Katabasis

When Ron unwillingly was brought to consciousness, he could see that he no longer at least was in the dungeon. He was in a large bedroom, lying in a spacious fourposter bed. It would have been a nice change of place if not for the circumstances. He noticed right away that he was still in a straitjacket – restricting him movement. He felt the chain that was fastned to his ankle and was fastned on one of the large pillars that held up the canopy. With dull resignation he knew that he would not be able to escape from this, he would be trapped here until Draco’s or his death by natural causes.

Live to spite him, live to spite him, live to spite him, live to spite him …

The chant rolled through Ron’s head, and he could feel his knuckles clench in determination. He would live and hold to hope that he and Harry never saw each other again as that would most probably mean Harry would shortly be executed, he guessed he was thankful that Voldemort would want to kill Harry and thus robbing Draco from the pleasure of doing this to Harry. He almost wanted to laugh, but he did not – laughter had left him.  

He groaned as he felt the massive plug that Draco had rammed in his butt before the branding. Ron felt dirty just thinking about the thought of him being branded as if he was some beast of burden. He did not want to think about what was now burned into his skin. Time passed and Ron relished the silence and absence of Draco. He knew it would not last for long, that his tormentor would most probably turn this room into some new horror – a chamber to satisfy his most perverse pleasure. When Draco came Ron was - if not unafraid, at least able to contain abject fear from appearing on his face.

“How are you today then? I asked how you are!”

A sharp pain – as somebody quickly had stabbed the bottom of the soles of his feet made Ron whimper. But the gag obstructed all intelligible sound from escaping.

“Mmmmmphph.”

“Huh, do you say that – what a fascinating remark. Well, this chatter was interesting, hope you do not forget to answer me again, or I will have to give you a sharper reminder. Do you understand?”

Ron only hesitated a split second but that was enough for an even sharper pain from blooming on his feet.

“I asked if you understood!”

“Mmph”

“Better, good boy for nodding. That gag does it make somewhat hard to understand what you mean. Well, I did not only come to engage in idle chatter, I also to give you some sustenance. For now, it is just some plain nutrient fortified gruel, but who knows, if you behave you may once in while get some treat.”

Ron could see Draco produce the funnel that Draco had used on the previous occasion. Draco also produced tube full of what Ron guessed was the gruel in question.

“I will have to feed you as your hands are rather tied up at the moment. Open your mouth like a good boy and this will go quickly, and if you squirm it will only make it more uncomfortable for you.”

 After Draco had removed the gag, Draco held the funnel and poured the odious smelling gruel down the opening. How much Ron tried to squirm it did nothing to stop the constant flow of the viscous gruel.

“Oh, you are getting messy, dribbling it on your face. Next time I will have to tie a bib around your neck, so you do not get dirtier than you already are likely to be.”

In humiliated surprise at this new twist Ron momentary forgot to swallow the continuing flowing gruel – resulting in even more mush spilling forth from his mouth.

“Oh, you are such a mess, can’t even eat his food,” Draco suddenly chuckled and casually continued, “I think you are right – Ron is a to mature name for a creature such as you. Henceforth you simply will be called Ronnie. Do Ronnie understand?”

“Fuck of…”

Before Ron could complete the insult, the funnel was jacked out and a wave of pain swept his body. Ron screamed, even more food and drool smearing on his face.

“Ask for forgiveness for using such language!”

Not even a heartbeat was allowed to pass before a new wave of pain swept his body, “say ‘Sorry’”. Another wave hit him, and Ron’s eyes teared up, and then another wave came.

“Ahhhhhhhhhh sorry Ahhhhhhh.”

“Say: Sorry Master”

“Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh”

“Say it!”

“Ahhhhhhhhhh sorry master.”

Ron did not even register the abasement; his whole body was on fire. Every limb felt as if they were set on fire. He wanted unconsciousness to claim him and to never wake up, but he was kept fully aware of his present situation and pain.

“Now, as I said. You are now Ronnie. Do Ronnie understand?”

Ron nodded so fast as he could, making Draco smirk.

“So, what is Ronnies name?”

“Uh…Agggh Ronnie. Ronnies name is Ronnie. Please…. Agggggh.”

“You are not in a place to dictate your punishment, filth.”

A new wave of pain enveloped Ron, but the gag was also violently pushed in his mouth, so the agonised sounds was reduced to an indistinct sound. When the wave of pain flattened out it was not replaced by a new one.

“Before I leave, I think I will have to remove that thick plug from your ass. Do not want to obstruct any natural processes after the large meal you just ate. Oh, and if you think I will wipe that disgusting face of yours, you are wrong. If Ronnie decides to be petulant, he will not be nice and clean, you are free to wallow in the messes you make.”

Wrapped up in the aftermath of the pain as he was Ron barely registered what Draco said, just a gloomy feeling of being entirely correct that soft bed and more cultured surroundings would not mean any reduction in either pain or humiliation – rather the opposite.

Ron did not know when he had drifted into a fitful sleep, but when he woke the lights was turned off and he guessed that it outside was night, not that it mattered. He felt the congealed globs of gruel on his face and had an intense wish to vomit, but it would not come. He wondered why he had woken so suddenly and was quickly answered. He felt a sickening churn in his stomach, and he instinctively tried to move to the bucket, but he was tied and bound tight. If he had not been gagged, he would have cursed, punishment or no. Instead, he vainly tried to hold. But the stench that soon exploded in the room told him that he had not been successful. He tried to tell himself that it was not his fault, that he was tied up. But between the stench and the soggy feeling beneath him, it was a very small consolation.

…

“Ronnie has a proclivity for creating messes. But then I should not be surprised – you are more of animal then a human after all.”

Ron was tired, and even though he knew he had no wish to tempt Draco to punish him with an impulsive outburst he had no energy in him for even a defiant look.

“But thankfully for you – and my nose and bedclothes, I have devised an appropriate measure to keep the mess you create contained.”

Ron’s eyes nearly popped out of his head when he saw what Malfoy took from behind his back and slowly dangled before his eyes. He began twisting and turning, as if that would help him escape and make it impossible for Draco to execute this particular degrading treatment. Ron could feel hot tears spill from his eyes, but all he could focus on was the object that Draco swung by the tips of his fingers.

“Mmmmmmmmmhph”

“Sorry, cannot understand what you are saying. You will have to speak louder.”

“Mmmmmmmmmhph”

“Sorry, did not catch that. You reek of shit and piss; will it not be better to use this?  Let’s make a deal. If you wear- and use it – you can choose whatever you want to eat to dinner, and I will remove the straitjacket. If not – well, you have no choice really. But if you play nice, I will play nice and not force enough laxative through your throat, that you will swim in your own shit. Do you understand me?”

The last sentence was uttered with such menace that Ron, despite his contempt found himself hastily nodding.

“Good. Now let me first clean you up, then we can fit this snug little thing on you. Will that not be nice Ronnie?”

Ron was almost apathic with shock, and it was merely by chance that he mechanically nodded, earning a satisfied chuckle from Malfoy. Ron brain seemed to have frozen again and he barely was aware of the mess beneath him being removed and the air purified. He also registered that his private parts were cleaned with a flick of Draco wand. Then he saw the gleam in Draco’s eyes and felt his legs being forced upwards and being separated.

“I have never done this I must confess, why should I. But it seems somewhat elementary.”

“Mmmhph”

“Will it not feel so good Ronnie, be honest.”

“Mmmhph”

Ron could feel a pat on his head, and he looked in merciless eyes of his tormentor, and he saw the pure malicious pleasure Draco must take in this.

“Well, let’s get on with it.”

The procedure took longer than it probably should have done, Draco took care to comment on every particular part of the process, patting, taping with precision, running his finger to check for a tight fit. As he gave a final playful pat on the midsection, Draco with a satisfied tone said: “So there we have it. Does it feel nice Ronnie? Your first of many, many nappies. Who knows, perhaps you will come to realise sooner then you thought that it is in nappy that you belong. I hope it is snug enough, we do not want it to leek. Now we will clean your face and then it is time for you daily feeding. Will that not feel-good Ronnie – getting some nice gruel in that stomach of yours?”

Ron did not reply, and Draco had to remind him proper manners with some well-placed stings of pain. After Draco had gotten the muffled sounds he wanted, he took a washcloth and slowly washed Ron’s face from yesterday’s globs of now crusty gruel. “Now, we all remember what happened yesterday. Frankly I have no interest in you messing up your face again. So, Master have come up with a solution to that too.”

And with that he produced the threatened bib, that he promptly tied around Ron’s neck. After that he took a bottle – probably intentionally infantile in its design – and filled it with gruel. Ron had no other option then to accept it when it was offered, Draco’s tone not giving any reason to doubt that any other action, or even hesitation to comply, would be met by a very stern reprimand. So, Ron sucked, and when the bottle was empty it was filled with water that he was promoted to drink. Ron sucked as hard as possible, just wanting Draco to leave him alone in his utter degradation. When Ron was done and let the nipple plop out of his mouth, Draco took a cloth and wiped his mouth while commenting on how well Ronnie had done and that Ronnie must have loved the gruel.

“Now, as I have promised you can ask for any food you want. Beacon, kippers, steak and kidney pie – or would you rather have some more of this tasty gruel?”

Ron was about to ask for some kippers, but looking at Draco he knew what answer Draco wanted, and Ron realised with dread that he did not dare to provoke Draco.

“Some…Some gruel…master.”

Draco smiled, and Ron was relived. How he hated himself, but he could not deny it. He would probably not get punished today.

“Good Ronnie, Ronnie knows that he is not an adult-or even a human. Beasts like him should not presume to eat people food. But I will take of the straight jacket so that Ronnie gets some chance to stretch his arms.”

After that Draco pointed his wand at the straight jacket, that promptly untied itself and disappeared. But Ron’s hands were not free as they were placed in mittens that made it impossible for him to use them at all.

“But” said Draco, before he left the room,” I think Ronnie still will have the gag in his widdle mouth, I do not care for all the filth that it is used for. And I think Ronnie could use some soothing music, something to lull Ronnie to a nice nap.”

The gag was commanded to force itself inside Ron’s mouth and Ron did not resist it. Before Draco let the door close behind him a nursery rhyme softly began playing. Ron would not be allowed to forget for a moment to what situation he had been reduced.

Ron could not do more than lay in the dark, the infantile song drilling itself into his tired brain. The nappy crinkled with every moment and its unfamiliar bulk felt like a mat round his loins. The feeling of being constricted – even without the straight jacket – was added to with the mittens and the gag. He must have fallen asleep, even though he did not know when it happened, because he woke with a start, feeling a familiar pressure building. He began rocking his hips, not relishing the thought of peeing himself again and having that acrid smell in his nose. He then heard the crinkle from the nappy and realised that it was no  way escaping it, perhaps he would never escape it. With a thrill of sharp fear – the sickly-sweet nursery rhyme music still playing all around him – Ron felt himself contemplating just letting himself go. Would it not be better and live, a reduced humiliated life, but still live. Had he not promised himself that life would be the best revenge after all? The pressure was building and with a whimper of frustration he felt himself loose it.

For the first time since he was three Ron had used a nappy, and the humiliation seared in his brain. Ron knew that Draco wanted him to, but he could not stop the tears from flowing from his eyes. The warmth from his own pee spread around his crotch and made the infantile garment even bulkier than it had been before. And soon after the warmth, the all too familiar smell came wafting from its taped confines. The only grace was that he had not yet felt the urge to do the other thing, even though he with the dread that certainty gave, did not doubt that he in due time would be forced to do that too. Letting the warm tears sooth himself to sleep Ron let sleep claim him.

“Ah have Ronnie been crying, why – have him peed himself? Well, Ronnie needs to get used to being in a messy nappy so I will not change him just yet.”

Ron woke to the soft gloating voice of Draco Malfoy. He knew that he had been crying, his eyes must still be puffy. But he was, too used to that by now for it to properly registering. But hearing the infantilising comment, more tears – more from anger then shame - streamed from Ron’s eyes. He looked pleadingly at Malfoy while trying to penetrate the wadded material of the gag.

“Mmmmmmmmmhph”

But it had no other effect then eliciting a laugh from the lips of Malfoy.

“Widdle Ronnie is trying to say something? Well, Ronnie will have to learn to not have such a potty-mouth before master will allow Ronnie to use his little mouth again. But, come to think on it, babies do not use their mouths to much besides eating when feed, and drinking when given the bottle.”

While Ron could only lay there, feeling the acrid sent of urine wafting from the nappy in his nose – letting his future humiliation be spoken of as if it was merely a box to be checked off, Malfoy came and stood beside him, and ruffled his hair, telling him what a good boy he had been for using his nappy. When Ron tried to move away his head, Malfoy just grabbed a bunch of his hair, until the pain of the grip became too much.

“Ronnie needs to be better behaved. Master had planned to change his Ronnie quickly, as a treat, but now Ronnie has earned himself an extra-long time in his soiled nappy as punishment. And I think that Ronnie should get acquainted to Mr Straight Jacket again. It seemed to do wonders to discipline the last time. Ron did not even have the energy to fight the straight jacket this time, but let Malfoy put it on, this time taking care to tighten the crotch strap over the bulk of the nappy.

“So now you are tight and secure. Look at that padding, it will do wonders in a couple of hours when your bowls start to move. Will protect my bedclothes from staining from Weasel-shit. I think I will give you another feeding of tasty gruel. Does not that sound nice?”

Ron nodded hesitantly, just wanting Malfoy to be gone. But when Ron saw the size of said bottle, he could not supress a shudder. The twinkle in Draco’s eyes showed him that Draco had seen the reaction. When all the gruel had passed through the nipple of the bottle, Ron wanted to puke. He was surprised that his stomach did not stand out with all the gruel he had ingested. Behind the gag he groaned, feeling the pressure of all this and yesterday’s feeding being in his body. He knew with glum certainty that he would not enjoy what would be the natural result of the process. He almost wished that Draco had laced the potion with the laxative so that it would be swift.

Draco did not seem in any hurry in leaving the room. He just stood and looked at Ron with a self-satisfied smile on his face. He then went forward and patted Ron’s stomach, making Ron shudder in displeasure. Draco then began talking, almost as to himself:

“You know, this bed feels to adult for your present state. Ronnie is not an adult after all, just masters dumb little pet. I think a crib, or a cage would suit you better. Let’s do that.”

He suddenly stepped backwards and pointed his wand at the bed. The four-poster suddenly began to change. It shrank, and wooden bars shot up on all sides. Lastly the ceiling of the bed made the lid of the box Ron suddenly found himself laying in. Ron realised that the straps that had bound him had disappeared and that he could move more freely within the confines of the cage. At least when the straight jacket was removed from him. But he also knew that this was only a part of the sick game Malfoy obviously played with him. The teddy bear that innocently stood in one corner could not be hugged if Ron could not reach it. That the cage – or crib – was tall enough for crawling, but not tall enough for standing, solidified his suspicions. But even though the notion of being turned into a giant manchild for the twisted amusement for a sicko such as Draco was repulsive, Ron did not have the strength at the moment to fight it. His only solace was that he thought that he perhaps would be able to swallow the indignity without abandoning his own identity. Draco would perhaps tire himself out and decide to torment him some other way. Ron’s only fear in this scenario was that Draco would just kill him.  

After being looked at with Draco’s gloating eyes for while Ron could not stand it much longer and squeezed his eyes shut, trying to force himself to sleep – trying to utilise the overfilled stomach and sickly-sweet lullabies to get a bit of a respite. And it seemed to work because when he opened his eyes and was forced to fill his nappy the only saving grace was that he was alone. Alone in the straight jacket, alone with a heavily soiled nappy and caged in a crib with a teddy by his side and lullabies still drilling into his tired mind. Sleep mercifully came swiftly again.

…

One day – how many he could not say - Ron realised that he was laying in the bed – still chained – instead of in the crib-cage, no nappy on around his loins, no sickly smell of baby powder and no traces of anything that could be said to be infantilising.

He had become accustomed to the degrading rhythm of being forced feed then immobilised and changed. Sometimes Draco would open a picture-book and in a saccharine tone read a story were Ron – or Ronnie as Draco insisted, he was called – was expected to debase himself by vocalise different animal-sounds or nod at how much of baby he was. Sometimes the routine chores of the torture were left to a house elf. It did not matter, because if he deviated from the expected behaviour he would get severely punished. Ron wondered if he had begun to give into to the torture, as he recently had begun feeling a small tingling of pleasure when he mooed like a cow, or raised his legs when Master -no, Draco – ordered it from him. He had even caught himself talking about himself in third person- saying that “Ronnie was a good boy” – without the smallest hesitation. And when Master – no, no no Draco – had smiled, Ronnie had felt proud. That is, before he caught himself in what he was doing and earned himself an excruciating session of Masters lesson in the consequences of being rude.

So it was disorienting being sent to this new reality, totally empty of the instruments of his forced infantilisation. White walls instead of walls painted with prancing teddy bears, the odd sensation of formfitting cotton underwear rather than a crinkly nappy and an unusual four poster bed instead of his cage.  If not for the chain, he could have hoped that he had been saved. He did not manage to supress the fear for even thinking about the possibility of escape, Master had been clear what even the slightest thought of escape would result in. He took deep and steadying breaths while he waited. He wondered what new torture Draco had constructed. He did not have to wait long to find out.

A coldness that pierced his very bones began to slowly drift from the opening, and he did not need to hear the rasping and sucking breath to realise that it was a dementor that was approaching. The creeping despair was enough of a tell. In a sudden frantic moment, he feared that Draco had decided to end it and feed his soul to a hungry dementor. But no, it just glided into one corner of the room and began till fill the air with the ice-cold despair that accompanied it. Darkness engulfed him as all vestiges of joy, and the mere memory of feeling it dissipated.

Ron did not even notice when the dementor left and he drifted into unconsciousness.

When he woke, he was yet again in the crib, a nappy taped around his loins, the walls brightly painted. But the dementor did not come. In fact, nothing happened except the usual indignities of being left no option then soiling himself and being changed by the houseelf that seemed to have been appointed his minder. But Ron was too of tilt to feel the pang of it as he usually did. He wondered if it had all been a horrible nightmare, a violent regurgitation of his traumatised psyche.

When he again woke after an uneasy sleep, in the white walled room he began shaking even before he could feel the coldness of the dementor. And afterwards – surfacing to consciousness in the nursery he was almost thankful. Ron thought that he rather would be locked in the nursery for all eternity then in the cold clammy despair that the dementor created. He realised that he did not even care if this was the intention. If he had the choice between being Draco’s plaything and a dinner for a dementor he knew what he would choose. He could remember the promise that he had made in the distant past, that he would live. Was it not better to play into Draco’s perversions and live, rather than to be left a husk of a human being. He tried not to sleep- afraid that sleep would see him transported to that room, and to keep himself awake he began chanting the mantra I want to live, I want to live, I want to live… He did not realise that he soon was asleep and would wake to another cold and clammy embrace of his silent tormentor’s presence.

The switching of the rooms continued – one time not only one, but two dementors came. Ron cried harder than he had ever done in his life. He did not know he was the one that screamed, or if it was his dead brother. Perhaps it was his mother at the funeral he heard. He tried in vain to shield himself from the faceless creatures that stood around him – silent and cold. The mittens that they had put on his hand was still attached so that he could not hurt himself. He wanted to vomit- he did vomit. The acrid smell of the vomit and the smell when he suddenly soiled himself barely registered.

The switching of the rooms continued until time became a blur of horror and sickly sweetness. After one particular bad session in the room, he saw the teddy bear with its glassy eyes – and as by impulse he rose and crawled to it and grabbed it and held it in the crook of his arm as he crawled back. He felt strangely comforted by the stupid teddy. Deep down in his bruised psyche he could feel the tang of embarrassment, but he did not allow himself to dwell on it – what choice did he had after all – better to grab hold of something that gave a strange feeling of comfort then to be left alone. He tried to focus on the feeling of the bears fur, its solidity and how it did not come with some smart reply or insult. It just was.  He almost did not notice the sound of the opening of the door and the now familiar smell of the perfume that Mal…no, Master, wore. Ronnie – that was the proper name, must not forget his proper name – did not want a lesson in correct address right now. No, not never. He must remember.

“So, Ronnie have found a little friend, has he?”

The master’s voice broke of the rambling of his thoughts. He smiled as he looked on Ronnie holding the teddy in the nook of his arm.

“Ronnie has master, Ronnie found a friend.”

“Has it a name Ronnie? Oh, not yet? Well, it will come, I guess. Ronnie do not feel too big for a teddy bear?”

Ronnie cast down his eyes as to avoid looking straight into that gloating face, tightened the grip where he held the stupid bear, swallowed hard, and in a barely audible tone said:

“No, Ronnie is little, Ronnie is not big. Ronnie is just a little slave. Master’s slave.”

“Ronnie – look at me and repeat what you said. Louder!”

“No, Ronnie is little, Ronnie is not big. Ronnie is just a little slave. Master’s slave.”

“That is correct. Good that you are beginning to realise it, slowly. Your nappy seems to be quite full, let me change it, then a feeding.”

Ronnie – he had decided to no longer even think that he ever had another name, trying to be good and not get any stupid punishments, as little time with them as possible – went limp and let the sides of his cage melt down so that master could remove his soiled nappy, clean him and put him in a new one. As the master did this routine Ronnie on an impulse decided to try to be the good little slave that the master wanted. Perhaps he would not be punished if he acted nice. And just perhaps, if he put on a good show master would not send him into that room. Ronnie’s heart raced at the mere thought. He tried to hide his excitement as he thought about what babies did. An idea popped up, and he stuck his thumb in his mouth and sucked loudly, letting the drool pool around it. At first it felt awkward and gross, but after some time he got into the rhythm of it. He could see the swift look of surprise on the master’s face, and a flicker of a smile. Master was happy. When the master went from the room, leaving a newly gruel-feed Ronnie in his cage, sleep found him still sucking on his finger. It was as if Ronnie could hear the words Live with every suck.

The punishments did not stop after that. When Ronnie opened his eyes, he saw that he was in The Room. He wanted to cry and scream – he did cry and scream.

The days continued, sometimes the master came, and sometimes the minder. He was changed, feed, read to. Forced to go through indignities after indignities. But the tedium and abasement were better than the alternative, and every time Ronnie woke in the pastel room he smiled. He always now awoke with the teddy securely tucked into his arm. When he was ordered to clap along to a silly kid’s song each clap rang out as live…live…live in Ronnies head. Did he spend a whole day in both places or were there multiple sessions in each every day?  He did not know, and his overworked brain did not have the energy to work out it either.

One day Ronnie realised that he did not longer control his bowels. Suddenly his nappy would expand, and the stench appear, without him having any feeling of pressure building, but Ronnie was not surprised or afraid. He had noticed that it had been harder and harder to control as the uncounted time went by. He dared not to think to what he would flee – but he was in no condition to leave the room to whom so ever person he might have known in an earlier life. Who would want a dumb, thumb sucking and now incontinent person. No one - that was the answer and Ronnie decided that if he were to live, he needed to forget that he had ever had a life before the dungeon.

So, Ronnie rather felt thankful then abashed as he could smell the reek from his nappy. If he was so dumb as not to even have his potty-training left, Master would hopefully not have any reason to send him to the punishment room. Even his dumb mind had caught a stray comment from the master to the minder.

“When Ronnie is dumb enough, we will no longer move him to the other room.”

That had made Ronnies heart flutter, and he had decided that he needed to try extra hard to be extra dumb as to satisfy the master. He did not know if it were therefor, he had lost his control, but on the other hand – would a dumb slave really care about that.

When his minder came to the nursery room again, Ronnie was fast in announcing the loss of control.

“Ronnie messed himself like a real dumb baby. Ronnie did not feel anything. Ronnie is so dumb.”

To emphasise the point, Ronnie let drool pour from his mouth, dropping down on his chest. His minder did not say anything, just changed Ronnie, dried his chest from the accumulated spittle, fed him, put the overlarge pacifier in his mouth as to gag him and left.

When Ronnie opened his eyes again, he saw that he still was in his nursery. If he would not have been gagged, he would have exclaimed in joy. He checked himself – he was a dumb pet, and dumb pets can’t see cause and effect. He tried to forget that he understood that there ever had been a change in the routine. He must be extra good now that he hopefully would not go back to that room. He had to show master that he really was dumb. He must become dumb.

It worked well. There was no shame in soiling oneself if one did not know that it was not normal, and neither was being feed gruel by bottle. It had even begun to feel strangely good to follow the orders of the master. Even though a part of Ronnie furiously resented the treatment and was disgusted by himself for shitting and peeing himself, he had begun to have a small, barely perceptible feeling of contentment whenever he followed some of the master’s orders. The same was not true when he followed some order of the minder, but he guessed it was because he was happy that he pleased master.

In the following week Ronnie only slipped up once. It happened when he had been taken out of his cage and forced to crawl on all four – closely guarded by master’s watchful eyes – and unclothed. Ronnie thought that master only would make a simple change, but instead Master began touching the mark on Ronnies shoulder. This was the first time since master had branded him that master had touched the mark, and Ronnie could suddenly feel himself turning and swatting at master’s hand with his own mitten clad one.

He instantly regretted it as he could see the fury in masters’ eyes.  And in an instant, he tried to make himself as limp as possible. Master made Ronnie lay over his legs, and tore of the nappy bare bottom upturned, awaiting punishment. Masters’s hand went down on Ronnies ass, spanking it with precision. Eliciting ever higher moans and eventually cries from Ronnie. The novelty of physical pain made the pain much worse.

“Ronnie has been bad, bad, bad. He needs to be punished by master. Is master correct in punishing Ronnie?”

“Yes, yes, he is right in punishing Ronnie. Pleaseeeeee stooop.”

“Ronnie must always use master when talking to master – is that understood?”

“Ye…Yes.”

Masters’s tone was fierce, and his incoming spank was harder than the preceding, making Ronnie wail.

“Yes master, Ronnie understands, master. Please stop spanking me, master.”

Ronnie cried now, unabashedly. Large drops fell from his eyes, falling on his cheeks.

“Have Ronnie been a naughty boy?”

“Yes, master, Ronnie have been naughty.”

“Was master right to punish Ronnie?”

“Yes, master, was right to punish the naughty Ronnie.”

“Should master punish Ronnie more?”

“Ye…yes, Ronnie needs to be punished by master more. If master wants.”

The smacks continued, making Ronnies buttcheeks burn with pain. After a while Master stopped and quietly said:

“Let’s return Ronnie to his nappy, do Ronnie want that? Do Ronnie want to be back in his nappy?”

“Yes. Ronnie wants that. Ronnie needs his nappy. Ronnie messes himself without control. Ronnie needs his nappy.”

“Well, right then we will see to that. Come to think of it, I think is time to give you some more focused training, don’t want you to be completely useless. Yes – I think we will start tomorrow.” 

After Master had taped the nappy shut, made Ronnie crawl to the crib and closed it, he turned and went out of the door, leaving Ronnie alone in the dark wondering about what kind of training that was meant.

Ronnie sucked hard at the pacifier that Master had shoved into his mouth before he left. Ronnie wanted to be a good boy so that master did not want to punish Ronnie. Ronnie had begun feeling that perhaps master was right, and that Ronnie deserved this. He had been naughty after all, he had broken rules that his master had laid down, even after master had saved him from that room. Even a dumb pet like Ronnie should know that. Just grazing the room with his thoughts made Ronnie whimper and suck harder on the pacifier in his mouth. He decided that whatever training master intended he would try his outmost to show behave.