Page 59 of Double Daddies
“What was that, babygirl?” Damian raised an eyebrow, but she suspected they’d heard what she had said pretty well.
“I was just wondering how much longer I have to stay perched on this damn table,” she lamented, realizing they had no intention of accommodating her sexual need.
“Of course, how inconsiderate of me.” Drake patted her cheek.
“Shit,” Elle cursed as he picked up the next torture element of her bathtime routine.
“Almost done, my sweet.” There was no mistaking the pleasure in his voice as he opened the bottle.
“I hate… ugh-ugh…” she ended in a cough as he upended the container and covered her in powder, “this!”
The final dusting of talcum powder left her smelling like a baby powder commercial.
“I hate you both,” she grumbled. “And your fancy bathroom. And your evil rubber ducks. And whatever sadist invented adult-sized baby furniture.”
“No, you don’t,” Drake smiled as he helped her sit up. “And we’re just getting started, little one.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Elle muttered. “I bet you have a collection of bedtime stories, too. Let me guess. ‘Goodnight Moon’ but with stock market references?”
“If you insist, we’ll tell you a story, but first… it’s pajama time.”
Elle stared at Drake in horror as he approached with what could only be described as the ultimate humiliation in his hands—a thick, adult-sized diaper.
“If you think I’m wearing that, you’ve lost your mind.” She pressed against the wall with her heart thundering. “I’d rather eat raw Brussels sprouts while getting a root canal.” Holding out a hand to ward him off, she continued, “I swear to God, bring that fucking thing anywhere near me, and I’ll kick your nuts all the way up your ass so deep that you’ll taste your own poop when you swallow.”
“Be nice, Elle,” Damian growled, but she detected a twinge of amusement in his voice.
“Since you want us to consider your proposal, you will wear this,” Drake stated with a dark frown, surprising her by letting her crude words slide, but his tone brooked no further argument. “You don’t have to pee in it... yet, but you will wear it.”
“Believe me, that will never happen.” She couldn’t keep the horror from her voice at the thought of having to pee wearing a diaper.
“Now, behave, please.” Drake moved with practiced efficiency, dragging her down and laying her on the changing table before she could bolt. The diaper crinkled beneath her as he positioned it. Her cheeks flamed at the sound. His movements were swift and sure as he secured the tabs. She was too upset to appreciate the warmth of the thick padding settling snugly around her hips.
“This is mortifying,” Elle muttered as he helped her into a pink-polka-dot onesie that made her want to crawl under the nearest rock. The snap of each button felt like another nail in her dignity’s coffin.
“Perfect fit,” Drake said as he lifted her off the table while Damian settled into the rocking chair before pulling her onto his lap. Her face burned hotter when Amanda, who she now knew was hernannyof all things, appeared with a knowing smile on her face and handed Damian a glass baby bottle filled with warm milk. That she stayed just added to Elle’s embarrassment as she realized what was coming.
This time, her horror knew no end, and it was painted all over her face. “Oh, hell no!” Elle squirmed. “If you stick that fucking rubber tit into my mouth, I'm going to puke all over you! What am I,one?”
“I’ve had enough.” Drake’s patience snapped. In one fluid motion, she found herself face-down across his lap, the cool air hitting her thighs as he flipped open the onesie. “Damian, hand me her hairbrush.”
“No!” Elle protested loudly, but he ignored her as the first strike of the hairbrush cracked through the room like a gunshot.
“You will learn to appreciate our care,” Drake lectured between sharp swats that even the diaper couldn’t cushion.“And this disrespect ends now.” Each impact sent shockwaves through her body, with an inferno building inside her after every sting. “Every good babygirl needs her bedtime milk and shows gratitude for her Daddies’ attention.”
“Stop!” she wailed as the brush landed again and again, each strike echoing off the nursery walls along with her yelps. This was nothing like his hand spanking since the solid wood transmitted every ounce of his displeasure with precision.
Elle’s protests dissolved into genuine sobs as her pride crumbled under the relentless assault. “I’m sorry! I’ll be good! Please, Daddy, stop!”
Drake’s hand rested on her bottom. “Will you drink your milk like a good girl?”
“Yes, Daddy,” she hiccupped with tears streaming down her face.
“Go apologize to Daddy Damian.”
Elle shuffled to Damian. Keeping her eyes lowered, she attempted to forget the throbbing of her behind that seemed to intensify with each step. “I’m sorry for being naughty, Daddy,” she mumbled softly as he gathered her close and cradled her against his broad chest.
“You’re forgiven, babygirl,” he cooed into her ear as he picked up the bottle and pressed the nipple against her lips. She had never fought as hard to force back a gag as when she opened her lips and sucked. To her surprise, the softness of the nipple wasn’t that offensive, and the warm liquid was milky but richer and velvety, with just a hint of sweetness. To keep hold of her sanity, she closed her eyes.
