Dear Readers of E. Leet Weekly,

I'm having some issues with my new husband, and I was hoping some of you may have had similar experiences and could share solutions. Overall, my husband and I have had two issues. One concerns his performance in our household, the other his lack there of in our bed. Both, together, point to a larger issue: my calm, logical, rational thinking vs his spoiled, immature, bratty emotional "thinking."

About six months ago, I got married. It was a sort of marriage many of you are probably familiar with- one arranged based on wealth and status, rather then affection, or even having met before. He was the youngest child and only son of a new money family, and I am from a family with a dozen generations of titles and history, recently widowed from another arranged marriage to a husband with even more. For them, the marriage gave their family titles and social status they would never get otherwise. For me, it meant I had some company in my old age, and they had plenty of assets I had experience in growing. Together, it left us one of the richest and most powerful families around.

That left just one, less relevant issue, to figure out- the husband itself. All I knew was his name, Toby, and that he was the youngest of his family. That should have been warning enough- what kind of name is "Toby?"

Imagine my disappointment when I saw him on the wedding day. A 'man", if you could call him that, barely in his twenties. I could tell right away the sort. Immature, weak, with a soft, whimpering chin, likely dominated his entire life by the powerful older women around him, and still reliant on his parents unable to make his own decisions. I guessed, rightfully as I later confirmed, that he was still being spanked for misbehavior to that day, and in fact it took a good spanking to encourage him along the way.

Still, I could make due. He couldn't make decisions on his own, but he didn't need to with me there, and if that meant he would go straight from over his mother's lap to my own, then at least he'd be used to the sensation.

The problem, as is often the case, concerns the difference between expectation and reality.

Apparently, this whimpering, silly little boy expected to be treated as the man of the house. I quickly showed him he wasn't even the "man" of our relationship.

I still remember his face in his first lesson. It was a sight to behold... almost as much a sight as his red bottom!

Once I took over all his accounts and wealth, I set about investing and purchasing as I saw fit. This did not sit well with Toby. Apparently, he thought this would be HIS job, despite my FAR greater experience and ability. After he realized I was making decisions without his input, he came in to discuss it with me. "Discuss" we did, if you could call his throwing a temper tantrum as I calmly explained that his input wasn't needed, his part was complete when he gave me his wealth and his sisters and mother got a name they could attend parties with, and he should obey me. I told him he could sign his name next to mine, even take credit in public, but it would be my choices. He continued whining as I rational explained this, until i decided that if rationality wasn't getting through his thick, adorable little head, I could try it through another path.

I nodded along to his whining, then with one swift motion, grabbed his wrist, undid his pants, and pulled him over my lap. He was too shocked to respond at first, perhaps guessing it was some kind of sex game (more on THAT topic later), but when the first spank fell on his upturned bottom, the reality of the situation hit as hard as the spanking he was about to receive.

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! Many readers here will recognize the good, sure effect of a spanking for their misbehaved husbands. I really wonder what worked better for my husband's mentality. The pain, or the embarrassment of my having to punish him as if he was a child, with members of our staff watching on top of it! He probably thought he was above them, so having them see him get spanked, knowing if anything THEY were all respected workers above such treatment and merely laughed at his naked bottom, did wonders for his mentality.

Oh, sure, he struggled. He whined, cried, called for the staff to help him, kicked, punched... all for naught. He may have thought that as a "man" he could overpower me, but a lifetime of privilege had left the narrow shouldered, thin armed boy with little muscle or knowledge of how to fight, while I had spent years exercising and practiced judo with the other women for self defence. A brief pause, an arm twisted behind his back, and I continued the spanking with new vigor.

Soon, he was in tears and just begging me to stop. Once I decided he had enough, I waited for his apology, then sat him on my lap, pants still around his ankles. It was a fine sight for a "man," cuddling in my lap, knees practically in a fetal position, and huffing and sniveling into a handkerchief like a baby. (More on THAT later too)

I then calmly explained the reality of his situation. He was a silly little boy with no valuable skills or experience, who was lucky to come from a rich family. The only benefit he could provide was what was now exposed between his legs, and the opportunity it provided to his parents to marry him off. They wanted social status, and had traded him, along with a hefty dowry, to me for that. Now, his part was done, and he could enjoy his rich, luxurious life as the real adults made decisions for him. All he had to do was be a good boy and let us make the decisions, and I'd let him continue his life while buying him all the toys and pretty clothes he wanted. If he fought too much, I had no issue "losing" him somewhere on the street, and everyone BUT him would still get what they wanted.

Oh, sure, there was more whining, but it was hard for him to argue while squirming on his recently spanked bottom.

This was the first time he challenged his situation, and ended quickly, but it would be far from the last.

Though I couldn't yet ensure he always behaved, however, we now established a good way to correct his misbehavior. To me, it was more important to teach him that I could spank him when I saw fit, and would do so when needed, then to simply stop the one outburst.

So, from then on, his spankings came regularly. Any fighting or backtalk, any sign of his bratty attitude, or just any time my rational explanations didn't land in his confused brain (which was often), I'd fix the issue by pulling him over my lap, pants down, for a long, hard, spanking.

At first, he struggled and fought, which probably humiliated him even more he realized how easily I could overpower him. Then he moved to whining and begging, which really just made the situation all the more adorable for me. He tried ordering, then asking, the staff for help, which lead to them snickering and reinforced he had no power over them despite officially being the "man" of the house. (At this point they were already calling him "boy of the house" as a joke) He at one point threatened to out my behaviour to his family, and I invited him to do just that, go to his family and tell them his new wife could over power him and spank him at will. His blushing face said it all as he realized their reaction would probably be laughing and congratulating me for finding the right way to deal with their bratty younger brother.

And really, what choice did he have? I explained each possible outcome. He could ask for help from others, and be laughed at. He could divorce, but then his submissiveness would be made public in court, and not only would he lose all his fortune to me, but his pride. Then what? He could run to his family, but would they take the sad little loser who had lost most of their money? They never respected him to begin with, and they got what they wanted from him-connection to old wealth. Or, he could exercise and try to fight back, but the staff were on my side, and unlike him my complaining about him would lead to people supporting me rather then laughing and an even more one-sided divorce. I had him by the balls, or whatever he had where they should have been.

So, the spankings continued. I added some other punishments. For anyone wondering, "corner time"- having them stand facing the corner and unmoving for an hour or so- will work wonders on your husband when they throw particularly emotional tantrums. Embarrassing clothes (MUCH more on this later) help, as did early bedtimes.

However, the spankings still reigned supreme as the authority in my husband's new life. The staff learned to recognize the signs, and would snicker at him as he sat squirming on his aching bottom, or laugh outright when they waled in on him, nose in the corner, with his pants around his ankle and bright red bottom on display for all to see.

He, of course, threatened to tell people. I'm sure in his spoiled little brain that made sense in a way, and he envisioned some force coming to help him. I simply laughed, and told him to do it- tell everyone that he was upset because despite his being a grown man, his wife was spanking him daily for misbehaving like a naughty child. His face dropped, and I sent him to the corner.

It only took a few weeks and perhaps a one or two dozen spankings for him to accept them and start crawling over my lap on command. If he argued, all i had to do was raise an eyebrow and point to my lap, and he sighed, then bend over obediently. What a good boy he was, for a short while.

That is when I started pushing further. I think, in his mind, while he was clearly beneath me, he still saw himself as above the staff. This idea was soon squashed.

The first time I sent a maid to collect him, he shouted and argued as bad as the first disagreement. I had noticed an error in the paperwork I had him fill out, and sent her to tell him to come to me for his spanking.

I fixed this problem by going down myself. When he saw me with my arms folded, he stuttered and claimed he didn't believe the maid. I assured him she wouldn't lie, told him he had doubled his spanking and corner time by arguing, and ordered him over my lap. From then on, I almost exclusively used maids to order him in, reinforcing his new status.

So, the next step, of course, came to reinforce that even more. The perfect opportunity came on a day when, having already giving him two spankings in the morning then performing my weight routine before looking over my evening investments, I simply didn't have the time or the energy to deal with his latest outburst. (Something about my ordering his new clothes far tighter and far more pink then he preferred- i like seeing the bottom I am stuck punishing, and I like it looking pretty) So, rather then order him over my lap, I simply ordered the nearest maid to take him over HERS.

His shock was incredible to see. Of course, he had accepted I could spank him, but I was the lady of the house, fifteen years his senior, and stronger than him. The maid, on the other hand, officially worked for him, and was a year younger, and as small and thin as he was. Having her in charge of his punishments was a humiliation he couldn't stand.

So, he argued and raged, and I opened my mouth to respond...

When I was cut off by the sound of the first spank. The maid too initiative right away, delivered a hard swat to his behind, and was wagging a finger under his nose while glaring and condemning him for his naughtiness. He was stunned into silence, and a second later the maid had him stripped below the waste and bend over her lap for a spanking even I found harsh.

It was my turn to be stunned as I watched her assert her true authority over him. When I expected a short, light spanking, she held him over her lap for a solid half hour, pounding his back side again and again with a strength and ferocity I couldn't muster myself. He quickly went from arguing, to grunting, to whining and screaming, and was soon bawling his eyes out. His wailing soon attracted an audience, and half the staff got to see as his bottom got the hardest spanking of his life.

Once she was done spanking, the maid impressed me further by sitting him in her lap herself, and lecturing him on behaviour, calmly explaining the facts of his new situation while talking to him exactly as the spoiled little brat of a boy I knew him to be, then ordered him to the corner, saying he was to stand there for an hour before an early bedtime. He looked at me askance, and I merely shrugged and nodded.

From then on, he knew he was to obey the staff not just to attend my punishments, but for his own. I still spanked him myself of course- I found I enjoyed getting to put my hands on his little bottom- but I learned to assign more and more punishments to the staff, and even let them determine some on their own. He got pouty about it, sure, but that first stunning punishment ended any chance to argue.

As for the maid, Ruby, she was promoted, and given the right to punish him at will. She then impressed me further by proposing a new punishment that became solely hers to give, which was replacing his normal extravagant meals and wine with cold chicken nuggets and glasses of milk, fitting for his immature behaviour. Soon, he was spending almost as much time over her lap as my own, and I looked forward to being surprised by finding his nose in a corner at her command.

And for the clothes- since he complained about the ones I bought then relented, I decided to push it further. Within a few weeks I filled his wardrobe with tight-fitting, revealing clothes, all in pinks, bright pastels, and floral prints. Though I knew a short skirt would be pushing it, I had him in short shorts and crop tops at home, and not much better in public. A few times I saw him try to complain, but our maid Ruby simply raised her eyebrows, and he relented and got dressed like a good boy. Of course, with his new look, I couldn't keep my hands to myself around him. Even when I wasn't finding excuses to give him full on spankings, he grew used to the idea that being near me meant his bottom was going to be constantly squeezed and patted, no matter who was around. Even some of the staff caught on, and I often saw him blush and jump up as one of the maid's squeezed him. He tried to return the favor- patting my bottom while my hand rested on his- and I swiftly taught him a lesson with a good spanking and instructions to not touch me unless I specifically told him too. The lesson here was clear- his body, and especially his bottom, was mine to look at and treat how I pleased, but the reverse was not true. I'd keep his bottom plainly visible, and if he complained, spank it until he learned.

All this happened simultaneously with my second, far worse, issue.

That issue became obvious when we tried to consummate our marriage. Please know my saying "tried" describes his performance, not my own.

First off, I have a FAR stronger drive then the boy. No issue, I found for many reasons he doesn't need to finish every time he helps me.

Second, he was as inadequate in... pardon me... CERTAIN ways as he was in his ability to think. The first time I saw him naked, I had to hold back my laughter. He was barely muscled, small in stature and in OTHER ways. It wasn't very big, and he didn't get hard easily. Once there, he was as unskilled in bed as he was in business, and normally finished too quickly.

Perhaps I could have tried to teach him better, but he tended to be a slow learner. The first time he finished before I did and failed to help me, I just gave him a spanking and sent him to the corner to wallow in his shame. The second time, I realized something needed to be done. A few other occasions where I told him to please me and he complained he wasn't ready-made it worse.

So, the next time he told me he wasn't ready, I instead taught him another way. I'd lie on my bed with my legs hanging off of it, and he'd kneel beneath me and use his mouth. He complained, and was a slow learner there too, but a few spankings helped him along, and he quickly got improved. Even better, since it wasn't reliant on his being excited, he could keep going as long as I commanded. I'd have him kneeling until his knees were sore, bringing me to screaming orgasm after screaming orgasm, licking and sucking until I was a puddle of moans and weak knees.

Then came a second issue. At this point, I had no interest in what he could give me with his little cock. However, he did ALSO need to finish from time to time. Annoying as it may be, he did need to cum occasionally for health, and I did agree to be his wife. So, how to accomplish this without having to deal with his attempts at regular sex?

The solution was that, sometimes after he ate me out to my satisfaction, if he'd been enough of a good boy, I'd invite him onto bed and rub him off. This normally didn't take long and I honestly didn't put much effort into it, but still, it was a lot from me. Still, kind and generous woman that I am, I sometimes gave it to him if he begged enough and I felt up to it.

Serving someone else doesn't align with me, and I found the ordeal boring, but worst of all, it ended with a disgusting mess to clean up. I really wished I never had to, but when I made him go without it, he would get pouty and whiny, and his tantrums would get more common. I can only give so many spankings a day!

The solution came to me one day when we were halfway through. He had just finished eating me out for a solid hour, and I was exhausted. He begged me to help him finish, but the idea made me sick. Still, I reached over, and just brushed it, and he immediately finished all over my hand. I stared at it in disgust while he whined, apologized and begged me not to spank him. I just looked at that whiny little brat, unable to control his cock, tears in his eyes, and thought

"I should put him in diapers."

It was the perfect solution in so many ways. He clearly couldn't control himself, and that was exactly what diapers were for. It would keep my hands clean, and would probably be less gross then rubbing off his regular member.

Furthermore, I had begun to find the spankings were getting less effective. Sure, he'd behave for a bit after them, as long as the pain and humiliation lasted. However, he had a short memory, and after that wore off, he'd be back to his old ways. Putting him in diapers would provide a second, low effort punishment that I could keep going as long as need be.

Finally, looking at his big, baby blue eyes filling with tears, his lips making a pout, remembering his constant tantrums... diapers just seemed so FITTING for him. Widdle Toby was deep down a diaper boy, whether he realized it or not.

Of course, FITTING diapers to his fully grown frame was also a problem. I knew real baby diapers wouldn't fit him, slender as he was, he was still an adult. At the same time, as the diapers weren't just a practical purpose but to humiliate him and remind him of how pathetic he was, I knew the regular, thin, store bought ones wouldn't work. I needed to find something that was as close to a real baby diaper that would fit him.

Still, I was I could find him something. After washing my hands and sending him to an early bedtime, I started looking.

And readers, let me tell you, I was ASTOUNDED by the variety of responses. I can only assume I'm not the first person to have such issues with their husbands, because there was a WIDE variety of diapers, many clearly not just meant as medical, I could put him in. All kinds of adult diapers- from cloth to plastic, reusable to disposable, plain white or black to printed with the CUTEST designs, from being made to be as discrete as possible to being as obvious and infantile as possible- exist. It seemed they went all the way from looking as much like regular underwear and as easy to hide as possible, presumably for those who needed them for medical reasons, to being as DIFFICULT to hide and obviously intended as diapers as possible, presumably for just this reason. My mind filled with the possibilities, and let me assure you NO part of me thought he deserved the discrete, medical, and solid colored one. No, my husband (and anyone near him) needed to know he was in a diaper, not underwear, and that his diaper was intended to be seen as such, as a reminder of his status beneath me. He needed PUNISHMENT diapers, and that is what I got.

When they arrived, I would have squealed in joy if I was not so well composed. Thick, plastic, crinkly, and with the CUTEST prints of unicorns and balloons on them, I knew when I put him in them, there would be NO hiding them or confusing them for simply a medical requirement, much less real underwear. I knew that, along with helping with Toby's issues in the bed chamber, they'd be the perfect punishment. Once these were taped to his well spanked bottom, any false pride in him that lead to his resisting me and throwing tantrums would dissolve. I pictured him trying to sound angry and controlling while waddling around with these poking out over his pants, and I imagined even the newest of our servants would just laugh at the little diaper boy.

You should have seen the tantrum when I first introduced him to them! He had just finished pleasing me, and did well enough I determined he could finish as well. He was lying down on the bed, and I told him to lift his bottom. He seemed confused but obeyed, and I lay the diaper underneath him. By the time he realized what was going on, I was taping on the sides.

Oh my god the fit! First he seemed confused, then horrified. He demanded to know what I thought I was doing, and I calmly explained that I was tired of his messes and that he'd be cumming in diapers from now on. He began arguing and reached for the tapes, but I anticipated this, and had him over my lap a second later.

Now, obviously, spanking someone in a diaper is a bit different then bare bottomed, and I didn't want to remove it imediatly after getting it on. There is a lot of cushioning (as i said, these were intentionally THICK diapers), so it didn't hurt as much. However, I think the mental impact of him knowing he was a grown man getting an over the knee spanking while in a diaper was as effective as any pain.

He stilled tried to whine afterward, of course. His tone changed from anger to pleading, but I had had enough. I simply told him that I wasn't dealing with clean up, and if he wanted to cum at all, it would be inside his diapers. Otherwise, he could stay hard, or go finish himself off in the bathroom.

"But... but do they have to be so BABYISH!?!?" he pleaded, tears in his eyes, as he pointed to the cutesy prints.

I merely smirked, patted his pampered bottom, and told him to accept it and lie down if he wanted anything at all.

The look of defeat was delicious. After all this time, I had finally found the perfect thing for him, and he knew it. He obeyed me, and I pulled him, and cuddled him with his head to my chest and legs folded in my lap. I began rubbing the front of his diaper and stroking his hair, all while telling him what a good boy he was for letting me diaper him and accepting his place beneath me. He could complain all he wanted, I saw the impact saying "good boy, good little diaper boy" over and over in my softest voice had on him.

This ended up being even faster, and stronger, then his normal finishes. He moaned loudly and convulsed when he came, darkening the front of his diaper. I could tell that, despite his complaints, part of him seemed to know this was better for him, and he clearly enjoyed the experience. I imagined there may be a time in the future where he'd ONLY be able to finish in such garments.

He seemed even more embarrassed after, and I told him to go change his diaper and get ready for bed. He visibly cringed at the phrase "change your diaper," but obeyed. I gave his bottom a good pat to re-enforce it.

The next use of his diapers, which ended up being the most common, was as punishment. The next day he complained about his menu for breakfast. I rationally explained to him that I had made the decisions on menus weeks in advance, and the servants needed to know what to buy and cook, and he should eat what was in front of him. He complained that he had already told me he didn't like his cereal, and whined that it was "unfair" that he got cereal while I got steak and eggs with a side of wine, which was far too good to share with his unrefined pallet. He opened up a bottle of "whine" of his own, which really only proved exactly WHY he was about to be dressed the way he was.

So, as with any other tantrum, the first part of the solution was obvious. Without another word, I walked over to him and grabbed his wrist. He looked shocked and tried to blurt out an apology while I turned him over my lap. A few good spanks left him crying like a baby, which was perfectly fitting given what I was going to do next.

After I was done spanking him, I stood him up and dragged him by the wrist back to his bedroom. He whined and waddled behind me with his red bottom on display and pants around his ankles, and I gave him extra spanks at any sign he was slowing.

Once in the bedroom, I lead him to the bed then took out a diaper. He pleaded "no," but I simply lifted my hand to indicate another spanking, and he gave him. A minute later he was diapered, pants still around his ankle, and nose in the corner. I told him he could stay there until he was hungry enough for his breakfast, and left. As an afterthought, I dumped the bowl of cereal and milk he refused into the back of his diaper, and patted it to mush it into him. That may have been a waste of food, but it was worth it to see him cringe at the cold.

Once I decided he had sat long enough and faced enough humiliation, I asked if he'd now eat his breakfast like a good little diaper boy. He said yes, and I told him he would repeat it with the full sentence or stay in the corner. He paused, but when he finally said "I will eat my breakfast like a good little diaper boy," I knew I won. I pulled his pants up over his diaper and buckled his belt, letting him know he was staying in it for the time being, and ordered him to sit as the servants poured him a new bowl.

His face said it in as he said down in the cold, milk soaked diaper with an audible squish and crinkle. The mix of discomfort, humiliation and defeat told me the punishment was working. He squirmed, clearly irritated by the food in his diaper, and I told him to settle down and finish eating if he wanted a diaper change. I said this loud enough for some of the servants to overhear, and it had the desired effect.

After he finished eating and asked for a diaper change nicely enough for my liking, I did end up changing him like a baby. He was disappointed when I taped him into a second one, but I told him his punishment wasn't over, and he should get used to being in diapers for full days after his punishment.

Let me tell you the difference between his behaviour before and after was like night and day. Gone was the spoiled, bratty behaviour, the false pride, any semblance of argument. In its place was perfect, meek obedience, jumping to obey my every command with a "yes ma'am" in a soft voice, always eye on the ground and nervous to meet mine. I swear he came close to curtsying at one point. When I presented him with his dinner, which I deliberately changed to be his hated mushy peas and beans, he ate without a word and cleaned his own plate. If you could call his sad resistance to my authority earlier a "spine," then being diapered rendered him spineless.

This, I realized, was the perfect version of him. This is what he should be at all times. A mindless, obedient husband, doing anything I asked without argument. The thought made me excited, and I had him please me THRICE that day, and he never even asked for anything in response.

When finally congratulated him for being a good diaper boy all day and rewarded him by allowing him to return to his boxers for bedtime, he thanked me profusely, and seemed to take his normal underwear as a reward rather then the end of a punishment. This was a perfect new mentality for him.

It happened again the next day, when he found out I replaced his clothes with ones I found showed off his cute behind more, and looked far prettier then the ones he was used to. He first complained about the floral prints and pastel colors, so I complied with his wishes and gave him a different outfit. After a few hours in just a t shirt and diaper, he was eager to wear whatever I gave him. My replacing his clothes also made the diapering even cuter and more effective, as he clearly struggled to hide what he was wearing when all he had to cover them was his cute little, low cut shorts and cut off t shirts, with the top of his padding peaking out between.

This set the tone of his life for the next few months. I was in charge, and he was my meek little beta. I made all the decisions, as should be given my obviously superior thinking and experience, and he obeyed. If he disobeyed, he'd go over my lap for a spanking, followed by diapering and corner time until I determined he had learned his lesson. When it was time for sex, he'd begin by eating me out to my own satisfaction, then, if I determined he earned it, I'd diaper him and finish him inside of it. As he was clearly better behaved while diapered, I began finding more and more excuses to put him in his special underwear, and the sound of his tush crinkling down the halls became common in my house. In theory, he was in charge of the staff, in reality, Ruby spanked him almost as much as I did. When I, as an experiment, gave her permission to diaper Toby as a punishment, she laughed and jumped at the opportunity, and the poor little diaper boy meekly allowed her.

He could complain, sure. This clearly wasn't what he expected for his life after marriage, and it showed. He had wanted power and respect like most normal, more competent men, but he wasn't one and he had neither. However, it was what was best, and any complaints just lead to more punishments. Gradually, he began to accept this was how things would be from then on.

His mind was mine, and with it, his body and all his inherited assets. In exchange, he got diapers, whatever clothes I thought he looked prettiest in, and knowing smirks from everyone around him.

That is how it should have stayed. However, I could only expect so much from that brat.

While it worked for a while, two things started to become apparent. First off, while his behaviour was better after spankings and while he was diapered, the second I allowed him back into his regular clothes, he started to act up again.

The thought I had, which started to make more and more sense to me, was that he should be kept in diapers at all times. Along with ensuring he was always behaving and reminded of his place, this would sort out some other issues. It would make our time in bed easier, as I wouldn't have to pause to diaper him. There would be less laundry, and I insisted he began using them, the maids wouldn't have to worry about cleaning up his bathroom either. On top of that, I had to admit that I frankly thought he looked cute in them, and they suited him well. While this all made logical sense, I just knew that if I explained it to him, he wouldn't see it that way, and would throw a tantrum.

The second issue concerned our bed. While he had gotten better with his mouth, there was only so much he could do with it. I needed a real cock, and with it, a real man. I already had a person in mind and who I knew would be receptive, a strong, mature man named Peter. (more on him later) As with the permanent diapering, if he was rational he would understand this, but I knew he wasn't and it would cause a fight.

Still, I tried to edge him toward understanding it in ways I hoped would work. I kept him diapered for longer and longer after punishments, and once or twice simply changed him into a new one after he finished. I started complimenting him on how much better behaved he was while diapered, and how cute they looked on him. I "jokingly" suggested a few times I should just keep him in them, but he was clearly upset by the joke.

Along with it, I started "jokingly" suggesting having another man. I mentioned how tired he seemed trying to finish me, and how much easier it would be if someone else filled in. Once again, he seemed upset by this, even though I explained it as calmly and logically as possible.

I knew he was more of an emotional, less rational person, and he wouldn't respond well to logical arguments. His reaction to my jokes and suggestions proved it, so i decided I needed another way to get it done.

I determined that, much like ripping off a bandaid, it was better to do it all at once.

The opportunity came during one of our summer soirées. All of high society would be there, including his family, and the man I had been speaking to when Hubby Huggies Toby wasn't around.

I planned it all out perfectly. Shortly before it was time to get ready to go, I called him to our bedroom for his normal service. He did well, and I rewarded him by allowing him to finish in a diaper. However, instead of our normal pattern of then replacing his diaper with underwear, I quickly changed him into a fresh one, and pulled his dress pants on over it before he could respond.

And of course, as expected the immature brat began to whine. I simply gave him a swat on the bottom and told him that there wasn't enough time for him to change again, we needed to get ready. He kept complaining and tried to pull his pants down, saying it would be too humiliating to attend a party with a diaper on under his pants and someone would notice, and I gave him another swat, told him that though there wasn't enough time for him to change there was certainly enough time for a spanking, and suggested that going to the party without pants at all would be even more humiliating. While doing this, I kept swatting his behind and pushed him toward the change room, and he took the message and got dressed. I got dressed myself, and headed for the door. I smiled to myself when I heard his bottom crinkling and saw him blushing. I helpled myself to a light squeeze to his bottom and whispered "good diaper boy" in his ear, and his blush deepened, so I knew my plan was working.

The party was wonderful, and the most wonderful aspect of all was my own Buggy-Hubby's behaviour. He was a perfectly little angel for the entire thing, obeying my every instruction, blushing and avoiding eye contact with his superiors, and being a good diaper boy. As I expected, his being diapered removed his arrogance and will, and made him what I wanted him to be.

Even others at the party started cluing in. While before he had some level of authority at these events due to his wealth and his name being tied to my successful investments, all that fell away as he blushed, waddled, and crinkled to get my drinks whenever I asked. Eventually, others started snickering behind his back and asking him to get drinks for them too, which he meekly obliged. More and more people started to make jokes behind his back, then to his face. To save his face he would force a laugh, though it was clear he was the butt of the jokes, not in on it. Soon the entire party sensed the shift in power, and treated him exactly as I knew he deserved.

On one of his trips to pick up drinks for the rest of us, I turned my attention toward my goal: Peter. Peter was a man in all the ways Toby was not. When Toby was almost twenty years younger than me and slender, Peter was a bit older, though not as old as myself, broad shouldered, and with a neat, trimmed beard. While my Toby was soft and effeminate in build, Peter was strong and muscular, having played football in high school and been a semi competitive boxer in his youth. While Toby could barely figure his way out of a paper bag Peter was smart, with an Ivy League education and decades of skillful investments. While Toby was blushing, bratty and insecure, Peter was mature, with a strong personality, and sure of himself. While Toby was arrogant, Peter was confident. Toby was cute and pretty, Peter was handsome and rugged. No one would be able to spank Peter or make HIM wear diapers, and it showed.

So, we made out plan, and Peter left early to meet me in our bedroom. Toby, clearly upset by his treatment, was getting a bit tipsy. He spilled some of his wine on his shirt, and I used that as an excuse to leave early. I also joked that he may need a baby bottle to go with his diapers, which made him squirm. I hope his discomfort and drunkenness would help with what came next.

We came back home, and I lead my drunk Huggie-Hubby by the hand back to our bedroom. I told the staff he was wet and needed a "change," and was happy that more then one looked toward his bottom rather then his shirt, though I'm not sure if Toby noticed.

We walked in the bedroom, and the first thing I noticed was Toby's mouth hanging open. I smirked to myself, then looked to see Peter shirtless on my bed, with his muscles bulging almost as much as what was in his pants.

"Wha..what are you doing here?" he stuttered.

He tried to get angry, but I just calmed him down, and slowly began explaining the situation. Though he had tried his hardest earlier that day, he simply hadn't satisfied me, and I was getting tired of having to rely on his mouth. Peter could come in a few times a week, do what Toby was failing to do, and perhaps he could even watch and learn how it's done.

Now, if I thought his reaction to the new clothes was a tantrum, this was next level. Screaming, crying, whining, throwing things, the entire shebang. I expected this, and kept rationally explaining why this was needed, and he just got more emotional.

So, I threatened a spanking, which only made it worse. He began to walk toward the door, presumably to run away.

Here, Peter impressed me yet again, as he grabbed Toby's wrist himself. My surprise turned to delight as Peter turned Toby over HIS own lap for the spanking I promised. Toby screamed "no no no," and I knew it more due to his special underwear about to be exposed then the pain.

But, there was no stopping the inevitable, and Peter had Toby's pants down in a second. He paused, put a hand on Toby's diaper, and laughed out loud. By the time the first smack fell, Toby was already crying.

The spanking made him cry harder, and soon he was helplessly wailing. He begged for it to stop, then begged for me to not go through what I intended. Still, I just explained why it was necessary, and though I knew his empty little head couldn't explain it, it was going to happen whether he wanted to or not. The only thing he could change was how many spanks he felt beforehand.

He sniffled, but finally gave in. Peter, like the strong authoritative man I knew he was, ordered the little Huggy-Hubby to kneel beside the bed and watch, so he could "get a lesson in performance." Toby sniffled, looked at me, and I nodded.

And so, it happened. Peter immediately took charge in bed in a way Toby never could, and the effect was amazing. He was much larger, not just in frame, but where it really mattered, and knew how to use it.

Toby, meanwhile, being the brat he was, just sniffled and cried the entire time. It was fitting, with him sitting there in just his diaper and shirt, and really he was easy to ignore. It took close to an hour for us to finish, and by the end, he was still sniffling. I stood up and cupped the bulge in his diaper and he smirked, and he gasped when he realized he had soaked it. In his humiliation and fear of being seen in his diaper, the poor little boy had proven why he needed them!

After that, I send him to bed in the spare bedroom, and Peter and I cuddled in the master bedroom.

The next day might have been the harshest of Buggy-Hubby's life. He sat, sniffling, wearing just a fresh diaper and t shirt, as Peter, Ruby, and I, discussed his future in front of him.

First of all, we all, (except for Toby), agreed that he was far better suited to diapers and should be kept in them from on. His behaviour was vastly superior, he was far more clear-headed, and far more obedient. I pointed out that it had an added benefit in the maid's not needing to clean his toilet, which Ruby agreed with. Toby, for his part, took a moment to process what that meant before protesting, though Ruby silenced that with a good smack to his diapered bottom. She suggested that some of them could offer to change his diapers for extra money, which would be good practice if any wanted to move to an estate with children, and I agreed. Toby whined and pouted as expected, but it was only logical, and he provided no real arguments against it other than his not liking it.

Next, was Peter. We agreed his presence was beneficial, whether living in or simply visiting a few times a week. It gave the house masculine strength Toby lacked, and I got relief he could not provide. Everyone was better off for his being there. Toby, once again, whined but could provide no logical arguments against it. As he never listened to rational discussion, the inevitable outcome of him leaving- his losing everything in the divorce only to be publicly labelled a spanked, diapered, cuck

That being settled, it was clear things couldn't continue as they were. With Peter here, the one and only thing Toby provided was being taken care of. Sure, I might still have him help, and Peter said he might request the same, and much to Toby's horror I agreed, but it was too little to justify his being there. He didn't help with the staff, the decisions, or, at that point, in bed.

So what to do with little Huggy-Hubby? We needed a new, more fitting role for him so he didn't just waste his life and everyone else's time. On top of that, with his main form of punishment, diapering, now being a constant thing for him, he needed something else to keep him in line.

Of course, the first solution we all agreed on was simply more spankings and punishments. With his diapers, he could take a lot more of them then sit comfortably afterward. Though Ruby and a few of the more senior maids had already been spanking him, we could extend the rest of the staff, and either I or Peter could give him daily reminder spankings to help ensure obedience. Once that was done, his nose being in the corner for an hour or so each day could keep him out of everyone else's business.

After that, we began proposing other ideas. I suggested something that had been working on for a bit. Neither Peter nor I had ever had children, and though we were a fair bit older and didn't want to go through the hassle of raising a one, the idea of having a baby in the house was still nice. Many of our staff also liked the idea, and it would give them experience if they were ever hired as nannies or in houses with children. Why couldn't Toby provide? We all already agreed he was better off in diapers, and he was such an immature brat it only seemed fitting. We could convert the spare bedroom into a nursery- he wouldn't be sleeping in the main bedroom anyway with Peter there- replace his clothes with baby ones- we all agreed he looked cuter in the pastels anyway- and train him to act and behave like a baby. His nose in the corner time-outs could be replaced and extended with toy filled playpens and cribs, or instructions to simply crawl rather then walk, and he'd be out of our hair while we worked. I was certain that once we established him as such, others would pay to take turns raising him, or to have their own husbands stay a bit in our nursery.

Toby was horrified and humiliated, but the others agreed. Ruby though the idea was adorable, and since she already agreed to change his diapers, the worse part was over with. To the staff, it was a bit of fun and extra money. To Peter and I, it was the baby we never would have, plus a potential source of money later on. To Toby, if his opinion mattered, it was a valid role, albeit one he thought was humiliating. He tried to argue that he'd "never, ever, EVER" use diapers, and was silenced when Ruby held up his soaked diaper from the night before.

Next, Peter suggested something. If diapering had worked as punishment, meaning he was easily embarrassed and encouraged to behave by clothes, why not put him in skirts? We could dress him in effeminate clothes that were much more fitting to his body type, potentially combining it with the infantile look I intended for him. It would silence any discussion on whom the 'man' of the house was, and since Toby immediately blushed upon hearing it, we knew it worked. Also, the Ruby and I both loved the idea, since he knew he would look cute in them, and it would make his diapers much easier to check. If he was to be a baby, why not a baby girl?

That was when Ruby offered what was perhaps my favourite suggestion. Instead of just ANY dress, she could russel up one of the spare maid's dresses, for when he wasn't in the nursery of course. He could earn his keep by working, and make up for needing to get his diapers changed by the maids.

This perhaps got the strongest reaction. He looked shocked and blurted out "you want me to manage the MAIDs?!"

We all laughed, and corrected him. He wouldn't be managing anything. The staff were skilled, experienced, and hardworking, all things he wasn't. He would begin at the bottom rung, along with the newest, working under Ruby's direction and strict, observant eyes. The main difference would be even then newest maid's tended to be more respected. We wouldn't DARE ask them to wear diapers, assign people to change them, or give them constant spankings. If anything, this role would give his superiors in the staff more time to watch over him, controlling him more, and give them more opportunity to check or punish him.

He did NOT like that. Really, he dind't like any of this. He started throwing a tantrum. Obviously, he still didn't know how ridiculous he looked screaming and crying in his diapers, and thought he looked tough. He insisted that this was all going too be far, and he didn't care what the result was he wouldn't put up with it. We tried to rationally explain that this was all for the best, but he reacted with more shouting.

This discussion has been going on for days. Along with logical arguments, we've given him constant spankings, time-outs, and even mouth soapings. We've begun to replace his outfits and furniture, and kept him locked in a crib until he filled his diaper like a good baby, and he still whined. Unfortunately, it seems this simply won't click with his brain, and he keeps arguing and fighting, EVEN as the maids and I have begun changing his diapers.

So, my question to the readers is, what now? Has anyone experienced this sort of behaviour from a bratty husband, and know how to deal with it? Have you tried similar life styles with them, and have any recommendations on making it work? Any new punishments that might help encourage him? As we speak, the little stinker is in the next room, throwing a tantrum as he is being blocked from the bathroom and reminded he is meant to use his diaper by the staff. All we are doing is only rational and for his own good, how can we convince him of that?