Diane's Next Damp Adventure Ch. 02

When Diane pressed the second glass to her lips, I noticed the tiniest hesitation. I reached out my hand and touched the surface of the glass. It felt slightly cool. I told her to set it back down and motioned for the waitress.

She picked up her pad and pencil and came to our table. I watched her face as she approached. She was trying to maintain a polite, cheerful disposition but was clearly suspicious about what was going on between Diane and me. There was a mixture of curiously and confusion in her eyes, which made sense to me. She knew *something* was happening but she wasn't quite sure what.

"I wonder if you could bring a fresh glass of water."

She leaned forward slightly to look at the glass. "Is something wrong?"

"I don't mean to be any trouble, it just isn't exactly what I wanted. I had asked for it with no ice, which you handled fine. But what I really meant was that I wanted lukewarm water, just about room temperature."

"I'm sorry. No problem, I will get that right back to you," she said, picking the glass up from the table.

"It's very important," I continued. "It passed through the system faster. At least, that's what I've heard." I turned to Diane. "Diane, is that true?"

She didn't answer. The waitress turned to walk away but I raised my hand. "No, hold on a second." I turned back to Diane and asked again. "Diane, is that true? Does the water go through your system faster if it's lukewarm?"

Without turning her head or raising her eyes, she very softly said, "yes".

"Thank you," I said, then turned to the waitress. "Two more glasses please. Lukewarm."

The girl walked away quickly and quietly.

"Diane," I asked across the table. "Diane, look at me. I don't much care for this 'lower your eyes' stuff." She looked up and met my gaze. "Do you know why I do this to you?" She didn't answer.

"You know that I've been keeping up with your antics these last several months. You're becoming quite the man toy. You take a lot of pain and abuse, in fact, you revel in it. A lot of things have been done to you that would make other women cringe. You have no problem giving your mouth or any other part of your body to complete strangers, that is, as long as you're being commanded to."

She didn't answer, but I knew that my words were having the desired effect - she was starting to get aroused. I could see the flush at the base of her neck and her nipples getting stiff.

"But, these things are of no real use to me. What I want is to get at the core of what makes you do it. And we both know it, don't we? We've known each other a long time, well before you moved into this world." It was true, she'd flirted with these ideas for years in chat rooms, emails, and written fantasies long before she ever took the first step toward meeting with the man in Madison.

"And we both know what underlies it. The pain, the sex, the abuse, those are only the surface level behaviors, the manifestations of your deeper, more twisted drives. Underneath it all is obedience. Giving your will over to another person. And underneath that - bedrock to your psychology - is the need to be humiliated."

Diane didn't offer any response. I didn't expect any.

"That is one of the two things I have going for me, isn't it? That I know what you really want. The other..." I took the RC unit from my pocket and rested it on the table between us. "Is that you don't know what I am going to do next. The random element in my behavior.

"With the others, you pretty much know you will be blindfolded, tied, feet kept apart with bars, nipples tortured. But I like to keep coming at you out of left field. Things you don't expect, things you can't be prepared for."

I pushed the RC closer to her hand. "Go ahead. Pick it up."

She didn't move.

"Pick it up." A pause. Then, "I command you."

She did.

"Good. You see how simple that is? Now, turn it on and cum for me. I want you to cum exactly at the point the waitress is putting the second glass on the table."

Diane's eyes glazed over as she felt the vibrator begin humming between her legs. She turned her head slightly and saw that the waitress was at another table, taking an order. She turned her eyes back to look at me. I smiled. She smiled back, we were enjoying the same game, playing the same moves.

She fingered the dial, moving it from 5 to 7. "Keep it on the table and visible," I said, watching her jaw start to shiver. She was taking quicker breaths now as the vibrator did its job. She shifted her eyes and saw that the waitress was picking up the glasses the bartender had put on the counter. They were leaning close and talking quietly. The bartender turned his head and stared at Diane. The waitress said something sharp and the man turned his glance away, but Diane knew they'd been talking about her. She took a deep, sharp breath.

"They know, don't they?" I said across the table. She closed her eyes halfway, but quickly opened them again. She would need to know when the waitress was bringing their order.

"They don't know exactly. Should we tell them?" A look of panic came across her face. "Just in case they haven't guessed? Should I have you walk over to the bartender and tell him?"

Diane's body rocked slightly forward and back as she listened to me. The waitress came to the table, stood still for a moment. "Would you like to see if this is what you wanted?" she asked. She picked up the first glass and placed it in front of me. I noticed that she wasn't looking at me. She was looking at Diane and her eyes had changed. They were taunting, defiant. Maybe she *had* guessed.

I dipped my index finger into the glass, rested it there for a few seconds, then said ."It's fine. Thank you." The waitress's stare had not moved from Diane. She reached for the glass, slid it across the table from me to Diane. Then, she looked at Diane's hand, the one that was touching the RC unit. She turned and smiled at me.

"I have one of those at home," she said. "They're amazing." Then, she turned back to Diane, stared at her, and said in a mocking tone "Aren't they?"

Diane's face dissolved into a mask of submission and humiliation. She turned toward the waitress and looked into her eyes.

"Aren't they?" she asked again. This time, her tone was closer to an adult scolding a child. It dripped condescension and sarcasm. She reached for the second glass on her tray. I raised my hand. "One second. Hold on, please."

Diane's body began to shake as the orgasm came closer.

"Would you like to play a little game with me?" I asked the waitress in a conspiratorial tone. She turned to me and smiled. "Sure."

"Pick up the glass and set it near the table, but do not put it down." She did. "Now, lift it up and put it back on the tray." She gave me a puzzled look, but did as I said. "No, don't look at me, watch her." She turned her head toward Diane. "Good. Now, do it again."

She started to lower the glass. Diane let herself slide closer toward orgasm, visibly squirming now. When the waitress pulled the glass back, a look of frustration came over Diane's face. The waitress smiled. She repeated the gestures, watching Diane struggle to maintain some kind of control.

"Very Pavlovian," she said to me, giving me a sidelong glance.

Diane shivered slightly, a bead of sweat trickling down the side of her face as the woman repeated the motions three more times.

"All right, I think that's enough for now," I said. "Let's let her finish." The waitress rested the glass on the coaster and Diane shook her head and gave a soft grunt as she finally came.

I took the RC from her hand and flicked the power off. The waitress smiled and walked away.

"Drink up," I said to Diane.

She picked up the first of the two new glasses and drained it in one pass. I watched her, our eyes locked the whole time.

"Enjoying it? The anticipation?" I asked. She didn't respond. I pushed my chair back slightly. "Stay here. I have to use the men's room." I got up and went into the bathroom, relieved myself, then stayed a while at the sink, washing up, taking my time, leaving her to simmer.

When I returned to the table, I saw that she'd finished the second glass of water as well. I smiled and nodded.

"How are you feeling?" I asked.

"I..." she began, but stopped. This was curious, something new. It was more typical for her to either speak her mind or to remain quiet. She rarely stopped after starting a thought.

I leaned forward slightly and said, very softly, "...you what?"

She shook her head, lowered her eyes. I reached into my pocket for the RC and flipped it on, the setting at 3.

"No, no, please," she whispered, her eyes looking into mine and pleading. Again, this was very unusual. She knew from experience that this rarely worked on the others, did she expect it would work on me?

I nudged the device up to 5.

"I dribbled when I came."

Her voice was weak and pleading. I flipped the RC off. We'd got over the hump. She'd said it. I knew how difficult it was for her. We'd played a lot of games online and she'd been through a lot with the strangers she'd been given to, but she was still a professional woman in a high powered position who'd been trained not to show weakness. I also knew she'd been steeped in guilt about her body functions by her strict religious upbringing. Wetting herself at all must have been terribly humiliating. But to say something about it out loud would have been devastating.

I stared at her and she lowered her eyes, fixed somewhere around the base of my neck. I sat silent for more than three full minutes, just looking at her eyes.

Finally, I said, "stand up."

She looked at me. I waited a few seconds and repeated, "stand up."

She pushed the chair back and rose, stood across the table from me.

"Turn around." She did. I could see a small, damp spot a few inches below the small of her back. Just a few drops really, but she didn't need to know that.

I made a small "tsk, tsk" sound and said "come over here." She walked around the table and stood at my left hand. I reached down and touched the back of her right knee. I rubbed gently up and down an inch or two. Then, I motioned for the waitress to come back again.

She raised a finger, indicating I should "wait a minute". I nodded.

I leaned toward Diane and said quietly, "I wonder if she has any suggestions?"

"Please..." she breathed.

"You must need to go pretty badly by now, would that be fair to say?" She just nodded. "How shall we handle this? Should we take you to the hotel pool? Have you walk into the pool in your dress and do it there? Watch your skirt float to the top of the water? Watch the yellow cloud appear around you?

"No, there might be families there and I don't want to subject them to watching you do such a horrible thing.

"Maybe a strip club? The women's room at a topless bar? Or maybe the unisex bathrooms at the local porno bookstore?" I squeezed her calf, released, squeezed.

"Maybe a rest stop. One of the porta johns at the rest stop out on 94?" I slid my hand up the calf, up the back of her knee, up the back of her thigh.

The waitress came to the table. "Can I help you?" She looked at Diane, looked at my hand on the back of her leg. "Sir, is everything all right?"

"One second," I said, then motioned for Diane to lean her ear closer. I whispered, "shall we tell her you had an accident?" Diane shook her head slightly, said nothing. I smiled.

"Yes, everything's fine. I just wanted to ask you to bring the bill."

She looked at my hand again, then at Diane's face. "Sure." As she walked toward the bar, I slid my hand further up Diane's leg.

"I have something for you. Go back and sit down." I removed my hand and she walked back around the table, slid her hands underneath her bottom as she sat down to smooth her skirt onto the chair.

I took my jacket off the back of the chair. I reached into the inside pocket, removed the small plastic bag. I watched for the waitress, I wanted to time this right.

"Do you know that game men play where you are told to slide off your panties and hand them across the table?" She nodded. "I expect some of the men you've been servicing this last year have had you do something like that?" Diane nodded again. "Kind of trite, isn't it?" No response. "Well, maybe not for other women, but certainly for someone like you."

A pause. "Not much of a challenge at all. No, the challenge with someone like you is to find things that will actually have an effect on you. After everything you've done, how to find those boundary lines?"

She didn't respond but I could tell she was thinking the same thing. The difficult thing about this game was the challenge of keeping it new. I looked toward the bar, the waitress was not coming back yet.

I waited another minute before saying anything.

"Another glass of water?"

She shook her head slightly, as I'd expected. We both knew it was a rhetorical question. If I said "drink", she would drink. If she said "no, thank you", it wouldn't matter.

The waitress was tearing a copy of our bill off of the printer. I undid the zip lock on the bag. I'd vacuum sealed it earlier to make it's bulk less obvious. But now, I wanted it back to full size.

When I slid it out of the bag and onto the table, the air hit it and it began to grow. Diane's eyes widened - it was a very bulky adult diaper. It had been difficult to find one this large, most of the ones on the market had been engineered to be inconspicuous. Even the heavy-absorbency types were reasonably discrete. But this was an older brand and as bulky as any cloth baby diaper I'd ever seen.

It had grown back to its original size just as the waitress got to the table. She looked at, tried to repress a chuckle but failed.

I looked at her. "Well, that's rude, isn't it?" She quickly turned and looked at me. "I'm sorry. I thought you were playing...you know..." She fell silent and reached toward me with the bill in her hand, obviously uncomfortable now. After the exchange we'd had earlier, she'd felt like she was in on the game, now she was completely lost. I let her stand there for a few seconds. My eyes were on Diane, trying to gauge how she was responding to the whole scene.

"I'm sorry, you're right. We are playing. I apologize for making you uncomfortable." I reached for the bill and signed it to my room. Then, I dug into my wallet and handed the woman a fifty dollar tip. "Thanks for your discretion." She smiled and leaned closer to me. "This isn't the first time I've had to ignore some pretty unusual behavior." I smiled. She turned and walked back to the bar, settled back on her stool and started chatting with the bartender again.

I turned back to Diane. "Well?" She didn't say anything.

"Go on. Put it on." Then, after a few seconds. "You can go to the ladies' room if you like." She reached for the pull on. When her hand touched it, I put my hand on top of hers.

"Are you anticipating what this will feel like? And what it will look like? Your dress is tight enough there will be no mistaking what you are wearing. Remember last time, the ropes? Everything will be clearly outlined this time, too." It was true. Her outfit this time was the same as I'd had her wear last time. Nothing too revealing or obvious, just a simple one piece, clingy, cocktail dress - the classic "little black dress". We'd done her up in a variety of shibari ropes, then pulled the dress over them. The contours of the ropes were obvious to anyone who had watched us as we walked from the hotel to a nearby restaurant and back again.

I continued to look into her eyes. "And how will it feel? You know that at some point, you will not be able to wait any longer. And, against every instinct, against all of the willpower you can marshal, you will fill the pad." Her face remained frozen. "You will feel it warm against you as you sit or as we walk. You will feel the fear of it overflowing.

"How long can you last? Five glasses of water, Diane. Five. Large glasses. Nearly two quarts of water. All inside you right now. It's been over an hour." I continued talking in a slow, monotone voice. I knew the effect this had on the brain, the soothing, suggestive, hypnotic nature of that tone. Her eyes were glazing as I talked.

I jerked my hand back and said sharply "OK, then! On with it." She grimaced. The abruptness of my words probably had the effect I'd been after. I would be able to tell by looking at her dress when she stood up.