Chapter 8: Endure the panty pats.
Monica and John were weeding the garden. John was bent over and Ellen, our neighbor came up behind me and patted my exposed rubber panty.
"I see you've chosen to keep John in diapers," she said, "And he feels wet."
I stood up turning red with embarrassment. I was angry with her but held myself back from saying anything.
"Hi, Ellen," Monica said, "Yes I decided to keep John in diapers."
Ellen laughed looking at me, "Yes, I like it...to see males in diapers. I have James in diapers now too. I think I'll make him incontinent. How long has John been diapered?"
She laughed, but I was shocked. I hadn't thought about becoming incontinent but wetting had become very easy over the last few months I'd been in them.
"Since the week after we were married. That's been almost 6 months."
I became frightened and angry. It wasn't the Matriarch which had made the diaper rule like I had thought. It had been Monica's decision and Ellen confirmed it.
"Monica," I said angrily, "You led me to believe I had to wear diapers...like it was a Matriarch rule!"
"No, silly," Ellen said, "Your Monica made that decision...and there isn't anything you can do about it."
I was angry and old her so. She seemed very happy with my outburst and rushed off toward the square.
Leaving me standing there, confused and furious. Noticing my state, Ellen stepped closer and whispered conspiratorially, "Don't worry, honey, she loves your anger. Just play along and enjoy every bit of it!"
".
Then she said, "John your attitude and tone of voice were totally disrespectful. Come with me."
We went back inside. I knew where we were going...to time out. Opening the door of the cell she said, " Collar," as she locked the door and went to the storage cabinet for fresh diapers.
I obeyed and locked myself and laid down to have my diaper change.
Feeling completely defeated, I began thinking about how everything had spiralled out of control. My love for Monica combined with her insatiable thirst for control had led us down this path. Despite feeling humiliated and trapped, there was something undeniably arousing about having my needs managed by someone else. As the cool air brushed against my bare skin, the sensation sent shivers down my spine. Monica gently removed the soiled pad, exposing my most intimate parts, covered only by a thin film of baby powder. Pinning me back in the clean diaper, she left without a word, locking the cell door behind her.
After a time, I heard a commotion of voices. I recognized the head Matriarch as one of them. Coming to the cell bars, Monica led the Matriarch to where I was. The guard was with her carrying some heavy wrist cuffs and chain.
"Honey," Monica said matter-of-factually, "You're not just in trouble with me, you're in trouble with the Matriarchy."
"John," the head Matriarch began, "The council has just had a meeting about the outburst you displayed before Ellen. You know we have a rule about males disrespecting women."
"Yes," I responded.
"The council has sentenced you to three days of punishment. That means spending three days in the cell except for time on the square in either the pillory or the leg stocks. It is 4 hours in the pillory or 5 in the stocks and you can choose which you want. These manacles are punishment manacles and you'll be locked in them for the three days. The guard keeps the key for them. Come over so she can lock you."
I stepped to the bars. The guard reached through and locked the heavy wide cuffs around my wrists. The cuffs plus the weight of the chain made it difficult to keep my arms extended for any period of time.
"Monica," the Matriarch continued, "We require he wear at least a double diaper while he's locked on the square. We also require him to have a laxative this evening to make sure he'll use his diaper tomorrow while he's locked."
"I'll see to it", Monica said with a smile in her voice.
"Tomorrow morning then?"
The matriarch nodded solemnly. "That will suffice."
The moment Monica turned away, I could feel my heart racing wildly in my chest. This was all happening so fast – three whole days! What would they put me in?
But still, when the bell rang announcing it was my turn, I found myself hesitating as the guard waited outside. Monica kissed me, took me by the chain that connected my wrist cuffs and led me out to the guard who took the chain from her and led me to the square.
There was an alcove on the side of the square which housed the stocks and pillory.
"Which do you want," the guard asked.
Inhaling deeply, I said the stocks. She led me to them and had me sit on the bench facing the wooden plank with the cutouts for my ankles. Lifting the upper part she said, "Put your ankles there," pointing to the cutouts.
I obeyed and she closed upper half and locked it. Then she came to me pulled my wrist chain down between my legs, reached under me and locked the chain so I couldn't lift my hands more than a few inches off my thighs. There was an upright post which I could lean back and rest against. Monica had not removed my collar and the guard locked my collar to a chain attached to the post.
"See you in five hours," she said as she walked away
Unbidden, images flooded my brain - scenes of my wife Monica dominating me in various ways - forcing me to wear diapers, subjecting me to public humiliation, controlling every aspect of my life. While these memories brought feelings of submission and helplessness, they also stirred intense desire and lust beneath the layers of shame.
The sound of footsteps approached me, signaling the arrival of others. Glancing upward, I saw several fellow villagers approaching, faces alight with curiosity and excitement.
Some had smirks etched upon their lips, while others maintained expressions of stoicism, casting subtle glances towards my imprisoned body. One woman clasped her hand over her mouth, unable to contain a suppressed giggle. Their gaze bore into mine, making me squirm slightly in both discomfort and anticipation.
As the crowd circled ever closer, murmurs erupted amongst them, discussing the reasons for my sentence and debating what form of humiliation might follow.
I knew what form of humiliation was to follow. The laxative was going to make itself known in my diaper soon.
Monica emerged amidst the throng, her face radiating a mixture of pride and concern for my wellbeing. Sitting there helpless, I felt a certain pride knowing I was hers.
Her power over me, even when surrounded by strangers, gave me comfort despite the situation. As the minutes ticked by, my bladder began to fill once again. I could hear whispers among the gathering spectators, some expressing sympathy for my predicament, while others commented on my vulnerability. Their fascination with my condition heightened the awareness of my own bodily urges. With the clock nearing its end, I felt a growing pressure building deep within me.
Monica moved gracefully among the assembly, answering questions posed by those surrounding us.