Content warnings for this story (click here for guide):
Mindy’s week in mitts had been mortifying. Ben hadn’t been kidding when he’d said she’d need to ask for everything. And using such babyish words, too. He was clearly having fun with this punishment.
At first she’d been furious about her helpless state, and had resisted using his little page of approved phrases, trying each time to ask for help like an adult. As the days went on, though, it became clear this was a waste of time. Ben simply played deaf until she used ‘Little Mindy’ words.
He’d wake her up in the morning and bathe her gently, then if she asked nicely he’d dress her in the clothes she wanted. Mealtimes were quite embarrassing. Child-proof locks had been fitted on the cupboards, so she would have to ask to be fed. She couldn’t use cutlery very well with her padded mitts, so he’d cut up her food into little cubes and she’d try her best to spoon them into her mouth. Inevitably some would fall off the spoon and elicit a “D’aww, you’re trying your best, aren’t you?” from Ben.
Toilet time had been the worst. The door handle was too slippery to grasp with mitts, so Mindy would have to wander over to Ben’s desk, take a deep breath and tell him she needed to go potty. Ben would smile broadly and take her hand, then open the bathroom door, take down her knickers and sit her on the toilet, before leaving. Once or twice he’d call through to ask if she needed help getting cleaned up, but thankfully there was a bidet she could scoot onto. Ben would then come back in and pull up her knickers for her, before taking her back through and shutting the door again.
Ben insisted on being called ‘Daddy Ben’, and lived up to this name. In truth, Mindy sometimes enjoyed being cuddled and cared for, but the lack of privacy and the humiliation of not being able to do grown-up things was maddening.
After a week, true to his word, Ben unlocked the mitts and released her.
“Ready to do more for yourself now, Mindy?”
“Jesus Christ, yes,” she grumbled. “That was awful. You are never getting me back in those things.”
One day, when he knew Mindy should have been hard at work writing an essay, Ben popped round to bring her coffee.
As he let himself into the apartment, he heard a buzzing sound and smelled coconut oil. Mindy sat at her computer with a towel underneath her, facing away from the door. On the screen, he could make out an erotica story framed by icons of cuffs and collars.
Mindy’s eyes were closed as Ben quietly approached. She worked the wand over her clitoris, removing its powerful buzzing head every now and then before pressing it back into place with a moan. As he watched, she reached blindly for a glass jar of coconut oil, smearing a dollop to melt between her legs so her pussy glistened with the sweet-smelling liquid.
“Mmmm…mnnnn…MNNNNN!” she cried out as an orgasm washed over her, and she buzzed herself one last time for an extra surge of sensation, before switching the wand off and dropping it to the floor. She sat there with her eyes closed, mouth lolling for a second, letting the feeling fade.
“Call this essay-writing?” said Ben suddenly, and Mindy’s eyes flicked open.
“FUCK!” she cried.
“All done, are we?” said Ben, frowning. “I brought you a drink to say ‘well done’, but I’m not sure you deserve it.”
“I’ve been working!” protested Mindy, wrapping the towel shyly round her waist. “I take one break to browse some websites and you think I’ve been slacking off all day!”
“Browsing, eh?” Ben held up the wand, still shiny with oil.
“I – I just needed a bit of a release! It’s not a crime!”
“That so?” Ben leaned over her shoulder and hovered the mouse over the word processor to find a document called ‘American Sense of Self Essay Draft 1’. “Then let’s see how much you’ve done on this project.”
“Don’t click that!” Mindy shoved his hand away, but Ben replaced it, and his girlfriend covered her face in shame.
The document had a title and the main question pasted underneath. Beneath that, Mindy had managed half an opening sentence.
“So let’s get this straight. Instead of doing an essay due in three days, which you told me counts for 60% of your module, you’ve been sitting here masturbating.”
“ONCE!” cried Mindy. “That was literally one time!”
Ben raised an eyebrow and went to the laundry basket. Opening the lid, he found three or four towels, all smelling of coconut oil.
“Get your bag, Mindy,” said Ben. “You’re coming to stay at mine for another week.”
Mindy flushed with shame. She couldn’t help herself. Since buying that damned toy, it had been too tempting not to use it.
“Leave the wand here, sweetie,” said Ben. “That’s for big girls. You clearly can’t handle it, so no playtime for you. Now hold out your hands.”
“But I am a big – nooo, not the mitts again!” Mindy looked pleadingly at her boyfriend. “Ben, come ON!”
“Ben? I don’t think you’re allowed to call me Ben until you’ve grown up, Mindy.”
Mindy stamped and a tear rolled down her cheek as she was fastened into the hated mitts once more.
They took the bus to Ben’s house, and Mindy had to stand with her mitts on show while he unlocked the front door. Ben carried in her bag and sat her down on the sofa.
“Now then, since you like collars so much,” Ben nodded toward her computer screen, “I’ve bought you one. See, I thought this might happen. I had a feeling you would backslide and need a little more time being closely supervised.”
He buckled a pink collar round Mindy’s neck, put a tiny silver padlock on it, then pulled two silver clips from his pocket. Mindy liked the feel of the soft leather, but wondered what Ben was up to.
She soon got her answer. Ben hooked a clip through the D-ring on each mitt and brought her hands up into prayer position just below her chin. Lying her down on a towel on the floor, he cuffed her feet and fastened one to either end of a black spreader bar.
“What, are the mitts not incapacitating enough?” scowled Mindy looking up at him from the floor. “Or do you just want to play bondage games? That’s hardly going to help me write me essay, is it?”
“It’s not that,” said Ben. “And by the way, lose the attitude or I’ll flip you over and smack your bottom with a hairbrush. No, I just didn’t want you lashing out at me for the next bit.”
He left the room and Mindy heard the sound of drawers opening and things being gathered.
“OK, I think that’s all we need,” said Ben, walking back into the room with a large shoulder bag. “I’m going to let you out of your mitts when you need to work, but I need to make sure you won’t play with yourself, so let’s get you all protected from temptation.”
He pulled out a bottle of baby powder and a bright white disposable nappy.
Mindy yelped and tried to wriggle away.
“NO! NO WAY! I DON’T NEED TO WEAR THAT!”
“Aww, don’t get grumpy, Little Mindy. This is going to keep you all padded so you can’t touch yourself until your schoolwork is done.”
Mindy thrashed about, but her arms were held up to her chin, and Ben knelt on the spreader bar to keep her pinned.
“Don’t be naughty, Mindy. Be good for your nappy or I’ll find a way to keep you quiet.”
Mindy swore like a sailor. Ben shook his head and pulled a pink dummy from the bag. He fastened it round her head with a ribbon, muffling her curses, then opened up the nappy, sprinkled powder onto Mindy’s still-oiled pussy and slipped a chunky booster pad into the padded crotch, before pulling the nappy up between her legs and taping her into it.
Mindy’s eyes filled with angry tears as she looked down at what she was wearing.
“Very cute!” Ben chuckled. “But if your hands are free, I don’t want you slipping this off.”
He unfolded a locking plastic cover, carefully unclipped one ankle and held it as Mindy wriggled and complained, slid the rustling plastic onto her leg and clipped her back onto the bar before repeating with the other leg. When both feet were through, he pulled up the plastic cover, which danced with blue bunnies, and padlocked it in place.
Carefully, Ben unfastened the bar and helped his girlfriend to her feet. She winced as the nappy crinkled between her legs, and glared at him wordlessly from behind her dummy.
“So, in addition to the rules from last time,” said Ben “Little Mindy gets some time without mitts when she wants to write her essay. But if she stops working, the mitts go back on.”
He unfastened Mindy’s dummy and took it out.
“Do you understand?”
Mindy nodded. “Um, I need to…”
Mindy groaned. “Go to the bathroom.”
“I don’t understand.”
Mindy stamped her foot. “I need to…go potty?”
Ben blinked, uncomprehending. Mindy was furious. Through gritted teeth, she hissed:
“Daddy, will you take me to the potty?”
“Ah!” Ben made a lightbulb-above-head gesture. Then he shook his head. “Not this week, Mindy. That’s what your nappies are for.”
“But I don’t –“
“I have work of my own to do, Mindy. I can’t be taking you to the toilet all the time. So just ask me for a change with your new word sheet. I’d say every three or four wettings should be plenty.”
Mindy was aghast. “I WON’T!”
“Oh, I think you will, Mindy. It’s what little girls do. Now let’s get those mitts off for now. The sooner you get writing and finish your essay, the sooner I’ll consider letting you out of nappies.”
Mindy opened her mouth to protest, but as he unclipped her mitts and freed her hands, she realised she was beaten. Sitting down before the computer, she heard the nappy rustle once more.