Teaching Tara (An Age Play Story) (6 page)

There were bars over the top of the crib as well. This wasn’t a crib so much as a baby cage, and she was the baby. She started to seethe. Even if Professor Emerson had every right to do this to her, he shouldn’t have. She didn’t deserve this kind of humiliation. Diapers? Really?

Tara reached for the top and tried to push it up. As she guessed, it only budged about a quarter inch before catching on a latch. She peered out, saw the lock, and realized she wouldn’t be able to get out. The wooden bars were too thick and heavy. If she had a saw or something, maybe she could have cut her way free.

“You know what?” she asked no one in particular, her voice quivering with anger. “Fine. I can’t get out, but at least I can do something.” She reached for the tabs which held her diapers onto her waist. She could strip them off. James had already seen her private parts, so it wasn’t like this would be any worse, but it would show him she wouldn’t be pushed around.

She didn’t find the tabs.

Confusion flared through her first. He had diapered her twice. Each time, he had used the tape tabs to keep her diapered. A twinge of fear shot through her as she touched the material. It felt a little different. The diapers had been a bit rougher than this. This plastic seemed perfectly smooth. Swallowing, Tara looked down.

She was diapered, but he had put something else on her. And when she ran her fingers along her waist, Tara found a small piece of squared metal at the small of her back.

A lock.

He had put her in a locking diaper cover. He had known she would wake up and try to wiggle free. Tara’s nostrils flared again. How could he do this to her? She wanted to shout in frustration, to slap him, to do something, anything.

But he was her teacher. The thought threw some cold water on the fires of anger simmering their way through Tara’s chest, but not enough. She still wanted to do something defiant.

Tara sat up, “Professor Emerson.” The diaper crinkled whenever she moved, a fact he no doubt noticed, but Tara had to pretend nothing was out of the ordinary.

“Good morning, Tara. Are you feeling frisky?” He laced the last word with a tiny bit of mockery, and despite herself, Tara flushed with the memory of his fingers again. Her pussy even got a bit wet at the thought of feeling him again. It didn’t matter how much he demeaned her, not when he could give her such delicious orgasms.

“Not now. I’m going to get some food in you, and then we’ll head to campus together. Understand?” The weight of his personality pressed down on her, and again Tara found herself feeling like a little girl. No, not just a little girl, a baby girl. She belonged to him, and she couldn’t deny it.

“Yes, Sir,” she said after a moment’s pause.

James opened the gate for her and motioned for Tara to come out. As much as she hated it, she had to crawl out. For those three or four seconds, she really did feel like a baby girl. With her diapered butt wagging behind her, she must have looked absurd.

Her teacher took her by the hand as though she might get lost. Then he walked her back through the house. Again, she more waddled than walked since putting her legs together would have felt too awkward. She didn’t want to feel the diapers any more than she already had to.

He led her back to the kitchen. Her books and notes remained out, but those didn’t hold her attention for long. Her eyes were drawn instantly to the piece of furniture which sat at the head of the table.

For a moment, Tara blinked and tried to pretend it didn’t exist. If it didn’t exist, then he couldn’t make her use it. Unfortunately, her fondest wishes couldn’t actually change reality, so she had to face the truth. He had a high chair.

She froze when she saw it. “Please, don’t make me,” she said, whining right away.

James didn’t seem to mind though, not as he dragged her across the room. She was dead weight in his grip, barely walking as he tugged her behind him. The closer she got, the more details she took in.

The high chair had been crafted from heavy pink plastic. It had a folding tray and plastic covered pads with a girly cupcake design. But then she noticed something else. This high chair had a harness which would go over her chest with straps for her arms and legs. Once he put her in it, she wouldn’t be able to get away.

“Please, Sir, I can sit at a real seat. I sat in a chair last night.”

“You did,” he said with a condescending smirk. “And tell me baby girl, how did that end?”

The unspoken answer of how she wet herself bubbled back up, so Tara shut her mouth and let her teacher lead her over to the high chair. He pulled it out, put his hands on her waist, and hefted her back up onto the seat. The padded squished beneath her diapered butt.

James reached for her ankle and slid it into one restraint. Then he tightened the strap. “I wouldn’t want you to fall out of your chair, so I’m going to make sure you’re nice and secure and safe. Won’t that be nice?”

“Yes, Sir,” she said, squinting and seething as the frustration boiled through her. She wished she could have done or said something to make this stop. With limited options, she decided not to resist. If she misbehaved too badly, after all, he could still flunk her.

Her second ankle went through the other strap. He tightened it. If she had been able to really control herself, Tara wouldn’t have tugged on the restraint. After all, she really didn’t need to know how much he had trapped her. But then she gave a little tug and found the restraint tight and secure. She pulled a little harder and quickly realized that she wouldn’t be strong enough.

James pulled the harness over her shoulders and secured two more straps around her waist with a third one between her crotch. Tara wanted to flinch as each one clicked into place, locking here there. Getting out would have been simple, only he took her right hand, then her left, and quickly locked those into place as well. With her hands on the side rails, she was helpless.

“Would you like some breakfast.”

“Yes, Sir.” She wanted this to end as quickly as possible.

James whistled as he got her breakfast ready. It took longer than she expected and included something blended. At first, she figured it would be some kind of milk shake, but when he came back, he had a small red bowl filled with something that looked like pureed gruel.

“Nope,” he said and looped a baby bib around her check. Once he had it tied, he picked up the spoon, filled it with some of the grayish white slop and brought the spoon up to her lips.

Tara shut her mouth. She had put up with so much already; it didn’t seem fair that he would make her do this too. She didn’t have a plan or strategy, but eating this “breakfast” didn’t seem like a good choice either.

“Are you going to be a naughty girl?” he asked.

Tara glared back at him, wishing she could speak. But she had to keep her mouth shut or he would simply shove the spoon between her lips.

James immediately recognized her predicament, “See, this is why you have so much trouble in my class. You can’t even accept and follow simple directions. A baby girl would have started eating because it’s morning and she’d be hungry. But you decide you want to be defiant and silly.”

“Alright. Once you’ve had your food, then you’re going to get a spanking unless you open your mouth by the count of three.” Tara gulped, suddenly nervous. She had no trouble remembering how much his hand against her bottom stung.

Tara tried not to squirm even as her teacher held up one finger and said, “One.” Then another finger game up, “Two.” Tara pulled on her restraints. The straps kept her in place, sitting there with the bib around her next as though she really were a baby. The squirm served to further compact and crunch the diaper between her legs. “Three,” he shook his head. “I guess you’ll need a spanking after all.”

Tara didn’t speak, but then she didn’t know what he had planned. His hand shot out and started to rub right beneath her arm. Even though she still had her top on, Tara felt herself start to grin at his light touches. He studied her expression, gauging her reactions and level of ticklishness.

When she realized what he had planned, her eyes widened as she pulled harder, throwing her weight from side to side. She didn’t have any particular goal in mind, just the desire to defy him and keep the inevitable from happening for a few more seconds or minutes, however much time she could win.

He lowered his free hand even as the spoonful of mush remained poised against her mouth. She caught the sickly sweet scent of baby food and it made her want to gag more than a little. Before she knew it, his hand made it down to her leg. First he stroked her thigh, working his fingers from her knee to the ruffled curve of her diaper. She started to giggle a bit but managed to keep her lips locked firmly shut.

The sensations intensified as he started to adjust his tactics. He lightened his touch, turning the solid press of his fingertips into the lightest grazes. Each one sent shivers of ticklish energy rustling through her nerves. Tara fought hard to maintain control over herself. Little by little, she lost the battle.

First her lips twitched up into a pretty smile. Then she felt her lips part, but only barely as his tickling fingers danced over her skin. Each stroke made her more sensitive, and it didn’t help knowing his intention. If anything, his teasing made her want to laugh more.

She couldn’t even ask him to stop.

After another minute, maybe too, his poked her tummy which made her laugh, and then his hand darted back down to her inner thigh. He ran all four fingers along her vulnerable flesh until she broke out laughing. Her mouth opened wide and he shoved the spoon in. She clamped her lips down at the last second, which only served to scoop the mush onto the floor of her mouth as he slipped the utensil free.

“That’s the first one. Are you going to be naughty the whole time?”

Tara glared back at him and forced herself to swallow the mush. It tasted as bad as she expected, but when he raised a second spoonful of the stuff to her lips, she opened her mouth and took it in.

“Good girl, and you haven’t even spilled!” he made it sound like such an accomplishment. When her face colored another shade of pink, Tara wondered what caused it. There were so many choices: the humiliation of getting bound to a high chair, getting tickled, being diapered, or having to eat baby food.

While James fed her, he continued to coo at her about how good and smart and pretty she was. But once every other compliment or so, he also tisked and reminded her of how she had been naughty and needed to be spanked. She kept wishing he would forget it. But maybe, she hoped, if she was really good from then on, he wouldn’t feel the need to paddle her behind.

Her resolve to be good was tested once the bowl had been emptied. James got up and said she must be thirsty. In truth, she did want to wash the taste of the gruel from her taste buds. Only when he came back, he held a bottle in his hand.

“Now, do I need to keep you strapped in or would you like to do this somewhere more comfortable?”

“I don’t need to be strapped in,” she said, sounding very much like a pouty child. She continued to seethe, yet James ignored her obvious frustration as though her feelings really didn’t matter.

“Of course you do, sweetie. I want you to be safe, and unfortunately, babies get in trouble when they’re allowed to run free. Just think of the toddlers who need their little baby harnesses.”

Tara’s face lost a shade of color because she had no trouble guessing that he had a set, one which would fit her. If he wanted to parade her along campus, harnessed and bound to her teacher, then he could do it. With a gulp, she nodded and reminded herself to behave. “Yes, Sir,” she finally said meekly.

“Good girl,” he gave her another pat on the head and helped her out of her high chair. He took her back to the couch, sat down, and pulled her onto his lap. From there, he rolled Tara onto her back.

She had her knees pointed at the ceiling. Her legs rested on the next cushion while James cradled her head in his lap. He took the bottle and pushed it against her lips. She considered defying him, but the promise of a fresh spanking kept her compliant. She couldn’t let her punishment get any worse.

So she took the rubber nipple in her mouth. At first, she felt nothing but silly. The mush could have been oatmeal except for its extra sweet consistency. This was completely different.

“Suck on your bottle,” he told her, stroking her forehead with his free hand. As much as she hated to admit it, even to herself, Tara loved the feel of his touch. The way he stroked her somehow meant she could ignore the patronizing tone he took with her.

Tara started to suck on her bottle. She felt silly and absurd, but the liquid started to stream through the nipple. At first, it seemed to take too much concentration. As an adult, when she wanted to drink, she simply put the cup to her lips. Now she had to work to drink, but she did it.

After a while, she tried to push the nipple from her mouth because she had had enough, but James kept the bottle there. His grip didn’t waver, “Be a good girl and empty your bottle for me. Be a good girl now.” He kept petting her, so she continued to suckle. Her lips worked the nipple, tightening and loosening, tightening and loosening again and again as she sucked.