Locked Up And Frustrated

Look at you! How can I not pout about being locked up!

Bittersweet Symphony

For most people, seeing her in this position, leaning over you, dressed like this, would be a highlight of their life.

But not for you.

No, wild as it seems, this was a punishment for talking back to her in front of her friends.

You had long since been denied the ability to be with her, to feel her skin on yours, hear her trembling, passionate breaths as she slowly, methodically moves her body on yours.

You lived in perpetual longing for her.

She unceremoniously dragged you into the bathroom, pulling your shirt off before yanking down your pants, exposing your thick, swollen diaper. She moaned softly—tantalizingly in your ear.

You knew this was too good to be true.

Because it was.

For the first time in years, she grinded on you, your wet diaper squelching with every thrust. You were consumed by pleasure. Your mind practically short-circuiting in bliss.

Just as your pleasure was reaching its climax, she stopped.

You opened your eyes to find a dangerous, foreboding grin plastered on her face.

“You didn’t really think I’d let you finish, right?” she said ominously, “Not after what you pulled back there. You don’t get rewarded for that.”

You don’t answer. You knew better.

“But you do get punished. And my friends and I have just the punishment. Wanna hear it?”

“I..y-yes, Mommy,” you say defeated.

“Good boy. You’re gonna march out of this bathroom in nothing but that soggy diaper that doesn’t hide your…excitement. And you’re gonna apologize to my friends for being a disrespectful brat.”

Terror paralyzes you. Of course, they knew you were in diapers, but they had never seen them. “B-b-but…Mommy no, please!”

“Hush,” she hissed, “you will do as you're told. But I haven’t even told you the best part!”

You shiver at the threat.

“The girls wanna see if you make cummies in your diaper without anyone touching you. So, you’ll stand there and listen to them teasing and humiliating you about your diapers and how pathetic you are.”

“Mommy!” you squeal.

“What did I just say? You will stand there until you make stickies to your own humiliation and truly become the pathetic boy I know you are! And the winner—whoever gets you to bust your widdle load—gets to change you in front of everyone! It’s so exciting!”

“No, please! I’m sorry, Mommy! I won’t talk back ever again!”

“Too late, little one,” she says pulling you up, “let’s go.”

This is an automatically cross-posted image (yes, I know it is cropped - don’t know how to stop that). To see the original - and many more that never appear on Tumblr - click here: https://ift.tt/2ZkUZuq

Random Leftovers 032

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