Octavian Finds Out Reyna's Dirty Little Secret
The promised AU of what would happen if Octavian found out about Reyna's fetish. This takes place after Jason's kidnapping, before Percy arrives. This will also be my darkest fetish story, if you consider Annabeth the Cow to be dark, purely for the humiliation aspects.
PJOABDLPJOABDLPJOABDL
Reyna sighed to herself as she entered her private praetor barracks. It was the middle of May, with beautiful weather, but there was nothing but unrest throughout the camp and the city. Jason was still missing, Octavian's auguries weren't revealing anything useful, monster attacks were picking up from once a month to once every two weeks or so, and they were having to get really creative on killing the beasts, or rather, making sure they stayed killed.
Honestly, it just wasn't fair, dammit! Monsters died and turned into piles of golden dust that blew away in the wind, only to reform some time later, while demigods just died—but now monsters turned into piles of golden dust and started to immediately piece themselves back together…while demigods continued to just die.
Some good campers, loyal friends, had already just died.
Reyna's plate was so full she could barely carry it. Running the whole legion by herself, conducting funerals, dealing with reports from the centurions, complaints from the legionnaires about this thing or that thing, monster attacks, searching for Jason, and of course, Octavian. The auger's push for abandoning the search (in earnest, but keep a small team out there on the hunt) in favor of an emergency election of a new praetor was gaining momentum as panic kept increasing, with him as the prime candidate.
Reyna knew the skinny teen was pulling strings and calling in favors to boost his position, and she knew that if he was elected praetor, things would only get worse. Octavian was convinced that there was a Greek camp of demigods somewhere out there, and that they were located somewhere around the Long Island area, where Olympus floated above the Empire State Building. It was his belief that this camp needed to be found, the demigods there either converted to Romans, like in the old days, or executed, so that these rising problems with monsters and godly silence could be fixed.
Obviously, that was going to cost a lot of resources and spill a whole lot of blood, something Reyna did not want, despite being the daughter of the Roman goddess of war, Bellona. If anything, if there really was a Greek camp, then they needed to be found in the name of peace and strength, to create a united front against whatever mounting threat this was.
But Octavian disagreed, and his "friends" disagreed alongside him, and if he was elected praetor, he'd effectively kick Reyna out of her chair, assume total control over the legion, march on Long Island, and raze the Greeks to the ground. A typical politician, Octavian's whole plan was to use to the problem of the empty praetor chair to get what he wanted, then kick Reyna out of her own chair, bringing the problem back to square one, and then totally disregard it in favor of his personal agenda.
Yeah…Reyna was really stressed out right now, being pulled in every direction, shouldering everyone's problems, fighting phantom battles. However, as bad as it sounded, without Jason being here, that gave Reyna the perfect opportunity to indulge in her favorite form of stress relief. It was break time for the legion, a free period, basically, meaning she didn't have long, but she did have long enough before she had to resume her duties.
Heading into her room, she was already taking her clothes off, ditching her purple praetor cloak, her lorica segmentata armor, her purple camp t-shirt, then her boots with the cleats and the armored toes, followed by her shin guards, then her jeans, and finally her Athletic Works boyshorts that she got from Walmart in nearby Berkeley, the ones in the set that were solid black with a hot pink waistband.
You can look them up on Google Images.
Now clad in her birthday suit, Reyna stood over her clothes drawer, heart beating excitedly. Though she'd had far more opportunities in the recent past to indulge, that still didn't derail from the giddiness and happiness she felt every time she did indulge. She opened her underwear drawer, revealing her socks, bras, and panties, and waved her hand over the items, making a haze appear, like a mirage. The haze faded, revealing Reyna's secret.
Six sets of matching Disney princess pajamas, shirts and shorts, corresponding to Cinderella, Belle, Snow White, Ariel, Aurora, and Jasmine, and two stacks of Disney princess pull-ups, all of comparable size and shape to the new Goodnites XL. Honestly, this drawer was a Littlespace dream, with Disney clothes and Disney diapers all in teen/adult sizes.
Reyna loved it; she loved that her sister the Amazon Queen could pull strings with Disney and Huggies and have this stuff made in her size.
Reyna was feeling kind of vulnerable today with all the stress, and so she grabbed her Cinderella pajama set and a pull-up, one with Cinderella on the front caressing the muzzle of a horse. Reyna forgot if it had a name. The set's shorts were solid blue with a pattern of the titular glass slippers made out of white lines all over the shorts, and the shirt was white with short blue sleeves and a blue neck, the front of the shirt emblazoned with a full-body Cinderella striking a sassy pose in her signature dress with a smirk on her face as she dangled her slipper from her finger.
Reyna stepped into her pull-up then put her pajamas on. Looking at the clock, factoring in the time to get dressed and walk back to the via praetoria, Reyna estimated she had about another hour of playtime before she needed to get dressed and head back to the crappy world she called reality. Granted, she'd have the few hours of the evening to herself later on, but still.
Reyna flopped onto her bed with an easy smile on her face. Nowadays, she lived for these moments, these times she didn't have to be the mighty praetor, the strong leader, the uncompromisable daughter of Rome's most revered goddess after Lupa. These times when she put on her pull-up and her pjs and got to pretend she was a happy little girl without a care or worry in the world, not even a worry about stopping what she was doing to go use the toilet since her pull-ups were magical.
No leaks, odors, or rashes for three days, and invisible under the clothes no matter how full and filthy the pull-up became, after its first use, even if that first use was a tiny squirt of pee or a full bladder's worth, an accidental shart, or a full load of poop.
Anyway, none of that magical stuff mattered to Reyna because she never wore one of her pull-ups outside her private room. Magically hidden or not, all it took was one lucky sword or misfired arrow and down went her jeans. Or, alternatively, while she was the praetor and in command of great power, that didn't make her immune to being pantsed. It would take someone incredibly daring and ballsy, but if they thought the punishment was worth it, they would yank her pants down.
Hell, they'd even give her a wedgie and drag her into a bathroom for a swirly if they were dedicated enough.
It had happened to poor Gwen, the Fifth Cohort centurion. Some unruly assholes of the First Cohort did that exact thing to her, and where Reyna had tried them on sexual assault and attempted murder via drowning, the girls had parents that were decorated ex-legionnaires and had good lawyers. Granted, Reyna's case was rather weak in the perspective of the Roman demigods—sexual assault and drowning? It was just a wedgie and a swirly!—but still.
Doing that to a centurion was not okay.
Of course, what Reyna was doing was definitely not okay for a teenager, much less the leader of an army of superhuman teenagers, and what she going to do in the next few seconds was undeniably not okay for…anyone, really, who had proper mental function.
Reyna sat up on her knees on her bed and relaxed. A look of bliss came over her face as her bladder released and her pull-up warmed and swelled between her legs. When she finished, she squished her wet padding, and decided to be even naughtier. Reyna's face scrunched up as she pushed. Without too much effort, a big, solid hunk of poop slid out of her and nestled into her pull-up, pushing against the padding, the padding pushing back against her butt, creating a comfortably warm lump in her pants.
Reyna sighed happily in her dirty pull-up. She sat down on her bed and felt the mess squish slightly. Laying back, she slipped a hand up her shirt to start teasing her nipples, and her other down in her pull-up, her fingers getting wet due to the soaked padding, and soon enough, wet with other fluids. Some people needed their laptop on their lap, or their phone in their hand, or a nasty book, but not Reyna.
Reyna liked to think she was gifted in that she could masturbate with nothing but her imagination as material to finger herself to.
Unoriginally, her fantasies revolved Jason and some of the nights they'd spent together when the son of Jupiter had the courage to get it up. Reyna's fantasies picked up, now including her fetish and other desires, other things she wanted to do with Jason. Her fingers picked up, moans escaping her as she bucked and rolled her hips, getting the hand down in her pull-up extra filthy with pee, her sex fluids, and thanks to her movements, a little bit of poop as well.
Eventually, biting her lip to keep from crying out, reduced the sound to a loud moan, Reyna's walls clamped around her fingers as cum rushed around the digits to further soak her pull-up. Riding her orgasm, Reyna collapsed onto her bed, breathing heavy, blushing with a satisfied smile. The high faded in a few minutes and Reyna was left with feelings of post-nut clarity, as it were.
Holding her filthy hand away from herself, she rolled out of bed and made her way to her mirror to look at herself.
"Wow," she said to herself, "you survived an abusive childhood with an insane father—that you killed after he almost killed you and your big sister—survived pirates, survived Lupa, the journey to New Rome, joined the ranks, and were powerful and skilled enough to rise all the way to praetor. Now you have power over assorted 218 demigods and legacies, command over a legion of soldiers, and the respect of all those soldiers and the whole city right over there. And here you are, girl, dressed like a toddler ready for bed, one need of a diaper change since you peed, pooped, and came in the one you're wearing now. You haven't even cleaned off your dirty fingers yet."
"You should get to that pretty soon."
Reyna screamed, heart lurching up into her throat as she jumped out of her skin at the smug voice.
It was Octavian, smiling, eyes glinting, leaning against the inside of her door.
Reyna was frozen in sheer terror. Her clothes, what she'd done, what she'd just said—seen and heard by him! Her rival! Her enemy!
"You…you…" Reyna stuttered as her whole world started crumbling around her.
"Yes, me. I came by to speak with you, knocked on your door and waited patiently. I knocked again, and after there was still no answer, I put my ear to the door and heard the moaning."
Reyna blushed hard.
"I'll admit, my first thought was that someone or something had come by and had tied you up and gagged, and despite my personal feelings and opinions of you, you are still the praetor and any attack against you is an attack against Rome, and as augur, that is something I cannot allow. However…" Octavian smiled, perversely this time
"I never expected that kind of show, least of all from the likes of you. Honestly, I figured you to be more of a dildo kind of girl, with a strap-on and probably a riding crop, not…this."
He gestured at Reyna's Cinderella pajamas, his eyes focused on Reyna's fingers, coated in a slick, brownish sheen
"A diaper change, you said? Because you peed, pooped, and came in it, yes? My, what a dirty, naughty girl you are, certainly not fit to be leading the legion if you're still soiling diapers like an infant, especially since you have no medical requirements for such garments. But that's not what's really damning about this situation, is it?"
Reyna's heart managed to sink even lower, threatening to slide out of her and into her pull-up at the triumphant and dangerous look on Octavian's face.
"Patricide is a crime punishable by execution, even if it is in self-defense, and by your own admission, you committed this crime. I can have you marched right to the senate building, dirty diaper, smelly hand, and all, right now, have you tried, and then do my best to erase your stain from our Roman honor."
The only reason Reyna didn't burst into tears at that, her insecurities and vulnerabilities taking a direct hit, was sheer force of will and her burning hatred for Octavian right now, catching her in this state, poop in her pants, her fingers glistening from her slick and bodily waste. With that will and hatred, Reyna found a spark of defiance.
"Y-You can't prove an-anything!" she choked a bit.
Octavian's face morphed into one that was unimpressed and condescending. He uncrossed his arms and revealed in his hand a little recording device. He hit the play button, and Reyna paled at the sound of her moans, followed by her loud one as she orgasmed into her pull-up, then a little bit of silence before the sound of her rustling sheets was heard, followed by her footsteps, and then her whole monologue before her mirror. The fact that Octavian had that whole part recorded meant that he'd been standing there the whole time and in her haze, she hadn't noticed him. That was as much a blow as hearing herself moan and then listen to her own ruminations.
"True," Octavian admitted, "a little recording is hardly concrete evidence, and the case can be made that it's a fake, but I'm the augur. My words in a court of law comes with the penalty of the gods themselves as I am their voice here in camp. I cannot lie in court, especially when accusing the praetor of the legion. Besides, an oath on the Styx that this is a true recording of you, and swearing on my own testimony will be all the proof the senate will need to have you firstly removed from office for conduct unbecoming, and then executed for patricide. I have you dead to rights."
And that last line keyed Reyna in on Octavian's intentions, or at least one of them. "But you're not going to do it, are you?"
Octavian smiled. "No, I am not."
However, Reyna felt no spark of hope in her chest, only intense dread and foreboding the likes of which she hadn't felt since she was first captured by Blackbeard's crew, and all those evil men who hadn't touched a woman in centuries were surrounding her and leering at her and her sister. Granted, she and Hylla were more than strong and skilled enough to fight them off and earn their grudging respect, one swordsman to another, but that didn't stop her from being afraid of perhaps what was the ultimate humiliation for a girl—or anyone, really—to experience.
Octavian's smile vanished as he turned serious. "No, I am not going to have you taken and tried at this time. Right now, moral is low and fear is high. The legion needs its strong and confident praetor so we don't collapse under the weight we're currently shouldering, and the weight of these disgusting revelations would certainly be too much."
"But you're not going to just let me off the hook."
That smile came back. "Most certainly not. My silence and discretion will come at a price—well, several, off the top of my head, but not right now. Just know that we are going to have a lot of fun together in the coming future, either until things get drastic enough that my spare energy is needed elsewhere, or I decide I've grown bored of you. For now, enjoy the rest of your free period, my praetor, and please, for the sake of the children, be wearing clean underwear when drills resume."
Octavian left, shutting the door behind him, and Reyna collapsed to her knees, crying.
PJOABDLPJOABDLPJOABDL
When drills did resume, there wasn't a hint of anything amiss with Reyna. Not an inkling of something wrong, or even a slight out of place hair on her head. Nothing to suggest that an hour ago she'd pooped in her pants and masturbated in her mess, then got caught and was effectively being blackmailed.
When drills were over, Reyna did her usual thing and occupied her chair in the via praetoria, going over the new reports and complaints, welcoming them this time because they took her mind off her current precarious situation. Her dogs padded up and got comfy next to her, her automaton greyhounds, Aurum and Argentum, Gold and Silver. She wished they'd been with her earlier; she could've sicked them on Octavian and then claimed a monster had attacked, washing the blood from the machines before anyone could see it and therefore there'd be none the wiser.
The dogs perked up, their ruby eyes glowing with concern, no doubt having picked up on the scent of stress chemicals surging through her body. Reyna smiled at her pets.
"It's okay, boys," she said, rubbing the tops of their heads. Despite being metal, they were warm to the touch, and they liked the attention. "Momma's just a little worn down right now. Lots of stuff going on."
A knock at the door drew Reyna's attention. Sitting with her back straight, she projected her voice, putting her authority and commanding nature into it. "Enter!"
And in came Octavian, making Reyna's blood freeze. Her heartbeat picked up, and the dogs noticed. They looked at Reyna, then at the approaching Octavian, then back at Reyna, and then they growled at the augur, standing up with their teeth beared. Octavian regarded the deadly automatons.
He held up a remote and hit a button. The dogs' eye instantly went black and they collapsed like stringless puppets.
Reyna bolted to her feet. "What did you do!?"
"Turned them off," Octavian answered in a simple, dismissive tone that said he wasn't going to tell Reyna where'd he'd gotten a remote that could turn off her automatons.
If she had to guess, a child of Vulcan or Trivia had made that remote, one that was either threatened or persuaded by the augur.
Octavian held up the recorder, making Reyna pale. "Suck your thumb like it's Jason's penis," he ordered.
Reyna's jaw dropped. "W-Wha-?" she squeaked.
Octavian eyed her. "I said…suck your thumb…like it's Jason's penis," he said in a slower manner, as if speaking to a slow person.
Staring at Octavian, Reyna did just that. She put her thumb in her mouth and started to suck and swirl her tongue around it, even going so far as to make slurping sounds.
"From now on until I say otherwise, your mouth is going to be occupied whenever you are alone. I will tell you what to occupy it with. So, whenever you are in here going over your reports, your mouth is occupied. When you are in your barracks, your mouth is occupied. When you're in the shower or sitting on the toilet to get a gold star on your potty chart, you will have something in your mouth. Right now, it will be your thumb, understand me? Nod if you understand."
Reyna nodded once behind her thumb.
"If you disobey me, you will be punished in any way I deem fit, and if you continue disobeying me, this recording will be made public, and it will literally lead to your death. With patricide on your ledger, the judges will not be kind, and I can only imagine that Tisiphone, the Fury that punishes murderers, will be delighted to receive you."
Reyna paled. Not even death would be an escape from this torment.
"And speaking of obedience…heel, girl."
Octavian snapped his fingers and pointed at his shoes, tapping his foot.
Reyna's cloak swished behind her and she walked over to her tormenter. She stood before him, still sucking on her thumb like a little girl, heart beating hard in her chest.
"Take off your cloak."
Using one hand, she did that and set it on the table next to her.
"Turn around."
Heart beating even faster, Reyna did that.
"I need to make sure you did as I instructed and put on clean underwear."
Reyna's eyes widened when she felt Octavian's hands go inside her jeans to grip her boyshorts, and she squealed behind her thumb when he violently pulled the stretchy panties up to the middle of her back with one heave.
Now, when it came to the legion, kids learned boys and girls alike learned really fast that normal underwear was not going to be conducive to everyday drills and war games. They would absorb too much sweat, weigh them down, chafe, get stuck to their skin, and be a general pain. Because of that, the boys had their jockstraps and the girls had their thongs, made of lightweight, breathable, moisture wicking fibers that were designed for movement and sweat. Of course, there were some that didn't like thongs or jockstraps, didn't like the feeling of a slingshot stuck in their butts all day, and stinking to high heaven when the day was over, wreaking of butthole and crotch, and Reyna was one of those girls.
She did not do thongs, which was why she'd bought these special boyshorts, made specifically for athletic activity. Now she was paying for it in a way she didn't think would ever happen.
Grunting behind her thumb, Reyna stood there and allowed herself to be jerked up and down as Octavian kept yanking on her underwear. Her muffin, taint, and butthole burned and ached as the fabric was pulled tighter and tighter, was dug deeper and deeper into the most sensitive areas of her body. Gods, what was Octavian trying to do back there!? Reyna knew what an atomic wedgie was, but she'd never seen one—she didn't think it was possible, really, that any pair of panties could stretch that far, even if they were 100% elastic!
It seemed Octavian was going to prove her wrong today.
Or tried to, anyway.
The augur frowned. It appeared that he'd maxed out the stretch of Reyna's black boyshorts with the hot pink waistband, the same pair she'd been wearing before she put on her pull-up. He heard the fibers popping and cracking and took that as a sign he was about to rip them. Skinny and scrawny or not, Octavian was still a legacy, and that trickle of divinity was enough to make him quite strong, stronger than what his gangly limbs would indicate.
With that strength, he'd managed to pull Reyna's boyshorts up to her shoulder blades, bringing her up to her tiptoes. Since they appeared to be unable to go any further, Octavian shrugged and decided to take what he could get. He pulled out his augury knife, Reyna's pained moans music to his ears, and carefully used the point of his knife to jam Reyna's panties in between the chinks in her lorica segmentata breastplate, effectively cementing her wedgie.
When he was done, Octavian inspected his work to make sure the panties were going to slip out of the armor. He nodded, satisfied that they were firmly stuck, and grabbed Reyna's praetor cloak. He fastened it around her with such skill she wondered if he'd been practicing taking a cloak on and off, but that sense of wonder lasted only in the brief half second of the action, because all thoughts instantly returned to her wedgie.
Her loins burned fiercely at the fabric so tightly lodged within, her kitten and butt feeling like they were being cut in half by a wire.
"There," Octavian chirped. "Assuming you move carefully enough, no one will know that their great and powerful praetor has her underwear wedged into her armor like some common nerd, or like any other loser."
He straightened her cloak out over her shoulders and down her back.
"You will keep sucking your thumb until evening muster, in which you will be allowed to remove your thumb unless company finds you in the interim time, and that wedgie will remain until I give you leave to remove it. Understand?"
With her back still turned to him, Reyna nodded her head.
"Good girl. See you at dinner."
Octavian left, and when the door shut behind him, the dogs woke back up, making confused sounds at what had just happened.
As for Reyna, she gingerly made her back to her chair, thumb in her mouth, the U-bend of her body burning with each movement. She tried to sit, but quickly determined how much that made her wedgie worse. Her wedgie!
She, the praetor of Rome, the daughter of Bellona, had been wedgied! And it wasn't some simple tugging of her underwear, but a new kind of wedgie. This had to be some new kind of wedgie—who else in the world received a wedgie that got stuck in their armor? Reyna had heard of wedgies involving a girl's bra, but this was something totally different.
Despite the pain, humiliation, and embarrassment, Reyna actually devoted time and thought into coming up with a name for this wedgie. After careful consideration, she decided on calling this the armor wedgie, in which the underwear was wedged and then secured in one's armor.
For as long until the horn blew for evening muster, Reyna was stuck with her armor wedgie, sucking her thumb, her body eventually going numb to the pain caused by her panties. The horn signaled the end of thumb sucking, and so she did. Her thumb was all wrinkly from so much time in her mouth, just like when she spent too much time in the shower, or the pool.
Reyna wiped off the saliva and limped her way to the door on her tiptoes. When she got to the door, she took a deep breath, and got focused. She didn't dare go against Octavian, not yet, not without a plan, but she also couldn't show weakness right now, couldn't give away that she was in serious pain.
Clearing her expression and making sure her cloak was fitted properly to hide the fact that her underwear had been jammed into her armor, Reyna pushed the door open and made her way for the mess hall, keeping her winces off her face, her stride normal, and her pace measured. When she got to her chair and had to sit down, she managed to keep her squeal in the bottom of her throat and her face neutral. The centurions that sat around her were none the wiser to Reyna's predicament.
Octavian pulled a great act, showing no smirk or knowing look, appearing to be just as in the dark as everyone else.
When Reyna delivered her speech, standing and addressing the legion, instead of screaming in pain or crying out, she spoke with a level and clear voice about the ongoing efforts to find Jason, the current events happening around camp, and the strength and power of the legion. There was clapping and cheering, and eating, and then gathering for the war games, CTF tonight, the Fifth, Fourth, and Third up against the First and Second to breech the fort and take the flag.
Reyna flew overhead on her pegasus Scipio, and where thought the pain of her armor wedgie couldn't get any worse, she was wrong when she flew on horseback.
The game was the longest Reyna ever recalled in her career, the Forth and Third totally undermining the idea of unity amongst the legion by having the poor Fifth literally thrown against the walls to be battered by water cannons, rocks, spears, arrows, and even sewage. In seemed the children of Vulcan had gone above and beyond in securing munitions for their cohorts tonight.
Reyna also wanted to say that one of the newest campers was the son of Cloacina, the goddess of the cloaca maxima, the sewer system of New Rome. He probably had a huge hand in this.
The game did come to an end eventually thanks to the time limit, the First and Second holding off the other three even after the Fourth and Third decided they'd had enough fun watching the Fifth get pulverized. Reyna distributed awards, dismissed the legion for the day, and hurried back to her room in the hopes that Octavian would meet her and let her finally pick her wedgie. She put her thumb back in her mouth to show her obedience, shoving her pride and anger down in favor off not dying in disgrace.
Octavian did indeed come to her, mere minutes after she got to her room.
"Take your cloak off and turn around," he said.
Reyna did so. Octavian inspected her panties, still stuck in her armor.
"Very good," he said appraisingly. "You kept it all day. You may take out your thumb, undress, and pick your wedgie."
Reyna very nearly said thank you in the most grateful way she'd ever said the phrase, but stopped herself. Boots, shin guards, jeans, and then finally, her boyshorts. She didn't try to be precise or gentle with them; she just grabbed them at her butt crack and pulled at them so hard that between her strength and how well they were stuck, they were ripped to pieces. Reyna didn't care.
Her face screwed up and her knees buckled at the feeling of holy relief. She didn't care that Octavian could see her naked privates the feeling of released tension was so intense.
"Finish undressing," Octavian said, bringing Reyna back.
She did that, eventually standing before Octavian in just her purple sports bra and socks, her hands in front of her kitten. He smirked at this little act of defiance, Reyna unwilling to just completely show herself off to the skinny creep who she could snap like a twig.
"Do you need to relieve yourself?" he asked.
"Yes," Reyna admitted.
"Do you need to go tinkle or poo-poo?"
Reyna grit her teeth. "Both."
"What?"
"I…need…" Reyna struggled, finding Octavian's smirk to be absolutely infuriating. She took a breath to calm down. He reputation and life were on the line. "I need to go tinkle and poo-poo."
And it was the truth.
Octavian nodded. "Put on a pair of your big girl panties and a set of your big girl pajamas."
Reyna put on a pair of regular boyshorts this time, also from Walmart, and this pair had a white waistband and legholes with the body being thick, blue horizontal stripes and thin white stripes. Reyna's pajamas were simple in that she just put on a big, baggy, boring white t-shirt, her sports bra still on, the purple showing through the shirt just a little bit.
Octavian nodded at her bed. "Get in it and get comfy."
Intelligent mind leaning down two different potential paths of where this was going, Reyna did as instructed, pulling back her covers, getting in bed, and bringing her covers back up.
Octavian gestured to her whole bed. "This is now your toilet. Whenever you need to pee and poop, you will hold it until you get in your bed and then you have my permission to relieve yourself. Whether you have clothes on is up to you, and the cleaning of your bedding is also on you. But for now until I say otherwise, your thumb goes in your mouth, and your waste goes in your bed. Now, show me you understand."
Demurely, Reyna put her thumb back in her mouth and moved her covers down, showing Octavian her body again. There was no way out of this that she saw, not one that didn't involve violence and death, and so she didn't bother fighting. She rolled over and lifted her shirt up, showing her butt to Octavian so he could see, and she relaxed.
Pee streamed out of her, soaking the bed and her underwear. Octavian watched, giddy and even somewhat drunk on his newfound authority and power over the praetor, as the pee stain spread across the bed. His pants were incredibly tight, and there would be an explosion later in the coming minutes. When Reyna was done peeing, she pushed, and Octavian nearly busted then and there as he saw the little protrusion in the seat of Reyna's underwear, a protrusion that quickly turned into a huge, lumpy bulge that threatened to spill out of the confines of the seat.
"O-Outstanding," Octavian breathed. "Ah—uh—tonight…ahem…tonight, you will not change yourself, but will instead spend the night sleeping in your waste. You're fond of soiling your diapers, so this shouldn't be too different for you. Goodnight, Reyna. I'll see you in the morning."
Octavian left to go and stroke himself, while Reyna just cried in the confines of her new toilet.
PJOABDLPJOABDLPJOABDL
Yep, blackmail, extortion, perversion, wedgies, public, bedwetting, bedmessing, panty peeing, and panty pooping…with more to come as Octavian makes Reyna dance to his tune.
Hope you liked it, and I'll see you next time!
Suggestions on what Octavian can make Reyna do are welcome.