The Crimson Crown

I shifted on the padded bench of the carriage, crossing my legs as my bladder began to ache once more. Despite my newfound devotion to trying to make my husband happy, I wasn’t comfortable using diapers, and I wondered if I ever would. 

“No sense hurting yourself.” Dorian said, leaning back in his seat and looking out the window, “We aren’t stopping anytime soon, and it isn’t like you’re going to be using a bathroom anyway.”

I hadn’t realized that he was even paying attention to me, and it frustrated me how easily he read my body language. Would I ever be able to hide my true feelings from him? I blushed at his comment. “I don’t enjoy the thought of being stuck in it for long,” I admitted begrudgingly, which was only a half-truth.

Dorian nodded, “Don’t worry about it, sweetie; I’ll get you changed.”

I raised an eyebrow, “And where exactly would you do that?” I asked.

Dorian patted the bench of the carriage, “I’ll close the windows to give us some privacy, but I can change you right here. That dress you are in was specifically designed with the intention of allowing easy diaper changes.” he explained.

His explanation only furthered my blush, and perhaps, more importantly, I could feel breakfast slowly working its way through my system, cramps twisting my gut. My hand fluttered to my tummy before I could stop it as I hunched over. I tried to regain my composure as quickly as I could before Dorian noticed, and either he missed the motion or hadn’t picked up on it. I let out a relieved sigh, glad he hadn’t. If wetting myself was difficult, messing was a whole other ballgame. 

“Do we have to keep up that portion of my training even while we are away from the castle?” I asked, grumbling.

Dorian smiled, “Just because we are away from the castle doesn’t mean we aren’t being watched, my love. Father would have certainly placed a few of his attendants in our escort to keep tabs on us. How do you think we’ll dispose of used diapers? Someone has to take out the trash, and whoever it is will probably also be stocking spare changes for you. We may not be under the direct thumb of the King anymore, but he is most certainly still watching.”

I felt my heart sink, my cheeks turning a bright crimson. I knew deep down that despite what I hoped, there was no way the King would let us do whatever we wanted. I knew it, and yet I was in denial, but to hear that someone was not only tracking how many diapers I used but also the state of our trash humiliated me to my core. “Oh. Right.” I said, my voice hoarse, my eyes burrowing into the floor, my body trying desperately to sink into the cushions of the carriage and disappear for good. 

Dorian smiled, his hand upon my thigh, patting me consolingly, “Hey, look at the bright side. We are genuinely more free than we were before at the castle. We shouldn’t have anyone listening in until we break for camp tonight; we are free to do whatever we want right now.”

I smiled softly, another cramp hitting, and this time, Dorian didn’t miss my hand going to my tummy. At the motion, he actually seemed to relax. “Oh, thank goodness,” he said in relief.

“Good?!” I squeaked, “How can that be good?” I asked, growling. 

“It’s good because I was worried I would be forced to use another enema or laxative.” Dorian said, leaning back, “Like I said, my princess, someone’s going to be keeping tabs on your diaper usage beyond that of just me. If we didn’t have at least one of those today, there would be questions.”

My entire body was red with shame at his explanation. Here I was, fighting off needing to go, and he was happy to see that I needed to poop myself! I groaned, fighting another cramp, gritting my teeth, “You aren’t going to force me to stay in it, will you?” I asked, desperation tinging my voice.

Dorian smiled, his hand patting my thigh again, “Of course not, my love. That would lead to diaper rash, and that’s the last thing I want for you. I can help make it worth your while, at least, if you’d like.”

I narrowed my eyes, fighting a losing battle. “What do you mean? How could you?” I asked. 

Dorian just grinned, turning to me, “Well, I want to reward you for good behavior, and well, if you are going to be forced to use diapers, wouldn’t you at least want to be rewarded for it?” 

I groaned, blushing, “So, what, you are going to get me off to relieve some of my embarrassment and shame?” I said, sarcasm lacing my words. 

Dorian shrugged, sitting back, “Of course, I could just not too…”

My face flushed as I began to lose control, my diaper swelling between my legs. I lifted my rear off the bench of the carriage, shame blustering me as I filled my diaper. My bladder gave way as well, only adding insult to injury as the diaper ballooned outward. I felt Dorioan’s hand upon my rear at this point, “Hey!” I yelped indignantly as I continued to poop myself.

Dorian just grinned, his hand feeling me up through my expanding diaper, “Such a good girl.” he whispered. Before I knew what was happening, I felt that same vibration sensation he had used the other day, my diaper reverberating and transmitting the feeling from where his finger pressed in above my rosebud, stimulating my button.

I moaned despite myself, my knees going weak as my body pushed, filling my diaper, thankfully nearly finished. I felt Dorian’s hands feeling me up through my dress, his finger still pressed to my rear, the vibrations seeming to course through the squishy diaper and its contents, eliciting pleasure throughout my diaper in a way I never thought possible. Both my sex and my poor rear passage vibrated in a pleasing way I didn’t know they could. As I moaned again, I felt Dorian pulling me onto his lap, my legs straddling his leg, squishing my diaper as he continued to play with me.

He whispered in my ear, “You are a noisy little girl.” he teased, “I absolutely love it, but maybe it’d be better if the whole caravan didn’t hear your moans.” Dorian said, offering me something.

I glanced at the item held in his hand, just pressing against my lips. It was a pacifier. I blushed at the idea of nursing it but more so at the idea that the entire royal guard would hear me moaning like a whore. I gingerly took it, and it was a good thing I did, for as soon as I pulled it into my mouth, he pressed in firmly, right above my button. I gasped in utter bliss, the pacifier muffling my cries as he worked me with an expert finger. At his encouragement, my hips ground into his leg, squishing the diaper but somehow stimulating me further as he quickly worked me up to a screaming orgasm. 

My head tilted back as I came; his lips were upon my neck, biting me softly, and the pain contrasted beautifully with the endorphins coursing through my body as I orgasmed. As I slowly came down, I fell limp into his arms. Dorian held me tightly, the vibrator slowing as he let me down, kissing the side of my face and then the guard of the pacifier. 

My eyes fluttered as I stared up at him, he returned a goofy grin, “Better than not getting anything?” Dorian asked.

I blushed but nodded weakly. Dorian chuckled, lifting me from his lap and laying me on the bench beside him, pulling the curtains of the window closed. I felt his fingers pulling the layers of my skirt out of the way, my soiled diaper coming into view. I was too weak and overcome with emotions to care about the humiliation of laying in front of my attractive husband in a poopy diaper. Dorian didn’t let me feel humiliated for long as I glanced down at him, kneeling beside me there in the carriage; he leaned down and kissed the front of my diaper, “I’m very proud of you, my princess. I know how hard this is for you. I know this is a huge change for you, and I’m ecstatic to see how far you’ve come in just a short time. I’ll make this as easy of a transition as I possibly can; I love you.”

My body was still flush with hormones, the effects of my orgasm lingering as he opened my diaper and began cleaning me. I felt a rush of euphoria at his praise, a goofy, lustful grin splitting my lips, “I love you too.” I mumbled around the pacifier; I had forgotten about that. 

For the moment, I enjoyed the rhythmic nature of the pacifier; something about how it bobbed between my lips, its bulb comfortably filling my mouth, soothed me, easing the humiliation that fought for the spotlight in my mind as my husband cleaned my disgusting mess. Dorian saw me nursing the pacifier and smiled warmly as he finished cleaning me and began working my hips into a fresh diaper. “You are absolutely adorable, my princess,” he said.

That was the final straw; blushing, I removed the pacifier from my lips, shame filling me. Dorian seemed to deflate, taking the pacifier from my fingers and offering it to my lips, “Oh come on, you are so cute!” he teased, “Humor me, it’s not something you need to be ashamed of; it’s only us, no one else is here.”

I rolled my eyes but allowed him to push the pacifier back into my mouth, slowly returning to nursing it. I was still ashamed to be sucking a baby's paci there in the carriage as he changed my soiled diaper, but I did have to admit the feeling of suckling was soothing. Perhaps that’s why pacifiers were nicknamed soothers. I didn’t hate the sensation; in fact, it was rather pleasant, although I would never admit it to anyone, including myself, nor would I ever admit that a pacifier wasn’t all too bad. 

Dorian wasted no time pulling the fresh diaper up between my legs, pinning it in place, and disposing of the used diaper in an airtime receptacle under the bench before pulling me up and into a tight embrace. “I love you so much,” he said, kissing my forehead, his hand rubbing my back once more. 

I blushed, grinning, “I love you too.” I said, leaning back and looking up at him. Dorian looked down at me, and I pulled the pacifier from my mouth before planting a kiss on his lips. He returned it in full, there was a hunger to those lips of his, but I didn’t let it consume the moment. I allowed the pacifier to return to my mouth, nuzzling into his chest as he held me, rubbing my back as we continued onward. 

The mid-morning sun slowly bled to the afternoon heat, to the chill of dusk settling in around us, the last of the day’s light resting comfortably on the horizon before we broke to make camp for the night. The caravan’s head had conferred with Dorian and me, having found a suitable spot to make camp, informing us the town was just over the next hill; scouts had returned to inform us we were expected the following morning. I knew nothing of camping or long travel like this, so I deferred to Dorian’s expertise as he instructed camp to be setup. 

All around us was a flurry of activity as horses were unhooked and wagons unloaded. Our tent was to be the center of camp, the tents of soldiers radiating out around us in tiers, flanked by makeshift lookout towers and guards that patrolled the camp through the night. I had allowed the pacifier to remain in my mouth up until we started breaking for camp, the item slipping into one of Dorian’s pockets as he helped me down from our carriage. 

Despite the luxurious interior of the carriage, it felt amazing to stretch my aching muscles from their cramped sitting position. The soldiers of our escort were well disciplined and practiced; only minutes after deciding to make camp, the majority of our escort had demounted, watered, and fed their horses, set up makeshift tents, and were starting supper over crackling fires.

A series of attendants, solely for us, had immediately set to work building a tent for us. While the rest of our troops had modest accommodations, a simple lean-to, bedrolls, and packs, the tents conjoined for our nightly sleeping quarters were a mansion by comparison. There was a massive central tent that served as the bed chamber, with soft fur rugs offering comfort to travel worn soles, as well as a small, separate dining tent and even a bathing tent. 

My attendants, Morris and Elara, approached us, curtsying, “Your graces, would you like us to have a bath drawn?” 

“That would be fantastic, yes,” Dorian said. 

They both curtsied and immediately began addressing different attendants as Dorian, and I stepped inside our tent. Inside the bed chamber was also a series of comfortable seats that had been set up, along with a fire pit that was casting a warm glow in the darkening camp, a central flume sending smoke out into the air. I was glad for the fire; the first chills of the night were setting in, sending goosebumps across my skin; the thin fabric of my travel gown that had served to keep me cool during the day’s heat was now hindering my ability to keep warm. 

Dorian seemed to take notice, having the fire stoked, and tent flaps drawn closed to the warmth of the heart better, drawing the lavender cardigan around my shoulders. Dorian seemed an expert at reading me, without having even to say a thing, he had noticed my chill and remediated it. I blushed at how easily I was to read, but I didn’t complain; I did enjoy the treatment to a degree. The attendants who had made our tent were now busy hauling in buckets of water from the nearby river, filling large basins over fires that would soon serve as our bath water. Soldiers, having set their meals to cook, were also by the river's edge, stripping and bathing themselves in the chill waters, joking with one another and relaxing after the hard day's travel.

I felt a pang of shame at requiring so much care as compared to them, a small army of attendants needed to maintain our quarters. I knew better than to complain, though; my mother and father had explained to me that royals needed to maintain appearances. Not only was it expected of us to have more luxurious accommodations for the night, but it was imperative both Dorian, and I maintain a level of decorum that a simple soldier couldn’t; this would help the soldiers and townspeople alike see us as the royals we were. My mother had a saying she instilled in me, “A queen has to maintain a level of care for herself that isn’t possible for the average person. The queen doesn’t just wear a crown, she is the crown, she is the thrown. When people look at you if you are dirty and unclean, that reflects what they think of the royal family. Carry yourself like royalty, and people will bow regardless if there’s a crown upon your head or not.”

My mother had a point, too; I had noticed during my training there was a way a queen moved, her elegant steps and posture bolstering commitment and subservience from those around me even from a young age. If I slouched and looked down, as a child may, I was treated like one, but as soon as I raised my chin, held my head high, and maintained the look and pose of a queen, people would bow and cater to my every whim. There was far more to being royal than a title; it was how you carried yourself. 

To that end, despite the shame of needing such accommodations, I was happy when our bath was drawn and my attendants led me. Dorian, over to the shallow pool that had been created for us, wisps of steam curling into the air as the curtains were drawn, giving us privacy. Morris wasted no time helping me strip from my travel dress, immediately taking note of my squishy diaper that I had wet twice more since being changed. 

Fully stripped, my attendants took my clothes and left Dorian and me to soak. The chill night air lapped at me, making me shiver as I gingerly stuck a foot into the warm waters of the tub and eagerly lowered myself in, basking in the warmth of the bath. 

Despite having had sex and being married to him, the site of Dorian’s naked body still brought color to my cheeks, and he didn’t miss my eyes traveling across his muscled body to his semi-erect cock. He grinned, lowering himself into the waters and settling in beside me. His hands explored my body, and I was all too eager for the feeling.

“You seem far more relaxed,” Dorian remarked.

I nodded, “I am; we aren’t as under the control of, you know, now. I feel far more free.”

Dorian nodded, “We are, but we should maintain appearances; I don’t know who is listening or watching.”

“Maintain appearances?” I asked with a sigh, “You mean…”

Dorian smiled and nodded, “Yes, that means what you think.” he chuckled, “But, it also means we should maintain their expectations; after all, we are expected to carry on our lineage.”

I grinned, swinging my legs over his and nuzzling into him, “Oh, of course, for the good of the kingdom, we have to.”

Dorian chuckled, leaning down and kissing me deeply, “For the good of the kingdom.” he responded, his hands and fingers already exploring my body.