Rafe hadn’t recovered fully from any of Sylas’s undoing, but sitting on the potty chair in front of the nurse still seemed to make him blush more than anything else. Perhaps it was the total failure of using it so far.
“Try to relax,” Sef said quietly, as the pendant lowered into the Prince’s view; the familiar swirling green and white pattern immediately making the lion anxious but quash every urge to resist. He could feel himself slip in its presence, his obedience on display.
“You don’t need to use diapers,” Sef’s voice flowed, “You know how to control it, how to use a potty chair.”
He repeated it more times than Rafe could count, too deeply in a daze to quantify the commands.
Rafe felt himself awake, sitting on the damned chair still. He rubbed his eyes slowly. “I don’t feel any different…” he said, immediately feeling frustrated.
“I don’t know if you should,” Sef replied, “Just sit and wait.”
“I don’t want to sit on this, it’s degrading!” Rafe whined.
“And you’re sounding like a cub, your highness…” Sef warned.
Draw and everything by Gordo
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Poor Rafe wounder what sort of bad thing have happen to him?
But he sure have some big problem when it comes to the potty training.