Chapter 39 — Milky Torment
Elara’s heart pounded as she made one last feeble attempt to pull away, her body tensing within the confines of the stiff onesie. But the woman’s face loomed closer, her eyes glinting with a cold menace that sent a shiver down Elara’s spine. “If you don’t start sucking right now,” she warned, her voice low and laced with threat, “I swear I will have your dining hall access revoked, and this will be the only source of food for you. I will place a charm on you so you can only process breast milk. Is that what you want? Or are you going to be a good girl and obey?”
Elara’s eyes widened in sheer shock, her breath catching in her throat. The weight of the threat hung heavy, and before she could fully process it, instinct—or perhaps fear—parted her lips. The milk-laden nipple pressed into her mouth once more, the warm, sweet liquid hitting her tongue with an immediate rush.
The sensation was overwhelming in its intimacy. The breast against her face was soft yet heavy, the skin warm and slightly damp with perspiration as it molded to the contours of her cheeks and chin. It enveloped her senses, the faint scent of skin and milk filling her nostrils with each shallow breath she managed through her nose. The nipple itself felt firm yet pliant between her lips, textured faintly as it rested on her tongue, releasing its bounty with every reluctant suck. Each pull drew more of the sweet, creamy milk into her mouth—a taste that was cloyingly rich, almost syrupy, coating her palate and sliding down her throat with a warmth that spread through her chest. It was thicker than she expected, leaving a lingering sweetness that clung to the back of her tongue, each swallow feeling heavier than the last as it filled her stomach with an unfamiliar fullness.
But beyond the physical sensations, there was something else—something unexpected. As much as she hated to admit it, even to herself, there was a surprising comfort in being held this way. The woman’s arms cradled her securely in her lap, one hand supporting Elara’s head while the other rested lightly on her back, fingers tracing idle patterns through the fabric of the onesie. The steady rhythm of being rocked ever so slightly, combined with the warmth of another body so close, stirred a primal sense of safety buried deep beneath layers of humiliation. It was as if some forgotten part of her responded to this forced nurturing, easing just a fraction of the tension in her muscles despite her mind screaming against it. The gentle pressure of being held, paired with the rhythmic flow of warm milk, created a strange lull—an unwanted solace that warred with her shame as tears pricked at the corners of her eyes.
Every suck felt like surrender, each swallow a reminder of her powerlessness, yet there was no denying how that warmth pooled in her core, how it dulled the sharp edges of panic for fleeting moments. The soggy diaper still clung uncomfortably beneath her, but even that seemed momentarily distant under this bizarre, enforced closeness. Her cheeks burned hotter with every passing second, caught between revulsion and an unbidden need for this twisted comfort as she continued to nurse under those watchful, unyielding eyes.
The woman’s voice took on a sly, almost playful edge as she gazed down at Elara with a glint in her eye. “Now, for the second part of your feeding…” she murmured, her tone dripping with intent. Her hand slid down to rest on Elara’s tummy, fingers splaying across the taut fabric of the onesie, and almost instantly, a sharp cramp twisted through Elara’s gut.
She gasped, her body jerking as she squirmed under the touch, the pressure of the woman’s hand intensifying the discomfort as she pressed in just slightly. “N-no…” Elara whimpered, her voice weak and trembling, trying to pull away from the overwhelming sensation. But the woman’s grip tightened, one arm locking around Elara’s shoulders while the other kept her pinned in place, ensuring there was no escape from the crib or her lap.
“Shh, don’t fight it,” the woman whispered, her voice a mocking soothe as she held firm.
Within moments, Elara’s resistance crumbled under the relentless cramp, and she lost control completely. A warm, humiliating rush filled the seat of her diaper, the material swelling beneath her as it absorbed the mess. The sensation was heavy and inescapable, pressing against her skin with every involuntary push, each wave amplifying her shame as she writhed helplessly.
The woman’s hand drifted slowly from Elara’s tummy, trailing down to her crotch before slipping between her legs to cup the now-sagging diaper at her bum. Her fingers grabbed and squeezed deliberately, squishing the mess around with an audible crinkle, making sure Elara felt every bit of it. “My my, such a good girl…” she cooed, her voice thick with false sweetness as she kneaded the padding. “Filling your diapers like a good girl, and you haven’t even finished all of my milkies yet either! Though I suppose that’s just what girls like you do.”
Elara’s face burned hotter than ever, tears pricking at her eyes as she lay trapped in the woman’s lap, still nursing reluctantly from the warm breast pressed to her lips. The milk continued to flow, sweet and heavy, filling her already bloated stomach while the soggy, messy diaper clung tighter with every squeeze of those intrusive fingers. The dual sensations—being fed and handled so intimately—overwhelmed her senses, leaving her dizzy with humiliation yet unable to pull away from either act. The woman’s touch lingered at her bum, patting and groping through the diaper as if savoring every moment of control.
“Look at you, making such big messes for me,” she purred, tilting Elara’s chin up slightly with her free hand to meet her gaze. “You’re right where you belong, aren’t you? Just keep drinking… we’ve got plenty more to get through.” Her smile widened as she guided Elara’s mouth back firmly against the nipple, ensuring no break in the forced feeding while the weight of the soiled diaper grew heavier by the second.
Elara lost track of time as she continued to nurse, the warm milk flowing relentlessly into her mouth, bloating her stomach further with each swallow. The woman’s hand never ceased its intrusive movements, squishing and kneading the mess in Elara’s diaper with deliberate, almost playful intent. The sensation of the soggy, heavy padding being manipulated against her skin sent waves of humiliation through her, her cheeks burning a deep crimson as she lay powerless in the woman’s lap. Every squeeze amplified the clammy weight between her legs, a constant reminder of her utter lack of control.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the woman eased back, pulling her breast away from Elara’s lips with a faint pop. A thin trail of milk dribbled down Elara’s chin as she groaned softly, her tummy uncomfortably full, sloshing with the sheer volume she’d been forced to consume. Before she could catch her breath, the woman shifted her grip, hauling Elara up with ease to rest against her shoulder. “Let’s get that burp out,” she cooed, patting Elara’s back firmly. Each pat jolted her overfull stomach, and after a few moments, a small burp escaped her lips, bringing a fleeting relief amidst the lingering shame.
“Now, you enjoy some tummy time while I feed your sister,” the woman instructed with a smirk, lowering Elara back into the crib. She rolled her onto her stomach, positioning her so the weight of her body pressed down on the bloated, messy diaper. The sensation was even worse now, squishing beneath her as gravity intensified every uncomfortable detail. The woman gave her soiled butt several overly enthusiastic pats, each one sending a jarring ripple through the mess and drawing a muffled whimper from Elara’s throat. “There we go,” she chirped before standing up straight.
Elara heard soft footsteps move away, followed by a faint whimper from Quinn nearby. Her heart sank—how long had Quinn been awake, witnessing this? She turned her head slightly, just enough to glimpse Quinn in the dim light of the crib beside her. Then came a weak, trembling “No…” from Quinn’s lips, barely audible but laced with dread. The protest was quickly silenced as the room filled once more with the unmistakable sounds of nursing—soft suckling noises punctuated by occasional murmurs of encouragement from the woman.
Elara pressed her face into the crib mattress, trying to block it out, but there was no escaping what came next. Within minutes, just as it had happened to her, she heard Quinn lose control—the faint crinkle of a diaper growing heavier under strain, followed by quiet whimpers of defeat. The air grew thick with their shared humiliation as the woman’s voice purred again. “That’s my good girl,” she crooned loudly enough for both to hear. “Making such nice big messes for Mommy.”
Lying there on her stomach, trapped by the stiff onesie and weighed down by her own sodden diaper, Elara felt every pat and squeeze replay in her mind. Her full belly ached against the mattress while Quinn’s stifled sobs mingled with those wet nursing sounds behind her—a relentless soundtrack to their degradation in this endless nightmare of Littlewick.
Her ears caught the heavy tread of footsteps approaching the crib, and before she could react, she was scooped up into Daddy’s strong arms. He smiled down at her, his expression a mix of amusement and control, as his large hand slid down to squeeze her bum through the soggy diaper. The pressure squished the contents against her skin, amplifying her discomfort and shame. “Feels like someone needs a diaper change,” he said, his voice low and teasing, as he carried her across the room to the changing table.
Elara’s cheeks flushed a deep crimson by the time they reached the table, her heart racing with embarrassment. Daddy had never changed her before, and the unfamiliarity of being in his hands for such an intimate task made her skin prickle with unease. She was laid down gently but firmly on the padded surface, her stiff onesie still clinging to her body. He worked quickly, unsnapping the crotch of the onesie and peeling it back, exposing the swollen, sagging diaper beneath. Her blush deepened as she stared sightlessly at the ceiling, knowing better than to argue or resist, though every fiber of her being screamed against this vulnerability.
To her surprise, he didn’t immediately reach for the tabs of her diaper. Instead, she heard a faint rustle as he pulled something small from his pocket. Her brow furrowed in confusion for only a moment before a sudden buzzing sensation erupted from within her diaper, pressed right against her most sensitive spot through the sodden material. Elara yelped sharply, her body jerking at the unexpected stimulation as a toy—some kind of vibrator, she realized—hummed insistently against her clit.
The vibrations were relentless, sending electric jolts of sensation through her core despite the barrier of wet padding. Almost as quickly as the yelp escaped, it melted into a low moan, her hips twitching involuntarily under the intense buzz. Daddy smirked down at her, his eyes glinting with satisfaction as he watched her reaction. “Good girls make cummies in their full diapers,” he told her, his voice a husky murmur that sent another wave of heat through her already burning face.
Elara whimpered softly, her hands clenching into fists at her sides as her hips began to writhe on their own accord. The toy’s vibrations pulsed in steady waves, teasing and tormenting her clit through the thick, messy material of the diaper. Each buzz seemed to build on the last, creating a maddening rhythm that pushed her closer to an edge she didn’t want to acknowledge.
Her breaths came in shallow gasps now, each one hitching slightly as she fought against giving in. The sensation was overwhelming—the constant vibration seemed to thrum directly into her nerves, making her thighs tremble despite herself. Sweat beaded on her forehead, her body caught between shame and an unwanted need building steadily inside her. Daddy’s hand rested lightly on her hip, holding her steady on the table as he watched every twitch and shudder with keen interest.
“Look at you,” he murmured, leaning down slightly so his voice was closer to her ear. “Squirming like that in your dirty little diaper. You want it bad, don’t you? But you’re gonna wait ‘til I say so.”
Another whimper slipped from her lips, higher-pitched this time, as the vibrations intensified for a brief moment before settling back into their torturous rhythm. Her hips bucked instinctively, seeking more friction even as her mind reeled with mortification. The mess in her diaper shifted again under her movements, pressing uncomfortably against sensitive areas while simultaneously heightening every pulse from the toy. It was too much—too degrading yet too stimulating to ignore—and tears of frustration pricked at her eyes as she hovered agonizingly close to release.
“Not yet,” he said firmly, adjusting his grip on her hip just enough to keep her from tipping over that edge. “You gotta earn it. Keep those pretty moans comin’ for me.”
Elara bit her lip hard, stifling another moan as best she could while her body betrayed her completely under his control. Every second dragged on like torture; the buzzing never let up nor gave enough to push her over without permission. Her legs quivered harder now; muscles tense from fighting both restraint and desire amidst layers upon layers of conflicting sensations—the wet cling of fabric below warring viciously with sparks dancing along nerves above—all while knowing relief dangled just out reach until he decided otherwise.
Daddy’s voice dropped to a warm, coaxing murmur as he leaned closer, his hand pressing the buzzing toy more firmly into Elara’s diaper, intensifying the vibrations against her aching clit. “Beg for me,” he urged, his tone laced with a teasing edge. “Beg for me to allow you to cum in your diaper.”
Elara whimpered, her body trembling under the relentless hum that pulsed through the sodden, messy padding. Her hips jerked involuntarily, every nerve alight with desperate need as moans spilled from her lips despite her burning shame. “Please,” she gasped out, her voice shaky and small at first, barely above a whisper. “Please… let me cum in my stinky, messy diaper!”
Her words felt like they seared her throat on the way out, each syllable dripping with humiliation, but the pressure building inside her left no room for pride. Her hands gripped the edges of the changing table, knuckles whitening as she squirmed beneath his gaze. The toy buzzed harder now, as if rewarding her submission, sending sharp waves of pleasure crashing through her core. The mess in her diaper shifted with every writhe of her hips, warm and heavy against her skin, amplifying every sensation—both degrading and maddeningly intense.
“That’s it,” he growled softly, his smirk widening as he watched her unravel. “Keep begging. I wanna hear how bad you need it.”
“Please… please!” she cried louder now, her voice breaking with desperation as tears of frustration and arousal mingled in her eyes. “I need to cum so bad… in my dirty diaper! Please let me!” Her hips bucked harder against the toy, chasing that elusive edge while the wet material squished audibly beneath her. The vibrations seemed to thrum directly into her soul, coiling tighter and tighter in her lower belly until she thought she might shatter from the tension alone.
He chuckled low in his throat, his free hand resting on her thigh to hold her steady while he adjusted the toy just enough to drag out her torment a few seconds longer. “Look at you, all worked up in your nasty little mess,” he taunted. “You’re gonna make such a pretty sight when you fall apart for me. Go on—one more time.”
“Please!” Elara sobbed, her voice raw and pleading as her entire body quaked under the strain. “Let me cum! I’ll do anything—just please let me cum in my stinky diaper!” Her thighs clenched instinctively around nothing but air and padding; every muscle tensed as if bracing for impact while sweat slicked down her flushed skin.
“Alright then,” he finally relented with a satisfied grin. “Cum for me right now—make a big mess of yourself.”
The permission was like a dam breaking inside her. With one last press of the toy against her clit through the soggy layers, Elara’s world exploded into blinding white heat. A choked scream tore from her lips as she climaxed hard, waves of pleasure slamming through her with brutal force. Her hips spasmed uncontrollably against the changing table; each pulse radiated outward from her core until it consumed every inch of her trembling frame. The vibrations kept humming mercilessly through it all—drawing out every shuddering aftershock until she thought it might never end.
Finally, he pulled the buzzing toy away from Elara’s diaper, the sudden absence of vibration leaving her body trembling with aftershocks. Her chest heaved as she lay there on the changing table, utterly spent, her mind a haze of conflicting sensations.
With practiced ease, he peeled open the tabs of her sodden, messy diaper, the cool air hitting her exposed skin and making her shiver. She stared blankly at the ceiling, too exhausted to react as he began cleaning her up. His hands moved with clinical precision, wiping away every trace of the mess with damp cloths before dusting her with powder. In mere moments, she was clean and dry, with a fresh diaper secured snugly around her hips.
He hoisted her up into his arms effortlessly, cradling her against his broad chest. Her head lolled slightly, still woozy from the intensity of it all, as she heard footsteps approaching. Mommy appeared in her line of sight, carrying a dazed-looking Quinn whose chin glistened with dribbles of milk. Quinn’s eyes were half-lidded, her expression mirroring Elara’s own exhaustion. The two adults exchanged a knowing glance before swapping the girls—Elara felt herself being passed into Mommy’s softer embrace while Quinn was handed over to him.
As Mommy carried Elara off to be dressed, the first faint moans echoed behind them. The unmistakable hum of the vibrator started up again, accompanied by Quinn’s shaky whimpers, filling the air with a sound that made Elara’s stomach twist. She couldn’t help but wonder if their little blackmail scheme—the one they’d thought so clever at the time—was partially to blame for this twisted treatment. Had their defiance pushed these two to such extremes as punishment? Or was this always part of some sick plan?
She doubted she’d ever truly know for sure.
Mommy’s arms tightened around her slightly as they moved further away from the sounds of Quinn’s torment, heading toward whatever came next in this unending cycle of control and humiliation.