Housebreaking a new pet

From determined sleuth to diapered

Chapter 1 by Pampered Princess Pampered Princess

My heart was pounding something fierce, beating in rythm with the sound of my heels click-clacking over the sidewalk. I tried to tell myself not to be nervous, but I couldn't kid myself - there was plenty of reason to be nervous. For one, what I was planning to do was actually dangerous, regardless of how many safeties I had agreed upon with my source, my contact on the inside. But the tingling crawling from my neck over my spine into my nether reaches also stemmed from a different kind of nervousness. Some part of me was actually looking forward to this - to the danger, to the taboo, to the kinkyness. Of course, at this point I was telling myself that this part of me was journalistic instinct - the hunger for a good story.

Underneath a thin satin blouse and a lacy bra, my perky chest was heaving considerably, and my nipples were pushing against the fabric quite visibly even through the layers of clothes. I had put considerable thought into my outfit. I wouldn't have had to. After all, I likely wouldn't be wearing them too long anyway. When I had applied for "enslavement" at the Institute, I could simply have opted for the self-collaring - a simple pickup where the only clothing prescription would have been that I would have put on the leather puppy-collar which would have been sent to me in the mail. Instead, seemingly on a whim, I had chosen the full package - the off-the-street-. For a moment, I had even considered choosing the home-invasion-, but I hadn't wanted to actually reveal that much about my personal life. It had been a far easier choice to untick the "" and "gangbang" options when I had mail-ordered my own - I couldn't believe that women actually voluntarily chose to be fucked by complete strangers before letting themselves be dragged off into a new life, although admittedly, my panties had been pretty soaked by the time I had finally pressed "send" on my enslavement application.

With the option I had chosen, I had been given rather specific instructions on how to dress. Considering my age of a bare, nubile 18 years, I hadn't been too surprised that I was instructed to dress as a naughty schoolgirl - and I hadn't skimped on it. If I was doing it, I was going to do it right.

I was wearing a plaid skirt that was barely covering my shapely bottom, let alone the tops of the sheer white stockings covering my athletic legs. As the skirt wafted around my swaying hips, I was in almost constant danger of uncovering my white, lacy thong. My sensual, satin blouse was unbottoned enough to allow a gaze at the brim of my bra, and my tie was loose enough not to cover any of my cleavage.

With every step I took, my gorgeous, braided red pigtails were bouncing around my shoulder, suggesting an innocence that the rest of my outfit clearly didn't support. An innocence that was far removed from what I was planning to do.

I tried to calm down my breathing as I was approaching the street-corner. At the back of my mind, there was a voice constantly screaming at me to stop, to turn around, to leave. But I didn't. My feet seemed to have a mind of their own as I tried to ignore both my worries as well as the growing spot of wetness on my panties. I could already see the corner where I would have to surrender any agency I had left in this. And yet, I didn't stop. And as I finally surrendered any choice I had in the matter, I arrived.

What happens to me at the street-corner?

Want to support CHYOA?
Disable your Ad Blocker! Thanks :)