paddedlittleparadise
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Full Participation Required
🕑 Added 2021-04-25 23:01:01 +0000 UTCThanks to Gold-tier Patron Samantha for the awesome idea! This one practically wrote itself, so I hope y'all enjoy. :-)
***
"Hey, babe. Something bugging you?"
Joe's low voice rumbles in my ear, and I sigh softly, shaking myself out of my delightful, post-orgasmic haze. "Oh, it's nothing, promise. And definitely nothing about your, you know, performance just now." I bite my lip coyly, smiling up into my partner's unshaven face. Damn, it feels so good when he's on top of me, pinning me down with that his muscly weight of his...
"Nothing, eh?" He knows me too well, and as his fingers begin to snake their way under the sheets to tickle me into talking, I can't help but give in. "Okay, okay, fine! You win, mister." I brush my unkempt hair from my eyes and, with a sigh, begin to lay it out for him.
"Professor Shopov is cracking down on the whole Zoom thing," I explain, struggling upright once Joe has goodnaturedly released me from his imprisoning weight. "Says that for our next class he's requiring 'full participation' – we all have to have our cameras on, no exceptions." I cast about for my discarded nightgown and begin shrugging it over my bare shoulders and breasts. "I mean, I dunno. I guess I see his point. But it's all so boring anyway, and the only way I was getting through all ninety minutes was surfing Reddit, you know?"
Joe is headed for the bathroom, used condom and wadded-up boxers in hand. "Oh, I see. Heaven forbid you actually pay attention, huh?", he snarks – then narrowly dodges the pillow I lob in his direction. "Hey! You have no clue, do you?" I splutter at his retreating back. "It's freaking Dostoyevsky this week! How the fuck am I supposed to find that remotely interesting, huh?"
"Oh, I dunno. I bet I can find a way to make things interesting for you..." His smirking face pops around the corner... and suddenly I'm hearing once again his throaty growl in my ear. You like that, baby? Of course you do. Good little sluts like you love it when they're all helpless, when they can't do anything to resist...
God, he knows how to push my buttons. And sure, I'm certainly not as kinky as he is. I'm not the one who likes wearing actual diapers, after all. But I can't deny it is pretty fun having him take control and ride me like a submissive little toy...
I snap back to reality a moment later, and he's still grinning roguishly as I make my way into the bathroom as well. "How much you wanna bet I can make that Dostoyevsky class interesting for you?" he asks as he drops easily onto the toilet seat. "Though I bet you'd be too chicken to try what I have in mind." Well, I know he's definitely pushing more of my buttons – but as my competitive side surges to the fore, I find I just don't care anymore. "You're on, babe!" I challenge him, leaning against the sink with my own smirk and eyeing his half-naked form. "I dare you to find a way to keep me entertained in class... without anyone else finding out, of course. Do your worst!"
Oh, my. Those are words I will almost certainly come to regret.
***
"Wait, honey, no... But why? Why that?"
My whining isn't going to get me anywhere, I know it. Joe's mouth is set in a firm line, his hands strong as they push me irresistibly toward our softly creaking bed. "No whining, babe. You dared me to make this interesting for you, remember? To 'do my worst'? Now, I've got a perfect plan, and I promise you – serious talk, Megan – that as long as you do your part, no one in your class is ever going to know anything strange is going on."
I recoil instinctively from the rustling padding onto which he's forcing me. "But- but a diaper? Joe, please, I didn't-" "No backsies," he scolds, and with a peevish sigh I slowly relax down onto it. "Listen, I know you like it when I'm in charge, babe. So why don't you hush up and be a good girl for me? We both know you love being my good little toy, after all..."
God, there he goes again. He knows me far too well, knows just how quiveringly, needily submissive I get for him...
And so, no: I don't safeword. Not when he slips the Lush vibrator inside me, and not even when the collar and the cuffs come out. We've rarely used the latter since buying them six months ago, but it's clear that he's definitely enjoying the process of wrapping my wrists and ankles in their snug, uncompromising embrace. "Now, slip a shirt on over those pretty tits of yours, babe," he orders, and I gratefully pull my favorite turtleneck up and over. I may be vibed and collared and cuffed and wearing one of my kinky husband's freaking diapers. But hey! At least I'll be warm... and my collar will be tucked out of sight, to boot.
"Good girl," he murmurs in my ear as he helps me up, and I make my way out into the dining room, the unfamiliar, crinkling thickness of the diaper between my thighs making me alternately blush and cringe. "I got you your coffee and your oats already," Joe explains, gesturing toward the table. "Same kind as yesterday. And you've got, what? Forty minutes until class begins?"
I do. And so I slurp down my coffee – wonderfully strong and sugary, just as I like it – and as I munch my overnight oats, Joe is watching with an affectionate grin. "Go on, eat up, baby," he encourages, at which I snort and wriggle distastefully in my seat. "Yeah, whatever, buddy," I mutter into my coffee, half peeved and half tickled at his affectionate term. "Just remember – I can still spank that ass of yours whenever I'm in charge."
I'm competitive. I've said it before, and I'll say it again. And so, once I've downed breakfast, I remain defiantly calm and collected as Joe adds the final touches to his crazy plan. "Nope, you're staying right here, missy," he orders – and soon my ankles are made fast to the chair legs. "But of course you need to take notes-" and my wrists are pulled forward onto the table, a rope slipping over the far edge of the table and made fast around the table legs. "And of course you'll also need to Zoom!" he smirks, and places my laptop between my cuffed wrists.
"Now then. Just so long as you keep that camera on your face and shoulders, hun... ain't no one going to know a thing! It's typical Zoom etiquette, right? Business up top and party down below?"
Oh, I want to chew him out. I want to whine and protest – and I do, just a bit. And yet I have to admit that deep down, there's some weird part of me that's savoring the prospect of such an unorthodox arrangement. And so, once again, I say nothing.
Class starts, and it's actually exactly as Joe promised. Amid the sea of grainy and poorly-lit faces, not a soul there can possibly have any idea that beneath the head and shoulders of this young woman is the kinkiest configuration of cuffs and ropes and diaper. Oh, and a vibrator, too.
I've almost forgotten that last bit, to my peril. For when it hums quietly to life deep within me, I jolt and nearly lose my composure. "Dammit, Joe!" I hiss under my breath, trying not to move my lips visibly. Thank God I'm muted! But he merely grins insolently... and kicks it up a notch.
Oh, did I forget to mention that I'm already feeling pretty gassy and bloated, for some weird reason?
As the professor drones on, clearly interested only in hearing himself speak and not on his students' reactions, I find myself musing in growing anxiety: not over frigging Dostoyevsky, but over a very different piece of literature. "They gagged his daughter and bound her to the foot of her narrow bed..." Tennyson? No, definitely not. "They had tied her up to attention, with many a sniggering jest..." God, ooh, I just need to squirm! "She twisted her hands behind her; but all the knot held good..." Oh, whew, if I lean backward it feels a bit less intense...
Alfred Noyes, that's his name! "The Highwayman." But there are no evil redcoats holding this girl hostage, no dashing, lace-throated lover galloping for my affection. There is only my own lover, grinning sadistically at me from the living room. And somehow, the knowledge that he can so casually – literally with the touch of a finger – force me to tingle and gulp and shudder in unwilling arousal... Well, that knowledge itself is fast turning my very insides to quivering jelly, even as lines of the poem continue to echo inanely through my head.
But there's something else quivering, too. My gut. You stupid idiot, I berate myself, as the minutes tick by and the pressure in my bladder and bowels mounts to ever more uncomfortable heights. You know coffee always runs through you! Why the fuck did you drink so much? But there's nothing I can do now: nothing but to sit as still as possible as the lecture drags on, to struggle to maintain my composure as a gathering tempest rumbles in my belly and waves of tingling pleasure threaten to sweep me away into moaning, babbling bliss...
"She would not risk their hearing..." "And the hours crawled by like years..."
You ass, I message Joe in desperation nearly forty-five minutes in, shaking now as the strongest wave of cramps yet seizes me. Untie me, you jerk! I've really gotta go! But he merely shrugs and shakes his head at me. Only bad girls text in class. Besides, then everyone will see you... baby.
Fuck.
Shit, shit, shit, I'm not gonna make it! Okay, okay. Get it together. Maybe if I just lean forward, the belly cramps won't be so intense...
Big mistake.
I feel my face freeze as, with alarming suddenness, it seems that all control over my bowels has simply... disappeared. No-no-no-no- I can't be- I'm not- I refuse-! But my intestines don't care what I'm screaming inside my head behind my tensely smiling face. Worn out with waiting, they merrily, easily erupt outward all on their own, sending a massive load of smelly mush rushing outward into the bulky padding around my ass. Not to be outdone, my coffee-swollen bladder too joins in, as the hot tidal wave begins to spurt and hiss out between my quaking thighs. I'm shitting myself, pissing myself, losing complete control of my lower half... and struggling not to lose what little facial composure I still have.
I'm recoiling instinctively from the revolting feeling of my own excrement, leaning ever further to the front of my seat. But oh, what disastrous consequences that has! For Joe, openly laughing now and with a sadistic light in his eye, is turning the vibrator to what must be high... and just when I'm leaning half my body weight onto it, forcing it ever deeper into my slippery and oh-so-needy pussy. No- not gonna cum- not like this-!
And so I sit back in fright, quivering... only to find that I've just intentionally ground my bare ass and most intimate parts right into the thick mush of my own warm, disgusting excrement.
"Her eyes grew wide for a moment-"
When the orgasm comes, it sweeps over me with an intensity I can scarcely contain. I'm reeling, caught between my utter disgust at the contents of my own shit-filled and soggy diaper, on the one hand, and my hot animal need, on the other: a need to slip headlong into the orgasm I've been teetering on the edge of for what feels like hours. And all the while – as my cuffed ankles tug vainly in their bonds, as I stifle my every grunt and moan behind gritted teeth, as I clench my cuffed fists in utter humiliated bliss – I still must keep a straight face for the camera.
It's then, as the throes of my sordid bliss begin to abate, that I hear Professor Shopov's wheezy voice in my earbuds. "Um, yes, Megan. You look as though you have something you want to say to the class?"
