Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 67320 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 269(@250wpm)___ 224(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67320 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 269(@250wpm)___ 224(@300wpm)
“I need to use the bathroom,” I said, feeling my cheeks flush.
The men looked at each other again, and then both chuckled.
“What’s so funny?” I snapped.
“That’s not how it works here,” Rudy said, moving to a dresser on the far wall. He opened a drawer and removed what looked like a thick white cloth.
My blood ran cold as I realized what it was.
“No,” I whispered. “No way.”
“Daddy Jax’s rules,” Mateo explained, as if that settled everything. “Little girls who belong to Daddy use diapers when he’s not around to take them to the potty.”
“I am not wearing a diaper,” I told them.
“That’s not your decision to make,” Rudy replied calmly, unfolding the diaper on the bed beside me. “You can cooperate, or we can restrain you further, but either way, this is happening.”
I stared at the thick white cloth, my mind reeling with the implications. This wasn’t just about sex or ownership—this was about complete control, about stripping away every last shred of my adult dignity. The thought made my stomach twist with revulsion.
And yet, to my absolute horror, I felt a treacherous pulse between my legs.
“Please,” I whispered, hating how pathetic I sounded. “I’m not a child. I just need to use the toilet.”
“We’d lose our jobs if we let you,” Mateo said, his tone almost apologetic. “Your daddy was very clear about the rules.”
I looked between them, searching for any sign of sympathy or weakness I could exploit. Finding none, I slumped in defeat.
“Fine,” I muttered. “Just… make it quick.”
They unclipped my wrists from the bedpost, but kept them bound together as they positioned me on my back. Rudy lifted my hips while Mateo slid the diaper beneath me. The material felt soft against my burning backside, a small mercy I hadn’t expected.
“Legs up,” Rudy instructed.
I reluctantly raised my knees toward my chest, exposing myself completely. Mateo sprinkled baby powder over my most intimate areas, the scent sweet and infantilizing. My cheeks burned hotter than my spanked bottom as they worked together to secure the thick padding between my thighs, taping it snugly around my hips.
The diaper was bulky and unmistakable, making it impossible to close my legs properly. When they helped me sit up again, I could feel its thickness with every slight movement, a constant reminder of my new status.
“There we go,” Mateo said, reattaching my cuffs to the bedpost. “All ready for when your daddy arrives.”
They gathered their supplies and moved toward the door.
“Wait,” I called, panic rising in my chest at the thought of being left alone. “How long until… until he comes?”
“Whenever he finishes his business with your former associates,” Rudy answered. “Could be minutes, could be hours.”
“But I—” I bit my lip, the pressure in my bladder becoming increasingly uncomfortable. “What if I really need to go before he gets here?”
The men exchanged another of their looks.
“Then you use what you’re wearing,” Mateo said simply. “That’s what it’s for.”
Before I could protest further, they left, closing the door behind them with a soft click that somehow sounded more final than a slam would have.
I was alone in my new owner’s bedroom.
My new daddy’s bedroom.
No. Just, no: not my owner, let alone my daddy.
My new daddy… he put me in a collar. He put me in a diaper.
Collared, diapered, and bound to his bed. A tiny sob escaped my chest.
I tried to shift into a more comfortable position, but the diaper made it impossible. Its bulk forced my thighs apart, reminding me with every movement of my complete helplessness. I couldn’t even cross my legs properly to ease the growing pressure in my bladder.
For a while, I focused on studying my surroundings, searching for anything that might help me escape or at least understand my situation better. Everything looked expensive, but minimal—no clutter, no personal photos, nothing to reveal the man who had purchased me. Just sleek furniture, abstract art, and what looked suspiciously like discreet anchor points built into various surfaces. The kind that could secure restraints.
My bladder throbbed painfully as time passed. I squeezed my muscles tight, determined not to give in. Using a diaper was a line I refused to cross. It would make this nightmare too real, too complete. As long as I maintained this one small act of defiance, I could tell myself I hadn’t truly surrendered.
But my body had other ideas. As another wave of pressure built, I involuntarily leaked a small amount of pee. I gasped, clenching every muscle in desperation.
“No, no, no,” I whispered, tears pricking my eyes. “I’m not doing this.”
I tried to focus on anything else—the pattern in the ceiling, the distant sounds of the city below, the lingering taste of Jax in my mouth. But my bladder screamed for relief, and another small leak escaped despite my efforts.
The warm wetness spread slightly in the thick padding between my legs. To my horror, the sensation wasn’t entirely unpleasant. The release of pressure brought momentary relief, and the diaper absorbed the moisture instantly, keeping me dry against my skin.