I know that I am weak, inferior, and a sissy, and long to feel the contempt and envy of women, to be wed. On my first visit, Nanny Amanda spiked my food with wine, and force-fed me with the concoction. The taste was vile, but to be made to eat or drink Nanny Amanda's or Nanny Susan's water places me in my proper station. If my Nannies wish to use me as a toilet, or to train me to clean the floor with my tongue, then that is right and proper for something as low and vile and pathetic as a grown man who wants to be treated as a babygirl. Indeed Nanny Amanda had hinted at spiking my calorie intake with urine that day, although that could have been yet another example of bluff and misdirection, aimed to confuse and mystify, to control and mould. Or again, it might not have been, for I couldn't know until it happened.


When I was to leave that evening, I was to leave knowing that I would leave knowing that I was not able to truly do so any more. After a comparatively short time I had already discovered that there is an overhang. An echo those events. I have visited Mistresses and Nannies before. By and large those forays had one thing in common; the events have rarely been up to the billing, and certainly did not surpass it. Once concluded, they were certainly concluded, and left a bitter and acrid taste, like unto ashes. This was not the case so far, and my belief was that it would not be the case therein. When I left those premises the echo would be the echo of thunder. When leaving, one wished to re-live and dwell upon the experience, to reprise and retrace it, or more precisely, build upon it. The reason for this is, I assume, is relatively simple, straightforward and uncompelled. Most such experiences are similar to the old fairground shell game, or an Internet pay site with lots of banners and no content.


What I craved, what all masochists, all slaves and submissives crave and long for, is realism and style in carrying out that realistic approach to the training, punishment, and humiliation of slaves. Now the moment approached, and I was wishing to try and complete this, my heart was racing, as was my pen. OH NO! I've failed. Nanny Susan is here, and the clocked is stopped, just short. Nanny however is feeling generous, or else has yet another trick up her sleeve, as always, for she has given me another fifteen minutes more. However, if this is not satisfactory, I will face re-doing this all again. I am afraid that this may be also a trick and a trap, and the real punishment, if needed, will be even worse, and more vicious. That however remains to be seen. Because Nanny Amanda can change the rules of the game at any time.