Yet to the casual onlooker he merely resembled a recalcitrant child, and Mistress Nemesis his irate mother, walloping him down the supermarket for some bratty misdemeanour. She finished with a few deserved kicks for extra measure, viciously planting her stiletto heels into his thighs and lower leg, jubilantly pursing her lips as he collapsed to the carpet in the most foetal of heaps. "Just go and dispose of that," she remarked, plucking the cum-filled Pamper off his head and sealing it into another plastic bag, throwing the thing to the wastebasket on her way out of the room.
    She returned with his T-shirt and corduroys, the undersized articles casually slung over her left arm. In her right she appeared to be clutching a pair of genuine children's underpants.
    "Whose are those?" asked Stig apprehensively. "Yours," replied the Dominatrix, adding that she didn't intend to have him trailing across town without any panties on. "So I think these will do nicely," she added, throwing his clothes to the floor then holding the undies before her, gleefully flexing their bright red waistband before tossing them in his direction.
    "I'm not wearing them," grumbled Stig.
    "If you don’t I'll give you another round with this." She reached for the paddle. "And I'll hit you twice as hard!"
    He gingerly retrieved the undies, stepping into them with obvious embarrassment, pulling them up over his package.
  "A perfect fit," remarked Mistress Nemesis, savouring the glorious sight of his prick and balls, hanging so exquisitely behind the soft, white, cartoon-embellished fabric.