Stockholm Syndrome | Harry

t h r e e

I think I hated the diaper more than anything else about this entire situation. It was too snug, and obnoxiously noisy. And I didn't like the way that the smell of baby powder clung to me.

This was my second day here, and I've needed to pee since I woke up this morning.

After the spanking and being put in a fresh diaper, Harry had fed me a bottle and sent me off the play in the corner of the living room. He sat lounging on the couch, flipping through the channels. And I sat in the corner, "playing" with a stuffed unicorn and some blocks.

I was aching to look outside, see the surroundings, but the blinds were down and the curtains closed. When I neared a window and touched the curtain to pull it back, Harry had gently slapped away my hand, telling me not to touch.

So, from the spanking, diaper, "playing", and having no fu.cking clue where I was, I was in a pretty sour mood.

And, I needed a piss. I was shifting uncomfortably, twisting my hands in front of me.

"What's wrong, baby?" He turns his attention away from the tv to look at me.

"Need to piss." I snap.

"Em," he starts, calmly. "No bad words, please. And no snapping at me, little one."

I nod my head, only half listening.

"Words." He commands.

"Yes, sir." I feel so uncomfortable saying it. The words sting my throat and feel heavy in my mouth.

"Good girl." He praises, standing to walk over to me.

I tense at his presence, trying to slow my constant rocking back and forth.

Harry bends down and places his hand on my shoulder. "Go ahead, baby. I'll change it right away."

I look at him in disbelief. He really wants me to pee myself? He really wants to clean that up?

"No!" I yell, tears forming. "No, I'm not peeing in a diaper."

"You are, Emma. That's what baby's do." He says, simply.

"No! I'm not going to!" I huff.

He sighs, rubbing his temple in circles. "Lie down on your back, please."

I don't, I stay still. Why would he want me to do that?

"Down, Emma." He snaps. "I'm losing my patience."

My eyes go wide at his tone and I comply, easing myself back on the rug. It's uncomfortable and presses against my bladder, but I feel a bit better when I'm lying down.

I let out a sigh of relief. But soon after, I'm inhaling in shock.

Harry is straddling me, his thighs around my hips, one hand on my shoulder.

I squeal when he presses down around my tummy, on what I assume is my bladder.

"Please! Please, don't!" I cry out, becoming hysterical at peeing myself with this man on top of me.

"Stop it! Please, stop!" I'm screaming at him, but he doesn't stop. His hands press down harder, and I can't hold it any longer.

I feel warmth between my legs. The diaper becomes heavy. I can hear myself sobbing but it doesn't sound like me. I feel hot tears on my face.

"Shhh," Harry says, wiping my tears and placing kisses on my cheek. "You're okay, baby. You feel better now, yeah?"

I nod my head slowly. I do feel better. But I feel ashamed. And humiliated and pathetic.