Pauline starting taking the active role in our lovemaking, deciding if and when we would make love and then making me lie passively on the bed while she mounted me and took her pleasure. My wife’s domination of me had an energizing effect on me at work. I pushed through several projects ahead of schedule by personally solving whatever riddles had been slowing research. It seemed like at work I could do no wrong; I fairly sparkled with creative insights. Work had become a form of play for me and I wallowed in it happily. When I entered the room the occupants became quieter and when I began to speak, the room became hushed. Even the secretaries who as a group had never been impressed with the ivory tower types who they were forced by an unkind fate to serve, became willing worshipers at the temple of my ego. In a crowning moment, the lab director had his third heart attack and I was selected as his successor. My earlier brilliance had dazzled the President of the Board and they looked forward to making obscene amounts of money from my work.
My standing at work reached its zenith as my status at home continued to crawl toward its nadir. Sex became a rare event for me as Pauline seemed to loose interest in having “normal” relations with me. Not that she was sexually frustrated, she would force me to get on my hands and knees every night in front of the couch and “pleasure” her with my tongue while she watched porno movies on the VCR. On Saturday afternoon after a large lunch of mixed vegetables, I had the “accident” I had feared. Pauline was sitting on the couch with her legs spread wide for my “services” as I knelt in front of her and prepared to render her the attention she felt I owed her. I got down on my hands and was bowing my head into her lap when an ominous rumble came from my gut. The all too familiar need to visit the bedroom made me stop and ask for permission to leave and take care of my physical demands. Pauline grabbed me by the ear and forced my head back into its submissive position. I resumed my duties praying she would be satisfied quickly, but my hopes were dashed when I heard the sound of the tape being rewound. I released a small fart followed closely by another. “Oh God,” I prayed, “Please let me hold it in a little longer!”
Pauline was writhing on the couch in front of me as she approached a crescendo of passion. I felt my bowels start to move and tried to pull away from her, but she pushed my face deep into her bush as she started to climax. She groaned in ecstasy as my overburdened bowels let go and I began filling the diaper. I saw her eyes glaze over in passion and was quietly slipping away to sneak into the bathroom when the smell of what I had done hit her. She flew into a rage and told me what an infant I had become, then she seized me by the hand and led me into the front hall. She grabbed a double handful of clothes from the closet and took them into the living room while I waited, quivering with fright in front of the open closet. When Pauline came back she told me to get into the closet and stay there until I learned to behave myself. She locked the door behind me and I stood for hours in the darkness before I finally sat down. I was terrified of what she might do, I whimpered at the door until she told me to stop my caterwauling or she would take a hairbrush to my behind. About an hour later she came to the closet door again and told me she had to do some shopping. I moaned silently as I heard the news. My bottom had started itching and I knew I must be getting a bad case of diaper rash. I felt like I had to BM. By the time she got back, I would have pooped and peed in my diaper again. I stood until my legs wouldn’t hold me and then I sat down in the tiny closet in the mess I had made. I sucked my thumb while she was gone and tried to think about other things rather than the itching. After a while I fell asleep leaning against the wall.