better?" I nodded,
unable to speak. "Good girl," she cooed. "Now come give Sandra a
hug and a kiss... like a good little girl." Helpless to resist, I
put my arms around her and hugged her close. As I did so, she
slipped one hand into my long - no; it was short now - brown hair
and steered my face up to her's. I opened my mouth to say
something, but she brought her lips against mine and slipped her
tongue inside my mouth. I melted. By the time the kiss was over,
I was panting and my pussy was moist again.
     "God," she sneered, feeling my sopping pussy, "you're quite
the little slut, aren't you?" I started to tremble in her arms.
She was so beautiful; so...
     A hand grabbed me by my short brown hair and jerked me
backwards. It was Maggie. "Well your kissing certainly seems to
have improved a bit. How about one for me?" She pulled my face in
close to her's and once again we kissed. This time I kissed back,
working my tongue around in her mouth as she did in mine. With my
eyes closed, it might have been Sandra. Once again, the kiss left
me panting for more.
     Maggie was so pleased by my progress ("cunt face" she called
me), that she had to have me demonstrate my new 'technique' to
all the other girls. By this time, Amy and Brenda were also
anxious to join in, so I had to go from teenaged girl to teenaged
girl, naked except for a pair of red pumps, engaging each of them
in a long, passionate kiss. By the end of it, my knees were
trembling and I half expected to feel the pussy juice trickling
down my leg. I couldn't help it.
      Their lips... their tongues...
     I broke away from Brenda to find Maggie sitting on a chair
with her legs spread and skirt up around her waist. "OK cunt
face," she laughed, "time to put that tongue of yours to good
use." Amy and Brenda appeared shocked, but Sandra just smiled and
began to rub her own pussy through her jeans. By this time, I was
completely lost in an erotic haze of humiliation and pleasure,
and was in no condition to refuse my mistress anything. Slowly, I
knelt before Maggie and, leaning forward, I extended my tongue
and took my first taste of pussy juice.
     Too slow for Maggie: she grabbed the back of my head and
jammed my face down into her crotch. I grunted and tried to pull
away, but it was no use. Obediently (not that I had a choice), I
opened my mouth and began sucking on her pussy. Within moments,
my face was slick with her pussy juices, as she moaned and ground
her crotch up at me. It was all I could do to draw breath as she
began to buck and cry. Finally, she jammed her thighs tightly
about my face and came. I was held in place, unable to breath or
pull away, as her pussy juices gushed over my face. She held that
position for what seemed like minutes, and I thought I would
faint from lack of air, but eventually she relaxed her legs and I
fell backwards, gasping and chocking for breath.
       The other girls all wanted their turns.
     Sandra was first. The blonde girl had been wearing a skirt,
so she didn't need to get undressed. She just leaned back in a
chair, spread her legs and rolled the skirt up to her waist.
      She hadn't been wearing panties.
     "C'mere little Pamsy," she called, as one would call an
animal or a small child. "C'mere." She patted her crotch.
      I started to get to my feet, but Maggie quickly pushed me
down. "On all fours," she ordered. "Like a good little cunt-
lapper." I blushed, but did as ordered, slowly crossing the room
on my hands and knees, eager to lap at the cunt of one of my
mistresses. When I arrived, Sandra ruffled my hair and called me
a 'good girl'. Both my eyes and pussy grew moist with
humiliation. 'No choice,' I kept telling myself, thinking about
the books... the pictures... Maggie's knowledge... 'no choice.'
     With a firm hand, my teenage mistress guided my head in
between her legs and forced me to start licking. As with Maggie,
she was already very wet down there, and I was soon lapping and
sucking back her pussy juice as quickly as I could.
      As I was working, I felt a hand on my ass, caressing...
patting... a finger inserted into my pussy. I squealed and
wriggled my ass, but the finger stayed. "There's a girl." It was
Maggie, of course. "Little Pamsy likes it, doesn't she?" A second
finger went in and wriggled about inside. It wasn't difficult; my
pussy was sopping. "Yes, I think she does. Mmmm?" A third finger
was inserted... then Maggie began sliding them in and out... in
and out... slowly building my feelings of lust as the girl whose
pussy I was sucking began to moan and buck above me. I felt a
hand grab the back of my head and rudely jam my face up hard
against her pussy. I stopped licking and tried to pull away, but
it was no use. Sandra held firm, grinding her pussy up against my
face as she gasped her way through a violent orgasm. When she
finally loosened up and let go, I was gasping for breath. The
fingers were gone from my pussy, and I was left unfulfilled.
     I looked up at my mistress: "Maggie," I whined, "please?"
She knew what I meant. Smiling, she reached down and delivered a
stern slap to my face. I fell backwards, shocked, looking up at
her as she towered over me.
      "You come when I say," she growled. "Not before. Is that
understood you little slut?" Terrified, I nodded. "Your pleasure
is not our concern," she went, continuing, I suppose, my
education. "Your only purpose is to please us. Understand?"
     Again I nodded, this time receiving another slap.
     "Yes Miss Moore," I corrected myself, "My only purpose is to
please you." Maggie nodded and I heard Sandra laugh.
     Brenda was next. The redhead had overcome her shyness and
was ready for me to service her. She had slipped out of her pants
and was waiting for me, a little nervously I think, in a chair on
the other side of the room. This time I knew better than to try
to get to my feet; I just shuffled over on my hands and knees.
The girl looked down at me expectantly. I sighed. "May I please
lick your pussy, Miss Pratt?" She giggled, slightly embarrassed,
but nodded her head. Obediently, I dropped my head down and began
to service my young mistress.
     This time, both Maggie and Sandra played with my bottom
while I worked. One of them had slipped three fingers into my
pussy while another first spanked me and then began to play with
my... my rear end. I was just starting to get fully aroused again
when I felt something cold - like plastic? - being placed against
the entrance to my anal passage.
      "Maggie!" An outraged voice from the other side of the room;
must have been Amy. What was happening? A hand smeared a slimy,
wet substance over my ass and then into my asshole. I tried to
raise my head, but it was quickly pushed back down. No matter; I
knew what was going to happen. Sure enough, I felt a large object
being pushed against the entrance to my asshole... pushed...
pushed and then inserted. I tried to relax - to give in to the
inevitable - as the object was slid further and further into me.
Finally, I was completely plugged. Maggie went back to playing
with my dripping pussy while Sandra began to deliver a vicious
spanking. I moan and wiggled my plugged ass, trying to avoid the
pain, but I didn't dare raise my head again. The girl on the
chair was now moaning and whining, and I knew she would come
soon. Then, maybe, it would be over.
     The pain in my rear end increased as the burning from the
spanking grew hotter and hotter, finally merging with my arousal.
Panting with lust, I waved my ass at my tormentors, rocking it
back in forth in a vain effort to end the pain, to...
     "Pamela Brown!"
      OMIGOD! That voice!
      "And some of her students."
     Panicking, I jerked backwards onto my ass, bowling Maggie
and Sandra over as I turned to see... Jensie Peterson! Oh god,
no... I looked wildly about the room, desperate to escape. It
couldn't be... my eyes lit on Amy, who stood in a corner of the
room, holding a camcorder and looking shocked - HOLDING A
CAMCORDER. Oh no... she was *that* Amy Peterson; no wonder she
looked so familiar at Greenwood...
     "It's been a long time, Pamela."
     No. This couldn't be happening. Not Jensie. Not Jensie
Peterson. Crying, I stumbled to my feet and ran towards the
hallway. As turned the corner, the object in my asshole slowly
slid out and fell clattering to the floor behind me. I turned the
corner, looking for safety... the bathroom.
     I ducked inside, closed the door and locked it.
     Sobbing I slid to the floor and covered my face with my
hands, quickly getting them sticky with pussy juice and tears.
This couldn't be happening...

     My father is Governor Brown.
      *The* Governor Brown.
      Andrew Peterson was his executive assistant. And good
friend. Jensie and I practically grew up together. Until my dad
caught him taking kickbacks in return for certain "favours". My
father immediately went public with the knowledge. He thought
that if he came clean - and effectively pinned the blame - the
voters would reward him.
      And they did.
     He's still Governor.
     Andrew was convicted and sent to jail, where he died in a
prison riot. His wife - Jensie's mother - became an alcoholic and
died in a car accident. I'd since heard that Jensie had gotten
married and had a child, but that there had been some sort of
scandal. They got divorced and the husband got the baby. I didn't
know why, but rumour had it she had been fooling around. Other
than that, though, I hadn't thought of either Amy or Jensie in
years, and certainly hadn't expected to see them again.
     Until today.

     Someone knocked on the door.
     "Pamela."
      Oh god; it was Jensie. There had been no movement outside
the door for at least ten minutes, and I'd almost managed to
convince myself that I was having some horrible nightmare.
     "Pammy," she cried. "Open the door."
     I just crouched in a corner of the bathroom, trying to
ignore her. This couldn't be happening.
     "Pammy," she called, "I've had a nice chat with Maggie
here... excuse me, your mistress here..." I couldn't repress a
shudder as Maggie's laugh sounded from the other side of the
door. "And she's had some very interesting things to tell me.
Very interesting." Fresh sobs racked my body; how much worse
could things get?
      "Nice pictures too."
      No.
      "I think your dad would be interested in seeing some of
these pictures," she continued. "And I'm sure the press would
be." She didn't have to paint a picture; the daughter of Governor
Brown caught in a lesbian affair with her students. Pretty clear
how that would end up. And my mother... it would kill her.
     Still sniffling, I got up and walked to the door. My pumps -
they were still on somehow - clacked on the linoleum floor as I
walked across the bathroom, clicked open the lock and watched in
despair as Jensie Peterson walked into the room. She still looked
pretty much as I'd remembered her: short; a bit heavy, but not
fat; large breasts; short black hair and a plain face. A face
which, unfortunately, sported a large, nasty grin. Maggie was
standing behind her as she entered the door swung open. She too
was smiling. I felt my knees begin to shake.
     "Pamela," Jensie said, smirking. "It's been a while. Hasn't
it?"
     I nodded, wondering what was going to happen.
     Maggie frowned. "Answer properly," she ordered.
     Now I knew. "Yes Miss Peterson," I mumbled, looking
downward. "It has been a long time."
     Jensie laughed. "Come on Pammy," she ordered, backing away.
"Back to the living room."
     Helpless, I followed, no longer aroused; no longer feeling
much of anything. Everything had changed when Jensie walked into
the room. The activities with the girls... that had been
humiliating and degrading, and occasionally painful, but not so
far from my own secret longings and fantasies that I couldn't
feel... enjoyment. But Jensie... she had a reason to hate me and
my family. And she knew, where the other girls didn't, just how
to do that. My father was still a Governor, and my mother...
     The other three teenagers were all standing around the
living room when I walked back in, still naked, still wearing
those damned pumps. I looked at Maggie, almost hoping for some
sign of dominance, some sign that she was still in control. But I
looked in vain. She was enjoying herself, but the power in the
room had changed. It was subtle, but still real. Maggie, Sandra
and the others, they had been dominating, but they were still
teenage girls. Jensie, on the other hand, was an adult. What's
more, she was a dominating bitch.
      There was no doubt who was in control.
     "Position," Jensie ordered.
     I obeyed. Somehow the act of assuming the position Maggie
had taught me in me classroom - had it really been this morning?
It seemed like an eternity - was infinitely more humiliating in
front of Jensie. I obeyed, though, and without hesitation. Jensie
had the pictures and she had the video. I had no doubt that that
proof would destroy my father's career and simply destroy my
mother. So I obeyed.
     There was no choice.
     "There's been a few changes," Jensie announced. "Maggie has
graciously allowed my to 'purchase' her rights over you."
     "But..."
     "Quiet slut."
     I shut up.
      "The girls can," she continued, "visit when they like. But
you are mine." I swallowed, but didn't say anything. There was
nothing I could do that wouldn't make things worse. "From now on,
you are to refer to them by their first names, with the
appropriate 'miss' of course. I am mistress Jensie. Do you
understand?"
     "Yes M-mistress Jensie." I felt my knees begin to tremble.
     "Good. You may now greet the girls. With a kiss." It was
almost like a ritual; me greeting my former 'owners' in my new
status as Jensie's... what, slave?
     Shaking, I walked over to Maggie.
      "Hello Miss Maggie," I greeted. Smirking, she drew my face
to hers and brought our lips together.
      "Hello Miss Sandra." By the end of that kiss, I was panting
again. God, that girl...
     "Hello Miss Amy."
     And these were going to be my students in a week!
     "Hello Miss Brenda."
     Finally, it was over. I'd greeted and been 'recognized' by
the girls. My new status - Jensie's possession - had been sealed
with a kiss, and I was once again panting. I just couldn't help
it. Sandra...
     "OK Pamsy," Jensie said, "Time to prepare you. You've had
some fun with the girls here, but, as I said, things have
changed."
     I didn't understand. What did she mean? Still, whatever it
was, there was nothing *I* could do about it. Jensie walked out
of the living room. Maggie and Sandra each grabbed an arm - I
shivered at their touch - and dragged me along behind her...

     Jensie must have really hated my family. Maybe she blamed my
father, and hence me as well, for taking her family own away. Her
father... her mother; and then her husband.
     And her baby...
     "We both know that your mother would just die if she learned
of your new... place in life, don't we?"
      I nodded.
      That was the threat.
     "Well then," she continued. "We'll just have to start you
over again with a new mother then, won't we?"
     No.
      Amy and Brenda broke out giggling when I was let back into
the room. Not walking, but on all fours.
      Of course.
      Babies don't walk. They crawl.

     I'd cried when they first took me into the room - *my* new
room Jensie told me.
      A nursery.
      I had felt my power, my self, slipping away when Maggie had
first taken control, but that was nothing compared to what I felt
now. This was no part of my fantasies; never had been. There was
no part of me that wanted what was happening.
     But it didn't matter.

     Jensie had kept all the baby stuff when Ken had divorced her
and gotten full custody of their daughter.
      The shoes went first. Jensie joked that there was no way any
daughter of hers would be caught dead wearing such 'slut shoes'.
Next, they took down side of the large crib and forced me to lie
down in it. When I say large, I mean large for a baby; I had to
hunch up, and my legs were spread and hung over the sides.
Burning with humiliation, I was forced to lie naked in a crib,
legs apart, hairless pussy spread wide. Maggie teased me for a
bit, running her hands up and down my exposed pussy, but Jensie
quickly pushed her away.
     It wasn't until she pulled out the diapers that I began to
cry in earnest. This couldn't be happening...
     "M-mistress..." I sobbed.
     Jensie cut me off with a quick slap on one of my breasts.
Just then, Amy entered the room with her camcorder and... and
something else. "Ahh," Jensie smiled, taking the bottle from her
younger sister. "Just in time." Amy backed away, brought the
camcorder to her face and filmed as Jensie - my new owner - slid
the nipple of the bottle through my quivering lips and ordered me
to drink. I had no choice. Still sniffling, I brought one hand up
to steady the bottle and began sucking. It contained some kind of
thick, foul tasting liquid. I didn't recognize it, but kept
sucking.
     Within moments, she had me securely diapered. I wriggled in
the crib, uncomfortable in the unfamiliar wrapping, but didn't
protest. The contents of the bottle were just about finished, and
Brenda handed me another bottle. Same stuff. Obediently, I kept
sucking...
     Next, Mistress Jensie took two small mittens and put them
over my hands. The mittens were much to small and the thumbs were
sewn up, so the covering essentially took from me the use of my
fingers. I was forced to grip the bottle with both hands to keep
from dropping it.
     Finished, Mistress Jensie and the four girls stood back and
watched, giggling, as I wriggled about in the crib, sucking
loudly at my bottle. They laughed as the bottle slipped out of my
mittened hands and I was forced to wriggle about to pick it up
and resume sucking. I was called a number of names, but
eventually the name 'Pam-Pam' stuck. That was my new name: little
Pam-Pam.
     Amy filmed the whole thing.
     Finally, the second bottle was finished.
     Jensie walked over to the crib and looked down at me. One
hand wandered over my naked breasts and began toying with my
nipples. I gasped as they began to harden under her touch; I
brought up a hand, but she just slapped it away. "Bad girl," she
chided. "Bad Pam-Pam." Mortified, I began crying again. There
seemed to be no end to my tears.
     Smiling, Mistress Jensie brought up her other hand and began
rubbing the outside of my diaper. Right over my pussy. Once
again, my body betrayed me; within minutes, I was moaning and
writhing on the crib as the feeling in my pussy grew and grew.
Her hand moved faster... and faster...
     Then stopped.
     I opened my eyes and looked up at her triumphant face.
"Pamela," she whispered, bending down close to my face. "You
don't know how I've waited for something like this."
     She was talking to me like an adult. Maybe I could reason
with her. "Jensie..."
     "Shh." She her finger to my lips. "You're mine now." She
applied pressure to my lips. With a quiet moan, I parted my them
and accepted her finger into my mouth. Grinning, she straightened
up as I submissively sucked at her finger. She began teasing my
nipples again while I sucked, and, within seconds, I was panting
with lust.
      But she didn't let me come.
     This went on for what seemed like hours. She'd bring me to
the brink of orgasm, but then stop. Soon, I was crying and
moaning in the crib, my lips quivering around her finger. After a
while, she brought her face back down to mine and, whispering in
my ear, told me about my future.
      About my life as her baby.
     About how Maggie was going to be moving into my apartment.
     About how one of the girls would take me to school everyday
to teach so that I might earn money for them - all future
paycheques would go to the girls - and then take me home, where I
would be Jensie's little Pam-Pam. How I would dress and behave
like a baby at all times; about how I would always get about on
all fours; about how I would only speak when spoken to, and then
only in a little girl's lisping voice.
     And then, while I writhed in frustrated lust, she gave me a
set of specific instructions. About what I would do in the next
few minutes to show my obedience, after which, if I was lucky, I
would be allowed to come. Laughing, she straightened up, slid the
finger our from between my lips, and walked out of my room,
followed closely by the four girls.
     I lay on the crib and cried for a few more moments. I was so
tempted to bring my mittened hands down to my crotch, but I
didn't dare. The consequences were too severe.
      But I *had* to come.
And so, careful not to hurt myself, I dropped out of the
crib onto the floor. Moving as best I could on my hands and
knees, I left the nursery, went down the hall and entered the
living room. Jensie was sitting on the couch and the girls were
seated in chairs about the room. They all laughed as I crawled
in.
     Obeying my mistress's whispered instructions, I crawled up
to where she was sitting. Her blouse was half un-buttoned.
"Please Mistress Jensie," I begged. "Please let me..."
     "That's not how a little girl speaks," she interrupted
sternly. The girls laughed again and I was acutely aware that Amy
was once again filming.
     Oh, but I had to come.
     "Pwease Mistwiss Jennthie," I lisped in a high voice, trying
to sound as young as possible. "Pwease wet me thuck your
bweasts." Jensie smiled as the four girls burst out in peals of
laughter. I felt myself turning beet red. Jensie bent down and
patted me on the head. "Good girl, Pam-Pam," she told me. "That's
how a little girl speaks. Of course you can. Up you come. Up to
mommy."
     I crawled up on the couch and wriggled into her lap. She
pulled open her blouse and one of her large breasts spilled out.
I grasped the nipple with my lips and began sucking. Jensie made
little cooing sounds and gently bounced me on her lap as I
suckled at her nipple. One hand reached down and began teasing my
breast.
     As I suckled, Jensie explained her plans to the girls. They
were all most enthusiastic, particularly when she told them that
they would be sharing my paycheque. One of them, Sandra, asked
about whether they would be able to 'use' me. Jensie laughed and
told them that they were welcome to come over and 'play with
little Pam-Pam' whenever they liked.
     After a while, I began to feel an uncomfortable build-up in
my bowels. I gurgled, and tried to catch Jensie's eye, but she
was busy talking to the girls. I was too frightened to take my
lips away from her nipple, so I just kept sucking and sucking as
the pressure grew and grew.
      Finally, said 'enough' and pushed me from her lap. I landed
on the ground and immediately rolled onto my back. I still hadn't
come, and the burning in my pussy had spread to my entire body.
My nipples felt like they were going to explode. Still, I had
another concern. One that wouldn't wait.
     "Pwese Mistwiss Jenthie," I whined. "Pwese wet Pam-pam go to
bathwoom."
     Jensie smiled down at me. "Oh my," she said. "Is that
laxative finally taking effect?" I started to cry again. The
stuff in the bottle. She had done this on purpose.
     Jensie slid off the couch and knelt next to my prone body.
One hand snaked between my legs while the other resumed playing
with my breasts. "No need to go to the bathroom," she told me.
"That's why little girls wear diapers."
     I shook my head.
      No. I wouldn't let this happen.
      But...
     But she just nodded her head and kept playing with me. The
burning sensation in my loins grew and enveloped my entire body
as my stomach spasmed with cramps at my efforts to keep my bowels
restrained. "Come on little Pam-Pam," she whispered. "You can do
it. Just relax."
     I tried... oh I tried not to, but it was no use...
     "Nooooo...." I let out a long cry of despair as I felt my
cramped bowels finally give way and the first load of warm,
wet... shit spilt out into my diapers, spreading quickly over my
bottom and upper back. And, at that moment, that awful moment of
release, I came: a massive, glorious, gut-wrenching orgasm that
had my legs spasming and kicking the floor while my back arched
up in uncontrollable lust.
     Jensie laughed. "Is Pam-Pam coming?" she taunted.
     I didn't care; it was too much. "Pam-Pam's coming," I cried
in my little girl's voice, "Pam-Pam's coming!"
     It went on forever...
     And, when it finally did end, I *knew* it was over: my
power; my life... I was Jensie's little Pam-Pam now. For as long
as she wanted me. Sure, I would be sent out every weekday to live
out a semblance of my former life as a teacher; as an adult. But
I knew that it would be a sham. I *knew*. As I lay there, my
naked, sweating body still trembling with aftershocks of that
tremendous orgasm, my crotch and bum soaked in my own rapidly
cooling waste - which would remain there until my Mistress chose
to change me - I knew what I was: little Pam-Pam; Jensie's little
slut baby.
     I began to cry as the girls, laughing, crowded around for a
turn at playing with me...

                             THE END
=================================================================
As usual, I am interested to hear what you think of this or any
other story I have posted. Feel free to write with your comments
and suggestions.
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Cheers,
-- 
Thomas Baetzler, bath0011@fh-karlsruhe.de, thb@spectre.ka.sub.org

Hain't we got all the fools in town on our side?  And hain't that a big
enough majority in any town?         --- Mark Twain, "Huckleberry Finn"