What is your daddy’s new rule about…the other thing?
There isn’t 1 specific rule or set of rules per se, cause my daddy @jay-saun has just been focused on easing me in to…things and making sure I’m having a positive experience with it as we go. Tbh, I think he wants to get me used to having those kind of accidents, cause then maybe I’ll become gradually more prone to having those kind of accidents for real (that’s how things have worked for my #1 accidents and bedwetting, anyway…you’d be surprised how effective just “going through the motions” can be for breaking down long standing mental barriers 😅). So far, I’ve found the whole experiment to be very interesting-and it’s also been a fun bonding experience for me and daddy, since this is sort of a “new frontier” for both of us…and we’ve both been caught off guard several times by the places our minds have gone and how turned on we’ve gotten over it 😮💨🤫🙈
Howeveeerr, since I’ve gotten quite a few asks about daddy’s rules, I thought maybe I could share what today’s rules were: Try having…the other kind of accident in a goodnite and form fitting jeans. He said he wanted me to feel the resistance of my jeans pushing against me while I had an accident. Being the good girl that I am, I changed out of my wet bedtime dip, put on a goodnite and some skinny jeans, and went to my littlespace room to attempt re-organizing my toy shelf (I’ve found it really helpful to keep my mind busy while I…let…things, ummm…take their natural course? 😅). I’d only just begun picking up my pastel stacking blocks when things started getting super blushy 🙈
The whole experience made me start daydreaming about a totally unrealistic scenario-my daddy gets a call from the daycare staff asking him to come pick me up because l'd had another one of...“those kind of accidents", and was hiding and refusing to let any of the staff help get me cleaned up. Daddy would have to leave work to pick me up, which he would understandably not be happy about. I, on the other hand, would be so happy to see daddy when he arrived to rescue me that I’d forget all about my embarrassing predicament for a moment…at least until it was time to get in daddy’s truck, because then I’d be forced to get in my car seat and feel the full scope of the humiliating mess I’d made in my pants as daddy made sure I was seated and buckled up properly. I’d fight back tears as I struggled to come to terms with what I’d done, and daddy would give me a firm lecture about how I really had to start going potty like a big girl at daycare because he can't keep leaving work every few hours just to come change my diaper, as if I were an infant. Once we got home, daddy would drag me by the wrist to the bathroom, order me to pull my jeans down so he could see how big of an accident I'd had, and then act completely shocked and disappointed at the shamefully smelly state of my full pull-up.
I’d blush intensely as tears gathered in my eyes, and I’d frantically apologize to daddy for being such a dumb, messy little baby. Daddy wouldn’t stand for my whining long before grabbing my hand and pulling it up to my lips, forcing me to pop my thumb in my mouth to effectively shut me up while giving me a look that would make my knees buckle a little.
I’d shudder and watch daddy undo his belt, swiftly pulling it out from his belt loops before sitting down on the edge of the bathtub, motioning me to come over. I’d gasp as I realized the front of my goodnite was suddenly getting warm and wet, and daddy would grab my wrist and pull me down over his lap. He’d proceed to spank me with his belt until I began sobbing and begging him to stop. After a few more sharp swats, he’d drop his belt and gently rub my back, eventually letting his hands drift across my warm, red bum. I’d flinch a little and whine pitifully as he’d continue to rub his hands over my bare, stinging skin. “It’s okay, princess. Let’s get you all cleaned up now”, he’d whisper soothingly, before lifting me out of his lap. He’d start running the bath water, then he’d lay me down in front of him on the bath mat. He’d rip both sides of my pull-up, slowly lower the front of it down, and make a face only a true daddy could make-one that attempted to, yet didn’t fully succeed at hiding his visceral reaction to the mess lying there before him. The mess that I’d made…in my own pants…like a dumb, helpless toddler.
I’d continue to cry as I covered my blushy face with my hands, and daddy would tell me things like, “it’s all gonna be ok” and, “these things just happen to baby girls like you” while he used the front of my goodnite as a preliminary wipe. He’d then grab my arms and pull me up into a squatting position over my goodnite, and tell me to hold still as he finished wiping me down with an embarrassing number of baby wipes. Afterwards, he’d stand me up and help me in to the tub. After giving me a calm, relaxing bubble bath, daddy would dry me off in a big, fluffy towel and cover me in sweet smelling lotion. He’d lay me down on the bed and give me one of my favorite stuffies to snuggle while he retrieved a change of clothes for me. I’d whine at the sight of the bulky diaper he’d bring back, but I’d know better than to protest after having such a major accident.
Daddy would praise me for lying still like a good girl for him as he sprinkled baby powder on me and taped my diaper up, then he’d pull one of my comfiest t-shirts over my head and kiss my cheek. “Ready for daddy to make us some lunch, princess?”, he’d ask, holding out his open hand to help me up off the bed. “B-but, daddy…”, I’d say hesitantly, looking down at my exposed diaper as I tugged my shirt down to try and cover it. “Silly girl, you don’t need pants! Pants are for big girls who can be trusted to use the potty. Besides, we’re not going back out because daddy’s going to work from home for the rest of the day…that way I can keep an extra good eye on you, since you’ve been having so many accidents lately.” he’d explain, pulling me up from my spot on the bed and leading me to the kitchen.
