But here in Papa Nicolai’s bunker, as I forced my body to obey the command Ivan had repeated and sat down on the bench on my diapered bottom, then started to recline… I felt fear of a kind I hadn’t felt back in bad girl prison. I wanted to look at Papa Georg, because I felt like his face might quell the resistance I could sense rising in me along with that fear.
If you show them they can’t control you,I told myself, Papa Nicolai will just get rid of you. And he’ll do it in anger… he’ll just kill you.
I closed my eyes as I felt my back come up against the hard wooden surface of the bench. Papa Nicolai spoke, again using his idea of the voice, though I could hear impatience in his tone and I knew that his obviously violent nature lay right behind it.
“Spread your knees and hold them apart, whore,” he said. “Nice and high for Papa.”
A thrill of arousal rocketed through my body; this position, the diaper position as Daddy Trevor sometimes called it, seemed to have some kind of hardwiring into my nervous system and my submissive sexuality. At the same time, that very fact, my bodily response to the warlord’s humiliating, belittling words, brought out the rebellion in me.
Really, if this scene were unfolding in my own warm bunker, with my Lumberjack daddies, and Daddy Trevor had decided not to use the voice of authority, I probably would have said, “Daddy, no… please,” and refused. I would have known of course that he would spank me; Daddy Trevor loved to spank me in the diaper position. But that simply represented the way a bad girl behaved, when the time came for something shameful like a gangbang—reluctantly.
Here in this cold room, with Papa Nicolai looming over me at the end of the bench, waiting to take my diaper off and inspect my damp pussy and my cringing anus, I had to fight that instinct. I shook my head slowly, my brow creasing so deeply it hurt.
On my right, I saw Papa Georg. He stood behind two of the guards, almost a full head taller than them. I couldn’t see my papa’s mouth, but I could see his blue eyes and I could read their serious, caring expression. My chest filled with light. I didn’t think I really even needed that wonderful, thoughtful look on his face—Papa Georg could have worn a scowl of disapproval at my slowness to obey the man papa had said could take my diaper off and fuck me.
All I needed was to see that he was watching. He would keep me safe. If for some reason, something bad happened anyway, he would put his own life on the line to stop it—maybe we would die together, but it seemed to me that that promise gave enough comfort to make me do not as my defiance wanted but as Papa Georg wanted.
I turned my face back to look up at Papa Nicolai, because I knew my own, real papa wanted me to do that. I bit my lip, and I started to raise my legs the way the warlord had commanded.
I whispered, “Yes, Papa,” because Papa Georg would want me to do that, too: pretend that this evil man somehow had put me under the spell of his dominant authority.
“Such a good little whore,” Papa Nicolai said, smiling lustfully down as he reached for the tabs on the sides of the diaper. “Good little whores get filled up with cock.”