He didn’t stop. His hand rose and fell with mechanical precision. My ass felt like it was on fire. I couldn’t stop the tears anymore—they ran down my face and dripped onto the floor beneath me. I couldn’t stop the small, choked sounds that escaped my throat with each impact.
How long it lasted, I couldn’t say. Time stretched and warped. Eventually my struggles weakened, not because I’d accepted it, but because my body simply couldn’t maintain that level of resistance. My ass throbbed with a deep, burning ache that I knew would turn into bruises.
Then, finally, his hand stilled. He kept me pinned there for another moment, his palm resting on my burning skin, and I realized I was sobbing—ugly, helpless sounds I couldn’t contain.
“Get her dressed,” he said, his voice perfectly calm, as if he’d just finished filling out paperwork.
The officers pulled me upright. My legs barely supported me. My ass felt like someone had held a blowtorch to it. I still hadn’t managed to stop crying. I couldn’t even catch my breath between sobs.
One of them left and returned with something white, made out of fabric. It took my blurred vision a moment to process what I was seeing.
A diaper. A fucking cloth diaper.
“No,” I managed, but my voice came out weak and broken. “No, you can’t?—”
“If you want to behave like a child,” the doctor said, standing and brushing off his coat a little, “you’ll be treated like one.” He looked at me directly for the first time since the spanking, his cold blue eyes assessing. “And where you’re going, Pam, that’s exactly the treatment you’ll receive.”
The officers moved with intimidating precision. One held my arm while the other positioned the diaper, spreading my legs roughly so that he could thread the cloth underneath myprivates. I tried to resist, tried to pull away, but my body was done fighting. The padding pressed against my burning ass and I whimpered at the contact. They pulled it up between my legs—thick and humiliating—and fastened it at my hips.
Then came the rubber pants, translucent and crinkly, pulled up over the diaper to seal it in place. The material made soft rustling sounds with every tiny movement.
“Arms up,” one of the officers commanded.
They dressed me in what looked like a prison uniform, but pink—bright, humiliating pink. The shirt was soft cotton with short sleeves, and the pants had an elastic waistband that accommodated the bulk of the diaper underneath. The outfit was clearly designed for this purpose. I wasn’t the first woman they’d done this to.
I wasn’t going to be the last, either, I felt certain. Fucking Selecta.
They marched me out of the examination room, each officer gripping one of my arms. My legs felt weak, unsteady. The diaper forced my thighs apart slightly, changing my gait, making me waddle. Every step sent the padding rubbing against my punished skin.
We went down another corridor, through a security door, and out into a loading bay where a black van waited. No windows in the back, just solid panels. The rear doors stood open.
Inside was a metal bench along one side with restraint points built into the wall above it. They guided me up the steps—I stumbled, and one of them caught me roughly—and pushed me down onto the bench. The padding of the diaper compressed beneath me and I couldn’t suppress a small sound of pain.
Straps came across my chest, my waist, my thighs—tight enough to keep me in place, but not quite tight enough to cut off circulation. I tested them reflexively, knowing it was useless but unable to stop myself. They didn’t budge.
One of the officers reached into a compartment near the door and pulled out a clear plastic bottle filled with water. He twisted off the cap and held it up in front of my face.
“Drink.”
I turned my face away. “I’m not thirsty.”
“Wasn’t a request.” His hand came up to grip my jaw, fingers digging into my cheeks hard enough to make me gasp. The moment my mouth opened, he pressed the bottle to my lips and tilted it up.
Water flooded my mouth. I tried to spit it out but he held my jaw closed, forcing me to swallow or choke. I swallowed, coughing and sputtering as he poured more in. The water went down the wrong way and I choked harder, my eyes streaming.
“Easy,” he said, without a trace of sympathy in his voice. “You need to drink the whole thing. We can do this the easy way or the hard way.”
He pulled the bottle back long enough for me to catch my breath, then brought it to my lips again. This time I drank, gulping down the water in desperate swallows just to get it over with. My stomach felt heavy and uncomfortable by the time the bottle was half empty, but he didn’t stop. He kept pouring, kept forcing me to swallow, until the last drops were gone.
“Good girl,” he said, and I wanted to spit in his face.
The officers climbed out of the van and slammed the doors shut, plunging me into near darkness. A moment later I heard the front doors open and close, felt the vehicle shift as they settled into their seats. The engine rumbled to life.
We started moving.
I couldn’t see anything. The back of the van was completely sealed off from the front—no window, no gap, nothing. I had no idea which direction we were heading, how far we’d traveled, where they were taking me. The van could have been driving in circles for all I knew.
The restraints held me firmly in place as we turned corners, as the van accelerated and braked. The diaper crinkled with every movement, a constant reminder of my humiliation. My ass still burned from the spanking. I couldn’t actually feel the sensor between my legs, but I kept thinking I could, like a foreign object, a violation I couldn’t escape.
