ABDL Story - Corporate Sissy Pansy

The conference room door clicked shut behind me. Thirty-four floors above the city, and the whole floor was empty except for her and the soft buzz of the HVAC.

Ms. Kane sat at the head of the table like she owned the building. She did. Black blouse. Hair pinned up. A slim tablet open in front of her and a plain cardboard box on the chair to her right.

“Lock it, pansy.”

My fingers found the latch. The sound went through me harder than it should have. I turned back, still in my suit from the client call, still playing the man who closed the deal, and my cock was already half hard against my thigh. Traitorous little bastard. I had walked in here meaning to keep my spine straight. My body had other plans.

She did not look up from the tablet. “Report.”

“The Mercer account is signed. Numbers are in your inbox.”

“Not that report.” Her eyes lifted. Cool. Certain. “The other one.”

Heat crawled up my neck. I stood there in Italian wool and a silk tie, thirty-one years old, and my mouth went dry like I was about to pitch a sinking stock.

“I followed the rules,” I said. “All day. No touching. Check-ins at noon and four. The pink briefs under the suit like you ordered.”

“And?”

And my cock had leaked into the cotton by lunch. And I had almost come in a stall thinking about her voice on the phone telling me I was a good girl for holding it. And every time I sat in a meeting, the soft chafe of that fabric had turned my brain to mush.

“I held it,” I managed. “I did not come.”

“Show me.”

My hands went to my belt before my pride could catch up. That was the worst part. How fast I moved for her. How the click of my buckle already made my balls pull tight. I shoved my trousers and briefs down to my thighs. My cock sprang free, flushed and wet at the tip, bobbing like it was begging for her.

Ms. Kane set the tablet aside. She stood and walked around the table. Each step of her heels marked time against the carpet. When she stopped in front of me, the scent of her perfume cut through the office air, clean and sharp.

She took my cock between two fingers and inspected it like a line item. “Hard already. From a locked door and a few words. Look at you.”

I looked. God, I looked. Thick, leaking, ridiculous against the open fly of a two-thousand-dollar suit. My hips twitched toward her hand before I could stop them.

You are a senior analyst. You present to boards. You do not get hard because a woman calls you pansy in an empty conference room.

The thought hit bright and useless. My cock jumped in her grip anyway.

She released me and nodded at the box. “Open it.”

I pulled my trousers up enough to walk without falling over and lifted the lid. Inside: a thick adult diaper, plastic-backed and white, taped tabs ready. A small bottle of powder. A pink satin collar with a metal ring. And a slim remote-controlled plug, still in its plastic sleeve, with a black remote beside it.

My throat closed. I had worn the briefs for weeks. The collar once, at her apartment. The diaper was new. The plug was new. Something in my gut dropped and my cock kicked so hard it hurt.

“On the table,” she said. “On your back. Knees up. Suit stays. Trousers off.”

I stripped from the waist down. Shoes. Socks. Trousers. Briefs. I kept the jacket and shirt and tie like a joke that had gone too far. The polished wood of the conference table was cold under my bare ass. I lay back, knees bent, feet planted, cock resting heavy on my stomach, and the ceiling lights glared down like an audit.

Ms. Kane pulled on a pair of thin black gloves from her pocket. The snap of latex made my stomach clench.

“Hold your knees.”

I hooked my hands under them and pulled them toward my chest. The position opened me. Exposed me. My hole tightened in the open air and my face burned so hot I could feel it in my ears. She stepped between my legs and looked me over without hurry. Cock. Balls. Hole. The whole shameful layout of a man who closed multi-million deals by day and spread for his boss after hours.

“This is what you are when the clients go home,” she said. “Not the voice on the Zoom. This. Soft. Small. Kept.”

She uncapped the powder and dusted my cock and balls first. The cool grit made me hiss. Then she powdered lower, between my cheeks, over my hole, clinical and thorough. Her gloved finger pressed once against the ring of muscle, testing, and a stupid sound slipped out of me. Half protest. Half need.

“Shh.” She opened the diaper and slid it under my hips. The crinkle was loud in the quiet room. Plastic against bare skin. Soft padding cupping my ass and cock as she brought the front up between my legs. My cock was trapped against the thick cotton, already leaving a wet spot. She taped one side, then the other, snug enough that every breath made the bulk shift against me.

I was diapered on the conference table where we had negotiated the Q3 forecast. The plastic rustled when I twitched. My cock throbbed inside the padding, hard as a rail and going nowhere.

“Routine starts now,” Ms. Kane said. “You wet when I say. You hold when I say. You thank me for every change. You do not get to be a big man in this building after six o’clock. After six, you are my little pansy. Understood?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what.”

My jaw worked. The word sat on my tongue like a stone and still came out. “Yes, Mommy.”

Her mouth curved. Approval without softness. She picked up the pink collar, buckled it around my throat over the knot of my tie, and clipped a short leash to the ring. The satin was cool. The leash hung down my chest like a receipt I could not void.

Then she opened the plug.

Lube from a small packet. A slick finger at my hole while I still held my knees. She pushed in to the knuckle and my cock jerked inside the diaper, rubbing uselessly against the padding. A second finger. Stretch. Burn. The kind that made my eyes water and my hips try to fuck the air.

“Breathe,” she said. “You asked for total care. Total care includes this.”

I had signed her private contract three months ago in a panic of lust after one late-night call. I had thought I understood the terms. Rules and routine. Kept and cared for. Soft surrender. The paper had not prepared me for the sound of a diaper crinkling under fluorescent lights while my boss worked two fingers into my ass and called it care.

She withdrew and pressed the slick head of the plug to me. Wider than her fingers. Firm silicone. She pushed steady and my body opened around it because she wanted it to. The stretch pulled a broken noise from my throat. My cock leaked a thick string into the diaper. When the base seated flush, the fullness sat deep and wrong and perfect, and I could not close my legs without feeling every inch of it.

She took the remote. Clicked it once.

A low buzz started inside me. My back arched off the table. The plug hummed against that spot that turned my thoughts to static, and the diaper held my cock in a soft prison while it throbbed and dripped. I bit my lip hard enough to taste copper.

“Up,” she said. “On your feet. Walk to the window.”

Standing in a diaper under a dress shirt and jacket was its own humiliation. The bulk forced my thighs apart. Every step crinkled. The plug shifted with my gait and the low buzz kept a constant dirty pressure inside me. At the floor-to-ceiling glass, the city glittered below. Anyone in the tower across the street with good binoculars could have seen a man in a suit with a pink collar and a padded ass.

Ms. Kane came up behind me. She reached around, found the front of the diaper through the open jacket, and squeezed my trapped cock through the padding. I gasped. My forehead nearly hit the glass.

“You are going to wet for me,” she said against my ear. “Right here. Then I am going to change you on the floor like the little corporate sissy you are. And when you are clean and pink and plugged and shaking, I am going to bend you over my desk and fuck that hole until you forget your own name.”

My cock jumped hard in her hand. Precome soaked through the cotton. The plug buzzed higher when she thumbed the remote, and my knees almost gave.

“I can’t,” I croaked. “Not here. The cameras. The glass. Please.”

“You can. Because I told you to. Because your body already wants to. Look at the wet spot, pansy. You are dripping for the woman who put you in diapers.”

I looked down. Dark circle spreading on white plastic. My cock was a stiff ridge under the padding, and her gloved hand worked it through the bulk in firm strokes that made my vision blur. The buzz in my ass climbed another notch. My bladder ached from holding all day like a good boy on her schedule. The two pressures stacked. Cock and bladder and plug and shame, all of it crushing the last clean edge of the man I pretended to be between nine and five.

She bit the shell of my ear. “Wet. Now.”

I broke.

Heat flooded the diaper. The warm gush filled the padding, heavy and loud against the quiet room, soaking cotton against my cock and balls while I stood at the window of my own company and pissed myself on command. My face crumpled. A sound tore out of me that belonged to no boardroom on earth. The relief hit so hard my cock jerked and almost tipped me over the edge, and the only thing that stopped me from coming was the way she squeezed the base through the mess and denied me.

“Good little pansy,” she murmured. “Soaking yourself for Mommy. Listen to that. Full and heavy. You hate how hard you are right now. That is why it works.”

The diaper sagged warm between my legs. The plug still buzzed. My cock throbbed in wet cotton, furious and denied. Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes and I blinked them back like they were a bad quarterly.

Ms. Kane unclipped the leash from the collar and used it to tug me away from the glass. “On the floor. On the change mat. I brought one.”

I had not seen her set it down. A folded waterproof pad near the sideboard, adult-sized, plain gray. She pointed. I went to my knees, then onto my back, legs open, diaper heavy and hot, jacket wrinkled, pink collar tight at my throat. She stood over me and stripped off one glove with her teeth, then the other, and rolled up her sleeves.

From the box she took fresh wipes, a clean diaper, and something else I had missed under the first layer of tissue. A slim pink vibrator. A pair of nipple clamps on a chain. And a bottle of lube big enough to mean she planned to use me for a long time.

She knelt between my spread thighs and popped the tapes on the wet diaper. Cool air hit soaked skin. My cock lay hard and shiny against my belly, the head dark, the shaft slick with my own mess. She wiped me with efficient strokes, balls, cock, the crease of my thighs, then lower, around the base of the plug still seated in my ass. Each pass of the wipe made my hips twitch. Each twitch made her smile like she was tallying points.

“Say what you are,” she ordered, pressing a clean wipe firm against my hole where the plug held me open.

My voice came out raw. “Your corporate sissy pansy. Your little. Your diapered boy who follows rules and routine and gets kept and cared for whether he likes how much he needs it or not.”

“Again. Filthier.”

“I am a diapered cock sleeve in a pink collar who pisses when Mommy says and gets hard from being small.”

She rewarded me with a single stroke of her bare hand down my cock. My back bowed. A bead of cum pearled at the tip and she smeared it over the head with her thumb, then stopped. Denial again. Cruel and exact.

She powdered me fresh. Taped a clean, thicker diaper into place. The bulk was heavier this time. More padding. Less room for my cock to do anything but ache. Then she unbuttoned my dress shirt without asking, pushed the fabric wide, and set the nipple clamps on me one after the other. The bite made me cry out. The chain between them hung cold on my sternum. When she tugged it once, lightning went straight to my trapped cock.

“On all fours,” she said. “Facing the door. Plug stays in. Diaper stays on for now. I am going to cut a hole in the back.”

The scissors came from her bag. The snip of plastic and cotton behind me was almost gentle. Cool air kissed my hole around the base of the plug. She tugged the plug free in one long pull that left me clenching on nothing, empty and open and shaking, and the empty feeling was worse than the fullness. My hole fluttered. The new hole in the diaper framed me for her.

I heard the belt of her skirt. The soft sound of fabric. The click of a harness buckle.

When I looked back over my shoulder, Ms. Kane stood behind me in her blouse and open skirt, a thick black strap-on jutting from her hips, already slick with lube. The dildo was longer than the plug. Wider at the head. She stroked a palmful of lube along the shaft and then down over my exposed hole, two fingers pushing in without warning, scissoring, making sure I was ready to take what she was about to give.

“This is the part you signed for,” she said. “The part after soft surrender stops being soft. You will take every inch. You will thank me when you come in your diaper like a messy little. And tomorrow morning, when you sit in the status meeting with this plug back in your ass and a fresh diaper under your suit, you will smile at the clients and remember who owns you.”

She lined the head of the strap-on up against my hole. The blunt pressure made my whole body go tight. My cock jerked inside the clean padding, already leaking again. The nipple clamps tugged when I breathed. The collar pressed the word of what I was into my throat with every swallow.

If you let her put that in you on the floor of the executive wing, there is no version of Monday morning that still belongs to you.

The thought was true. It changed nothing. My hips pushed back an inch, traitorous and eager, and the head of her cock kissed my rim.

Ms. Kane’s hand settled on the small of my back. Steady. Absolute.

“Beg for it, pansy.”

My mouth opened. The city hummed far below the glass. The strap-on waited at my hole, thick and greased, and my body was already shaking for the first thrust that would finish turning the man in the suit into something kept, something small, something hers.

“Please, Mommy,” I whispered. “Fuck your little corporate sissy. Please. I need it. I need you in me.”

She pushed.