The Crimson Crown
An original story by SolaraScott
Chapter 39: Acting Like Children
Mistress’s sharp eyes locked onto me, her expression expectant as she motioned with a deliberate flick of her hand. “Step forward,” she commanded, her voice cutting through the thick silence of the room. “Take her place.”
My breath hitched, my chest tightening as the weight of her words settled on me like a crashing wave. I felt frozen, my legs heavy as though shackled to the ground, but Clara’s quiet, steady presence beside me reminded me that I had no choice. Slowly, I took a trembling step forward, my knees weak beneath me.
Each movement felt sluggish as if I were wading through molasses, time stretching unnaturally with every step I took toward Mistress’s chair. The soft crinkle and squish of my diaper beneath my dress seemed impossibly loud, the sound mocking me as it punctuated my halting steps. My cheeks burned hotly, and I could barely keep my hands from trembling at my sides.
Mistress’s gaze never wavered, her stern expression unchanging as I stopped just in front of her. The weight of her authority pressed down on me, suffocating and unrelenting. The enormity of what was about to happen gripped my chest, a mixture of shame and dread tightening around my heart like a vice.
“Over,” Mistress instructed curtly, patting her lap with a single, deliberate motion.
I hesitated, my body stiff and unwilling. My eyes flicked toward Clara for a brief, desperate moment, but she didn’t meet my gaze, her face unreadable. Her silence was grounding in its way—a reminder that she had endured this humiliation before, and so could I.
Swallowing hard, I forced myself to move, each motion agonizingly slow as I stepped closer to Mistress’s lap. My heart pounded so loudly it was all I could hear, drowning out the scrape of my shoes against the stone floor. I bent forward awkwardly, the position unnatural and mortifying, and as I lowered myself over her lap, the soft bulk of my diaper squished against me, the sensation sending a fresh wave of heat to my face.
Mistress adjusted me with firm hands, her grip impersonal but unyielding as she positioned me to her liking. The skirt of my dress was flipped up with a practiced motion, the fabric pooling around my waist and leaving me exposed. I clenched my eyes shut, the humiliation crashing over me in waves as I felt the faint chill of the room against the damp padding of my diaper.
“Well,” Mistress said coldly, her voice laced with disdain as she rested one hand against my back. “What have we here?” Her fingers pressed lightly against the bulk of my diaper, the motion sending a jolt of shame through me.
I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t speak. All I could do was lie there, the weight of her words, her touch, pressing down on me as I braced for what was to come.
Mistress’s hand paused, resting firmly on the padded bulk beneath my dress. The room seemed to grow colder, the silence deafening as she pressed slightly, the unmistakable squish of the diaper breaking the stillness. My breath caught in my throat, and a fresh wave of humiliation swept over me, leaving me trembling and helpless across her lap.
“What is this?” Mistress’s voice was sharp and cutting, her tone laced with disbelief and disdain. Her hand pressed again as if confirming what she had felt, and I flinched, my cheeks burning hotter than ever.
I opened my mouth to speak, but no sound came out; the words tangled in my throat. My heart pounded so loudly it was all I could hear, drowning out the growing tension in the room. Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, the shame so overwhelming that I couldn’t even look up.
“Well?” Mistress demanded, her voice rising slightly though it remained cold and controlled. “Are you going to explain yourself, girl? Or shall I assume this is just another failure to present yourself properly?”
“I—” My voice broke, trembling as I tried to find the words. “I—It’s not—”
“Not what?” Mistress interrupted, her tone icy. “Not appropriate? Not acceptable? You’re right about that much.” She adjusted her grip on my back, her fingers tapping lightly against the edge of the diaper as if mocking me. “This... choice of undergarments is not one I’ve ever allowed. So tell me, why are you wearing it?”
Tears slipped down my cheeks, and I bit my lip hard, trying to suppress the sobs building in my chest. I couldn’t answer, couldn’t even think past the suffocating shame that held me pinned across her lap. My mind raced, but no excuse came to me, no explanation that would make this any less humiliating.
Mistress sighed heavily, the sound filled with contempt. “Pathetic,” she muttered, more to herself than to me. Her hand moved again, this time lifting the waistband of the diaper slightly as though inspecting it. “Wet, too,” she remarked, her tone sharp and mocking. “Of course it is.”
My tears fell freely now, hot and uncontrollable, as the weight of her words crushed me further. I couldn’t look at Clara, couldn’t even lift my head from where it rested against Mistress’s skirt. The shame was all-consuming, a heavy, inescapable weight that left me trembling and silent.
“You don’t even have the decency to come to me clean,” Mistress continued, her voice dripping with disdain. “Is this how you intend to serve? Soaked and incompetent? I’ve seen children with better discipline than this.”
Her words stung like a slap, and I squeezed my eyes shut, my breaths coming in short, shaky gasps. “I’m sorry,” I finally whispered, my voice so small and broken that it barely registered.
“Sorry?” Mistress repeated, her tone incredulous. “Oh, you will be.”
She adjusted her grip on me again, her movements firm and deliberate as she pulled me tighter across her lap. “If you insist on behaving like a child,” she said coldly, “then you’ll be treated like one. Perhaps that will teach you to present yourself properly in my presence.”
The weight of her hand settled against the back of the diaper, and I braced myself, my tears falling faster as the reality of what was about to happen set in. I was utterly powerless, pinned across her lap, my shame laid bare for both Mistress and Clara to see. And I knew, deep down, that there was no escape from what was to come.
Mistress’s hand came down hard against the back of my diaper, the muffled thump filling the room with each sharp strike. Despite the padding, the impact reverberated through me, each swat carrying with it a sting of humiliation that burned hotter than the physical punishment. I couldn’t stop the sobs that tore from my chest, my face buried in my hands as tears streamed freely down my cheeks.
“You will learn,” Mistress hissed, her voice cold and unrelenting. “You will understand the standards I demand, or you will break trying.”
Another swat punctuated each word, her strikes relentless; I felt myself unraveling completely, the weight of the day, the shame of my predicament, and the sheer mortification of being punished like this crashing over me in waves. My cries echoed off the stone walls, raw and unrestrained, but Mistress showed no mercy.
When she finally stopped, her hand rested heavily against the back of the soaked diaper, her grip firm as she adjusted her hold to keep me pinned in place. My chest heaved with sobs, my body trembling as I fought to catch my breath, but there was no reprieve. Her voice cut through the haze of my anguish, sharp and commanding.
“As your roommate,” Mistress said, her gaze snapping to Clara, “you are complicit in this ridiculous farce. You must have known about her... condition.” She gestured dismissively at my diaper, her tone dripping with disdain. “Which means you have failed just as much as she has. You share in this failure, Clara, and you will share in the consequences.”
Clara stiffened where she stood, her face pale but her expression unreadable. “Mistress, I—” she started, but Mistress silenced her with a sharp glare.
“Silence,” Mistress snapped. “I will not entertain excuses. If you insist on tolerating such childish behavior, then you will join her in it.”
My heart sank further as Mistress shifted her attention back to me, her cold, calculating gaze piercing through my tears. “From this moment on,” she continued, her tone icy, “you will both turn over any panties you have. If you insist on acting like children, you will be treated as such. Diapers will be your uniform beneath your dresses, and I will inspect them regularly. Perhaps humiliation will instill the discipline you both so clearly lack.”
I felt Clara’s sharp intake of breath beside me, but she said nothing, her silence heavy with tension. Mistress’s grip tightened on my back, and she leaned forward slightly, her voice dropping to an evil whisper. “Do you understand me, girls?” she demanded.
“Yes, Mistress,” I choked out between sobs, my voice trembling and broken, Clara repeating my words.
Mistress released me abruptly, her hands cold and efficient as she adjusted my dress before gesturing for me to stand. My legs wobbled as I pushed myself upright, the crinkle and squish of the soaked padding beneath me an unbearable reminder of my shame. I couldn’t look at Clara, couldn’t even lift my eyes from the floor.
My tears still flowed freely, staining my cheeks as I struggled to regain my composure.
“Enough,” Mistress snapped, her voice slicing through the tension. “I have seen all I need to see for now.”
I cringed as she stood, her presence looming over us as she stepped toward her desk with slow, deliberate movements. “You are dismissed,” she said coldly, her words striking like a whip. “But let me make one thing clear.”
She turned sharply, her piercing gaze locking onto both Clara and me, her lips curling into a faint sneer. “When I arrive at your room tonight—and I will arrive—I expect every single pair of panties you own to be turned over to me. Do not think to hide anything. If I so much as suspect you’ve defied me, the consequences will be... severe.”
The weight of her words pressed down on me, the air in the room growing heavier with every syllable. I couldn’t stop the fresh wave of humiliation that burned my cheeks, my fists clenching at my sides as I nodded faintly.
“And,” Mistress continued, her voice dropping to an icy calm, “I will personally inspect you both. Head to toe. You will be clean, immaculate, and properly dressed in your new... attire.” Her eyes flicked briefly to me, the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at the corners of her lips. “If you insist on acting like children, you will be treated as such. Do not disappoint me.”
Clara’s jaw tightened, but she gave a curt nod, her voice steady despite the tension in the room. “Yes, Mistress.”
I echoed her faintly, my voice trembling. “Yes, Mistress.”
Mistress waved a dismissive hand toward the door. “Now, go. You’ve wasted enough of my time for one evening.”
Clara nudged me gently, and I stumbled forward, my legs still wobbly as we made our way to the door. My chest felt tight, every step echoing with the weight of Mistress’s threats. As we stepped into the corridor and the door closed firmly behind us, the tension remained thick in the air.
Clara glanced at me briefly, her lips pressed into a thin line. “We need to go back to the room,” she said quietly, her tone brisk. “We don’t have time to waste.”
I nodded mutely, my mind racing as the enormity of what awaited us settled over me. The humiliation was unbearable, but the fear of Mistress’s wrath was worse. For now, all I could do was follow Clara, each step toward our room heavy with shame and dread.
The walk back to our room was a blur of mortification and dread. My cheeks burned hot with shame, and I couldn’t bring myself to lift my gaze from the stone floor. The crinkle of my diaper was unbearably loud in my ears, a constant reminder of just how far I had fallen, how utterly exposed I was now.
Clara walked ahead of me, her steps brisk and purposeful, but there was a stiffness to her movements I hadn’t seen before. She hadn’t said a word since we left Mistress’s office, and the silence between us was suffocating.
I couldn’t bring myself to break it. My throat was too tight, my chest aching as I replayed everything that had happened over and over in my mind. Mistress’s words, her commands, the humiliating punishment—it all swirled together in a storm of emotions I couldn’t untangle. And Clara... she was mad. I could feel it in the way she moved, the way her shoulders were set, and the faint tension in her jaw whenever I dared to glance at her.
But was she mad at me? I couldn’t tell. The thought twisted in my chest, making my already heavy steps feel even more burdensome. I wanted to ask, to explain, to apologize, but the words wouldn’t come. The shame was too much, the lump in my throat too thick. I bit my lip hard, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill again as we turned the final corner toward our dorm.
When we reached the door, Clara opened it with more force than necessary, the heavy wood creaking loudly on its hinges as she stepped inside. I hesitated on the threshold, my hands trembling as I clutched at the fabric of my dress.
“Get in,” Clara said sharply, her voice low but firm.
I flinched at her tone, stepping inside quickly and shutting the door behind me. The room felt smaller than ever, the walls pressing in as the weight of the evening settled over us like a suffocating blanket.
Clara moved to her side of the room, her back to me as she fiddled with something on her desk. Her movements were brisk, almost aggressive, and the tension in her shoulders was impossible to ignore. I stood frozen near the door, unsure of what to do or say.
“Clara...” I started my voice barely above a whisper. But the sound of my voice made me falter, and I quickly looked away, my cheeks burning.
“What?” she snapped, not turning around. Her tone wasn’t as sharp as Mistress’s, but it carried a weight that made my stomach twist.
I opened my mouth to respond, but the words caught in my throat. What could I even say? That I was sorry? That I didn’t mean for any of this to happen? That I didn’t know how to fix it? The silence stretched on, thick and unbearable, until Clara finally sighed heavily, her shoulders slumping just slightly.
“Look,” she said, her voice quieter now but no less tense. “Just... just start getting ready. You heard what Mistress said.”
I nodded quickly, not trusting myself to speak, and moved to my side of the room. The shame clung to me like a second skin as I opened my wardrobe, the sight of the diapers Mistress had ordered Clara to stock making my stomach churn. My hands trembled as I pulled out a fresh one, the soft crinkle of the material a cruel reminder of what lay ahead.
Clara still hadn’t turned to face me, and I couldn’t decide if that made things better or worse. Her silence was heavy, but I couldn’t bring myself to break it. I could only hope that, somehow, I would find a way to make this right. For now, though, all I could do was obey Mistress’s commands and endure the humiliation of what was to come.
I stood frozen, watching as Clara moved to her side of the room, her movements sharp and purposeful. She pulled open her drawer, the one I knew held her undergarments, and began clearing it out. One by one, she yanked out her panties, tossing them into a growing pile on her bed with a roughness that made my chest tighten.
When the drawer was finally empty, she slammed it shut with more force than necessary, the sound echoing through the small room. She turned toward me, her face a mask of restrained anger, her lips pressed into a thin line. My heart sank as her eyes flicked to the diaper in my trembling hands. Without a word, she stepped forward, plucking it from my grasp and motioning for me to lie down.
“Come on,” she said, her voice clipped, her tone leaving no room for argument.
I hesitated for only a moment before obeying, lowering myself onto the bed and lying back, the crinkle of the mattress cover beneath me amplifying the humiliation of the moment. My cheeks burned as Clara knelt beside me, the diaper in one hand and a container of powder in the other. Her movements were brisk, efficient, and impersonal as she worked, lifting my dress and carefully pulling away the soaked padding.
I squeezed my eyes shut, the lump in my throat threatening to choke me as I tried to gather the courage to speak. The words felt heavy and impossible, but the silence between us was unbearable.
“Clara,” I finally whispered, my voice trembling. “I’m... I’m sorry.”
She didn’t respond immediately, her hands continuing their work as she cleaned me up and slid the fresh diaper beneath me. The rustle of the material and the faint scent of powder filled the air, and I braced myself for her reaction. When she finally spoke, her voice was low, almost resigned.
“It’s all just a game,” she said, her tone quiet but firm. “That’s all this is. A game we didn’t choose to play, but we’ve got to follow her rules if we want to win.”
Her words hit me like a blow, the weight of them settling over me as she finished securing the diaper and smoothed my dress back into place. I opened my eyes to find her looking at me, her expression softer now but still laced with frustration.
“Do you understand, Lila?” she asked, her voice steady but edged with exhaustion. “It’s not about what’s fair or right. It’s about survival. We play by her rules until we’re in a position to make our own.”
I nodded faintly, my throat tight as I tried to hold back the fresh wave of tears that threatened to spill. “I understand,” I whispered, my voice barely audible.
Clara sighed, sitting back and brushing her hands against her skirt. “Good,” she said simply, standing and motioning for me to do the same. “Because if we’re going to get through this, we need to stick together. No more surprises, Lila. Promise me.”
I sat up slowly, the fresh diaper crinkling beneath me as I met her gaze. “I promise,” I said softly, the words carrying a weight I hadn’t expected.
Clara nodded once, her expression softening further as she moved back to her bed. The tension in the room lingered, but for the first time, there was a faint sense of understanding between us. It wasn’t much, but it was enough—for now.
Clara glanced to the open drawer behind me, a mixture of shame and resentment filling her face, “I may need a little help.” she admitted, blushing, “I’ve never… not for myself.”
It was my turn to be strong, to be the boulder she could use to lean. I nodded, turning and retrieving a fresh diaper, “Of course, I’m sorry, Clara, genuinely, I got us into this mess.”
“Just… Make it quick, Your Grace,” she said, her cheeks burning brightly in shame as she unwillingly laid down, staring up at the ceiling.
I felt shame of my own wash across me as I knelt beside her. The one girl I had come to rely on since the Queen had been captured, the one girl who seemed to understand me, who seemed to care, I had singlehandedly reduced her to this. I felt horrible, and I hoped I could repay her someday as tears glistened in her eyes, gently tumbling down her rosy cheeks.
End of Chapter 39
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