The Padded Palace Act IV: Chapter 17
“Ya know, I don’t think I’ve ever been in here before,” said Stacy, eying up Latasha’s private office and tea room. It was oddly foreign considering the amount of time she spent in the Padded Palace on a weekly basis. Much like Latasha’s bedroom, the mature environment was almost completely devoid of ABDL furnishings, “Feels too…normal…to be the Padded Palace.”
Plopping down at her desk heavily, Latasha wasn’t exactly in the mood to discuss the layout of her house. “You try being audited while claiming that daycare is an office space. See how far it gets you,” she said, shutting down Stacy’s idle speculation before it could overrun the conversation, “Why don’t we cut the chatter and get to the chase? The Padded Palace is meant to be a safe kink space, for patrons and employees. Blackmail is not kosher here. Period.”
“Oh, yeah, and I’m sure kinkless Connor over there who needed Riri to make him a DeviantArt account really chose to wear that pull-up to Ellie’s party on his own, right?” quipped Stacy, reminding Latasha of how she acquired her blackmailing materials in the first place. She smirked at the elongated silence her one question created, “Lemme make a wild guess. Buddy Boy got curious and tried out some freaky stuff during his first week. You found out and decided to keep his little secret so long as he let you continue to treat him like your own, personal dress-up doll from that point onward. But yeah…blackmail isn’t kosher here.”
Scrunching her lips together, Latasha couldn’t deny there was some truth to what Stacy was saying even if the comparison was extensively stretched. Had she not commanded Connor to stay padded for Ellie’s birthday, Stacy likely would’ve never found out. “You’re conflating a willing agreement between two parties with forcing someone to bend to your will. I never made Connor do anything he didn’t want to,” she said, knowing her defense was only a half-truth. Memories of Connor bursting into tears after waking up in full ABDL attire for the first time surfaced in the forefront of her mind.
Unfortunately for Stacy, she had no means of debunking Latasha’s fib, pushing her to pivot. “Be that as it may, it was still a means of keeping him under your thumb for the last two months. I’m sure it felt no different from Connor’s point of view,” she said, aiming to amplify any doubt potentially lingering in Latasha’s head. It wasn’t a fool-proof strategy but it didn’t need to be; its only purpose was to put Latasha on her back foot before attacking her weakest point, “It’s funny, though. If Connor could see the REAL you, I doubt he would’ve been intimidated for a second.”
Turning her head sideways, Latasha was at a loss. “Th-the REAL me? Care to elaborate?” she asked snidely. She had no clue what Stacy was on about but her curiosity was morbidly peaked.
“I mean the REAL Latasha; the one with a crinkly butt and doe eyes begging for someone to dote on her,” said Stacy, her words delivered slowly and methodically to ensure maximum humiliation, “You may have the others fooled but my eyes are open after this weekend. I know everything.”
Sweat droplets pooled beneath Latasha’s hairline. Stacy couldn’t possibly know about the incident at CrissCon. The only other person in the Palace who knew was Skye, and Skye ran upstairs the moment they got home. Moreover, the idea of Skye blabbing about something she was in tears over no less than half a day earlier felt immensely far-fetched. Letting out a strained chuckle, she deflected, “Oh-ho-kay, I think the outfit’s officially gone to your head. I don’t know what you think you know about me but it takes a lot more than some flustering words to make me blush-”
“You can stop acting. I saw it with my own eyes,” said Stacy bluntly, once again freezing Latasha with a verbal quick draw. It was a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it moment but right before the alleged Big laughed, her eyes twitched with fear. She had Latasha right where she wanted her. All she needed to do was stay on the offensive until she got her to crack.
Little did Stacy know how paralyzing her vague statement was for Latasha. What Mother Elma did at CrissCon was taboo enough without the idea of some jackal filming the whole thing on the down low. Despairingly, if Stacy’s words were to be believed, then that was the only possibility. The icy hand of anxiety clutched her aching chest. “After everything we’ve been through…have you no sympathy?” she said, choking up at the thought of the most embarrassing moment of her life winding up online. Was this her karma for letting the same happen to Stacy, Skye, and everyone else she was supposed to protect? “When those photos ended up online, I alone was there for you, and this is how you treat me when the shoe’s on the other foot? Do you think I enjoyed being humiliated like that?! It was mortifying!”
“Woah, woah! Hold up, I’m…so lost,” said Stacy, holding up her hands innocently. A series of bewildered expressions descended upon her as she began connecting the dots from Latasha’s ramblings, “I was talking about your private stash of diapers…from your bedside table…and you never did say why you and Skye came home early…” Her vacant countenance shifted into a beguiled smirk as she let her imagination run rampant.
Contrary to her previous retort, Latasha’s face became profusely flushed over Stacy’s ‘flustering words.’ At least, she could take solace in knowing that Stacy hadn’t witnessed a recording of her fall from grace, though that was a paltry consolation prize in comparison to what she’d unwittingly given up. “Ah…I see. It wasn’t just my wardrobe that was raided. You’ve got quite some nerve,” she said, attempting to maintain her authoritative tone.
“Weak sauce, Latasha. Now, look who’s changing the subject?” said Stacy, exposing more and more of her pearly white teeth to Latasha. Not even sharks could smile so menacingly, “Did someone have too much fun at CrissCon? I bet you were super bummed that you left these at home…” Raising the skirt of the dress, she revealed the sodden Megamax diaper that was hugging her butt; Latasha’s Megamax diaper, to be precise. “...though, I’m sure Skye was more than happy to share.”
Recognizing the plain nappy Stacy was dawning as her own, Latasha was fuming with both fury and embarrassment. “Thin ice, Stacy. Thin ice,” she said acrimoniously, completely dropping the affect she utilized as a caregiver in favor of her natural, deeper voice. The fun and games ended now.
A chill ran down Stacy’s spine as if she could actively feel a shift in the room’s air pressure. Her smile flinched, prompting her to scoff to cover it up. "Oooh, so scary. You might as well be throwing a tantrum,” she said, her anxiety mounting as Latasha rose from her chair, “What? You can dish it but you can’t take it?” As caddy and unperturbed as she was attempting to sound, her voice couldn’t help but waver as Latasha rounded her desk to meet her at a malignant pace. “Y-You’re not going to intimidate me by just staring me down and-HEY!”
Wrapping tightly around Stacy’s skinny wrist, Latasha made speedy work of pinning Stacy’s right arm behind her back. “I warned you,” she said soberly, taking a page out of Elma’s book as she thrust Stacy forward onto the desk and yanked the back of her diaper open in one continuous movement.
“EEEEK! Latasha! What are you…” screamed Stacy, her eyes widening as she spotted Latasha’s spanking arm reeling backward. Pencils, pens, and other office supplies were sent flying as she thrashed in place atop the immovable surface. Try as she might, she was no match for Latasha’s strength. She’d flown too close to the sun, “W-Wait! I was j-just kidding aroun-”
SMACK!
The foundation of the Padded Palace shook as the flat of Latasha’s hand impacted Stacy’s unblemished ass. The subsequent shriek that leaped out of the troublemaking Little’s mouth was music to her ears. “Just kidding around, huh?” SMACK! “That’s not what it looked like to me!” SMACK! “All I see is someone who’s gotten away with being a brat for far too long!” SMACK!
Stacy’s wiggling quickly turned into writhing as she fruitlessly clawed at the desk for freedom. Each hit felt like a sheet of sandpaper scraping against her toned buttocks, causing her reddened rear to sizzle with increasing vigor between blows. It wasn’t that she’d never been spanked before, or spanked hard for that matter; Mal could be quite punishing. It was the fact that not even her parents dared to bare-bottom spank her, making this experience with Latasha a brutal first. Within seconds, her brazen demeanor was reduced to a blubbering mess. “STAAWP! I’M SOWWY! PWEASE SHTAWP!” she shouted, earning zero sympathies from the embittered Big. She felt her legs give out, slowing her frantic movements significantly and abandoning her with no choice but to endure.
Worst of all, Stacy could tell she was moistening over Latasha’s harsh treatment. Deep down, she knew she deserved every thwack despite resisting every step of the way. Such was the chaotic duality of a brat. Had she succeeded in topping Latasha and taking over the Padded Palace, she would’ve relished in her triumph without remorse. That said, if there was any absolute truth in this universe, it was that all brats craved defeat. To work so hard and stand so defiantly only to be put in her place like a naughty little girl was more satisfying and more stimulating than any outright victory ever could be.
SMACK! SMACK! SMAAAAAAACK!
Capping off Stacy’s paddling with one last stinging spank, Latasha released her grip on Stacy and watched as the pretend caregiver sank to the floor. “You had enough?” she said as she squatted down beside Stacy. No longer was there fury behind her eyes. She had extracted her pound of flesh.
Stacy bobbled her head up and down, the wind completely taken out of her sails. “Am done. N-no mo,” she mumbled, bending to Latasha’s will and ceding her caregiver role in one fell swoop. She’d made huge strides this weekend and was capable of holding her own as a Big but she still had nothing on a bonafide Mommy Domme with years of discipline experience under her belt, “You t-turned the tables so fast. I thought I h-had you.” She exhaled a despair-induced chuckle over the stark distance between Latasha and herself.
“Oh, honey, you never had me,” said Latasha, claiming all of Stacy’s cockiness for herself. A wave of calmness replaced the nervous energy that had permeated Latasha’s office since the moment their conversation began, offering her a chance to reflect, “Why did you want to have me in the first place? You literally pay me $2500 a month to treat you like a baby five days a week.”
Pausing to think about Latasha’s question, it suddenly occurred to Stacy how far she’d strayed from her original goals. The whole point of this was to prevent Connor from taking advantage of her the way Latasha’s former assistant had. But after the leverage that she was holding over him went up in flames, she’d been in a mad scramble to reclaim any semblance of control. Although, that didn’t explain why she enjoyed getting the chance to be the dominant one for a change. This was way too much to unpack in one sitting, leaving her to formulate the only reason she could come up with in the heat of the moment, “It…felt good…to be in control. Like I’d regained the confidence I used to have before…b-before…” Her voice became inaudible as Latasha pulled her in for a much-needed hug.
Equally in need of a caring embrace, Latasha’s shoulders eased back as Stacy returned her affection in kind. As much as it pained her to admit, Elma had been right on the money. She’d been a failure as a caregiver and a Diaper Dom, in more ways than one. “When I promised you that I would do everything I could to revive the Padded Palace as a safe space for you, I meant it. But I’ve been so far off the mark, haven’t I?” she said, separating from Stacy enough to look at her face to face, “So, I want to make a new promise to you…a promise that will give you the opportunity to express that need for control…”
DING-DONG!
The doorbell echoed throughout the Padded Palace, alerting Latasha, Stacy, and all inside. The Bigs were back.
TO BE CONTINUED…