. that ... isnot for me it is for my nephew."She smiled at me and put her hand under the table and on to my crotch,squeezing the nappy. .".. and the ...ummies? ... and the feeding bottle?... and the baby formula? There is no need to pretend, I am very broadminded. In fact I find it very interesting." "Tell me, do you ever wet your nappy?" she continued looking straight atmy face."Sometimes," I whispered, "but not often, ... please don't talk soloudly."She laughed. "Silly boy, no-one is. By design, the beaten copper plates she woreover her chest freshened Hell with the slightest of movement. Small holes inthe centers of each disk allowed her nipples through, yet the circumferences ofthe holes were unfinished. Nerve endings fired from fleshy nubs scraped raw. The brief skirt made of interlockedmetal rings did not cause further pain, but clearly was designed more as somesort of light armor and less for any sense of modesty. Beneath its loose weaveher tightly cropped nest of. More

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