Those Who Will Not Learn… Must Feel

Thanks very much to Samantha for commissioning this one!

***

This is… intense.

Oh, I'm enough of a brat that I'm still not entirely regretting smart-mouthing Daddy this morning. He knows by now how outspoken I can be. How I don't really mind taking out the trash and washing the dishes and all those other little chores he sets for me. How I still can't help myself sometimes, and how I love to needle him into action by brattily refusing to do what he says…

Not because I actually don't want to. But because I love pushing his buttons, and seeing just what sorts of punishments he can dream up for me: his disobedient little sub.

He's got some imagination, I'll give him that. I wince now, the white spackled corners of the living room walls filling my vision. Corner time is nothing new to me, of course – but being stuck there in cuffs certainly is. They weigh on my wrists and ankles now, firm and heavy and uncompromising, holding me here as Daddy's shackled captive slut. I've twisted my wrists behind me, at first as a petulant show of resistance, but now in desperation to regain at least some degree of control. And yet they hold, tight and cool and firm, refusing to allow me even the dignity of brushing back the messy strands of blond hair that now tickle my sweating face…

Oh, but if you thought the cuffs were it, I have a surprise for you. They're only the beginning.

"Fine! You still want to talk back? I'd love to see you try, Shayna. Just try it now. Try and show me what a disobedient, mouthy little brat you are!" So Daddy had exclaimed, forcing the gleaming red ball gag deeper into my reluctantly opening mouth. It was the 2-inch model: not the largest my big bratty mouth has taken, but more than enough to stifle my words and turn my saucy retorts into little more than gurgling grunts of disapproval. It's still between my lips now, covered in spittle, the size more than enough to set my jaw aching as the minutes drag by.

Another dribble of drool escapes me, and I gulp helplessly as it snakes down onto my glistening front and courses between my exposed breasts. Oh, yes: Daddy loves seeing his little brat naked. And I suppose short of giving me a bib to mop up my drool, leaving me naked this time only makes sense. The wet river that's been coursing down my front the past hour would definitely have soaked through anything I'd have been wearing. And besides, there's something so slutty and satisfyingly humiliating about being stripped down… forced to leave my pretty breasts hanging all free and naked and exposed for everyone to see…

Naked, I said? Well, almost.

I squirm here on my aching knees, less aware of their discomfort than of other sensations coursing through me. The feeling of the thick, plastic-covered bulk rubbing between my thighs. The diaper's rustling tightness around my hips. The soft, oddly dry-yet-wet texture of the cotton against my shaven pussy. Yes, these are the sensations of a diaper girl: her panties having been stripped away, her Daddy having pushed her down onto the floor and forced his protesting – as yet ungagged– brat to lay still and accept her humiliatingly babyish punishment…

"You don't like it? Well, I know exactly how to help solve that!" And in that moment, he'd slipped it in: the wireless We-Vibe vibrator, the one whos powerful vibrations had never yet failed to send me crashing down into shuddering orgasm within a matter of minutes. Deep into my bum he'd slipped something else, too – something greasy and burning, something which I hardly dared think about for fear of what it foreboded. Closed had gone the diaper, locking me tight in what was essentially a padded prison. Anti-chastity, Daddy had called it with a sadistic laugh. That combination would leave me not deprived and chaste, but tensing and cramping and moaning in primal, nauseated longing… with no choice but to keep on submitting to whatever devious vibrations he sent deep into my very core.

A helpless diaper slut. That is what I am now. Bound and gagged and powerless to escape my punishment. Kneeling here in my corner, while behind me the nanny cam Daddy told me about is dutifully recording my every struggle and beaming it back to him in his office…

I shiver as the vibrator flares to life once more, and the cuffs around my ankles clank ominously as I bend forward, struggling to find respite not only from the burning cramps in my suppository-stuffed ass, but from the vibrations that are sending a fresh wave of tingles through my captive and spittle-covered body. God, this is insane! I just came what seems like mere minutes before – in a flurry of drooling grunts and jerking ankles and long-drawn moans – and now my clit is acutely sensitive to even the slightest sensation. Fuck, this- no, it's too much-

But the cotton prison around me has been pulled taut, and no matter how I struggle, it refuses to relax. Firmly against my clit the vibrator remains pinned, and as the vibrations resonate through the thick cotton padding, I feel another bubble of orgasm already welling up within me. No, not again! Think about anything. Boring encyclopedias. Car engines. Drywall. Yeah, nothing erotic about that-

And then the vibrator slips into high, and a surprised whimper escapes me along with a fresh trickle of drool. The undeniable realization of my humiliating predicament comes crashing down upon me, and I'm gone within seconds. I'm cumming again, in a burst of guttural moans and spasming muscles and desperately crinkling, clinking helplessness…

When I recover myself at last, the vibrations having subsided once more into a light background hum, I notice a different hum from the coffee table behind me. It's my cell phone – and powerless as I am to escape, I can only listen and wonder who it might be. Is it- no, surely not-

It is. Daddy knows damn well that he programmed my phone to auto-answer his calls. On speaker.

"Hey, baby," his voice sounds behind me. Cool. Calm. Smiling with suppressed sadistic pleasure. "I can't help noticing that you seem to be having quite a time with your punishment. Just now, especially…" Then a measured pause. "It really seemed like you were enjoying yourself quite a lot. And being pretty loud, I bet."

I nod silently, knowing that if I turn to face the camera I'll be breaking Daddy's orders. Then comes the voice again. "Remember why I put that gag in your pretty mouth, baby? It's because you were being way too noisy." I gulp again, another wet trickle escaping me as if to remind me of my hapless condition. I'm shivering, my burning anus quivering, my entire body a-tingle with distress and arousal at Daddy's words…

"Then I put you in cuffs because you weren't holding still for me. But they don't exactly seem to be keeping my dirty little slut still after all, do they? Just like that gag doesn't seem to be keeping you quiet, either." His voice is growing stronger now, more stern and authoritative. "Listen, Shayna. You're going to stay there and take the rest of your punishment like a good girl. QUIETLY. No moving, either. Daddy's going to be watching – and listening. And believe me, he can definitely cook up an even bigger punishment if you decide to disobey…"

Has he hung up? I don't know. But the silence in the room becomes deafening, the shameful crinkle of my diapered ass sounding loud in my burning ears. I'm on display for Daddy: being tested, watched, surveilled for any sign of disobedience. I have to stay still, quiet, submissive. A bound, quiet little slut-toy for him…

Is it a surprise to anyone, really, when the vibrator jolts to life once more with a devilishly insistent hum?

I'm writhing. Desperate to obey, to avoid Daddy's impending threat of even greater punishment. But bombarded with more sensations than I can handle. There's the cool trickle of drool down my chin and front, the tug of the cuffs on my limbs, the ache of my jaw, the soft bulk of my diaper, the frantic buzz of the vibrator between my legs… and then, before I can help it, the hot splatter of burning, glycerin-fueled shit from my quivering rosebud.

Yes, I'm shitting myself at last. I can't help it, not with all those suppositories Daddy stuffed inside me. But strangely enough, I find that even as I sweat and writhe and tremble under my body's betrayal, Daddy has done something more devious than I'd even realized. Yes, I may be drooling and bound and gagged for him. Yes, I may even be helplessly soiling myself like a literal infant.

But it's not shitting my pants that I'm scared of anymore. On the contrary, finally letting this churning mass empty out into my diaper is bringing me immense relief. As it happens, my biggest anxiety now has become whether or not I'm being quiet – while shitting my pants.

And wetting them, too. Because now that I've lost control so shamefully, there's no longer any point to holding in my pee, is there?

"Such a dirty girl! Phew, did someone make a stinky boom-boom in their pants?! Such a dirty, dirty little slut! Looks like you really do need that diaper, don't you?" It's Daddy – who I thought hung up minutes ago. He's still listening… watching… and now openly taunting me. "Now I'm curious. Did you really enjoy that, you dirty thing? I wonder what happens when I turn the vibrator up… to high?"

The hum between my legs rockets into the stratosphere. And within seconds, I'm shaking, shuddering, blubbering in tears of rage and joy and fear as the sensations tear through me like lightning. Amplified by the now soggy and gooey diaper, the vibrations are engulfing my entire being, forcing the most shameful, guttural moans and gurgling wails from my gag-filled mouth. I'm writhing, doubling over, sinking helplessly onto my smelly diaper, twisting in my bonds as ecstasy washes over me like a tsunami. And all the while, my mind is reeling, repeating sordid mantras drawn from my dirtiest fantasies…

Smelly little slut- Stupid, brainless, cock-sucking bimbo- Just a stupid, shitty, dirty whore… Daddy's drooling little fucktoy… Pea-brained little slut… Just a giant, overgrown shit-bottomed baby…

I suppose I'm disobeying again as I squirm and gurgle and bawl my way through that final burst of orgasmic ecstasy. I'm certainly not being anything like quiet anymore. But frankly, I don't care. I don't have a choice, after all. Not when Daddy's in charge.