Once Upon a Slime Part 7 : Princess
You'd been screaming a tirade of threats, and, as usual, it had been working.
Her hands were up in a defensive stance, and she was taking steps backward, terrified of your wrath. You hadn't even let making poopies stop you from lashing out against her. It took a lot of willpower, but you'd even ignored the slimy diaper rubbing and probing you. Then you'd said 'Mommy' and immediately lost all control of the situation.
Your tirade became fear in an instant. How had she done this? What else had she brainwashed you to say/do? You race through your mind trying to check all your words. What else had changed? You keep trying to say something besides 'Mommy' but keep failing every time.
When you look up, she's no longer cowering, She's standing tall, and she's closed the distance between you.
She places a foot on the front of your diaper and presses down. The diaper squishes, and the pressure of the edging increases. The force of will keeping you composed, cracks and you stifle a moan.
She looks down at you, and her eyes are icy and cold.
"Tell me. Did you like yesterday? Would you like it to happen again? How about for a week? A month? A year? All I have to do is say the word. Tell me, little princess, What do you think your parents would think of their proud girl shitting herself without care and babbling incoherently? They might just bring back disappointment rooms, just for you."
You try to swallow but your mouth and throat are dry. Her threat carries more weight than she realizes. Long ago the rich and powerful would keep embarrassing offspring in little "disappointment rooms" for their whole lives, rather than allow the world to know the family wasn't perfect
She doesn't know that they never went away. Now though, you'd get shipped to some small wretched property in a remote location where the staff operated under strict NDAs. Nobody would hear anything from you, except for the carefully manipulated and controlled social media posts about you.
"Y-you wouldn't! You stammer." But you know she would. Why wouldn't she? She'd already sicced this thingy on you, and now she's fucking with your head! What if this is her goal? To have you put away forever?
She' still glaring down at you. Her gaze is withering. "You know what? I've decided. From now on, I am your mommy, not because I want to be, but because you need one. You've been throwing such a nasty tantrum your entire life; being nothing but a spoiled, rotten, nasty brat. Isn't that right?"
Your mouth is open. How could you have let the dynamic switch so quickly?
"The proper response is 'Yes, Mommy'. Say it now."
You still have plenty of fire left though. You try to reverse this, "No! I won't! You're not my mommy! You're only my m-...my mo-...you know!" You want to say her position under you...but you can only think of the word you absolutely won't say.
"I've given myself a promotion. Now say 'Yes, Mommy' like a good little baby princess, or I'll trim down your vocabulary even more. Maybe I'll give yesterday a repeat."
You spit out the words in a hate-filled whisper. "Yes, Mommy"
"Good enough...for now, I suppose. You'll be saying it with more respect soon, I'll wager."
She retrieves the stool from the vanity, places it in the middle of the room, smooths out her dress, and sits. She adjusts the white apron, then turns her attention to you.
"Your attitude this morning has been unacceptable. Over my lap. Now."
"No!"
She stands. "Very well. I'll leave, but once the door closes you'll be having another of the worst nights of your life...but it won't end when I return in the morning."
She must be bluffing! She wouldn't!
She walks to the door, opens it, steps through, and begins to close it. Would your nightmare repeat with the click of the latch? You can't take that risk.
You scream, "Wait!"
She re-enters the room, closes the door, and wordlessly returns to her position on the stool. She doesn't say anything, she just looks at you expectantly.
You have no choice. You try to stand and collapse on your still-aching legs.
She sighs impatiently. "Stop trying to be a big girl and just crawl! I don't have all day!"
You gasp at the sheer insolence she's displaying! but you swallow the biting remark you want to yell at her, and crawl to her.
As if crawling didn't make you feel small enough, she lifts you by your armpits over her lap. Your face burns hot and you know you're blushing intensely as she places a hand firmly on your lower back, securing you onto her lap. If her goal is to humiliate you, it's working.
The first blow smacks against your diaper.
"OW! Fuck!" Any notion of not feeling the spanking through your dipee evaporates instantly.
You tumble to the floor as she stands abruptly without warning.
"Ow! What the fuck are you doing?!" You yell.
She walks to the bathroom, and returns with a new bar of hand soap. She doesn't threaten or command. She simply holds it in front of your face. You can smell the perfume-like scent just under your nose. She impatiently presses it to your lips.
There's nothing you can say or do to get out of this. Slowly, gingerly, you open your mouth.
She crams the soap into your mouth. Your teeth scrape shavings of bitter soap that dissolve into a disgusting bitter flavor. You withdraw your tongue, to avoid touching the bar, but it doesn't matter, the flavor is inescapable.
"Bite and hold. A proper lady controls her tongue." She perches herself on the stool and lifts you over her lap. "Drop it before I give permission, and you won't enjoy the consequences, Baby."
Again and again her palm slaps against your diaper. It doesn't feel particularly hard, but the impacts somehow sting and burn intensely. Soon your kicking your legs and squealing into the bar of soap. After a few minutes you barely notice the soap. All your mind is on the savage spanking that you can't escape from.
You're kicking, flailing, beating your hands against the floor, but her iron grip keeps you in position while her other hand continues the onslaught.
When she's done, she gently places you on the ground and firmly directs your face upward to match her stare.
"Did you learn a lesson? Or are we starting it over?"
Fuck that! You sniff, choke back another sob, and nod your head.
"Good girl."
Your dipee strokes you softly and a tiny protrusion forms invisibly inside the diaper and begins to massage the thingy It feels so tingly and sensitive. You blush. Was she making it do this to you as a reward?
"Now, since you were so very naughty today, you're going to do some practice while I am away. Okay?" Her voice is soft, but her face tells you that you don't have a choice.
You nod, and a long string of soapy drool drips onto your bare chest.
Mommy picks you up and places you in front of the floor mirror. Gone is any semblance of dignified grace or nobility. Your wet Strawberry Shortcake diaper bulges between your spread legs. Your face is stained with tears, and you're helplessly drooling all over yourself, courtesy of the soap protruding from your mouth.
Mommy holds your phone in front of your face, and it automatically unlocks.
"Mmmmg!" You protest.
"Hush, Baby." She pets your head as she opens the camera then props the phone up against the mirror.
"It's just recording a little video so I can review it once I get back. I have to make sure you don't get into any trouble while Mommy's away!" She rubs your head. "Today we're going to have 'Yes, Mommy' lessons!" You're going to look at the stupid, drooling, diaper-filling baby in the mirror, and you're going to practice being her. You think you're a princess, but that is what I see, and that is what you are. So,...you're going to practice smiling and saying 'Yes, Mommy' like a good little girl."
She pauses, and the hand petting your head turns into a stern grip. "Try it now."
"Yegth,Mmmee" You gurgle miserably; hopelessly spitting drool all over yourself.
Mommy giggles. "Well, it's a start!" She grabs your hands and positions them to the front of your bulging diaper. "Be a good baby and keep your hands here, unless the soap falls from your mouth. Then you'll suck your thumb like the stupid pants-filling infant you are. Okay, sweetie?"
How was she making her tone so menacing, yet somehow comforting?
"Don't stop making the gross little baby in the mirror say 'Yes, Mommy'. And don't worry about anyone outside hearing you, I've closed the windows so you can say it as loudly as you want."
She walks to the door, and with a click of the latch she's gone.
You look at your reflection and say "Yegth Mmmee", again drooling all over yourself. Damn her for using a phone to make sure you obey! Every moment you look at the reflection, you can feel your self respect erode a little more.
Your hair is messy, your face is tear-stained, your mouth is full of soap, Your boobies shine and glisten with drool, and your dipee is swollen from all the poopies you couldn't keep inside when you pottied this morning!
You shut your eyes tightly and whimper. You've been utterly defeated, and it happened so embarrassingly quickly. What's happening to you?
You're so confused, angry and full of self-pity that you almost don't feel something wet and slippery start to slide over your hands.
Once again, no vote! If one of the lesser punishments had been selected last time, there would be more rebellious fire left in the princess!
