Nobody's Perfect

by Laura Goodwin

Well, nobody is perfect, least of all me. I was lax and allowed my slave to develop a frightful habit, now I have to train him out of it.

It all started innocently enough. Bruce got a horrible back injury while at work. He had a ruptured disk and it caused pressure on some nerves. As a consequence, he lost sensation in the lower half of one side of his body. He couldn't feel part of his leg, and many of his muscles on one side stopped responding to nerve impulses. He lost the ability to hold his bladder all night, among other effects.

This was a disaster. My poor hubby! He of course was entitled to workman's compensation, etc. but that is cold comfort when your life is so severely affected by an injury. Bruce is a strong man who delights in athletics: he is an avid softball player, skier and horseman, so to be able to do none of the things that normally brought him pleasure was a horrible enormity of a blow. Not only was Bruce now unable to walk or run normally, but he was forbidden to lift anything. He had to start wearing an adult-size diaper at night, just to keep from wetting the bed. My poor, poor darling!

All the rough play we used to enjoy was gone, perhaps forever. We endured months of suspense as we waited for Bruce to recover after a surgical procedure that left an eight-inch scar on his spine. We watched anxiously for every small sign that even a fraction of his former ability was returning. Thank goodness his sexual function was unimpaired! Bruce could still feel his penis, and get erections, have orgasms. It seems weird to be grateful for that, but all things considered it seemed a blessing.

So now my strong, manly slave who used to wait on me hand and foot was limping around, wearing diapers at night like a big baby. What is worse is I couldn't sleep at night. I'm a very light sleeper, and the confounded rustling, crinkling sound of the diaper would disturb me every time he moved. I also began to feel a little disgusted. I'm ashamed to admit this, but although I tried to rise above it all, I finally couldn't stand to be sleeping next to a diapered man. It was frankly a huge turnoff.

I asked Bruce to begin sleeping in a separate bed. A bitter pill, but he bore this rejection bravely. We made it a slave game.

In the first few weeks after Bruce got hurt, the muscles on the lower half on one side began to atrophy. His beautiful butt that I loved so much began to look lopsided as one cheek began to shrink for lack of nerve impulses. Bruce understood perfectly well that this was a four alarm fire of an emergency for our sex life. His visual appeal was a big part of his total appeal to me. We both were very dismayed by this development, and Bruce resolved with firm determination to do whatever he could to rehabilitate himself.

Bruce worked like a slave with the physical therapist, and began to make progress. As the months went by it became apparent that he was on the mend. His butt on the bad side began to fill out again, and Bruce grew strong enough to walk without a cane.

Bruce never got all his feeling and function back. His leg on that side is still numb. But he has gotten most of his strength back, and he can walk, run, ski, and do all the things he used to love. He was very brave and an incredibly good sport through this whole ordeal, and my love and respect for him has grown immensely.

He's been able to hold his water at night for a long time now, but after we got in the habit of having him sleep in his separate slave bed, we just kept it like that. We also seem to have kept another noxious little holdover: Bruce developed a fetish for being diapered. It's definitely a fetish. He sent for "adult baby" publications, and has taken to showing an unwholesome amount of interest in that whole scene.

Oh, this was NOT part of *my* grand design! The adult baby thing frankly gives me the creeps! I have real children, and I have had enough of diapers and all that goes with them! But I must admit I fostered it in him while the crisis was upon us just to make the horror of our situation less unbearable.

It was difficult to know at what point it was time to stop pitying Bruce and time to start being hard on him again. So I let it pass when he kept buying diapers for himself. He was diapering himself at night long after he still needed to, and not for the same reasons, I don't think.

I'm quite sure by now that the time has arrived to engage in a little behavior modification! I told him to drop the diaper business, and he flat out disobeys me! He surreptitiously has been diapering himself even against my expressed wishes, which I can't allow. Fun's fun, but he is not supposed to forget that he's my slave.

Yeah, well, I'm not supposed to let him forget. It's my fault. I'm the one that is supposed to be training him to be perfect for me, and I have been dropping the ball.

I told Bruce this morning that every time I catch him diapered, or have reason to believe he's been diapering himself, that he's going to get caned. I caned his ass this morning, and locked his genitals up in an iron chastity device I happened to have handy. He has to wear that all day, and I may start making him sleep with it on, too. I do not want a big baby: I want a slave man. He's going to be a proper slave from now on, and that's it.

This essay and all site contents Copyright L. Goodwin 1990-2001