humiliateddiapergirl: mellow-september: “Oh, sweetheart…” Daddy said in a disappo
humiliateddiapergirl: mellow-september: “Oh, sweetheart…” Daddy said in a disappointed tone. “Did you go pee-pee in your pull-ups again?” My hands darted to my crotch, covering the faded wetness indicators on the front of my training pants, and I felt a sinking sensation in my stomach. I knew that lying to Daddy meant a smacked bottom, but I just couldn’t bring myself to confess that I’d pissed my pants like a stupid toddler. Lately, I’d been finding it harder to tell when I had to do a wee. I bit my bottom lip nervously and shook my head. “Princess,” he said warningly, “if you lie to Daddy then I’ll have no choice but to pull you over my knee and spank your naughty bum-bum.” I felt a hot, angry blush spread over my cheeks. He couldn’t talk to me that way! I wanted to tell him that he wasn’t my Daddy – he was just my boyfriend, and I was a grown woman who wouldn’t tolerate being talked down to like a misbehaving child. I wanted to tell him that I wasn’t going to ask permission to use the toilet anymore, that I wouldn’t have an eight o’clock bedtime, that I wouldn’t wear a bib during mealtimes or let him pop a dummy in my mouth whenever he was tired of hearing me talk. Instead I let out a pathetic whimper. “I’ll ask you one more time,” Daddy said, looking down at me sternly. “Did you have a potty accident in your pull-ups?” “No Daddy,” I squeaked, feeling a trickle of pee enter my already soggy training pants. Why can’t I just tell him the truth? He waited a few seconds, as if hoping I would change my answer, then he brushed my hands aside and slipped one of his own down the front of my padded pants. I felt tears welling up in my eyes as he felt the sogginess there. “Naughty girl!” Daddy scolded, and in one swift movement he had sat down on the bed, grabbed my arm, and tugged me over his lap. “You do not lie to Daddy,” he stated firmly, yanking my pissy pull-ups down to my knees. “Please Daddy!” I managed to squeal, before his palm was raining down sharp blows on my bare bottom and I was left squirming and crying in his lap. I could feel my jiggling bum cheeks becoming more and more sore as the smacks continued, but all I could do was wail and kick my legs helplessly. The spanking seemed to go on and on and on, until finally it stopped, and Daddy cradled me against his chest and whispered that it was over, that I’d taken my spanking like a good girl, that he was very proud of me. My breathing started to calm down. He cooed to me for several minutes, stroking my hair and then running his fingers down my spine to caress my sore bottom until my crying had fully subsided. Then he gently deposited me on the bed and went over to open the chest of drawers. I thought he must be getting a fresh pull-up for me, but when he turned around, I saw that he was holding something else. It was a nappy. It was adult-sized, bulky and crinkly, and covered in embarrassingly babyish designs. I felt as though I’d been plunged into ice cold water. “D-Daddy, what’s that for?” I asked stupidly. “You’ve proved you’re too immature for pull-ups, little one” he replied. “I think you need something a little thicker between your legs from now on.” “No!” I shouted, jumping to my feet, then blushing when the soggy pull-ups around my knees slipped down my legs and hit the floor heavily. My training pants were bad enough, but trying to hide such a thick nappy under my clothes would be impossible. Everyone would be able to tell what I was wearing! Nobody would ever take me seriously with a huge diaper bulge around my waist! “Don’t raise your voice at me, little girl,” Daddy said. “Or you’ll go straight back over my knee. You’re going to wear nappies from now on, and that’s final.” “But I’ll still be allowed to use the toilet, won’t I?” I asked desperately. “Of course not, silly girl… You don’t deserve to be toilet trained.” The gentleness of his voice was so at odds with what he’d said that I could only stare at him, open mouthed. I don’t deserve to be toilet trained?! “It’s okay, sweetheart,” he cooed. The sweetness of his voice made butterflies flutter in my tummy, but there was a note of mocking condescension in his tone as well. I couldn’t decide whether I wanted to slap him across the face or snuggle into his chest. “I promise you’ll be much happier in nappies,” he went on. “No more worrying about making it to the icky potty on time. You can do all your pee-pees and poo-poos right in your pants!” I screwed up my face in disgust, but that only made him laugh. “That’s right, darling! Babies don’t just go pee-pee in their nappies. They make yucky messes too, and you’re not going to be any different.” “But I’m not a baby!” I whined, stomping my foot in frustration. “I’m a big girl!” “That’s enough, little one,” Daddy said, and his voice was stern once again. “No more tantrums. Now, do you need another spanking, or are you going to let me change you into your nappy?” For several long seconds I looked into his eyes, and then, meekly, I lay back on the bed and lifted my legs into the air so he could slip the nappy underneath my sore, red bottom. “Good girl.” “Of course not, silly girl… You don’t deserve to be toilet trained.” One of my favorite things to hear. I really like the idea of somebody telling me I’m not ready yet, I haven’t earned it yet, I don’t deserve it… that kind of thing.That feeling that diapers are where I belong… I love it! -- source link