The door to the hotel suite clicked open and she stormed in like she owned the place, leather boots snapping on the tile. "There you are, you filthy little fuck," she snapped, dropping her bag. "Strip. Now. Mommy doesn't have time for your games tonight."
I froze on the couch, half-dressed from the shower, thinking this was just another mix-up at the front desk. My conference badge still sat on the table. She didn't even look at it. She grabbed my wrist and yanked me toward the bedroom where a thick, crinkly diaper already lay open on the sheets, powder and wipes beside it.
"What the hell—" I started, but she shoved me down hard, her hand pressing my chest flat.
"Shut it, baby. You know the rules. You begged for this exact scene last week. Now lift those legs."
My cock twitched against my will as she tore off my towel and exposed me. She wasn't gentle. She wiped me down with cold wipes, spreading my ass cheeks to clean every inch, then shook powder over my balls until the air smelled like a nursery mixed with sex. The diaper crinkled loud when she taped it tight around my hips, the padding forcing my legs apart. It felt humiliating and hot at the same time, my dick already half-hard and pushing against the front.
She noticed. "Look at that. Already leaking for Mommy. You really are the worst kind of slut, aren't you?"
I tried to explain it was a mistake, that I wasn't whoever she thought I was, but she climbed on the bed, straddled my face, and yanked her panties aside. Her pussy was shaved smooth and already wet.
"Suck," she ordered, grinding down. I did. My tongue slid up her slit, tasting salt and heat, while she rocked against my mouth. The diaper crinkled every time I shifted. She came fast, flooding my tongue, then slid down and ripped the tapes open just enough to free my cock.
She sank onto it without warning, the diaper bunched under her ass. "Fuck, you're bigger than I remember," she growled, riding me hard. Her cunt gripped tight, wet sounds filling the room as she bounced. I grabbed her hips, thrusting up, the padding squishing between us. She slapped my face lightly. "No hands, baby. You come in the diaper or not at all."
I couldn't hold back. The pressure built fast, the humiliation mixing with the raw friction of her riding me. I shot deep inside her, pulse after pulse, while she kept moving until she came again, clenching around me. She taped the diaper back up over the mess, sealing my cum and her juices against my skin.
"Stay like that until I say," she said, lighting a cigarette by the window. "And don't you dare touch it."
By morning she had figured out the mix-up from my badge, but she didn't stop. She just smiled, pulled the tapes open again, and told me the real game was only starting. The worst kind of mistake had already turned into the filthiest night either of us had ever had.
