Romans & histoires Forced Diaper Wearing

What happened when a girl is forced to marry someone? I am Neha Samad and I was bound with a jerk. But I didn't know that my God would help me like this and my life would take a turn. Join Neha, a girl who was forced to marry a man who loved her but she had never met him ever. He kidnapped her and forced her to marry her. Will she be able to accept him? Will she get a peaceful life with love and care and respect? Or she will have nothing but a jerky man.

Note: This story contains elicit contents and it's rated 18+ "What are you doing?" she asked him with gritted teeth, she can't bear it anymore, not to mention she is always aroused whenever she saw the man but the man wasn't making it easier for her too, she can feel his body heat as they sat down and it was intoxicating, she felt that she was about to loss all her sense of reasoning, "What are you talking about?" Cillian asked, his baritone voice reverberated on Emma's body and she gulped hard, her body shuddered slightly from pleasure, "Can..Can we begin?" she stuttered, so much aroused to think properly, "Of course" replied the male "You see, things about businesses, just for an example, in terms of clothe businesses?" he said and touched the cloth she was wearing, that wasn't the issue but were he touched was, in between her legs, on the center of her pussy, her cunt, when his hand clasped there he felt how wet she was, she subconsciously moaned whilst tilting her head back, the irresistible lust that she has being trying to resist for long, the temptation that she has tried all she could to avoid, will it all succumb today?...

My name is Isabella Wright. In my fifth year of marriage to the Don of a powerful mafia family, I find out that the protection charm he gave me causes me headaches whenever I bring it with me. I take out the sachet I find in the charm and bring it to Cursley Hospital. The doctor inspects the sachet and tells me that it contains a type of slow-acting poison that doesn't just cause harm to the victim's body but also renders them infertile after a while. I cry and exclaim, "But that's impossible! My husband gave this to me! His name is Vincenzo Cursley. He's also the person who owns this hospital!" The doctor looks at me in confusion. "Miss, I think you need to visit the psychiatrist. I know Mr. Cursley and his wife. They're very close and intimate with each other. Also, Mrs. Cursley just gave birth to a baby boy not too long ago. They're both now in the VIP ward, looking at their baby." Then, the doctor shows me a photo on his phone. Vincenzo was wearing his usual black suit with the Cursley family emblem embroidered on it. He was holding a baby in his arms, and as for the woman standing next to him… I know her. Her name is Claudia Henderson. And Vincenzo has always referred to her as his adoptive sister.

I was on a business trip out of town when I got a text from my neighbor. [Can you and your husband keep it down? Also, one of your undies fell onto my balcony.] Shocked, I opened the photo she had sent. The underwear wasn't even my style, but it matched the one I'd seen in my husband's online shopping cart. He'd told me it was a gift for me, but I remember noticing the size—it was one size larger than mine. When confronted with the neighbor's message, my husband swore that the house must've been broken into and claimed the intruder left the item behind. But something about his story didn't sit right, so I decided to dig further. That was when I stumbled upon his social media. His latest post was just three words. [I bought this.] It was paired with a photo of a lingerie gift set. Beneath it, there was a comment. [I'm wearing it.] Attached was a picture of a woman's legs—and the unmistakable background of my living room. The evidence was undeniable. I packed up the underwear and brought it straight to the police. "My husband says our house was broken into. This was left behind by the intruder, and it might have DNA on it."

As the end of the year approached, I begged my father, the king, for three days and three nights before he finally agreed to let me travel to the frontier and reunite with my husband. But the moment I approached the military camp, the guards stopped me. When they found out I'd come to see Liam Foster, they burst out laughing. "Another girl who came all this way because she's got a crush on General Foster! You'd better turn back. General Foster is famously devoted to his wife. Aside from her, he wouldn't give any other woman a second look." I smiled faintly and was about to pull out my royal pendant to prove that I was the very "Mrs. Foster" they were talking about, when one of the guards pointed toward a woman not far away. "See her over there? That's our general's wife. Their love story has already spread all across the camp." I froze. By the time I came back to my senses, the woman had already walked over. She was wearing bright, elegant clothes—completely out of place in a military camp. With a gentle smile, she asked, "Miss, what business do you have with my husband? He had urgent matters to attend to and left earlier. It may be a while before he returns."

"Take off your panties, princess. I want to see the pussy that’s been soaking the sheets and moaning my name in her sleep every night, while wearing my son’s ring.” "Yes, daddy." * Reina thought marriage meant love. But for two long, aching years, all it gave her was cold nights and a husband who never touched her. She was starving. And Domenico Gravano—her devil father-in-law—was the only man who ever made her feel full. He’s twice her age. Deadly. Filthy rich, and built like a god. The kind of man who doesn’t ask. He takes. And when he sees the way she shivers under his stare, he doesn’t hesitate. He gives her everything she's always wanted. It’s forbidden. It's filthy. And it’s about to become her obsession. But Domenico doesn’t do soft. He doesn’t do love. He does control. He does power. He does ownership. And Reina? She’s about to find out what happens when a Gravano decides to make you moan… and never stop. He’s her father-in-law. He’s her first real pleasure. He’s the man who will destroy them both… just to keep her.

Nataliya Barsukov was raised to obey, molded by the iron fists of her father and brothers to be the perfect wife in a world ruled by men. But when she turns eighteen, she breaks their chains—and seizes their empire. Now, as the ruthless and enigmatic Queen of the Russian Mafia in Los Angeles, Nataliya rules her city with an iron will and a twisted code of honor. Those who know her identity are either fiercely loyal… or dead. Ryan Taylor is an undercover cop, fresh to LA and burning with purpose. His mission: infiltrate and dismantle the elusive mafia queen’s empire. But when he meets Nataliya—a woman as sharp as she is stunning, with the fire of a warrior and the grace of a dark Snow White—his world starts to blur. As Ryan is pulled deeper into her world, he begins to question everything. Nataliya doesn’t sell drugs to kids. She doesn’t traffic innocents. And the organs she harvests? Voluntary. In her own brutal way, she’s cleaning the streets more effectively than law enforcement ever has. Now Ryan must face the truth: justice isn’t black and white, and the real villains might be the ones wearing badges. Torn between duty and the woman he’s falling for, Ryan must decide—will he betray the queen… or fight for her?

Three days before the wedding, the church called to inform me that my fiancé had changed the date. When I went to ask him why, I walked in on him throwing a bachelor party with his friends. "Samuel, this was the day Claire personally chose. Why would you suddenly change it?" someone asked. Samuel Gordon stubbed out his cigarette, looking utterly nonchalant. "Because that day happens to be Janet's birthday," he said. "I need to celebrate it with her." The room fell silent in shock. "Aren't you afraid Claire will find out and kill you? Have you forgotten what she did before?" At the mention of my name, Samuel gave an icy snort. "That was all in the past. Claire loves me to death now. She even took three bullets for me once, so how could she ever bring herself to hurt me?" I stood at the doorway, watching the snow fall behind me, and let out a long sigh. Five days later, he stood in an empty church, frantically calling my phone. "Did you forget? It's our wedding day!" "I didn't forget," I said. In another church, wearing a wedding gown, I was saying "I do" to another man.

On the night of my 30th birthday, I waited until the early hours of the morning, but my husband, Theodore Hawk never showed up. Instead, I came across an Instagram post from his childhood sweetheart, Emily Gallagher. [What romantic is not the starry night, it is having you by my side.] In the picture, she was wearing a delicate, sky-blue camisole that revealed just enough to charm and seduce. A man stood close behind her, his hand firmly gripping her waist. The scene was set in the seaside villa that Theodore had gifted her, their figures intimately entwined under the soft glow of the night. Someone had commented beneath the post: [I can’t stand you two being this lovey-dovey all the time! Just get married already!] Emily had responded with a shy-face emoji. I had just liked the post when Theodore, who I had failed to reach all night, blew up my phone with calls. "Are you out of your mind, Camilla? Emi and I grew up together! If we wanted to be together, we would’ve done so long ago! Why are you being so petty?" Looking at how Theodore gently held her in his arms, comforting her, I realized something. Letting go of someone you’ve loved for seven years... can take only a moment.

On our wedding anniversary, my husband has his intern put on the custom-made wedding gown he prepared for me. "You wouldn't have looked good in a wedding gown with your baby bump, anyway. She's saving us trouble by wearing the gown for you. Think about how kind she is!" Before I can rebuke him, an earthquake happens. I lose my balance and fall to the floor. Instantly, I feel moisture on my legs. At the same time, my husband received a call from his intern. "There are so many frogs here, Mr. Quinn. I'm so scared…" My husband turns to leave, but I grab his pant leg. "Ethan, I—" "It's just a minor earthquake—the ground barely even shook. Don't make a mountain out of a molehill. Didn't you hear Chloe crying because she was so scared? Can't you be sympathetic?" He ignores the blood pooling around me and hurries off to comfort Chloe Bennett. That night, they share a passionate kiss under a sky full of fireworks. Meanwhile, my child dies in my belly. It's a pretty good way to end things. Someone like Ethan Quinn doesn't deserve to have his own children.