This choice: Adonica from the Queendom of Nivane, sworn into sisterhood by sword & by diaper. • Go Back...Chapter #7A Padded Dame, far From Nivane. by: TD514   As legend would have it, the lands of the Queendom was once ruled by a vicious witch, who delighted in tormenting those of the feminine persuasion with twisted riddles designed to challenge their maturity, and steal their continence. One day a lowly Lady had taken up the challenge, besting the Witch at her riddles, seeing through her illusions.
The Witch agreed to leave Nivane, but only in return for the Lady's continence, vowing that no Lady shall rule these lands without soiling their pants. The Lady vowed in response that she would rule, justly and fairly, that soiled were but a small price to pay for vanquishing a tyrant. She would be Queen Livia I, the first Queen of the Nivane.
All who had followed her had born her curse, all who had followed her had donned the royal diapers. Yet, they did not do so alone, for in sympathy and in gratitude many of the Nivane's Ladies have too donned the diaper, and so too has Nivane's Battle Sisters. The sword and shield of the Nivanian Queendom, sworn to sacred service of the reigning House Windel.
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Adonica, Adoni as she prefers it. Born to low nobility, her family had sworn its oath to House Windel, sending their firstborn daughter to the Sisterhood. In her years, she learned the art of the sword, the ways of the quilt, and the modesty of the diaper.
Not that it was helping her much now. She had been lucky, grasping her sword and donning her armor in the whirling maestro, diaper crinkling as she threw herself into the fray. One quickly fell at her hand, the crash of her pommel against their helmet sending them sprawling into the grass, another disarmed, forced to retreat by her talent with the sword.
Yet, luck can only carry one so far. Parrying one thrust and dodging another, rolling to avoid a charging lance, Adoni found herself face-to-face with one of the dark arts.
"Witch!" She spat, swinging her blade in a practiced art.
The Sorceress merely side-stepped as if predicting her strike. "My, what excellent form, Dear," she spoke with all the urgency of a lady holding tea.
Adoni growled, swinging again and again, each thrust, each swing seemingly coming no closer to touching the enchantress. And with each swing, Adoni could feel herself tiring, fatigue bleeding into her muscles, slowing her step.
"What-" she swung, she missed. Her armor, once a second skin, now felt so, so heavy. Her sword was like lead in her hand. "Are-" a thrust into open air. She felt her sword clatter to the ground. She stared into the Witch's eyes, seeming no winded than when they first began. "You..."
Adoni slumped to the ground, too weak to continue. The Witch knelt by her side, a satisfied smirk on her face. Adoni wished to smack it away, but her arms refused to move. "I think what you meant, little lady, is what have I done."
Her fingers snapped, and Adoni fell to the ground. She felt her bladder and bowels give way, the last vestiges of her self-control disappearing as she fell into blissful slumber.
Adoni slept deeply, her dreams dark and disorienting. She awoke distressed, blinking back tears from something she was already forgetting. Where was she?
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