Chapter 37 — Lines and Retributions

The dorm room door slammed shut with a resounding bang, the sound echoing through the small space as Elara and Quinn stumbled inside, dragged by the firm grips of Mommy and Daddy. The air was thick with tension, the weight of their failed confrontation pressing down on them like a storm cloud. Mommy released Elara’s arm with a sharp jerk, her face flushed with anger as she loomed over the two girls, hands on her hips.

“You seriously thought you could blackmail us over… diapers?!” Mommy demanded, her voice cutting like a whip, each word dripping with incredulity and rage. Her eyes burned into them, daring either to answer.

Elara’s chest heaved, her defiance flickering despite the sinking feeling in her gut. She couldn’t meet Mommy’s piercing gaze, instead staring at the scuffed floor as she growled back, “It worked, didn’t it? What the hell did you think we had on you?”

“Language, young lady,” Mommy snapped, stepping closer, her tone icy. “We thought you had more than that, and we were willing to let you go through with your little charade to see what you really had. Even with all the freedom we’ve given you, that’s your best?! Come on!”

Elara wilted under the verbal assault, her shoulders slumping as shame crept up her neck, hot and prickling. “It isn’t like we haven’t been tryinggg,” she whined, dragging out the word in a desperate plea, though it sounded weak even to her own ears.

“Not hard enough,” Daddy interjected, his voice low and final as he shook his head in disappointment. He crossed his arms, his towering presence making the room feel smaller. “It’s time we take control again. You’ve both proven you can’t be trusted.”

Quinn’s breath hitched beside Elara, her voice trembling as she shrank back against the wall. “Wha-what are you going to do?”

Mommy’s lips curled into a grin, sharp and menacing, as she tilted her head slightly. “We’ll start with your punishment,” she said, her tone deceptively calm, “and then figure things out from there.”

Before Elara could process the words or muster any resistance, Mommy was on her, moving with swift precision. Her hands gripped Elara’s school uniform, yanking at the blouse and skirt with practiced ease. Buttons popped loose as the fabric was stripped away, leaving Elara exposed in just her damp diaper. She stood there, too numb with shock and humiliation to fight back, her limbs heavy as if weighed down by defeat.

Mommy didn’t pause. She strode over to the oversized crib and sat down on its edge with deliberate authority. In one fluid motion, she tugged Elara forward by the wrist, pulling her over her lap. Elara’s stomach lurched as she was positioned face-down, her padded bottom upturned vulnerably. Before she could squirm or protest, Mommy pinned her arms behind her back with an iron grip, rendering her helpless.

Tears pricked at Elara’s eyes before the first strike even landed, spilling over as quiet sobs shook her frame. She bit her lip, trying to brace herself for what she knew was coming, but nothing could prepare her for the sting of humiliation already burning through her.

The room echoed with the sharp, rhythmic sounds of slaps as the punishment dragged on, long and unrelenting. Mommy’s hand came down again and again, alternating between Elara’s diapered bottom and the tender skin of her upper thighs. Each strike on the bare flesh stung fiercely, the thin barrier of the padding doing little to dull the impact over time. Elara’s initial stifled sobs turned into full-blown bawling, tears streaming down her face as the pain built into a throbbing ache. Her body eventually went limp over Mommy’s lap, exhaustion and defeat sapping the last of her resistance.

Beside them, Quinn fared no better. Daddy had pulled her over his knee shortly after Elara’s punishment began, his heavy hand delivering firm smacks to her own diapered rear and thighs. Her cries mingled with Elara’s, high-pitched and broken as she squirmed uselessly against his grip.

Mommy finally paused, her hand resting on Elara’s bottom for a moment before sliding down to check the state of the diaper beneath. The padding had grown noticeably wet during the ordeal, sagging under the weight of Elara’s distress. “Let’s get you changed,” she said with a sigh, her tone matter-of-fact rather than gentle. Without waiting for a response, she scooped Elara up into her arms effortlessly, lifting her from the lap position as if she weighed nothing.

Elara’s head lolled against Mommy’s shoulder, too drained to protest or even lift her gaze. Each echoing slap from Daddy’s hand on Quinn made her wince instinctively, though she had no energy left to react beyond a faint shudder. Quinn’s cries grew louder still, raw and desperate now, filling the small dorm room with their shared misery.

Mommy carried Elara to the changing table in the corner, laying her down with practiced ease on the padded surface. The cool material pressed against Elara’s sore thighs, making her flinch slightly as she stared blankly at the ceiling through tear-blurred eyes. The wet diaper clung uncomfortably to her skin, amplifying every ache as Mommy began to undo the tabs.

“Stay still,” Mommy muttered, not unkindly but with an edge of impatience, as she slid the soggy garment out from under Elara and tossed it aside. The air felt cold against her exposed skin for a moment before a fresh diaper was unfolded with a crinkle and positioned beneath her.

Meanwhile, Daddy’s stern voice cut through Quinn’s sobs nearby. “You’re done when I say you’re done,” he grunted between strikes, showing no sign of letting up as Quinn’s pleas grew more frantic.

Elara’s attention snapped back to her own predicament as she felt Mommy’s fingers brushing across her sensitive skin, teasing at her most intimate area. Before she could process or protest, a finger slipped inside her, invasive and sudden. She yelped, her body jerking instinctively against the intrusion, but Mommy’s other hand pressed down on her hip, holding her firmly in place on the changing table.

“What are you doing?!” Elara gasped, her voice a mix of shock and discomfort as she squirmed under the unyielding grip.

Mommy smirked down at her, eyes glinting with control. “The second half of your punishment,” she said simply, her tone carrying an edge of satisfaction. With that, she withdrew her finger, leaving Elara flushed and trembling as she finished the diaper change with swift, practiced motions. The fresh diaper was taped snugly around her hips, trapping the lingering heat and soreness from the spanking against her skin, making every slight movement sting.

Elara winced as the padding rubbed against her tender thighs, but she had no time to dwell on it. Quinn was being carried to the adjacent changing table by Daddy, her soft whimpers and futile struggles mirroring what Elara had just endured. Their eyes met briefly, sharing a moment of silent misery before Elara was hoisted off the table.

Mommy didn’t bother dressing her beyond the diaper, leaving her bare except for the crinkling garment as she plopped Elara down at the small desk in the corner of the dorm room. The hard wooden chair pressed painfully against her sore bottom, drawing another sharp wince from her lips. A pad of paper and an old-fashioned quill were set in front of her with deliberate force.

“You’re going to do some lines,” Mommy stated firmly, standing over her with crossed arms, daring any hint of defiance.

“Lines?” Elara echoed, confusion lacing her voice as she shifted uncomfortably, the diaper rustling beneath her.

“You’ll be writing ‘I’m sorry Mommy for being naughty, I promise to do better in the future,’” Mommy instructed, her voice cold and unyielding. “And I want you to write it 50 times.”

“50?!” Elara’s protest came out as a squeak, disbelief widening her teary eyes.

“Make it 60,” Mommy snapped without missing a beat, her gaze hardening.

Elara whimpered softly, ducking her head in submission as she picked up the quill with trembling fingers. The ink scratched against the paper begrudgingly, each stroke feeling like another weight added to her already heavy shame. Her handwriting wobbled from both exhaustion and emotion as she began to write out the humiliating sentence over and over.

Behind her, she could hear Quinn’s shaky breaths from the changing table, punctuated by Daddy’s low murmurs of instruction or reprimand. The room felt suffocatingly small, every sound amplified—the scratch of quill on paper, the crinkle of diapers, and their shared quiet sniffles. Elara’s sore bottom throbbed with each shift in her seat, a constant reminder of their failed rebellion, while her mind churned with frustration and helplessness. Yet she kept writing, knowing any further resistance would only make things worse.

Quinn shuffled over to the second desk, her own pad of paper and quill in hand, her face streaked with dried tears as she settled into the chair beside Elara. The two girls wrote in tense silence, the scratch of their quills the only sound breaking through the low whispers of Mommy and Daddy behind them. Elara’s hand already ached halfway through her lines, the repetitive motion straining her wrist, but that discomfort paled in comparison to what hit her next.

A sharp cramp twisted through her stomach, hard and unrelenting, forcing a low groan from her lips. Her free hand instinctively pressed against her tummy, trying to ease the sudden pain as she hunched forward slightly. Mommy glanced over from where she stood near Daddy, a small, knowing smirk curling her lips before she turned back to their hushed conversation, ignoring Elara’s obvious distress.

What had the woman done? Another cramp struck, even worse than the first, and a horrifying realization dawned on Elara with painful clarity. Mommy must have slipped something inside her during that invasive moment on the changing table—something to ensure this exact humiliation. Her breath hitched as she tried to focus on the lines, scribbling out another apology with shaky handwriting, but it was futile. Nature was taking its course, and there was no stopping it.

Desperate, Elara pushed her chair back with a scrape, intending to stand and at least try to relieve herself away from this humiliating setting. But before she could fully rise, Mommy’s voice cut through like a whip.

“SIT that butt right back down,” she commanded sharply, not even turning fully to look at Elara.

Elara’s face burned with a deep, mortifying blush as she whimpered softly, hesitating for only a split second before sinking back into the chair. The hard wooden seat pressed unforgivingly against her sore backside through the diaper, amplifying every sensation. She couldn’t hold on any longer. With a quiet sob of defeat, she lost all control, her body betraying her as she began to fill the seat of her diaper. The warmth spread quickly, the crinkling padding sagging under the weight as an overwhelming wave of shame washed over her.

Her hand stilled on the paper mid-sentence, quill trembling in her grip while she ducked her head, unable to look at Quinn or anyone else in the room. Beside her, Quinn’s writing faltered too, her quick sideways glance filled with pity and secondhand embarrassment before she forced her eyes back to her own lines. The air grew heavy with Elara’s silent misery, punctuated only by the faint rustle of her diaper and the continued murmurs of Mommy and Daddy behind them.

“Keep writing,” Mommy called out after a moment, her tone clipped and devoid of sympathy. “You’re not done until every line is finished. I don’t care how uncomfortable you are.”

Elara’s body convulsed with another harsh cramp, her stomach twisting painfully as she hunched over the desk, quill trembling in her hand. The inevitable happened again, adding to the already heavy, soiled mess in her diaper. The weight squished uncomfortably beneath her, pressing against the hard chair with every slight shift, amplifying her humiliation. The thick padding sagged further as she bit her lip to suppress a whimper, forcing herself to drag the quill across the paper.

Beside her, Quinn’s face contorted in a similar struggle, her breath coming in short, uneven gasps. Elara caught the exact moment Quinn lost her battle—her friend’s shoulders slumped, eyes squeezing shut as a quiet groan escaped her lips. The faint rustle and subtle shift in Quinn’s posture confirmed it; she had given in, filling her own diaper just as Elara had. The shared misery hung between them, unspoken but palpable, as both girls sat there with swelling diapers beneath them, the crinkling sounds betraying their every move.

They tried to focus on their lines, scribbling out the humiliating apologies over and over, but concentration was near impossible. Each cramp that rippled through Elara brought another wave of discomfort, her diaper growing heavier by the minute, sticking to her skin in a way that made her squirm despite herself. Quinn fared no better, her handwriting shaky and uneven as she shifted uncomfortably in her seat, the same soggy weight dragging at her.

Behind them, Mommy and Daddy continued their low conversation, their voices a distant murmur laced with occasional chuckles or sharp remarks too quiet to make out fully. They paid no mind to the girls’ plight, as if their suffering was just background noise to whatever they were discussing.

“Keep those hands moving,” Mommy called out suddenly, her tone sharp without even turning to look at them. “I don’t want to see either of you slacking off, no matter what’s going on down there.”

Elara’s face burned hotter, her fingers tightening around the quill as she forced herself to write faster, though each stroke felt like torture with her body screaming for relief from the mess she was trapped in. Another small cramp hit, and she tensed, unable to stop yet another addition to her already overburdened diaper. The sensation was overwhelming—wet, heavy, and utterly degrading—as it pressed against her sore skin.

Quinn let out a soft sniffle beside her, her own pen pausing for just a second before resuming with a resigned slump of her shoulders. Their eyes met briefly, a flicker of mutual understanding passing between them: they were in this together, but there was no escaping it.

“How many you got left?” Elara whispered under her breath, barely audible, desperate for any distraction from their shared state.

“Too many,” Quinn muttered back, voice thick with embarrassment as she adjusted herself slightly, wincing at the squish beneath her. “This is hell.”

Elara’s hand trembled as she scratched out the final line, the ache in her wrist nearly as unbearable as the heavy, sodden weight of her diaper pressing against the hard chair. With a sigh of exhausted relief, she leaned back slightly, the crinkling beneath her a humiliating reminder of her state. “I’m finished, Mommy,” she mumbled, her voice small and defeated, barely above a whisper.

Mommy strode over immediately, her presence looming as she leaned down to inspect the pad of paper. Her finger jabbed at several lines near the middle, her expression unreadable but stern. “Rewrite those. I can’t read them,” she ordered, her tone leaving no room for argument.

Elara’s mouth hung open in disbelief, shock, and frustration bubbling up inside her. She stared at the smudged, shaky handwriting—barely legible from her trembling earlier—but Mommy didn’t even look phased by her reaction, already stepping back with an expectant tilt of her head.

Grumbling under her breath, Elara hunched forward again, the messy diaper squishing uncomfortably as she picked up the quill with a reluctant hand. Each stroke felt like dragging a weight through mud, her sore fingers protesting as she rewrote the indicated lines with painstaking care.

“And five more lines after that for that attitude,” Mommy added sharply, crossing her arms over her chest.

Elara wilted under the added punishment, her shoulders slumping further as a fresh wave of humiliation washed over her. She nodded silently at first, dipping the quill back into the ink to continue writing, not daring to protest again.

“I can’t hear you,” Mommy snapped, her voice cutting through the quiet room like a blade.

“I will. I’ll do it…” Elara muttered quickly, keeping her eyes glued to the paper, her cheeks burning hotter.

“Yes… who?” Mommy pressed, stepping closer until her shadow fell over the desk.

Elara’s blush deepened, spreading down her neck as she swallowed hard. “Yes, Mommy…” she whispered, the words tasting bitter on her tongue.

“Better,” Mommy replied with a curt nod, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth before she turned away to check on Quinn’s progress.

Elara’s hand moved mechanically now, rewriting the sloppy lines and adding the extra five as instructed. Beside her, Quinn’s own quill scratched unevenly against paper, punctuated by soft sniffles and the occasional rustle of her equally burdened diaper.

“I’m done,” Elara mumbled, her voice barely audible over the ache in her hand and the heavy discomfort weighing on her body. Beside her, Quinn echoed the same words, equally exhausted, her own tone laced with resignation.

Mommy and Daddy approached, their footsteps deliberate as they leaned over to inspect the girls’ work. Their eyes scanned the pages of forced apologies, line by line, before they exchanged a brief glance and nodded in approval. “It’s bedtime,” Mommy announced, her voice firm but carrying a deceptive softness as she bent down to scoop Elara into her arms with ease.

“Wait, but…” Elara started to protest, squirming slightly in the tight grip as the soggy, sagging diaper pressed even more uncomfortably against her skin.

“But what?” Mommy asked, not breaking stride as she carried Elara toward the oversized crib tucked against the wall, her tone daring any real challenge.

“I need…” Elara whimpered, her face flushing with renewed shame as she struggled to get the words out. “I need a diaper change.”

Mommy’s expression didn’t shift as she lowered Elara into the crib, the bars looming around her like a cage. “Babies don’t ask for changes,” she said firmly, her voice cutting through any hope of dignity. “What do they do instead?”

Elara’s brow furrowed, confusion and humiliation mixing as she lay there, the messy diaper clinging to her. “They… cry?” she guessed hesitantly, her voice small and uncertain.

Mommy didn’t react, her silence a clear indication that she expected more than just words. Her gaze bore down on Elara, unyielding.

Swallowing hard, Elara felt a lump rise in her throat. With visible effort and a deep well of embarrassment, she forced herself to start crying—soft at first, then louder, the fake sobs shaking her shoulders as tears pricked at her eyes from sheer frustration.

Moments later, Mommy’s demeanor shifted. She reached down, patting the front of Elara’s diaper with an exaggerated coo. “Awww! Did my baby make poopies? Let’s get you changed, sweetheart,” she said in a sickly sweet tone, producing a pacifier from nowhere and popping it into Elara’s mouth. Before Elara could react, the bulb inflated with a faint hiss, filling her mouth and preventing her from spitting it out or speaking.

Elara yelped around the gag, the sound muffled as shock snapped her out of her tears. Her wide eyes darted up at Mommy while she was lifted effortlessly from the crib and carried back to the changing table.

“You need to realize you are a baby,” Mommy continued, her voice now a mix of sternness and mock tenderness as she laid Elara down on the padded surface. “You’ll be treated exactly like one from here on out, and I expect you to respond as one. Otherwise, it’s going to be a long… long rest of your year.”