The Crimson Crown

The pacifier bobbed between my lips as we moved through the corridors, heading toward the chapel. My cheeks burned brightly in shame, but my new husband had instructed my attendants that I was to remain pacified. Thankfully, I was also wearing a mask of sorts, a long piece of cloth draped between my ears, covering my nose and mouth. The dress I wore was made of soft cotton in a pastel yellow color. It had a fitted bodice with a delicate scalloped neckline trimmed in white lace. Short, puffed sleeves and a cinched waist with a wide, satin ribbon in a pale lavender hue tied into a big, floppy bow at the back. The skirt flared out from my waist, the hemline embroidered with tiny daisies. 

I felt like an utter fool dressed as I was, especially with the pacifier and the thick diaper between my legs. I couldn’t help but feel as if my gowns were getting more and more infantile. Thankfully, we arrived at the chapel shortly, and I was greeted by Dorian, who smiled warmly as I entered. He stepped up to me, embracing me, “there’s my sweet little girl.” he said.

I glowered at him, clearly unamused. He leaned in, pulling my mask up and planting a kiss on top of my pacifier, making me blush as he pulled back, a grin on his face. “You are beautiful this morning, my love.”

I couldn’t tell if he was trying to goad me on or if he was being genuine; it was difficult to tell. “Thanks,” I mumbled around the pacifier as best as I could. 

Dorian took my hand, pulling me to the side of the room where padded mats had been set up. Several other nobles were already there, sitting and waiting, and the priest was preparing a sermon. Dorian sat and, to my surprise, pulled me into his lap, sitting me there like a little girl. I blushed deeply, especially as he wrapped an arm around me and pulled me in close, his chin just resting on my head. I couldn’t tell if the other nobles thought it odd he did this or not; I was too ashamed to look their way.

Father Aelindor took to the altar, beginning to preach a short sermon that invoked the powers of the wind. I listened with half an ear, too focused on my concerns to notice the shift in winds encircling us as he preached. As I sat there, I realized I had never been offered the chance to relieve myself this morning, and my tummy churned ominously. I squirmed, feeling my cheeks blush at the realization, Dorian’s arm around me tightening. “Relax, baby, we’ll be done soon,” he whispered in my ear.

I groaned, trying to sit still but fidgeting, fighting the cramps. I hated being forced to use diapers, especially for this, but I especially did not want to do it while sitting in my husband's lap and surrounded by nobles. I prayed the priest would hurry along, but it was a losing battle. Eventually, the cramps were too much, and with a soft grunt, I felt my diaper begin to swell, my hips lifting off Dorian’s lap, just hair in a vain attempt to hide what was happening. Perhaps it worked, perhaps not; Dorian didn’t say a thing as I messed myself up, my cheeks burning with shame.

It went on for what felt like ever, my entire body crimson with shame as I messed my diaper in the middle of a sermon like a little girl. Eventually, it stopped, my rear caked in the mess as I sat there awkwardly, unsure what to do. Dorian apparently had noticed. He leaned in and whispered, “Such a good girl.” he said, before pulling me back and into his lap.

I groaned, cringing as he did so, the mess squishing about my diaper, forcing itself up my rear and between my legs. I was mortified, and I found myself hiding my face, unable to contain my shame. The sermon ended, and Dorian stood, cradling me in his arms, making me yelp in surprise as my arms wrapped around his neck, clinging to him. “Onward, my lady!” he exclaimed pleasantly, carrying me from the chapel.

I caught a chuckle from one of the nobles as we left, as well as the word “Newlyweds.”

“What are you doing?” I demanded, the pacifier falling from my lips.

Dorian noted the pacifier immediately, setting it on my chest. “Put that back in, young lady.” he ordered, “Otherwise, I’ll make sure it doesn’t fall out,” he said sternly.

I glowered at him, my arms crossing, “I’m not a child! This treatment is utterly ridiculous; I demand you treat me with the respect I deserve as your wife!” 

Dorian stopped, looking down at me, his smile fading. “I have treated you with respect.” he responded, his voice suddenly cold as steel, goosebumps forming on my arms, “But if you’d rather me treat you like the spoiled brat you are acting like, so be it.”

Dorian carried me to a secluded part of the garden, sitting down on a bench. I began squirming, suddenly nervous, as he took the pacifier and forced it into my mouth, his fingers doing something, a soft glow emanating from them. I felt as if the pacifier’s guard melded to my lips, preventing me from spitting it out. I cried out, my hands going to pry at the thing, but Doian had other plants, flipping me over onto my tummy, pulling me squarely over his lap, and hiking up my dress.

I squirmed, crying, trying to get free, but it was no use; he was far stronger than me as my messy diaper came into full view, his hand upon my rear, caressing me, “This?” he said, squeezing my mess, “Is what you are, you are my baby, to be cared for, to be protected and nurtured, you aren’t the women you pretended to be, you are my wife, my baby, and I will ensure you know your place.”

With that, the spanking began. As before, the diaper protected me from much of the sting, but he was no amateur. While he targeted my messy rear, he paid equal attention to my upper thighs, which quickly began to burn. I cried out, squirming, trying to pull free, but his hands held me tight, pinning my arms behind my back as he spanked me mercilessly.

Between the pain and the utter humiliation, I was quickly reduced to tears. His spanking didn’t stop, however, until I lay limp over his lap, utterly spent and completely broken. He sat me up and pulled me into a tight hug, rocking me gently. “I’m sorry, baby. I didn’t want to have to do that, but you need to learn; you need to know what’s best for you.”

Even if I had wanted to respond, I couldn’t, not with the pacifier stuck in my mouth. I whimpered and cried as he held me, stroking my hair. “I was going to change you, but you need a lesson; you’ll be changed later. I think you need a further lesson on dependency,” he said, taking my hands. 

I felt him pulling something over my hands in turn, clicking buckles together at my wrists. I glanced down, my eyes still watering with tears, to notice white gloves. They didn’t look out of the ordinary, something a noble lady might wear, but something was off about them. The material encasing my hands was far more rigid and tough than any glove I had worn, preventing me from curling my fingers at all. As I realized this, my eyes widened with fear as I looked up at him. Dorian smiled, kissing my forehead, “That’s right, baby, now you’ll truly be dependent on me and your attendants, as any good queen should be.”

I cried out, but my efforts were ignored. He hoisted me to my feet, pulled my dress back into place, and fixed the mask as well. I shook my head, clearly in distress, as I placed my gloved hands against his chest. Dorian smiled, kissing my forehead again, running his hand through my hair, “I know, sweetheart, I know! It’s okay. Morris.” he said, glancing up to where my attendants had stopped at the clearing, trying not to watch. 

She stepped forward and bowed, “Yes, your grace?” 

“My wife needs some alone time after the sermon. Would you take her back and give her some time to play while I attend my meetings? Feed her lunch, and add another diaper before meeting us in the queen’s chambers this afternoon.” Dorian ordered, standing.

“Yes, your grace,” Morris said, bowing her head as Dorian left.

I broke down crying once more, utterly humiliated and defeated, my cries muffled by the pacifier locked in my mouth. Morris gingerly took my hand, pulling me along, “Come, your grace, we need to return to your chambers.” she said, offering me a look of sympathy.

Dorian's safety was out of earshot range, and she leaned in, “Please, your grace, come with; you aren’t alone with your punishments.”

I glanced at her, a curious look in my eyes, but with the gag, I couldn’t ask a thing. I sniffled, crying to clear my eyes of tears as best as I could with my free hand as I was led back to our room. I kept my face down, utterly humiliated; as we entered the room, the doors closed behind us. “I warned you, Your Grace,” Morris said with a sigh, pulling out a small, intricate chest from the wall, opening it, and pulling out a series of small toys, including dolls and stacking blocks. “It’s better just to give in and let them win than to put up a fight.”

Morris guided me to sit on the floor. I winced as my tender rear made contact, my mess squishing as well as she forced a doll into my hands. “Play,” she ordered.

I blinked in surprise, needing both hands to hold the doll with the gloves on. I glanced up at her, cocking an eyebrow. She nodded toward the doll, “Play, your grace, don’t force us as well.” she said, and I swear I saw a look of pleading in her eyes.

I felt a pang of fear; what was going on that I wasn’t aware of? I begrudgingly tried to play, as best as I could, with the doll; Morris’s relief was immediate and obvious as she relaxed. “There we go, much better.” she said, a bit louder than was necessary, “such a good girl, playing with your dolls; isn’t this better than having to pretend to be a big girl?” she asked.

I gave her a curious look; what on Earth was going on that I wasn’t aware of? She made a motion, cupping her ear and pointing to the wall, rolling her eyes. The motion was clear; someone was listening. My eyes widened, and she held a finger to her lips, motioning to the doll, “Isn’t this so much fun?” she asked.

With the gag, I was relieved of having to reply to these belittling comments, possibly the only reprieve I had at the moment. I begrudgingly played with the doll, as best as I could, as thoughts swirled in my head. Why was this happening? What had changed? Sure, Dorian had been treating me odd ever since I arrived, but he had taken a turn, and I was not a fan.

Elara cracked the door to the chamber and stepped out for a moment, returning shortly. “They are gone.” She reported.

Morris sat up, visibly relaxing. “I'm sorry, your grace.” She said, “It's important we keep up appearances.” Her fingers brushed the mask aside, grimacing as she saw the pacifier locked in my mouth.

Morris sighed, shaking her head, “Not much I can do about that.” She grumbled. 

“Didn't he ask us to feed her?” Elara asked, stepping up, also noting the pacifier between my lips. 

Morris glanced up, her eyes wide, “He did…” she said slowly. 

“Well, how are we going to do that now?” Elara asked, sounding nervous. 

I shifted uncomfortably, my eyes growing wide with concern, my fingers, useless in the glove, utterly unable to grasp on the pacifier to remove it. “I don't know,” Morris admitted, sounding defeated. 

“You know what will happen if we can't follow his instructions!” Elara wined, shifting from foot to foot. 

“I know!” Morris snapped, taking a breath to calm her nerves, “But, what do you suggest? Only the prince himself can remove that binding; perhaps someone at the chapel can too, but we can't expose her like that; you know that as well as I do.”

Elara shifted uncomfortably, clearly distraught, “We could lie.” She suggested, glancing at me. 

Morris shot the girl a look, “We are going to Mother's chambers tonight; you truly think that's a good idea?” She asked. 

Elara deflated, shaking her head, “Then we are doomed.” 

Morris glanced up at me, our eyes meeting, “I'm sorry, your grace. It's none of your concern what happens to us.” She said with a sigh, “We do the best we can with what we are given. It seems either the prince forgot about the gag or has purposely set us up to fail.”

I gave her a nervous look, mumbling something incoherently with the pacifier stuck in my mouth. Morris offered me a small smile, “You remind me a lot of the queen when she first came to the kingdom. Oh, how I miss the innocence of those days.” 

I felt a shiver at her words; Elara retreated to the door once more, keeping a watch. It wasn’t long before she shut the door, retreating to us in the center of the room, “they are coming back.” she whispered, kneeling beside me.

Morris nodded, grimacing, as both girls began to play with me, filling the small room with the sounds of caregivers entertaining a young child. This continued for the better part of an hour or two; it was nearly impossible for me to keep track of time like this. I allowed my thoughts to wander, my bladder making itself known, and with a sigh, I let it soak into the padding between my legs. Morris seemed to take note, although I have no idea how she knew, commenting and praising me for going potty in my diaper.

I blushed madly, and she offered me a sheepish shrug in apology, glancing towards the wall where our eavesdroppers must have been located. After what felt like a lifetime, Morris announced that it was time for us to get ready to meet the Queen. She scooted forward, “Alright, your grace, let’s get you dressed!” she said in a sweet tone, helping me to lie on my back.

I had nearly forgotten about Dorian’s order regarding my undergarments, and I blushed madly as my soiled diaper came into view. Morris paid it no mind, guiding my hips and swiftly adding yet another diaper beneath me. She gave me a sheepish look, and I felt her doing something to the first diaper around my hips. I glanced to see her poking holes in it. She must have seen the confused look on my face as she finished and pulled the fresh diaper up between my legs, pinning it on, “It’s so that diaper will drain into this one, your grace.” she explained.

I sighed, blushing but nodding as this new diaper was pinned into place. That was complete; my dress was pulled back into place, my mask fitted properly, and I was helped to my feet. The added bulk immediately made itself known as I tried to walk, my face burning in shame as I realized how I needed to waddle to accommodate the extra diaper. Morris took my hand, steadying me, as we started towards the door.

“Let’s get going, your grace.” she said, her voice raised enough for others to hear, “We’ve got a date in the Queen’s room.”

It struck me as odd that Morris specified it to be the ‘Queen’s’ room, not the king and queen. Was it a room devoted to the queen herself? Or was I being taken to their bed chamber? Perhaps it was a private study. Then again, knowing how women were treated, I knew the likelihood of the queen having a study was slim to none; so, what was I walking into?