cheek with the back of her hand, “Silly, silly. You can’t just say you’re a big girl. That’s not how it works. No, it’s not.”
“Mia, you can’t do this to me!” I squealed. I even kicked up and down, swinging my legs against nothing. All the while, Mia watched with her hands on me, effectively pinning me. She did speak, as though she simply had to wait for this latest tantrum to pass.
It did, and she was right.
“Fine. What do you want?”
“Tell me I won, and I’ll give you something you really need.”
“And if I don’t?” Ever since Trevor tricked me, I didn’t think she would give me anything I wanted or needed. No, this was another game.
“Well, we’re not done with your spanking, are we?” Her eyes gleamed, and I could hear the glee in her voice. She must have wanted to see me brought low for a long time. All of her frustration and resentment at being the little sister who always got bossed around streamed out of her.
She spanked me.
She spanked me hard, slapping my skin until it simmered with red welts. I could practically feel the outline of her fingers where they clapped down. She spanked me again, stripping my lungs of air as I struggled to maintain control of myself.
My eyes started to water again, and my lower lip shook. I couldn’t control it or make my body obey me. I wished I could have been some monk able to block out the sensations.
“Is she being naughty?” Trevor leaned against the doorway, all calm and smooth, as if the sight of a college grad getting spanked by her childish sister happened every day.
Mia stopped the spanking. In fact, she started to pet me, stroking my ravaged skin. Now incredibly sensitive, I prickled at her touch as she petted the back of my thighs. More than once, she moved her hand up to my diapered bottom. She gave tight little squeezes to make the plastic crinkle and remind me what had been done to me. I wanted to smack her. I pictured Mia on my lap, getting spanked like a little brat. The thought made me grin.
“A bit,” Mia said and shrugged. “I’m just not sure how to convince her of the truth.”
“What truth?” I hissed.
“That you’re a little girl at heart, that you’ve always been the immature one.”
“But it’s true!” I whined. Even to my ears, I could tell my reply sounded like something a preschooler might have hollered.
“We could always do some baby pictures. I think that might make it very clear who’s in charge, who’s the adult, and who’s the baby,” he explained. He strolled over and crouched down to look into my face. “Would you like that? Would you like us to take lots of pictures of you? That way, you’d know someone always had proof that you’re just a little diaper girl.”
Before, he teased me and my face turned red. The blush usually came in waves, simmering through my skin and turning me a bright shade of crimson, scarlet, or burgundy .
Not this time.
This time, the color drained from my body. For a heartbeat, perhaps two, my body went numb. I pictured all of the hard work I put in through middle school, high school, and college. I had toiled so much and worked so hard to come off as an adult. Then a few pictures would mean that I looked like a baby girl. They had me diapered. They could dress me however they want. And with enough spanking, I had no doubt they could get me to speak any words they want. I would debase myself in front of a camera. And then what? They could send those pictures to potential employers or the professors I needed for letters of recommendation.
“Not that,” I whimpered, my voice barely audible.
“Oh, I think she’s shy,” Trevor said.
“No. Not even a little.” While there might have been some sympathy in Trevor’s voice, my sister spoke with nothing but contempt, “ Little Claire here has always loved the spotlight. She doesn’t care who gives her attention, so long as everyone is focused on her.”
“I’m sorry,” I started to say, but her
“Mia, you can’t do this to me!” I squealed. I even kicked up and down, swinging my legs against nothing. All the while, Mia watched with her hands on me, effectively pinning me. She did speak, as though she simply had to wait for this latest tantrum to pass.
It did, and she was right.
“Fine. What do you want?”
“Tell me I won, and I’ll give you something you really need.”
“And if I don’t?” Ever since Trevor tricked me, I didn’t think she would give me anything I wanted or needed. No, this was another game.
“Well, we’re not done with your spanking, are we?” Her eyes gleamed, and I could hear the glee in her voice. She must have wanted to see me brought low for a long time. All of her frustration and resentment at being the little sister who always got bossed around streamed out of her.
She spanked me.
She spanked me hard, slapping my skin until it simmered with red welts. I could practically feel the outline of her fingers where they clapped down. She spanked me again, stripping my lungs of air as I struggled to maintain control of myself.
My eyes started to water again, and my lower lip shook. I couldn’t control it or make my body obey me. I wished I could have been some monk able to block out the sensations.
“Is she being naughty?” Trevor leaned against the doorway, all calm and smooth, as if the sight of a college grad getting spanked by her childish sister happened every day.
Mia stopped the spanking. In fact, she started to pet me, stroking my ravaged skin. Now incredibly sensitive, I prickled at her touch as she petted the back of my thighs. More than once, she moved her hand up to my diapered bottom. She gave tight little squeezes to make the plastic crinkle and remind me what had been done to me. I wanted to smack her. I pictured Mia on my lap, getting spanked like a little brat. The thought made me grin.
“A bit,” Mia said and shrugged. “I’m just not sure how to convince her of the truth.”
“What truth?” I hissed.
“That you’re a little girl at heart, that you’ve always been the immature one.”
“But it’s true!” I whined. Even to my ears, I could tell my reply sounded like something a preschooler might have hollered.
“We could always do some baby pictures. I think that might make it very clear who’s in charge, who’s the adult, and who’s the baby,” he explained. He strolled over and crouched down to look into my face. “Would you like that? Would you like us to take lots of pictures of you? That way, you’d know someone always had proof that you’re just a little diaper girl.”
Before, he teased me and my face turned red. The blush usually came in waves, simmering through my skin and turning me a bright shade of crimson, scarlet, or burgundy .
Not this time.
This time, the color drained from my body. For a heartbeat, perhaps two, my body went numb. I pictured all of the hard work I put in through middle school, high school, and college. I had toiled so much and worked so hard to come off as an adult. Then a few pictures would mean that I looked like a baby girl. They had me diapered. They could dress me however they want. And with enough spanking, I had no doubt they could get me to speak any words they want. I would debase myself in front of a camera. And then what? They could send those pictures to potential employers or the professors I needed for letters of recommendation.
“Not that,” I whimpered, my voice barely audible.
“Oh, I think she’s shy,” Trevor said.
“No. Not even a little.” While there might have been some sympathy in Trevor’s voice, my sister spoke with nothing but contempt, “ Little Claire here has always loved the spotlight. She doesn’t care who gives her attention, so long as everyone is focused on her.”
“I’m sorry,” I started to say, but her
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