by Shire, Devon
“Good girl,” he said, teasingly. “Now just three more.”
My brow furrowed in aggrieved annoyance. I hated how he could do this to me and how I couldn’t stop him. Everything I threw at him failed. Over and over, he mocked me into another level of degradation.
Heart pounding, I started to hope he wouldn’t spank me again. My skin started to cool and he stroked the back of my thighs. He teased me and helped me relax until I unclenched my arms and legs and simply spread out over his lap like a satisfied kitty cat.
His touch disappeared. The sensations vanished, and I closed my eyes, knowing what was about to befall. It didn’t matter though, not when I couldn’t stop him. Trevor’s hand clapped down. The stinging rang through my body again. It hurt, and my eyes started to water.
“Two.”
“Good girl. See, you can learn, can’t you?” When I first refused to respond, he petted me again, only this time it lasted but a few seconds. “Oh well, as long as you count, you’ll be a good girl.”
He spanked me. The pain burst through me, and I could barely think straight, but I cried out, “Three.”
“One more. Can you handle one more?”
It was a test. If I said yes, I would be daring him to spank me again. I didn’t want to paddle me over and over again. If I told him no, then it would make me sound like a pathetic baby. Whatever dignity I had left would be shredded even farther, especially because that one word would be mine. I would have to say it. It wouldn’t involve drugs or locking panties.
“No.”
“Sorry,” he said. “What’s that again? You need to learn to speak up, baby girl.”
Tightening my lips into a grumpy pout, I struggled against the impulse to stay silent. If I could just shut up, then I won. That’s all it would have taken, but I surrendered again, “No. I can’t handle one more.” Drooping my head, I felt small and meek and utterly beaten.
“Good girl. It’s good to be honest. It makes you feel good to be honest, doesn’t it?” On and on, he talked to me as though I were some toddler who required extra attention just to get through a conversation.
“Yes,” I said.
“Okay, baby girl, you don’t need any more spanking.”
“Thank you,” I breathed through my teeth, loathing the sound of those words.
“Don’t thank me yet, Baby Claire. There’s something else you still have to do, isn’t there? Yes, there is!”
The color flooded my cheeks again. My face lit up with the same shade of bright red as my thighs. Panting through my nostrils, I glared down at the floor and wished I could burn a whole into the material.
“What did you want to say to me?” Trevor mocked. He went back to caressing my thighs. He teased my skin and made me groan through the tendrils of pleasure that coursed through me. It felt so good to get petted like this, especially in comparison to the rabid stinging.
I buried my pride and pretended this wasn’t really happening, “Trevor, thank you for spanking me.”
“Why would you thank me?”
“Because it was an important lesson.”
“And will you behave now?”
I had already come so far. Shutting up dangled in front of me again. Sure, he would spank me until I surrendered again, and yet I still wanted to resist. I wanted to defy Trevor and make him understand that he couldn’t train me.
“Yes.”
“Such a good girl,” he said again, only this time he started to pet my head. He ran his fingers through my hair and scratched the nape of my neck. I relaxed and moaned lightly. “Now we just need to get you fed. Are you hungry?”
The last word triggered something. My stomach tightened at the thought of how I hadn’t eaten all day. Trevor chuckled and helped me back onto my feet. “Now sit down,” he ordered, “and I’ll get you something to eat.”
He patted me on the head, spun around and left the room. The door closed behind him, and I heard a lock click into place.
Instead of wasting some time on the door, I waddled over to the window and tried to shove it open. The glass didn’t move. Nothing happened at all, and I realized this one was locked too. He had me trapped.
Within seconds, the door swung open, and Trevor strolled back into the nursery. He had one arm behind his back again. “Are you hungry, baby girl?”
My stomach clenched again. “Yes,” I said. “I’m hungry.” I didn’t know what he had for me, but I figured it had to be better than nothing. Besides, the drugs still pounded through my muscles and made it hard for me to move.
At the last moment, I decided not to eat. No matter what he had for me, I wouldn’t take it.
Trevor sauntered across the room, took my hand in his, and led me back to the rocking chair. Unable to resist, I toddled after him. Each waddled step seared my face with shame until he yanked me back down onto his lap.
This time, he had me on my back. This position ground at me the wrong way, primarily since he had a perfect vantage of me. He could look down and see me diapered and humiliated before him like some toy. If only I hadn’t sipped that orange juice, none of this would have happened. Regret and shame simmered through me as I struggled to appear neutral, detached. I didn’t want him to know how much this affected me.
Trevor lifted his other hand, so I finally saw what he had been hiding from me. I imagined food. I imagined some crackers, probably something juvenile. I remembered Mia, my little sister, eating nothing but animal crackers as a little girl. Now he would make me do something similar.
It was worse.
It was so much worse.
He had a bottle ready for me.
It was an actual baby bottle complete with rubber top and elongated nipple. He wanted me to take it between my lips and suckle like some infant.
Well, he couldn’t make me drink if he couldn’t make me open my mouth. Shutting and locking my lips tight, I glared at him and shook my head, just once to make it clear this was not going to happen the way he planned for me. I didn’t care if he spanked me again. I would not be bottle fed.
“Oh, I thought you were hungry,” he said, almost wounded or simply confused.
I shook my head again, refusing to answer.
“Are you sure?”
I realized what Trevor had in mind. If I said yes or anything at all, then he could shove the bottle into my mouth and hold it there. Sure, I could have tried to shove him away, but realistically, that wouldn’t work. He was too strong, and I didn’t have a chance. So I kept my mouth shut.
“Is it because you’re a cranky girl? Is that why you don’t want your bottle?”
Glowering at him and wishing the heat of my stare could actually ignite his shirt, I shook my head. He was teasing me, and I shouldn’t have given any sort of response, but the temptation proved too great.
“Oh, maybe your diaper is wet. Maybe that’s why you don’t want your bottle, baby girl.” Before I could stop him, Trevor stuck his hand down against my crotch. The plastic cover kept everything tight, but he managed to wiggle his fingers down against my pelvis, then to the junction between my thighs.
He kept his eyes on me, holding my attention. I froze up, every muscle in my back and limbs clenching up. I even exhaled and forgot how to pull in another gulp of air because he had his finger on my lips. My core heated up, only now it seemed to blossom so much more quickly. The diaper trapped all the warmth against me, and now that his hand was down my diaper, there was a lot more warmth.
I kept panting through my nose, hoping he would tire of teasing me. No, he wanted more. He wanted to see me squirm as his fingers stroked me lightly at first. My body responded to his touch. It didn’t matter how hard I tried to fight or to simply control myself. Running his finger up and down the length of my slit, sliding back and forth, he worked me until my body opened up for him.
He touched his finger down into my core
, and I felt myself turn hot and molten for him. Trevor watched me and played with me. He rediscovered my clit and massaged me. His pulsating fingers worked their way, down and up, down and up. Predictable at first, Trevor changed rhythms and rotations until I couldn’t stand it anymore.
I came. He made me orgasm in a diaper, and my mouth opened to cry out as the burst of pleasure exploded inside of me.
My mouth opened and he brought the bottle down. At once, I realized my mistake and tried to dislodge the stupid, rubber nipple, but by then it was too late. He wasn’t going to let me go. He held the bottle firmly in place. Unlike most baby bottles, this one must have had a flexible set of sides, because he gave it a squeeze and a shot of liquid spilled down into my mouth.
He gave another squeeze. More of the juice splashed against my tongue, which left me a choice. I could swallow it or choke.
I had to swallow.
The liquid tasted sweet, a little bit like milk, but there was something else there too. I couldn’t help but wonder what he added. Trevor’s cunning smirk made it clear this bottle would set me back and make it harder to get away.
Every few moments, he squeezed the bottle again. With the main shaft so close, it blurred in front of me, yet I could still make out how much I had left. About a quarter down, I hoped he would let me stop. I tried to push the bottle free, but he swatted my hands and made sure I remained there, limp and compliant as he bottle fed me.
By the time half the contents were left, I started to relax. I didn’t want to. I tried to focus on how humiliating this was. I imagined Mia seeing me like this. Sure, she would have obviously tried to help me. No matter our problems, she was still my sister and would never want to witness me degraded like this. But it wasn’t enough. My body settled down and I started to drink automatically. It became another set of impulses I did without thinking, like breathing or blinking.
He withdrew his hand from my diaper and instead started to rub my stomach. His caresses matched the rhythm of my drinking, which made it easier to fall into the pattern and let go. For a few minutes, I forgot about my sister and my car and my life. I didn’t think about how I was a college educated woman who had won awards and scored incredible grades. I impressed my teachers with my maturity and well-articulated arguments. All of that disappeared as I sucked and drank and clamped my lips tightly around the nipple, just like a baby girl.
When the bottle had less than a quarter left, I swallowed some more and started to whimper. I felt full and didn’t want to take in any more. Trevor chuckled again, petted my brow, and reminded me how I had to drink up so that I could get big and strong someday.
His patronizing response to my whimpered plea helped reenergize my rage, not that being angry got me anything. I had to keep drinking on and on until the bottle was finally empty and I started to suck on air.
“There. Now don’t you feel better?” he asked.
Sitting me up on his lap, I hoped he might have finished. I started to wonder if I should admit he was right. Maybe age really was just a function of maturity, but no, I thought of my sister, and my resolve hardened. I wasn’t going to lie just to get out of this, no matter how he embarrassed me. So long as no one else found out about this, I didn’t have to acknowledge it even happened at all.
Trevor maneuvered me against his shoulder. At first, I didn’t understand why he wanted me in that spot. Then he patted my back until I burped. Oh my God, I couldn’t believe it. He actually burped me!
Satisfied I was ready, he pulled me back and sat me down against his lap. My padded butt crinkled against his leg.
“Now that you’re all full, I think we need to get you ready for your day.”
“How?” I asked, quiet and timid. I didn’t like how he seemed to have cowed me, and yet I didn’t have the strength for any serious resistance, not when another set of drugs might have already been running through my veins. Without knowing what he had done to me, I couldn’t force a brave face.
“Well, before you can play, we need to get you cleaned up. I think a nice bath is in order, don’t you?”
“No!” I screeched at once. “No bath!” My skin burned bright red again since I sounded so infantile. Even as a sense of dread and panic rushed through my chest, I knew I sounded pitiful.
“Silly girl,” he said, clearly bemused. “What is it about babies and wanting to avoid baths? You’ll feel so much better once I get you cleaned up.” With my vagina wet from his attention, I loathed the idea of him getting me naked and in a tub.
Trevor ended the conversation there. He took my hand again in his firm grip and led me from the nursery. I threw a backward glance at the rocking chair, changing table, play pen, and dressers. I couldn’t believe that I regretted leaving this room.
Seconds later, he opened another white door for me and nudged me into a big bathroom. It had double sinks, a massive mirror, marble flooring, and a giant bathtub. Almost big enough to swim in, the tub looked more like a hot tub, but before I noticed anything else, my eyes instantly went to the manacles. Thin, silver toned chains snaked down. A set of four, they ended with locking manacles.
I bit my lower lip and turned to Trevor. “Please, I’ll be good. I don’t need a wash or a bath or anything.”
“Really?” he asked and bowed his head so his nose got close to my waist. He took a pair of exaggerated sniffs. “Silly girl, you smell very naughty.”
Heat coated my face as he ordered me to stand in the middle of the room. Bristling, I couldn’t bring myself to accept this, and yet I didn’t have the will to defy him either.
I clambered to the center of the bathroom. He ordered me to lift my arms above my head. Feeling warmly submissive, I realized something was wrong. My thoughts felt oddly fuzzy.
The bottle! He laced it with something, only now I had my confirmation. He drugged me with one of his products, something to make me more compliant.
“You’re just figuring it out now, aren’t you?” he asked, his voice low and dangerous. Only inches away from my ear, his breath sent shivers down my back. He had already made me orgasm twice. A small part of me longed to enjoy his touch again even as the rest of me raged against the thought.
“You dosed me again,” I said, pointing out the obvious, only my drug-addled head needed time to catch up. I swallowed and asked, “What was it?”
Trevor smiled, and for the first time, I saw real warmth in his expression. His eyes got dreamy and distant for an instant before he refocused on me. Running one finger along my cheek, he nodded, “There’s a lot of money in training women. You can all be so willful and defiant. I think it’ll be helpful to have a little incentive to make sure you behave.”
Anger boiled in my chest, speeding my heart, yet I maintained my cool and asked, “The diaper? Babying me?”
“A philosophical point,” he said. “I want you to admit that age has really nothing to do with chronology. The amount of time you’ve spent in the world doesn’t matter so much as what you’ve learned. So tell me, what have you learned? Give the right answer and you might get out of that diaper? Hell, I might not even make you wet yourself.”
My eyes jerked wider at the thought. No, he couldn’t do it! Right then, I resolved that it wouldn’t happen. At the same second, I decided I wasn’t going to let him win at all.
“You won’t make me think I’m a little girl. You’re just some overgrown kid who has some impressive toys.”
“Really?” the spots around his eyes crinkled as he barely contained his amusement. “You think you can say that when I have you diapered and waddling around here, unable to even walk like a big girl.”
I responded with a glare.
“You’ll learn,” he promised and pulled my blouse over my head and shoulders. A second later, he unclasped my bra and threw both articles of clothing off to the side. “Don’t worry. You won’t need the big girl clothes for a long time. If ever. Now get i
n the tub.”
“What about the diaper?”
“You’ll have to ask,” he flashed a wicked grin.
My eyelids slipped down as the rest of my body sank under the strain of this latest insult. He wanted me to ask. He wanted me to beg for him to strip me naked, removing the last vestiges of modesty and self-respect.
For a good three seconds, I stayed quiet, but then something itched at the back of my throat, and I started talking. The words came out without any effort on my part. I mumbled, “Please, Trevor, take my diaper off me.”
“Why should I?”
I took another deep breath. The frustration and aggravation built to an almost intolerable level, yet the soft taste of submission kept me talking and compelled an answer, “Because I need a bath.” I talked through my teeth and tried to keep my voice down, but he had no trouble hearing me, so he had no trouble laughing at me.
“Only because you asked so nicely.”
Trevor retrieved the key and unlocked the three clasps. He loosened the cords, got down to one knee, and yanked the plastic panties down. I hated the truth, but I liked the feeling of freedom, though I would never admit I owed it to Trevor.
The plastic panties came down, and then Trevor stopped. I reached for the plastic tabs myself. A quick tear would have ripped the diaper free, and I could act like an adult again, even if I had to be in a bathtub and get washed by my little sister’s boyfriend.
Trevor stopped me and said, “No, no, baby girl. Who do you need to get your diaper off you?”
“You,” I admitted under duress.
“Good girl,” he said, releasing my hands and letting them drop to my sides. He patted me on the head again, one more way to demean me. As the blush faded from my body, he touched the diaper taped sides and tore them away. I spread my legs and the heavy plastic and cotton prison dropped to the floor.
“Thank you,” I said. I didn’t want to do it. The words just fell out.
“You’re learning,” Trevor said and tweaked my chin. “Now get in the tub.”
I did it. I climbed into the tub. Stretching over me, Trevor strapped my wrists and ankles into the manacles. As he worked, I tried to convince him they weren’t necessary. I told him I would be good, that the drugs were working, and that I wouldn’t try to get away. He smiled at me, and said the straps were for my safety.
