Visiting

Visiting with you was quite an experience . . . like I said, I’m still processing.   I’m glad that through conversation, and by meeting you I was able to feel comfortable giving control away.  I just wanted to share some thoughts—didn’t mean to write so much, but I guess our play time gave me lots to think about.

The main theme of my head-space was “Should I try to get out”(of my crinkly diaper bondage)?”.

When I was in my teens, in the Boy Scouts, at meetings some of us would play around, occasionally all ganging up on one of our buddies, to see if we could subdue him / pin him down / make him cry uncle.  They could never pin me down. . . but I felt they never tried hard enough.  I could always wriggle and kick my way out of any situation, and clearly remember wanting to actually lose—be subdued/dominated, while earnestly trying to win.  It is one thing to pretend that you are being controlled.  ‘Tis a much deeper thing to actually have no control.  It is a place that I’ve long wanted to visit, and with your help, I went there.

Back to “Should I try to get out . . .?”.

So, I’m lying in a huge crinkly diaper, mummified and hooded—slightly physically uncomfortable in a very happy/kinky/comfy/content sort of way.  The little brat boy in me wants to test my bondage—to try to get out.  But I’m fairly comfy, and I know when Daddy finds me trying and/or succeeding to get out, he’ll take the next step necessary to pacify me.  And I understand from the hints that he has dropped, that greater control/pacification = less & less comfy.  With the hood on, I don’t even know if he is watching.  For all I know he could have 5 of his friends there, watching me trying to test my bonds.

If I submit, I can continue to be comfy.

But I want to really try and get out—but I don’t want to become “less comfy”—but then sometimes I get a thrill imagining exactly what “less comfy” might entail . . .

If I struggle and fail, maybe I experience the thrill of realizing that I am in fact being truly controlled and pacified.

If I struggle and succeed, maybe I get the bratty thrill of breaking the rules and/or maybe I end up experiencing a new level of bondage—one that I may not like as much as how I was treated when I was being a good boy.

If I don’t try to get out, how do I know if I am truly in bondage—completely controlled?  And if I don’t try to get out, how will I ever find out what other tricks Daddy has up his sleeve to make me be a good, compliant diaper boy?

This theme of resistance vs. submission / passivity vs. punishment is still burning in my head.