Chapter 13: Accidental Humiliation
The silence in the living room was a heavy, prickling thing, broken only by the faint, shameful crinkle of Ashley’s diaper whenever she shifted on the couch. Kevin stared at the wall, his jaw tight, the memory of Jen’s triumphant click of the mittens’ clasp still echoing in his ears, a sound that somehow drowned out even the desperate, throbbing need building low in his gut.
He glanced at his bare hands, the mittens gone after Ashley’s gentle removal, and saw his chance. With a slow, deliberate shift, he rose from the couch and slipped down the hall toward the quiet bedroom.
The bedroom door clicked shut behind him, muffling the distant, judgmental hum of the living room clock. He hiked up his skirt, pulled himself out of his panties, and started stroking himself with a frantic, angry rhythm.
The rhythmic thump of soles on hardwood sliced through his ragged breathing from just beyond the door. He shoved himself back into his panties, yanking the skirt down just as the knob turned and Jen’s silhouette filled the doorway.
“I was just trying to rest,” he blurted out, the lie brittle and hot in his throat.
“You can rest in the living room,” Jen said, her voice a flat pane of ice as she kept her eyes locked on his, refusing to even glance at the telltale shift of his skirt.
Back in the living room, Ashley’s eyes dropped to the distinct bulge tenting the front of Kevin’s skirt. A slow, knowing smile touched her lips as she reached over and casually ran her palm over the strained fabric, feeling him jump at her touch.
Jen watched from the hallway entrance, her expression unreadable but her eyes darkening as they fixed on Ashley’s daring hand.
Jen cleared her throat, her voice slicing through the thick air. "Ashley, come help me in the kitchen."
As Ashley stood, the diaper rustling, Kevin attempted to adjust his cock against his leg through the thin fabric of his skirt.
He waited until the clatter of pans from the kitchen covered the sound of his own frantic heartbeat, then dragged a floral-printed throw pillow onto his lap. He pressed his aching, confined hardness against its dense cushion, a slow, desperate grind that offered no real friction through the layers of skirt and panties.
Frustration boiled over, and with a sharp tug, he freed himself from the confining fabric. The sudden, cool air on his skin was a relief, but it vanished when he heard the kitchen faucet shut off and Jen’s footsteps approaching.
He snatched the pillow and pulled it hard against his lap just as the door swung wide. Jen stood there, her eyes dropping immediately to the pillow clutched to his midsection, a knowing, icy silence hanging between them before she finally spoke.
In one swift motion, she snatched the pillow from his grasp. His pathetic erection stood up, stark and exposed, sticking out from the opening of his panties.
Jen’s hand shot out, icy and unyielding, and hauled him unceremoniously across her knees. The first sharp crack of her palm against his bare skin coincided with the burning thrust of his erection against the rough fabric of her slacks.
She stopped the spanking abruptly, her eyes narrowing at the damp, glistening tip of him. “Up,” she commanded, her voice devoid of heat, and when he stood she pointed a finger toward the kitchen doorway. “You’ll stand in the corner by the fridge until I say otherwise.”
He stood facing the humming refrigerator, the crinkle of his own diaper a quiet hymn to his helplessness. From the kitchen island, Ashley let out a short, sharp laugh at the sight of him trembling there, and Jen said, “Be nice now, he’s learning.”