Rose scented bathtime

The nursery was always too warm in the house. Mommy Rose kept the radiator cranked just high enough for that to be, her pink silk robe slipping off one shoulder as she adjusted the pastel-pink bottles of baby powder on the mahogany dresser. The man on the floor, her boy, sucked his thumb loudly, diaper covered hips wiggling against the plush carpet. His onesie strained around his thick biceps, the snaps at the crotch barely holding.

“Is my wittle Danny ready for his bath?” Rose crooned, kneeling beside him. Her crimson painted nails scratched the stubble along his jawline. He blinked up at her, green eyes glazed with the heady cocktail of submission and need from mommy. She stopped pretending not to notice the bulge in his diaper weeks ago.

The bathroom steamed immediately as the hot water flowed, rose-scented oil swirling in the clawfoot tub as it slowly started to fill. Danny whined when she peeled the swarm semi-sweat soaked diaper off of him, his cock springing free from its crinkling confines, wet and leaking. Rose hummed, nonchalant, as she guided him into the water. “Such a messy boy,” she tutted, lathering a washcloth with some good smelling rose scented soap. Her thumb grazed the tip of him as she scrubbed his chest in slow circles .

He jerked, water sloshing in the tub. “M-Mommy, ‘m sorry—”

“Shhh.” She pressed the cloth over his mouth, her other hand sliding down his stomach. “You’ll take what Mommy gives you.” Her fingers closed around him, slow, firm strokes that matched the rhythm of her voice. “Good boys don’t come unless I say so. Understand?”

Danny nodded, drool soaking the washcloth. His thighs trembled, toes curling against the porcelain.

Rose’s grip tightened, her thumb swiping over the swollen ridge of his cockhead. The water rippled as Danny’s hips bucked involuntarily, a choked sob muffled by the cloth. “Tsk. So greedy,” she murmured, leaning closer. The damp silk sleeve of her robe brushed his shoulder, her breath hot against his ear. “You want to spill all over Mommy’s fingers? Make a mess of your nice, clean bath?”

He shook his head frantically, tears pooling. She chuckled, low and velvety, her other hand slipping beneath the water to cradle his ballsac. “Then hold it.” Her nails dug just enough to sting, the pain sharpening with the pleasure coiling in his gut as his cock would pulse in the water.

When she finally released him, he slumped against the tub, shuddering. Rose stood, water cascading down her bare slim legs as she reached for a towel. “Up,” she commanded, snapping her fingers. Danny scrambled to obey, dripping and flushed, his erection bobbing and leaking as she toweled him off with brisk, clinical swipes that lingered nowhere he craved.

Back in the nursery, she pushed him onto the changing table so that she could put a new diaper on him, leather straps clicking around his wrists. The baby powder’s scent clogged his throat as she dusted his thighs, her knuckles grazing his cock with every pass. “Tonight,” she purred, securing a fresh diaper with deliberate crinkling slowness, “Mommy might let you suckle.” Her fingertip pressed against his lips, slick with a drop of her own arousal she’d gathered when he wasn’t looking. “If you’re very good.”

Her palm slid up his chest allow and deliberate, pausing over the rabbit-quick pulse at his throat. “Look at you,” she crooned, tapping two fingers against his parted lips. “Little mouth already watering.” The humid air clung to her exposed skin through her silk robe as she leaned down, the rosy tip of her breast grazing his cheekbone.

Danny’s hips twisted against the restraints, the crinkle of fresh plastic filling the room when his cock strained against the diaper’s smooth inner lining. Rose pressed her thumb into the hollow beneath his Adam’s apple. “Shhh. Patience, darling.”

He whined as she traced an exposed nipple across his tongue, her smile widening when he instinctively suckled. “Good boy,” she murmured, watching his throat work. The ends of the robe hitched higher as she straddled his shins, the damp heat between her thighs seeping through his diaper and covering it. “Does my precious want the real thing?”

The bottle clinked against the tiles as she let it fall. Rose’s nails scraped down his sternum, popping the diaper’s tapes one by one. His aching cock slapped wet against his belly, pre-cum glistening in the lamplight. She gathered the slickness with her pinky, painting his lower lip with the bitter salt. “Beg.”