by Wild, Lucy
“We are leaving,” he said, grabbing a pair of stockings from the bottom of the wardrobe and turning for the door.
“You might be,” she managed to say, terrified by how he might respond. “I am going nowhere. Father!”
“So be it,” he replied, grabbing her wrist once more and dragging her from the room. She screamed for help but none came and soon she was being shoved out of the front door, wincing as her bare feet hit the gravel lining the drive. “Get in,” Edward snapped, shoving her towards the carriage.
“I will not go with you. Father!”
“It is too late to call for father. You should have thought of him all the times you whined and stamped your feet, all those demands and never once thinking of him. You are a brat and you are going to learn your lesson.”
He grabbed her round the waist and shoved her into the open door of the carriage, making her wince as her arm banged into the wood. As she called for her father again, Edward climbed into the carriage after her and called out, “Drive on.”
The wheels began to turn as Laura screamed. “You are kidnapping me. I shall see you hang at the next Assizes for this.”
“I have the consent of your father. I have a legally binding document confirming you are my little until I say otherwise. This is not a kidnapping. This is the beginning of your treatment. You shall return here quite different, I promise you that.”
“I demand you stop the carriage this instant.”
“You are a whining snivelling brat who will soon learn the dangers of speaking out of turn. You will sit there in silence whilst I read and if there is so much of a peep out of you, another smacked bottom will be the result. Do it twice and you will spend the rest of the journey with no dress at all. Am I understood?”
She scowled at him but did not reply.
He leaned close to her face, saying each word slowly. “When I ask a question, you reply with ‘yes sir. Am I understood?”
“You are insane sir.”
“By God you will pay for that disobedience.” He grabbed her and pulled her onto his lap, lifting her dress as she shrieked for help. Ignoring her cries, he pulled her nappy down far enough to expose her bottom. She squirmed to get away but was unable to escape his grip as he rained blows down on her buttocks. “Please,” she begged. “Please stop. I beg you.”
“Will you answer me? Am I understood?”
She glared up at him as he raised his hand once more. “Yes, sir,” she screamed. “Yes, sir. Now please let me go.”
He finally loosened his grip, and she had to fight to avoid crying as she sat back on her seat, her bottom as sore as she ever thought it could be.
“That’s better,” he said. “Now I am going to read. You are to be silent.”
She watched him pull out a book and begin to read. His face was as stern and cold as a statue. As time passed, she became increasingly restless but whenever she shifted in her seat, his eyes flashed a silent warning towards her.
The only way she had to keep track of the hours passing was by the light changing outside the carriage. By the time the sun began to set she found herself desperate for the toilet, the sensation of need growing over the preceding hours. She shuffled in her seat, sitting on her hands and squeezing her bare toes into fists.
“Sit still,” he growled without looking up.
“I need to stop for a moment.”
“Whatever for?”
“I need the toilet.”
“There is no toilet out here.”
“But I need to go.”
“That is what the nappy is for. Let it serve its purpose until you can learn to control your bladder better. Your skills in such matters match those of your temperament.”
“I must protest.”
“You can protest all you like. It will make no difference to what happens next. Now, silence.”
He returned to his book as the sun dipped below the horizon. Her desire to urinate grew ever stronger over the next hour and she winced every time they bounced through a pothole.
Moving her thighs together, she squeeze the muscles in her legs, her desperation becoming overpowering. As they jolted over yet another rut in the road, she let out a gasp, a few drops of urine leaking out of her and soaking into the nappy. She fought with herself to prevent any more from escaping and managed a few more minutes by biting her lip so hard blood trickled onto her tongue.
Another jolt and another leak, this one more worrying as she was barely able to make it stop. She could feel the wet warmth in the towelling cloth, the nerve endings in the skin around her core seemed more sensitive to the change than she expected was possible. She shuffled her legs ever faster until Edward finally set down his book.
“You are moving again,” he said.
“I must get to a toilet.”
“Have you not gone yet? Get it over with and then stop that incessant wriggling around. It is most distracting.”
“I cannot go in public like this.”
“Then it shall be an interesting night’s journey for you.”
He turned away from her and lit a candle inside the lantern that swung from the ceiling. The light it cast moved with the motion of the carriage, alternating plunging Laura into darkness and then light. As she looked across at Edward his eyes closed and by the time the light was on him again he was asleep.
She was relieved to find him asleep as it meant she could wriggle on her seat as much as she desired. She gave a moment’s thought to slipping out of the carriage but in the darkness she knew she would soon be lost. Better to wait until morning and hopefully if he was still asleep, she could slip out and find her way home.
Cramming her hands between her legs gave her some sense of relief. The nappy felt so bulky compared to her usual underwear, it was hard to feel herself through it and she had to continually grind her hand in place to gain the relief she needed.
The coach rolled ever onwards and she plumbed new depths of agony of need. “I cannot last,” she said out loud but he did not stir.
Perhaps if I sleep, she thought, it may help. She twisted her head until she could lean on the wall of the carriage. Closing her eyes, she did her best to distract herself from the pain in her bladder, thinking of home and the things she would demand from her father to make up for the treatment he had signed her up for.
With a jolt she sat upright, confused by the sight of morning light streaming through the window. Had she slept? Sitting up, her bladder screamed for release. Opposite her the man was still asleep. Any thoughts of running were gone until she gained some form of relief from the agony passing through her body.
The carriage bumped over rougher ground and with each jolt, another drop of urine leaked from her, soaking into the cloth until she could hold it in no longer. Even with her hand clamped between her legs, she could not stop the dripping becoming a trickle which then became a flood.
It gushed out of her, soaking into the cloth as she let out an uncontrollable sigh of pure relief. Shame filled her mind even as the pain in her body began to ease and by the time she had finished urinating, her mind was overwhelmed by the thought of what she had just done, wetting herself in public for the first time since she was an infant.
As the last drops left her, she moved her knees apart, trying to reduce the awful feeling of the warm wet cloth on her skin. Opposite her the man stirred as the carriage came to a halt.
“We are here,” the man said, getting immediately to his feet and pushing open the door. “Welcome to your new home.”
Chapter 6 - Edward
Edward felt alive for the first time in months. A real challenge, a woman in need of his unique style of education who would most definitely benefit from becoming a little more than anyone who he had taught before. As he stepped down from the carriage he looked across at Laura. She looked utterly defeated, her nappy sagging visibly even through her dress.
It wasn’t the defeat in her eyes that pleased him so much. It was the defiance that still flared in her, waiting fo
r a chance to emerge at the right moment. That defiance, channelled in the right way, would send her back home a completely different person. He just hoped her parents were prepared for the change.
When he had got her into the carriage, it felt exhilarating, to have her completely in his power and yet still she looked unwilling to submit, like a caged animal who was still dangerous despite her confinement. He knew he had to play this carefully.
He had been glad when she had called him insane, giving him the perfect opportunity to show her who was in charge. Taking her onto his lap and exposing her posterior had been all about discipline but as her curvy buttocks came into view, a thought entered his head for the first time. She looked delightful in a way none of the other littles ever had. Was her defiant manner revealing itself through her very skin? Was that even possible? He did not know the answers, he just knew the sight of her bottom made him want to do far more than just spank her.
As he smacked her behind and watched it turn red, she screamed and squirmed and fought to escape him. Let her try, she would soon learn such defiance served little purpose. All she needed to know was that letting go of her anger would do her good, submitting to him would make her happy, though he knew she was not yet aware of that. No matter, that knowledge would come with time.
At one point during spanking her, he caught sight of what lay between her legs and a spark of desire developed within him. From nowhere he found himself wondering what it would be like to spank her there, to make her yelp with surprise at the sensation before sliding fingers into her and then…
He shook his head, forcing the thoughts away. It would never do to touch one of his littles in that way. The scandal that might ensue would end his career. Better to think only of her development, ignore the lust that had begun to whisper to him.
He thought back to how she had looked in her bedroom. That mixture of modesty and bratty behaviour when he had stripped her. Her body with its pale skin and the perfect curve of her hips. The way her hair cascaded over her shoulders like a waterfall. The swell of her breasts as she had fixedly remained still. It had been hard not to stare at her but he had managed, having done this so many times before made it easier.
Holding her fighting form whilst tying the nappy in place had given him the perfect view between her legs. The swells and folds of soft pink flesh had called to him and he had the same thought he always had when starting them on their journey. What would it be like to touch her there? He never gave in to the primal thought that crossed his mind at that point. So many times a daughter of a Lord or Duke had been naked on their bed and he had been holding their squirming form whilst tying a nappy.
The contract had given him freedom over them and he knew he could take advantage of his strength if he wanted to. But he also knew he would never do it. It would not be worth the tactile sensation of touching them for the consequences. He would lose his power over them if they lusted after him, if he gave in to his primal desires would be the worst thing he could do whilst attempting to mould them into better people.
So he just glanced at them as he glanced at Laura, knowing he had control over her was enough. Especially as she looked so adorable with the nappy tied in place.
On the carriage he had enjoyed seeing her discomfort, even as he had slept through part of it but he had awoken long before she realised he was alert and watching her. Whenever she looked his way he kept his eyes tightly closed but the swaying of the lantern had worked in his favour, giving him man chances to glance across at her and watch her fight with herself. She was so wilful, unwilling to let go and yet until she did he knew she was still the old Laura, the daughter they struggled with, the brat. Wetting the nappy would be the first step on a journey to becoming a decent human being, to becoming a little.
He watched through half closed eyes as she squirmed and moved on her seat, her hands clamped between her legs, her knees squeezing together. As her feet jiggled he again felt the power he had over her growing, waking him up. It had been so long since he’d done this. The other littles were so good, they had long passed the babygirl stage. None of them were even in nappies anymore but when they had been, they had wet themselves readily and without shame, knowing it was for their own good.
Not her though, not yet at least. She was fighting herself, fighting against letting go of the brat and becoming the little she needed to be in order to grow as a person, to learn the joy of letting someone else take charge.
When she began to lose control at last, he realised he had felt her tension, his muscles straining as he managed to keep still but only just. He wanted to shout out, “Let go,” but he kept silent, knowing she had to take this first step on her own, she had to do it willingly. Everything else would follow from this. She muttered under her breath as a hissing sound filled the air of the carriage and at that moment she visibly relaxed. Even as shame filled her features, he could see her body relaxing and he did too. He had not wanted to admit it but he had feared she might be able to maintain control for the entire journey. It would have made everything else much harder.
Taking her into the house with her nappy wet and her humiliation complete would make her far easier to train, to mould into a little. He had theatrically awoken and stepped down from the carriage, ignoring her shame whilst smiling inwardly. She was ready and so was he. Let her education commence.
Chapter 7 - Laura
Laura looked up at the building before her, glad she was standing on grass and not gravel. It was an impressive house. Tall windows lined up either side of an imposing dark wood front door. There were three storeys in white stone, with statues either corner of the red tiled roof. Ivy crept tentatively upwards from the ground as if afraid of Westall, knowing he might beat their leaves as he had beaten her. The brute.
The carriage rolled away towards the nearby stable block as Westall took her hand and pulled her up the steps and through the door.
Inside a middle aged buxom woman was dusting a marble statue. She turned to face them as they entered. “Mr Westall, you’re back already.”
“We rode all night Mrs Flanders,” he replied. “She had an accident though. Would you mind changing her whilst I go and see if breakfast is ready?”
“Of course Mr Westall.”
Laura blushed deeply. How did he know she had wet herself. “Wait a moment,” she said but she might as well have been talking to herself.
Edward turned to Laura and leaned closer to her, talking in a whisper. “You will obey her as you would me or you will suffer the consequences. Am I understood?”
“Yes, sir,” she gulped, unable to meet his eyes.
Mrs Flanders took her from Westall’s grasp and gripped her hand even more tightly, bustling her along a thickly carpeted hallway and up a flight of stairs. “This way child,” she said, pulling her through a doorway into a small room. “We’ll soon have you cleaned up.”
Laura found herself looking at a rectangular wooden table with straps and bonds at each corner. “Up you get,” Mrs Flanders said.
“Must I?”
Mrs Flanders scowled at her. “It was not a request.”
Reluctantly, Laura climbed onto the table. Almost at once, Mrs Flanders shoved her down onto her back, binding her wrists in the straps by her head. Laura looked up in time to see the woman picking up a square of cloth from a pile on the cabinet next to the table.
“Let me up off here!” Laura snapped, tugging at the bonds holding her wrists in place.
“Can’t have you in that one all day,” Mrs Flanders replied. “You’ll get a rash.” She untied the knots holding the nappy in place. “My, that is heavy. We’ll get a fresh one on you and then you can have some breakfast. You must be pretty hungry by now. Lift your hips up for me, that’s a good little girl.”
She tied the fresh nappy in place before untying Laura’s wrists. “If you’re good and walk properly I won’t have to hold onto you. Will you be good?”
“If I’m not?”
“I’m far firmer wit
h my spanking hand than your papa. Do we have an accord?”
Laura’s face fell as she thought of the stinging pain inflicted by Mr Westall. “We do,” she said quietly.
“Good, now let’s go get you a drink.”
Laura followed her back downstairs into a dining room where Mr Study was sitting at the head of the table. The remaining seats were all taken up by other young women of a similar age to her. They were all wearing similar babydoll dresses and none of them seemed in the least surprised to see her. To her astonishment she realised only Westall was eating. The others were all sucking on a bottle of milk, the teats at the end wedged between their lips.
“Where is my breakfast?” Laura asked as she sat in the only vacant seat.
“Right there.,” Mr Westall replied.
She looked down at a bottle of milk and napkin. “You expect me to drink that?”
“Your choice.”
“Then I refuse.”
“Very well. You will drink from the source instead. Mrs Flanders if you please.”
“Of course sir,” Mrs Flanders said, grabbing Laura’s head and twisting it towards her.
“What are you doing?” Laura asked. “Unhand me this instant.”
“It’s good for you,” Mrs Flanders said, pulling the strap of her dress from her shoulder. As it lowered, she reached into her dress and pulled out her left breast, pushing the nipple straight into Laura’s complaining mouth.
Laura attempted to keep her lips clamped shut but the pressure of the moment combined with the hardness of the nipple brushing against her mouth made her desperate for a breath and she could not prevent herself from gasping. The instant her mouth opened, the nipple went in.
With a squeeze of her breast, Mrs Flanders squirted warm milk straight onto her tongue. “That’s it,” the older woman said. “You have a good drink.”
Laura caught sight of the other girls from the corner of her eye but they merely continued sucking on their bottles.
To her surprise the milk tasted surprisingly pleasant, reminding her of some long forgotten memory of her early childhood, a happier time that she was barely aware was still locked in her long term memory. Her eyes glazed over slightly and she found herself automatically sucking at the breast, drawing more of the warm fluid into her mouth.