No Turning Back

No Turning BackTaken from the forced regression tale:

Full Force I: Dakota

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here is a story about how to turn your life around and how to return to the beginning … without turning back.


No Turning Back – 

Monday morning, 9am

Dakota pulled up to the front gate of a residential area that looked very well-to-do, from her initial impressions of it. And as Misty said it would be, it was only a twenty minute drive to get there.

Following the directions Misty had given, Dakota drove through the streets of the residential area, each having a compound name. Taking a left onto Windmill Drive, she looked at all the houses – then realizing that they were condos and also noticing that they were connected in groups of four. Each condo looked slightly different but had the same basic shape. And every one of them had the same light orange brick facing on the outside. This emotional therapy session that Misty and Morgan offered must have been quite profitable for them to be able to live in such a ritzy place. No, Dakota didn’t see any mansions in the residential area, but it didn’t take a genius to recognize that it took a lot of money to live there.

She turned right onto Greenhouse Lane, drove up one block and then turned left onto Stockroom Drive. But her thoughts began to move away from compound road names and fancy homes. Without any reason other than her nearing destination, Dakota began to wonder, once again, what this emotional therapy session would be about. She still couldn’t believe that her sister had arranged this whole thing for her or that she had actually agree to go through with it. But nothing else had seemed to work and her life was falling apart.

Looking at herself in the rear view mirror, Dakota then angled it upward to prevent the temptation of taking another look at herself. The idea of not having any make-up on at all was detrimental to her psyche in itself. It didn’t seem like a good platform for the repair of emotions or the quest to become reacquainted with self-esteem. But then again, maybe that was the point. Being female herself, maybe Misty understood the necessity for Dakota to shed all of those superficial garnishments that women often adorned themselves with, to not just look more attractive but also to feel better about one’s self.

The societal demands of women’s appearances would certainly have no place in this treatment. So maybe it was good that Dakota had no make-up on. But that didn’t mean she was happy about it. And there was no way anyone was going to change her mind about this matter. At least that’s what she thought. And that’s what she kept telling herself.

She had only packed three or four outfits, not knowing what kind of clothing to bring. She got the sense that she wouldn’t be leaving Misty and Morgan’s house for a few days. So her outfits didn’t necessarily need to be anything fantastic. Turning onto Safehaven Lane, the road at the back that drove slightly into the woods behind the residential area, Dakota caught first glimpse of Misty and Morgan’s house.

It seemed so picturesque, like something from a Robert Frost poem – with details that easily could be read but could only be fully appreciate when seen. The driveway was lined with little outdoor lights on either side. There wasn’t a single crack anywhere in the macadam. The front lawn was perfectly manicured and edged, flowers being planted around the trees out front and also along the front edge of the house. It was slightly shaded from the nearby trees, keeping the sun from making it too hot to be outside to enjoy the weather. The whole property was well-maintained and inviting. It was very much the home setting Dakota and her sister had never known.

Parking her car behind the silver Lexus, exactly as the directions had said to do, Dakota took in a deep breath. She looked over at the small walk to the front door, deciding whether she was going to go through with this or not. Misty had stated clearly: “We don’t want to make you do anything you don’t want to do”. So Dakota knew the decision was hers. But once she walked into that house, the agreement she signed would take effect.

Knowing that traveling this far to only now chicken out at the last minute wasn’t going to help anything. Her reason in being there was because she had allowed her life to fall apart and to spiral her out of control. It certainly wouldn’t kill her to walk into the house and try. But to do nothing, to turn the car around and drive away and continue leading a life that was self-destructive – well … that probably would kill her at some point when her roll of the dice came up as snake eyes.

Turning her car off and opening the door, Dakota put her feet down and got out. She got her travel bag from the back seat and started to walk towards the front door before she gave the whole thing another second thought. But there was no time for second thoughts anymore. The decision had been made and there was no turning back.

Slowing her steps down, Dakota looked at the nail polish on her toes and hoped that she wasn’t supposed to have removed the nail polish. It just seemed like an appropriate thing to do when going bare-foot, or in the present case, when wearing sandals and exposing her toes. Her heart pounded in her chest. Oh my, was she nervous. Maybe it wasn’t rational to be so worked up, but it didn’t change how she felt. This was a kept-up property in a beautiful house that was tucked into the woods just behind a fairly ritzy condo community. She was safe. She knew she was safe, but her stomach still welled with butterflies.

Getting to the front door, she paused a second, wanting to ring the doorbell right away but also wanting to run back to her car and drive away. Maybe she could just police herself a little better from now on. Maybe she’d just stop going to the bars for a while since her drinking nights always led to bad decisions and drunken mornings in strange bedrooms. Maybe she’d look for a better job and hopefully, she’d find a better path in life. Maybe this emotional therapy session wasn’t necessary at all.

But before she could talk herself out of going into the house and before she could even turn to run back to her car, the door opened, Dakota having never rang the doorbell at all. And there stood Misty.

“Hello, Dakota. Come in. Come in,” Misty said with the same sweet voice and cheery disposition she always had as she stepped to the side and welcomed Dakota into her house.

“Thank you,” Dakota said, softly and sweetly – exchanging pleasantries with her as she walked into the foyer and began to eye up the inside of the house.

It was just as impressive as the outside. There was a lot of woodwork, from railing and borders on the walls to the staircase to quite a few pieces of furniture she could see as Misty led her into the front living room where Morgan was seated.

“This is a beautiful house,” Dakota said, taking a seat on the end of the sofa and placing her travel bag by the sofa’s side.

“Thank you,” Misty said, sitting on the arm of the chair Morgan was seated in. “We’ve worked very hard to make it exactly what we want it to be.”

“I can’t get over the detail in the wood work everywhere,” Dakota said, looking around the living room.

“That’s all my husband’s doing,” Misty said, stroking her hand across Morgan’s shoulders. “He did it all by hand.”

“You did all of this wood work yourself?” Dakota asked, Morgan smiling and nodding. “That must’ve been a lot of work.”

“Well, it was done systematically,” Morgan explained, Misty standing up and walking into the kitchen. “When you break it down into the components of the process, it just takes time. That’s all.”

“What do you mean?” Dakota asked, only moderately interested but still being polite.

“Well, it’s like everything in life,” Morgan explained. “First, you remove the things you want gone, which in this case was all the warped and aged wood that was in this house. Second, you clean the areas and prep them for new wood. Third, you sculpt the new wood. And finally, you install it.”

“Before we moved into this house, we lived in a tiny cottage-like place about an hour from here,” Misty explained, returning with a tray of kettle tea – sitting down on the other side of the sofa and setting the tray on the coffee table. “At that place, we had a wood shed that Morgan converted into a wood shop. And it was there that he spent countless hours chiseling and sanding the wood you see everywhere.”

Dakota looked wide-eyed up at all the woodwork and then, just as wide-eyed at Morgan.

“That’s unbelievable,” Dakota said.

“That’s my husband,” Misty said proudly as she poured Dakota a cup of tea.

“It’s no big deal,” Morgan said, turning the attention away from himself.

“He’s terribly humble, isn’t he?” Misty said to Dakota, sharing a little girl talk as she handed Dakota a cup of the tea.

“What kind of tea is this?” Dakota asked, sniffing its steam and then gently blowing on the surface of the tea.

“It’s chamomile tea,” Misty said, pouring a cup for herself and for Morgan. “It has herbs in it that calm the stomach as well as mild anxiety. I thought it might help you since it looked like you were having trouble making the decision to come in.”

Dakota smiled admittingly and then took a sip of the tea.

“I can understand why you hesitated,” Misty said, helping to ease the girl’s nerves a bit more. “It’s never easy to accept help that, in reality, you may not actually need something.”

“Yeah,” Dakota said, then sipping from the tea again before continuing. “I thought about maybe doing a few things differently in my life. You know, with the choices I make.”

“Good,” Misty said, setting her cup of tea down on the coffee table. “That’s actually step number one: making the decision to take new action. It doesn’t mean anything needs to be omitted from your life. Most people don’t do well with sudden and exacting changes. But sometimes, just taking a slightly different approach can make all the difference in the world.”

Dakota smiled again. Wow. This was a lot more comforting than she thought it would be. Neither Misty nor Morgan was pushy about anything. Perhaps this emotional therapy session wouldn’t be so bad, after all.

Misty stood up and, with Morgan’s help, slid the coffee table further away from the front of the sofa.

“Honey, would you take her bag up to her room?” Misty asked, Morgan picking up Dakota’s bag and walking it upstairs. “You see how well I have him trained?”

Both she and Dakota lightly laughed.

“I hear you two laughing,” Morgan called down from his climb of the staircase.

Misty and Dakota laughed harder.

“Here. Lift your feet for a moment,” Misty said, Dakota lifting up her feet as Misty reached under the sofa and slid out a plush yoga mat, blue in color with a vinyl cover.

“Do you do yoga?” Dakota asked sweetly.

“Yes, every morning,” Misty said, taking a seat on the mat and folding her legs into the lotus position. “Every morning, I would like you to do yoga with me as well.”

“Okay,” Dakota agreed, then realizing that Misty was talking about doing yoga with her just then.

So Dakota set her cup of tea down and stepped out of her sandals before taking a seat on the mat and getting into the lotus position as well.

“I hope you don’t mind that I didn’t take my nail polish off,” Dakota said.

“That’s fine,” Misty said quickly, answering the girl’s question but also wanting her to begin to focus on the yoga. “What I want you to do is straighten you spine, square away your shoulders, and place your hands comfortably on your knees. Then close your eyes and breathe deeply.”

Dakota followed Misty’s lead, straightening herself, breathing in deeply and closing her eyes. She exhaled slowly and deeply, then taking in another breath and exhaling again. And for a few minutes, that was all they did: breathing deeply and calmly – the open-mouthed sounds of air flow being the only noises in the room.

“Whenever I feel stress coming on, this is what I do,” Misty said softly and slowly, continuing to breath. “It grounds me, helps me to focus on the current things in my life – the things that matter and the things I have the ability to do something about.”

A few more minutes went by and Dakota honestly had to admit to herself that she did indeed feel better. It was rare that she remained so perfectly still while also remaining peaceful inside.

“Now I want you to open your eyes slowly,” Misty said, she and Dakota opening their eyes. “Good. Now raise your right arm straight up in the air and place your left palm flat on your left knee.”

Dakota did as she asked.

“Now exhale deeply,” Misty said, showing the motions. “And bend to your left while inhaling deeply.”

Keeping her right arm straight in the air, Dakota bent to her left, inhaling deeply as she felt her neck and spine crack in several places.

“Now bend back up straight and exhale deeply,” Misty instructed, doing the motions with her, Dakota exhaling while feeling places in her neck and spine cracking again as she returned to an upright, centered posture. “Now do all of that again from the other side. Close your eyes this time.”

Dakota closed her eyes, lowering her right arm, placing her right palm on her right knee and raising her left arm. Inhaling deeply, she bent to her right and then exhaled deeply as she returned to an upright, centered posture.

“Now raise both arms straight up. Inhale,” Misty instructed as Dakota followed. “Good girl. Now exhale.”

And as Dakota exhaled, Morgan took hold of the lower hem of her baby-t and lifted it straight up – the t-shirt coming up and off her frame, up and offer her stretching arms before the girl ever had a chance to react.

But react she certainly would do, and in short order.


“Hey!” Dakota shouted, spinning around to face Morgan and beginning to get up. “Give me my shirt back, you jerk!”

“Dakota, relax,” Misty said with a calm voice as she took hold of the girl’s bra strap to unfasten the hooks and eyes.

But before she could unfasten them, Dakota turned around to face her, flailing her arms to break free of Misty’s grip.

“Get off of me!” Dakota screamed, appalled at what was happening.

Then Morgan quickly knelt down behind her, reached around to the front of her body, grabbed the girl’s wrists, crossed her arms in front of her body and pulled her hands back along the sides of her rib cages.

“I hate doing this, every time,” Morgan said to Misty.

“Sweetheart, you know that some people have to start this way,” Misty said to him, kneeling up and reaching over to the end table along the far side of the couch to slide out a hand bag with a flowery design on the outside of it.

“I’m leaving. I’m getting out of here. Let me go,” Dakota said with a suddenly calm voice, hoping that if she stopped yelling Morgan might release his firm grasps of her wrists and release her from the restraint position.

But he wasn’t letting go and from the sight of the black leather bracelet things Misty had taken out of the handbag, it seemed Dakota wasn’t going to be going anywhere at all.

“Get off me. I wanna go home,” Dakota said, struggling to break free of Morgan’s grip while kicking her legs to keep Misty from getting anywhere near her with whatever those black bracelets things were.

“Please don’t fight us, Dakota. You’re going to get yourself worked up and then you will exhaust all the energy in your body,” Misty said to Dakota pleadingly, but Dakota had no intentions of cooperating. “Turn her over.”

Misty sighed softly as she watched Morgan turn Dakota over onto her belly, still keeping her arms in the cross-bodied restraint. Straddling her, he clamped her legs together with his shins and sat down on the back of her thighs to keep her from kicking.

That was when Dakota really started screaming.

“HELP! HEEEEEEEELLPP!” Dakota shrieked, Misty setting the black leather bracelets down and reaching into the handbag again.

She took out what looked like a mouth guard, like two football mouth pieces that were attached to one another and on the end of this thing was a round spout-like device. The whole contraption had leather straps tied to either side of it. As Morgan kept Dakota restrained, her belly and frame pinned to the yoga mat, Misty timed the placement of this mouthpiece gag with the girl’s screams. When Dakota screamed, she had to open her mouth to do so. And this gave Misty the chance to slip the gag between the girl’s lips and into her mouth.

“HE- … ugh!” Dakota screamed, only to be cut off by the gag’s entrance into her mouth.

She was immediately forced to breathe through her nose as the gag had a guard on the front of it so wide that it kept her from breathing through the mouth. Dakota could feel the rubber mouth pieces as they nestled around her upper and lower teeth. It really was like a football mouth piece that was intended to protect the teeth, but it was also kind of like those mouth guards that a dentist would put around your teeth if he wanted to take an x-ray of your roots or an impression of your bite. Whatever it was similar to, it shut Dakota up instantly. But it didn’t stop the girl from thrashing as hard as she could to break out from underneath Morgan’s pinning position of her.

The only problem was: Morgan was very strong and no matter how frantically she thrashed, she wasn’t breaking free at all. The only thing she actually accomplished was to quickly fatigue herself, draining the energy right out of her body – exactly as Misty said would happen.

“You need to settle yourself, baby,” Misty said with an obvious tone that vocalized how upsetting this was for her as she pulled the two lengths of leather on either side of the gag around to the back of Dakota’s head – triple-tying the ends together.

Baby? Had Misty just called her Baby? The honeys and the sweethearts worked just fine when Misty was talking to her semi-muted, wood shop husband. But why had she called Dakota … Baby?

Morgan pulled up on his grip of Dakota’s hands, clasping her fingers only to allow Misty room to fasten the black leather bracelets around Dakota’s wrists. It was then Dakota realized they were wrist cuffs and each cuff had several metal loops attached to it. Misty connected the cuffs together with a pair of metal hand cuffs that spanned the distance of the girl’s back.

Then Misty unfastened the bra strap between Dakota’s shoulder blades, this causing Dakota to begin to thrash again until that burning sensation of fatigue entered into her upper arms and thighs once more – causing her to stop for relief from the pain. Disconnecting each of the shoulder straps from the back strap, Misty disassembled Dakota’s bra – ensuring the girl would be bare-chested when she was allowed up from her pinned position on the yoga mat.

“You have to learn to give this a chance,” Misty said, reaching underneath and around to the front of Dakota’s waist as she unfastened the button of the girl’s short shorts – lowering the zipper.

As the shorts were slid down her legs, Dakota began to thrash again – her feet kicking so wildly that Misty had to back up to prevent being kicked by the girl. Sensing what needed to happen, though he had no desire to do it at all, Morgan grabbed Dakota’s shoulders and moved her torso over onto the middle cushion of the couch. Her knees touched the yoga mat and with a simple hand placement to the center of her back, she was incapable of sitting up – for the restraint bondage of her arms. She was incapable of alerting anyone who might’ve been near the house – for the gag in her mouth and for the distance the house had from the nearest neighbor.

What started as a pleasant surprise from what Dakota expected had quickly turned into a nightmare unimaginable. What did Misty and Morgan want from her? This couldn’t have been some sort of tough love therapy, could it? Dakota panicked. She had to get out there.

“Dakota, you’re not going anywhere,” Morgan said, sitting alongside her on the sofa and placing the lower half of his right leg to her hamstrings – pinning the top half of her legs to the front of the couch. “There is no reason to be fighting like this.”

Misty quickly yanked the shorts off the girl’s legs. Morgan took hold of the waist line at the back of the girl’s panties and yanked them down to her knees, moving his leg out of the way temporarily for Misty to slide the panties the rest of the way off the girl’s legs.

Then he placed his left hand a bit more firmly on the small of her back, raising his right hand up and swing it down to connect with her bare bottom. Initially, it was the shock of being spanked that shocked Dakota’s senses. She hadn’t been spanked in a long time, not as long of a time as most, unfortunately, since her father would take his belt to her bottom until she was almost fifteen. But nonetheless, Dakota startled at that first smack from his hand and then instantaneously found new strength from adrenaline to attempt to struggle free.

She mumbled all the noise she could make with a gagged mouth. In her head, she was screaming please help me as loud as she could. But in reality, she was only making a few muttered sounds. And before muscle fatigue set in again, she was going to attempt to escape. Yes, her mouth was gagged, her arms were restrained and she was naked from head to toe. But if she could get out the house and just make it to the end of the driveway, then someone would surely see her.

And for as much as she had planned out how she would get away, the truest reality of it all still remained. Morgan had her torso pinned to the middle cushion of the sofa. His right leg kept her thighs pressed against the front of the couch and Misty had now crossed the girl’s ankles, keeping her from repeating her previous habit of kicking.

Morgan lifted his right hand and swung down, smacking her bare bottom again – this time with such force that her whole body rocked forward … pushed all the way back up onto the sofa and eliminating the small amount of successful movement that wiggling had done.

He spanked her again and again and again, keeping the same force each time and making certain to deliver the strike to the exact same spot – squarely across both of her cheeks. This was the moment when her eyes starting welling with tears. She was mumbling continuously and her mind was driving her towards a full-blown panic attack.

Every time his right palm connected with her bottom, she winced, sinking her teeth into the silicone of the mouth pieces. Though she was unraveling inside, she maintained her composure for quite a while – given the circumstances. But it was when Morgan’s arm began to tire and when the sting had traveled as deeply into the meat of her bottom as it could that she made her next wrong decision. The smacks no longer affected her as they first had, her bottom having gone numb and having built resistance for protection. So, instead of trying to get away, she simply tried to avoid further deliveries from his hand.

He would swing once and she would shift her hips, only feeling the tips of his fingers in the missed strike. He would miss again and again until he realized that she was no longer feeling any pain and therefore was no longer learning the lesson. So he shifted his strike zone down, then aiming for the very base of her bottom – where it connected to the top of her hamstrings. Her sit spots became his new bull’s eye target.

In order to strike her sit spots, he had to take his right leg away from her hamstrings. This gave Dakota the ability to move and wiggle quite a bit. So Misty attached leather cuffs to the girl’s ankles, similar to the ones on the girl’s wrists. Connecting the ankle cuffs together with the metal loops at the sides, Misty stood up and lifted the girl’s bound feet off the ground. Dakota’s kneeling position turned into one where the top half of her body was still lying on the sofa, belly down. And now, her legs were not only stretched straight out but Misty held her legs in mid-air – eliminating all ability for the girl to wiggle.

Morgan concentrated his smacks to the very top edges of the girl’s hamstrings – being careful to not bruise the girl or injure her, but at the same time, making certain each delivery had maximum force and sting.

Dakota stopped screaming into the gag. She stopped mumbling and she stopped wiggling. Her body became rigid and she began crying uncontrollably. Tears streamed down her face as if they were droplets of water falling from a leaky faucet. The numbness soon consumed the entire back of her legs, down to her knees. And the numbness of her bottom had traveled its way up to her lower lumbar.

Morgan finally stopped spanking her and caught his breath. Misty returned Dakota’s knees to the yoga mat and sat on the other side of the sofa to reason with the inconsolable girl.

“Baby, don’t keep doing this to yourself,” Misty said, tucking Dakota’s hair behind her right ear.

Dakota looked at her, seeing the tear-stained eyes Misty also had.

“It hurts me to see you fighting like this,” Misty said with a shaky voice, beginning to pet the girl’s hair. “I want nothing more than to reach inside your heart and take out all the pain that afflicts you every day. But I can’t do that. All I can do is hope you will accept our help.”

Dakota laid her head back down, closing her eyes and beginning to cry so heavily that her entire body shook with each heave for air.

“Look at you. You’ve gotten all upset, just like Mommy said you would,” Misty whispered sweetly, continuing to stroke the girl’s hair.

Mommy? Had she just referred to herself as Mommy? What was that supposed to mean?

“Baby,” Misty said with a sweet voice, Dakota opening her eyes again and looking up at her. “Do you want Daddy to take his belt off and continue?”

Horror quickly filled Dakota’s eyes just as fully as her tears did. She shook her head no. No, she definitely didn’t want Morgan to take his belt off and continue.

“Then you need to behave,” Misty said with sweetness. “You need to be a good girl.”

Oh my. Dakota’s head spun with overload. These names: Baby, Mommy, Daddy. What did they mean? Why was Misty using them?

“Will you be a good girl from now on?” Misty asked with an almost song-like quality to her tone as she ever-so-gently ran her hand up and down Dakota’s beet-red bottom.

Dakota’s mind began to travel in and out of the moment. But she kept her senses enough to nod her head yes.

“That’s a good girl,” Misty said with sugary sweetness, gently patting the girl’s bottom. “Lie down on the yoga mat. It’s okay.”

As fearful as a child in the dark, Dakota knelt up and then eased down onto her back on the yoga mat with help from Misty’s caring arms. She looked over at Morgan who had taken a seat on the floor next to the yoga mat.

“Be a good girl, Dakota,” Morgan said to her with that deep-timbre of his voice.

It was then that Dakota blushed her first bit of embarrassment. She was completely naked and lying there in front of Morgan. But further embarrassment was on the way for her.

Lifting her head up to see what Misty was doing, Dakota couldn’t believe what she saw her taking out of the handbag.


Monday morning, 10:00am

A diaper? Really? Was that really what Misty had just taken out of the handbag?

Misty set the white disposable undergarment next to Dakota on the yoga mat. Dakota stared at it with eyes great big and wide. This wasn’t therapy. It was a freakish hallucination. It had to be. What? Did Misty intend to put that diaper on Dakota? And did Misty and Morgan expect her to actually wear it? Oh God, to use it? Were they going to keep her bound and naked for such a length of time that she would have to use the bathroom before this incarceration ended?

Misty next took a pink plastic container of baby wipes out of the handbag and then a container of baby powder.

This wasn’t happening. No way. No how. No, sir. She began shaking her head, fighting back the sniffles as she did so. Morgan rose up on his knees, reaching down to his waist and unfastening his thick brown leather belt. Slowly, he pulled it out from inside the loops of his pants. And as he did so, Dakota lightly shook. The thought of a belt striking her already sore bottom was a bit nerve-wracking, to say the least. And though she still had a lot of fight within her, at that moment she paused to contemplate her options. Soon she would realize, however, there was only one option available for her.

Misty took hold of the ankle cuffs with her left hand, lifting the girl’s legs up and doubling them back. With her hands still restrained by the wrists and connected to one another behind her back with a pair of metal hand cuffs, Dakota kept her eyes on Morgan. With horrid fear, she watched him fold the leather belt in half and then grip it in his right hand. She startled back to the present when she felt her bent knees touching her chest. Misty had folded the girl’s body in half and now with a reddened bottom being presented as a target, she mumbled her pleas for him to not strike her with the belt. Her eyes welled with tears and she heaved for as much air as two nostrils could take in at a time.

“It’s okay, baby,” Misty said, kneeling on the yoga mat and scooting herself up towards Dakota’s back side. “Just be a good girl and everything will become so much easier for you.”

That was it. There wasn’t anything more that Dakota could stand hearing without losing her mind. She kicked her bound ankles free from Misty’s grasp, flopping her legs over in the direction of Morgan – thusly, turning her bottom away from the threat of his strike. Misty pinned the girl’s legs down, holding the girl on her side as Morgan put the belt down and got behind Dakota. He unfastened the metal hand cuffs from the wrist restraints and immediately took hold of the girl’s wrists. Not missing the opportunity to possibly get away, Dakota threw her arms straight out at her sides as she sat up – preventing Morgan from connecting her wrists cuffs together before he got the chance. But he held onto both of her wrists as Misty held onto the girl’s ankles.

Sitting up and facing Misty with Morgan behind her, Dakota tried flailing her arms about to free them from his grasp … to no avail.

“Baby,” Misty said softly, Dakota looking at her and Misty smiling at how the girl was now responding automatically to the name. “You’re gonna get all worked up again and you’re gonna tucker out, just like before.”

Dakota squinted her eyes, sinking her teeth into the mouth guards as she tried to control her anger. People had pushed her before, not anything close to the current way she was being pushed – but very much the same in sentiment. Dakota had never reacted kindly to being forced to do anything she didn’t want to do. Still completely clueless as to why Misty and Morgan had stripped her naked, spanked her and bound her, she wasn’t thinking as rationally as she normally would have. But her determination and need for independence had never been more resolved.

Wiggling her legs, her arms and her torso while making the most horrific sounding squeaks imaginable from behind her mouth gag, Dakota began a battle that was most unlikely to end in her favor.

“Baby, this isn’t helping you to get better inside,” Misty said with that consistent sweetness in her voice.

Dakota screamed into her mouth gag, mumbles being the only discernible noise she made. Oh, how audacious to suggest that Dakota was sick in any way – albeit emotional, mental or in whatever way Misty meant it when she said inside!

Dakota struggled harder, fighting through the pains of fatigue but not freeing her wrists or her ankles. And though it seemed she was tiring once again, she wasn’t tiring quickly enough this time for another bit of understanding to sink in for her. So, Morgan pinned her wrists to the yoga mat, forcing the girl down onto her back – Misty continuing to hold the restrained and connected ankles. And when on her back, Dakota found a loss of movement in her arms that enabled Morgan to draw her hands up above her head and to connect the wrist cuffs.

Dakota squealed when this happened, then closing her eyes and beginning to shed new tears. She was beginning to register the eventual truth that she wasn’t going to get her way and inevitably, she would stop struggling for loss of energy. Only Heaven knew for sure if she would wind up in that diaper or not when she finally gave up the fight.

“Fussy girl,” Misty said sweetly with a tone that made Dakota feel very small. “How much longer are you going to keep this up?”

But Dakota was a survivor. Yes, she would eventually stop, but only after every ounce of energy was gone. And that poor naked girl drained just that out of her body … every last ounce until she was so exhausted she went limp all over. She came to rest on the blue yoga mat without any more physical fuss … for the moment, at least.

“Now, let’s try this again,” Misty said, taking the girl’s ankle cuffs in her left hand a second time and lifting her legs up in the air – Dakota opening her watery eyes as she once again felt her knees touching her chest.

Misty reached for the pink plastic container of baby wipes, opening the top and taking one out.

“Emotional therapy deals with more than just emotions. It deals with everything that’s happening on the inside of you,” Misty said, touching the cool wipe to Dakota’s reddened bottom – Dakota wincing and gasping for air before allowing herself to mellow into the relief the coolness brought to her enflamed skin. “See? That’s not so bad, is it?”

“Emotions are the culmination of how we feel, of how we have been treated, of what has happened to us, of how we were affected and of how we have chosen to deal with the events of life,” Misty said softly and sweetly, taking a second wipe to the girl’s bottom and then to the top of the backs of the girl’s hamstrings – Dakota melting slightly at the relief from pain. “But therapy is the treatment of things within that have become too much for us to handle alone. It’s a joint effort between us and the people who are here to help.”

Misty reached for the diaper, picking it up and unfolding it. Dakota blushed an embarrassment she didn’t even understand. How humiliating was this going to be? And why a diaper? What element of emotional therapy would a diaper represent?

Misty unfolded the diaper completely, touching its soft inner thickness to her tender, affected bottom. Dakota felt a degree of dizziness wash over her vision. But my, oh my, the diaper was soft. And how wonderful it felt, indeed.

“Therapy often treats imbalances as diseases, calling them disorders in medical books. But you don’t have a disorder, baby,” Misty said with continuing sweetness as she placed the diaper flat to the yoga mat, sliding the back waist line of it up to Dakota’s lower lumbar line. “What you have is a simple case of an abundant feeling of being overwhelmed while having no opportunities to find balance again.”

Misty picked up the container of baby powder, twisting the top and pouring a liberal amount of the powder into her right palm.

“So the best way to help someone who feels hopelessly inundated is to take away the things that are making her feel so swamped in life,” Misty said, touching the palm-full of powder to Dakota’s left bottom cheek and caressing it across to the right.

Dakota closed her eyes again, the tears that were welled in her eyelids streaming down from the corners of her eyes. And she whimpered once, ever-so-softly and ever-so-gently. Oh my, Misty not only knew what to say but she also knew how to be very gentle.

“That’s my baby,” Misty said with maternal sweetness as she reached up to Dakota’s face with her left hand and wiped the tears off the girl’s temples with caressing finger tips. “Soon, you won’t have a reason to cry anymore. So when you shed tears in the future, you’ll no longer know why. And that’s a really big first step to take … letting go of those things that make you feel hopeless, that overwhelm you and that hold you down.”

Dakota smiled at the thought, for as much as a gagged mouth would allow her to smile.

“Morgan and I will take care of everything you need on the outside and this will take the overwhelmed feeling away, leaving you the time to begin to piece together why your emotions seem broken,” Misty said, picking up another wipe and leaning back into a kneel. “Lower your legs, baby. And place your feet flat on the yoga mat.”

Dakota slowly brought her legs down, placing her feet on the mat.

“That’s a good girl,” Misty said with sugary sweetness. “You’re doing very well. Mommy is very proud of you.”

Misty placed both of her hands on Dakota’s bent knees.

“Open your legs, baby,” Misty said sweetly, Dakota opening her eyes and looking up at her with a gaze of lost helplessness. “It’ll be okay. Listen to Mommy and do what Mommy tells you to do.”

Dakota trembled, not wanting to give up control of her free will. But at the same time – the more control she gave up, the better she felt. She had already gathered the sense that if she listened, she would be taken care of and taken care of in a manner that was very, very alluring. She could already sense the deep-rooted nurturing within Misty’s nature. And it seemed Dakota was the present focus of that nurturing. All indications of logic were telling her to just go with it. Yet still, she was hesitant. It wasn’t easy, giving it all up.

“Show Mommy how well a good girl can listen,” Misty said with a whispered sugariness that brought a tingly sensation across Dakota’s frame. “Trust Mommy and you will find the happiness you seem to have misplaced.”

Dakota slowly opened her knees, blushing embarrassment again as she parted her thighs and exposed herself. Misty picked up the container of powder and sprinkled an even more liberal amount of powder onto the girl’s center than what was caressed across her bottom.

“That’s my sweet little angel,” Misty said with such pleasantness that Dakota felt herself slipping into a trance. “That’s my good little BabyGirl. There she is, at last.”

And it was that moment when it registered fully in Dakota’s mind what this nurturing treatment was about. That was why Misty was calling her baby. That was why Misty referred to herself as Mommy and Morgan as Daddy. This not only was a part of the basis of the therapy she was receiving, but it was in fact, the entire basis of it.

Returning to a need for freedom, Dakota’s eyes grew big and wide. Detecting the forthcoming struggle, Misty leaned over and rested her forearms on the girl’s inner thighs – thus preventing her from closing her legs. And Dakota did indeed renew the battle, trying to squirm to get away but remaining restrained and pinned down on both ends of her body. But this time, Misty verbally ignored the battle – instead choosing to continue the tender treatment of the diapering.

“It’s okay, baby,” Misty said, keeping the girl’s thighs spread apart as she took hold of the front of the diaper and began to fold it up into place. “Everything will be so much better when you’re wrapped in a softness you will feel all the time.”

Dakota struggled as much as she could, but had little ability to do so for having fatigued her limbs already. So, though she fought in spirit, she could no longer do the same, physically. Helplessly, she watched Misty fasten the tapes of the diaper at her hips. The sounds of those tapes being opened made a strange noise, not awkward in tone but still foreign to her – as if they didn’t belong in her ears at all. But regardless, she still heard them as they ushered in a snugness around her waist that felt just as foreign, itself.

“There ya go,” Misty said, patting the underside of Dakota’s diaper in a very loving, gentle manner. “Now everything is as it should be. All betters.”

Dakota looked up at her and then over to Morgan, both of whom were smiling, not in some sadistic fashion – but rather, in a way that made clear how pleased they were to see her embracing acceptance. Albeit a momentary bit of serenity, it was still the initial sign of progress having begun. Yes, she had a long haul ahead of her, but they would make certain she got to the destination. And along the way, when she fell, they would pick her back up.

Shifting her hips, Dakota did her best to adjust to the strange feeling of thick material at her center. Obviously, it was quite different from panties – in physical feel but also in ways she couldn’t yet put to words or even put into concrete thoughts. The diaper was soft and it enveloped her center with a cozy, close fit. The powder felt a bit weird, despite how soothing it was and how sweet it smelled. But it was the crinkle of that plastic outer shell that was making powerful the dizziness inside her head. It really wasn’t a dizziness in the sense of equilibrium. More so, it was a dizziness of her senses – as if the norm had been realigned and everything she felt accustomed to was now suddenly without understandable order.

“Up ya go! Up! Up!” Misty said with animation, extending her hands out to Dakota and encouraging the girl to sit up as Morgan released his grip of her restrained wrists.

Spinning inside, Dakota sat up, not sure whether to fear the current invite or to welcome it. And when she sat up, Misty embraced her – gently but still firmly. Misty was warm, as if a maternal chord had struck within her and triggered the abundance of sweetness in her caring touches, in her tender tone and in her loving words.

“What a good little girl you are,” Misty whispered with sweetness, running her left hand up and down Dakota’s naked back. “You make Mommy very happy when you listen … and when you smile … and when you learn.”

Dakota’s brain turned to mush, only for a short time but certainly in a complete manner. Not only was Misty laying the Mommy thing on thickly, but the bulk between Dakota’s legs was throwing the girl for a loop. She couldn’t actually close her legs like normal and a mighty wide thigh gap was certain to accompany, her wherever she went … at least while she was diapered anyway.

“Hold your hands up for Daddy,” Misty instructed her, Dakota sitting back from the embrace and holding up both of her hands – her wrists still connected by the locking bracelet cuffs. “That’s a good girl. Mommy is so proud of you … so very, very proud of you, baby.”

The slightest sense of happiness came across Dakota’s eyes as she began to realize how Misty and Morgan had helped her work through one of her outbursts. Her problem solving skills had been lacking for quite some time and when she couldn’t get through certain situations, she would go off the deep-end, doing something very harmful to herself.

Though she received a spanking along the way, some restraints, a mouth gag and even a diaper, Dakota had come out on the other side of an emotion that didn’t overwhelm her for once. It was therapy, positive in effect and certain to be repeated. Misty and Morgan had some rather unorthodox methods, but clearly knew what they were doing.

Morgan unfastened the cuff around Dakota’s left wrist, the girl beaming with a glow that would’ve also included a smile – had she not been gagged with a mouth piece. The cuff loosened and Dakota shifted her hips, hearing the crinkle of her diaper and blushing another bit of embarrassment as she closed her eyes and allow that emotion to pass as well.

Thinking the restraints were going to come off, she kept her hands raised in an effort to assist the removal of her shackles. But instead of feeling her left hand freed of the cuff, she instead felt her hand being inserted into some type of rubber covering. Well … it felt rubbery, at least. Opening her eyes, she looked at the mitt-like device on her left hand and then back to Misty with confusion. Trying to yank her left hand away from Morgan, Dakota saw the second mitt in Misty’s hands – being prepared for her right hand.

“These are for your own good, baby,” Misty said with sincerity but also with the same sweetness she always used when speaking to Dakota.

Dakota shook her head no and tried to pull her left hand away again, but not before Morgan slid the loosened cuff back up into place on the girl’s left wrists – reattaching it around the bottom of the mitt and making it impossible to get the mitt off her left hand.

“Be a good girl for Mommy,” Misty said to Dakota, readying the second mitt as Morgan took hold of the girl’s right forearm – readying to loosen the cuff on her right wrist.

Dakota sat there, suddenly not certain how to feel at all. The mitts instantly represented a loss of rights and she thought back to her spanking, her battle with them physically – wondering if there was going to be more restrictions added while things continued to be taken away from her.

“I can see the confusion in your eyes,” Misty said, sliding the second mitt onto the girl’s right hand, Morgan then reattaching the cuff at the mitt’s lower edge – making this mitt just as impossible to take off as the other one. “Listen and Mommy will explain.”

Morgan handed Misty the metal hand cuffs, Misty then detaching the links of the girl’s ankle cuffs and reconnecting them with the metal hand cuffs in between. This gave Dakota a slight bit of relief as her feet were no longer forced to remain right up against each other, but the girl was all abuzz now with the newest realization that, not only were her restraints not going to be taken off just then, but she might be restrained for quite some time to come. Walking was going to be challenging for her and the end suddenly seemed confusing to her.

What was the destination, the purpose, the goal, whatever it needed to be called?

“You will receive what you need when you need it,” Misty said with a continued syrupy-sweet tone, contrasting the physical dominance she was showing. “You will receive what you want … as you earn it.”

And the therapy of her emotions began to accelerate.


Dakota sat there on the yoga mat – gagged, restrained at wrists and ankles, diapered, her hands in mitts and her mind in a blitzed state. Misty reached into the handbag again and took out two of the cutest little booties Dakota had ever seen. She would have thought them cuter still had she not suspected she would be wearing them shortly.

Wanting to flip out again, Dakota declined her own wishes – instead allowing Misty to put the booties on her feet. They were soft, made of wide-fibered cotton. And they were a soft pink, just like the mitts on her hands, just like the blush of embarrassment on her face and likely the color her bottom still bore – the remnants of a behavior-modifying spanking. Now Dakota knew why Misty didn’t mind that she had shown up with nail polish on her toes and fingers. What more was going to happen to her? This just kept getting stranger and stranger.

But the final straw was about to be introduced to her, or rather, she was about to be introduced to it.

“Upsies!” Misty said with animation as she and Morgan took hold of Dakota’s mitted hands and bent elbows – helping the girl stand up onto her now bootie-covered feet.

Dakota looked down at her waist, already sensing how the diaper was going to affect her movements. Lowering her chin but looking up at Misty for instructions, she awaited what next she was told to do.

“Follow Mommy and Daddy,” Misty said, encouraging Dakota to follow Morgan in the direction of the staircase. “It’s time we showed you which room is yours.”

Dakota looked down at her feet, ankles restrained in cuffs and the cuffs connected to each other by a pair of metal handcuffs. While the metal handcuffs gave her the ability to space her feet apart in a normal stance, they wouldn’t allow her to take very big steps at all. Looking up at Misty, Dakota gave her a pleading look to unlock her feet. But from the glow in Misty’s eyes, Dakota could tell that her feet wouldn’t know freedom any time soon.

“It’s okay, baby. We’ll go slowly,” Misty said, softly and supportively – patting Dakota’s diapered bottom and making the girl take a step forward. “That’s it. Just one little step at a time.”

For as simple as it seemed, this wasn’t going to be easy. And Dakota wasn’t just thinking about walking in restraints, in that regard. It was the whole thing, this whole emotional therapy thing. She never liked being told what to do and she certainly didn’t like to be forced to do anything. But maybe she knew she had exhausted all other avenues. And the real truth of it all was: Dakota wasn’t going to do anything to help herself until she was forced to. Her sister had set this therapy session up. Misty and Morgan were seeing it through. And Dakota was actually grateful for the intervention. There wasn’t likely any time in the near future when she would admit to this or say thank you or even have the ability to speak, it seemed, at this point. But she had her limits, like everyone and she was quickly being pushed to meet them.

Each shackled step did get a little easier. Each restriction and new additive was being accepted and adopted. And her diaper kept crinkling, all along the way. Her steps, small and belabored, were accompanied by a waddle that kept throwing off her balance. The diaper was fastened around her so tightly that it moved exactingly with the movement of her hips, making it impossible to have grace in stride. Dakota could now clearly understand why babies waddled. And from the bulk gathering of material between her legs, she could understand why their legs always bowed a little bit.

Lifting her head up, Dakota saw Morgan standing at the bottom of the staircase, luckily just a few more steps away. Crinkling, waddling and practically shuffling her feet, she made it over to him – somewhat exhausted from the short stroll.

“Now take hold of Daddy’s hand and Mommy’s hand. And we’ll help you up the stairs,” Misty instructed her, Dakota lifting her mitts up.

Morgan took hold of her left hand and Misty took hold of her right. And Dakota sighed before lifting her right foot up, barely able to get it to the first step. Morgan and Misty lined up along either side of her as she began to slowly climb the staircase with them.

Oh, how embarrassing this was and how ridiculous she felt. But then again, this wasn’t nearly as bad as all those mornings when she would wake up in a stranger’s bed – climbing out the bedroom window before they woke up and scaling the fire escapes to get down out of their apartments … popping the morning after pill in her mouth as she made her exodus.

“That’s a good girl. One little step at a time,” Misty repeated sweetly, then looking over at Morgan. “Isn’t she adorable?”

Morgan nodded and smiled, his usual non-verbal forms of communication.

“What a good girl you’re being,” Misty said to her with such syrupy sweetness that Dakota felt those tingles she only ever got when receiving certain types of attention.

It seemed odd that Dakota would feel anything pleasant from this experience. But given the circumstances – of what had already happened and of what was likely yet to come – she wasn’t being picky about what made her feel good on the inside. And with those tingles fueling her onward, a crinkly diaper making her waddle and blush, Dakota was beginning to grow just a bit more accustomed to a therapy session she would never be able to explain to anyone.

Dakota reached the top of the staircase, breathing heavily through her nose and a bit exhausted from the climb. Immediately she was embraced by Misty, receiving a series of gentle pats to her diapered bottom.

“What a good baby you are,” Misty said, taking hold of her mitted hands and leading her down the upstairs hallway, heading towards the first door on the right. “Mommy’s little diaper girl.”

Dakota lowered her chin, waddling along and feeling a rush of sensations in her tummy – as if she was being overwhelmed with a good emotion. Well, that was a nice change of pace. And though she was still trying to catch her breath, Dakota was about to have her breath taken away completely. And she had no idea it was about to happen.

Morgan opened the first door on the right and the brightness of sunshine pouring out of the room caught the girl’s attention. There must have been an enormous bay window in that room to allow such amounts of sunshine to cascade all the way though the room and into the hallway. Indeed, she was right. There was a bay window in that room, bigger than what she had imagined. But it wasn’t the bay window that stopped the waddling girl in her tracks.

Being led into the room by Misty, Dakota allowed herself to be directed onto the circular rug in the center of the room before she overcame the state of denial her vision had put her in. Staring at everything in that room with eyes great big and wide, Dakota blinked again and again and again, even rubbing her eyes with her mitt-covered hands once or twice to make certain what she was seeing was real.

“This is your room, baby,” Misty said cheerfully, Dakota thinking otherwise.

It was a nursery, complete with every conceivable things needed to take care of a baby. There was a changing table, a rocking chair, a dresser, a closet that was likely filled with all sorts of clothing. There was so much more, including a crib … an absolutely enormous crib.

Dakota immediately freaked out, turning and waddling quickly back toward the door. But Morgan wrapped his arms around her, preventing her from escaping but not preventing her from thrashing.

And thrash she did, with all the might she could muster. But, given the series of energy-draining struggles she had had already that morning, it didn’t take her long to give up. Still, she flailed her bound wrists, cracking Morgan on the left side of his forehead.

He scooped her up into his arms, the poor girl wiggling furiously to get away, but to no avail.

“Baby, do you want Daddy to go back downstairs and get his belt?” Morgan asked with that deep-timbre in his voice, Dakota promptly freezing in place. “Do you need Daddy to spank you again?”

Dakota shook her head no and then rested the side of her face on his left shoulder as he carried her over to Misty who had taken a seat in the rocking chair. Placing her in the cradle of Misty’s lap, Morgan helped the weeping girl to settle in her lay. Dakota rested her head against Misty’s chest, continuing to cry – somewhat inconsolably.

Morgan knelt down in front of her and brushed her hair out of her face.

“It will get easier for you,” Morgan said with a calming quality before he leaned forward and kissed Dakota on her forehead. “But you have to try, harder than you have ever tried anything before.”

It was then that Dakota saw the slight cut and bruising skin on the left side of his forehead. Reaching up with her mitt-covered hands, she touched his wound – wishing she could apologize and wishing she could kiss it better.

“Lean back, baby,” Morgan instructed her, Dakota obeying him swiftly – for how horrible she felt for having physically hurt him.

Misty held up what she was holding in her right hand. Yep. That was a baby bottle for sure, though it didn’t have a rubber nipple on the end. It did have a cap, but there was a small hole where the rubber nipple was supposed to be.

Cradling Dakota’s neck and head on the inside of her left elbow, Misty slid the hole in the baby bottle onto the little spout that was sticking out of Dakota’s mouth gag. Then, she began to turn the bottle, screwing it onto the spout.

Was Dakota expected to drink the contents? Was she really being fed from a bottle? Was Misty serious?

“Drink from the spout, baby. And swallow,” Misty said sweetly.

But Dakota wasn’t cooperating. Though fearful of another spanking, she still refused to draw the fluid into her mouth. So Misty began to gently squeeze the sides of bottle, forcing the fluid into Dakota’s mouth. The poor girl squealed and kicked her legs as she started crying again. She cocked the back of her throat and prevented herself from swallowing the fluid as it began to fill her mouth.

“I think someone is gonna need a nap after this,” Morgan said, standing up and walking over to the crib – lowering the side railing and preparing the crib to receive Dakota shortly.

Seeing him do this only upset the girl that much more. She was just one step shy of throwing a full-blown temper tantrum, complete with pouting and a scowl on her face as she refused to swallow the fluid. From the taste it had already left in her mouth, she could tell it wasn’t milk. It was some sort of sweet-tasting formula. Regardless of flavor, she wasn’t going to drink. No way. No how. No, sir.

“I think you’re right, honey. She’s so tired, she’s just thoroughly fussy,” Misty said, squeezing the bottle a bit more so and forcing a greater amount of fluid to fill the girl’s mouth fully.

Dakota tried not to allow any more fluid to flow into her mouth, but the inevitable finally happened. Pressure forced her to release the cocked position of her throat and she helplessly began to swallow the formula with big gulps. She would’ve cried even harder if her throat wasn’t busy with swallowing. But inside, she was fully crying – as yet another bit of freedom was being taken away from her. It wasn’t easy to give up control. It wasn’t easy at all.

“That’s a good girl,” Misty said, beginning to rock back-n-forth in the chair as she laid the sweetness on thickly. “Swallow it all. Be a good girl for Mommy.”

Dakota gazed up as Misty, tears having welled in the girl’s eyes and then having streamed down her temples for new tears to well up in their vacated place. They kept eye-contact with each other as Dakota kept swallowing the mouth-fulls of formula. And though Dakota couldn’t have explained why, even if she had the ability to speak just then, there was a small bit of bonding between her and Misty that took place at that very moment. Without further fuss, Dakota lifted her mitt-covered hands up, taking hold of the baby bottle and drawing from the spout. This battle was pointless to continue. But she would fight again later.

Misty smiled warmly, tears beginning to fill her eyes, too.

“I’m so proud of you, baby,” Misty said with an affected whisper.

Whatever the bit of remorseful sentiment that had taken Dakota over was about, she suddenly found purpose and need in finishing the bottle … just so she could hear Misty say, once again, how proud she was of her BabyGirl. It was praise that Dakota could find herself working towards – again and again, whenever she wanted. It felt good to make Misty proud of her – as if Dakota’s accomplishments – even the small ones – mattered to someone.

And that was a nice change in pace, too.

“Your restraints are just as mental as they are physical,” Misty said, touching the side of Dakota’s face as the girl kept swallowing the formula. “When we begin to see you let certain things go, we will begin to remove the physical restraints.”

Dakota felt like fussing again, but she just couldn’t … not at that tender moment anyway. She knew what they were attempting to do to her. They were going to force her to deal with the things she had allowed to steer her life into chaos. And to get her to focus on those troubling things, they were going to keep her in a state of babyhood – where she would always be looked after and tended to and fussed over and cared for and loved – the kinds of inundation in life that were good.

“You will not be spanked again,” Morgan said, getting up from the side of the crib and walking over towards the rocking chair as the bottle feeding ended.

“So you’re going to have to come to terms with a lot more than you ever have before,” Misty said, unscrewing the empty bottle from the little spout on the front of Dakota’s mouth gag.

Morgan scooped her up and carried her over to the crib. She was placed on her belly and one at a time, each of the restraints was removed from her wrists and ankles. But immediately after each restraint was removed, that limb was placed in one of the several cuffs that were attached to the crib mattress – including a leather strap that fit across her waist and tied down the center of her body.

When they were done fastening her to the crib Dakota began to weep again, but Misty began to gently rub her back and pat her diapered bottom.

“It’s nap time, baby. You’ll be asleep before you know it,” Misty said, turning on the music toy at the foot of the crib – a lullaby tune beginning to play. “Rest up and get your energy back. And when you wake up, Mommy will help you use your energy in positive ways.”

Morgan rose up the side railing of the crib. He and Misty remained by the crib side for a few more minutes until they saw the grogginess beginning to glaze over Dakota’s irises. Then they quietly left the nursery.

There was sleeping medication in that formula and something else, but she didn’t quite know what it was. Before long, she would learn what true humiliation was about when receiving her first diaper change. But before that happened, she would fall asleep.

With the last remaining seconds of consciousness ticking away, Dakota wondered how long she would be staying at their house, how long she would be restrained, how long she would be diapered and most importantly … how long it would take for her to let go of everything that she needed to.

With no answers in mind, she knew only one thing for certain … at that point: there was no turning back.

Dakota Book OneFull Force I: Dakota

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……….. The Full Force Series


Full Force I: Dakota
Full Force II: Dream Land
Full Force III: Extreme




13 responses to “No Turning Back

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