"Isn't that a pretty picture?" he asked rhetorically. "Would you like to see how lovely you look with your diaper down and this sweet little behind all fiery red from your spanking?"
Emma violently shook her head, squeezing her eyes shut as he reached over to remove the blindfold from her face. She was too afraid to see the reality of the nightmare she was imprisoned in, or the visible reminder of what her jailor had just inflicted upon her.
Just when she thought her situation could not get any worse, her bladder began to cramp at the same time she heard him at the foot of the bed, making adjustments to the shelf. He grabbed her ankles, readjusting her legs to a more flexed position, and slid a fresh diaper under her glowing bottom. Horror sheared through Emma. No! He couldn't…
This time his hand came to rest directly atop her bladder.
"Your diaper was dry when you woke up, little one. You must need to go badly by now. Holding back is not healthy for you, and we don't want you getting a bladder infection, do we?" He leaned into her. "If you do, Professor Jack would have to give you a lot of shots and I don't think you would enjoy that. You're going to be diapered at all times, and must learn to go when you need to and not think about it. That's what I'm here for—to change you when you're wet."
Her short-breathed sobs did nothing to move his heart.
"I have all the time in the world, Precious. By my reckoning, you're going to have to go potty pretty darn soon. Neither your body nor I are going to give you any choice. Since we are raising you from the beginning, we begin by taking away all your control. Without the power to make choices, take care of yourself, or regulate your body, you are going to see how special I am to you. Soon you will be at the point where you have no bladder control at all." His voice was soft and hypnotic while he pressed gently on her bladder. "It won't take very long for you to reach that goal. You'll see. Now go."
Her breath made a catching sound. "That's a good girl," he murmured, as she began to helplessly dribble pee down into the fluffy, soft diaper beneath her. Another whimper seeped through her lips as her clit contracted involuntarily, and turned into uncontrollable sobbing as the most important veneer of adulthood was stripped away from her.
"Open your eyes and look in the mirror above you, Emma. I expect you to do that any time I have your blindfold off, understand?"
Her refusal to look was not met unpunished. With a sigh, Jack stood up and began to spank her again. His capacity to strike harder than he had previously done stunned her. He smacked several layers of swats in the same spot before moving to the next portion of his rosy target, tirelessly slapping over and over again. Her resistance was shamefully short-lived, and she opened her eyes to face the image that greeted her. On her back, her arms stretched spread-eagled above her head, with her ankles secured to the rails, Emma could see the humiliating position of her naked body and exposed slit. Her vision shifted to the fiery redness of her bottom, which took on a purple hue each time his punishing hand descended.
Woefully, the obedient opening of her eyes failed to provide the magical relief she had hoped for. Instead of the cessation of this horrific spanking, Emma was forced to observe the ongoing attack—and feel the resultant sting—to her joyless backend as his hand took on the sensual characteristic of a hot branding iron. She flung her head back and forth as his big hand burst upon her skin, leaving a clear imprint and a swollen indentation over the myriad of others decorating what had once been a pristine palate of white.
Jack delivered yet another twenty or more shots before he positioned himself on a stool at the foot of the bed.
"Emma?" he said to gain her attention. "You must remember that I'm your teacher now, and what I say goes. I have already told you that I will not hesitate to punish you if I think you're being defiant or disobedient, or for any other reason I see fit. I have also shared about how stricken I am by the lack of discipline given to children, especially in a world where so many bad things can happen if poor choices are made. Have you made poor choices?"
Emma's weeping prevented her from answering, so she just nodded. She had made many poor choices. Looking back, perhaps it would have been better if Barbara had taken her before the magistrate and had her sent to a reform school. Surely the acts committed in a place like Strictland were nothing in comparison to what she was suffering now.
"I'm happy to see that you acknowledge how naughty you've been. We will talk about that later, and I will decide the punishment you require for your past decisions. You will find that your new instructor is very consistent when it comes to guiding his little student. I am also willing to wager that, given your upbringing, we will not have a single day go by that will not end up with you sporting a shiny red behind in that diaper of yours. Of course, it's my opinion that if you are being raised properly, that will be the result. You will learn that, the more I love and care about you, the sterner I will be. It is for your own good, and one day, when you grow up into a big girl, you will understand and appreciate how much your professor loves you."
Emma's mind raced. Little girl? Diapers? Student? He really was speaking as if he thought he was her teacher! Had his failed relationship with her mother led him to believe that he should have been the one she married? This man was insane! She remained quiet, trying to control the involuntary snuffling and sobbing as her body began to calm down following the ordeal of having her backside roasted.
Jack's voice droned on. "The best thing you can do now is to simply mind me as a child should obey a headmaster. You've never had a man direct your life because the one who married your mother wasn't the man he was supposed to be. He abandoned you and your mother, didn't he?"
No, he didn't abandon them. He was killed by the horrid plague, along with millions of other good, decent men! Knowing that was not what Jack wanted to hear, she merely nodded her head, and pretended to be interested in his words, with the hope of earning a reprieve from this madman's right hand.
"My poor little baby," Jack tsked, shaking his head. "Well, you have a real man now, who is entirely devoted to guiding and teaching you how to be the best girl possible. Being that you really didn't know your natural father or have any other positive male role models, I figure it best that we start as much as possible in the beginning of a teacher-student relationship. This will allow me to practice my own notions about how to properly raise a child, and give you the chance to learn to really love and obey a righteous adult. I'll give you a minute to think about what I just said." He kissed her forehead and exited the room.
Raising a child? Righteous adult? Emma could not ignore the things he was implying—the fact was that she was going to have to endure whatever this lunatic had in store for her. A woman in a post-war world learned early that survival meant buying her time, feigning docility, and making her captor believe in her promise of cooperation. She had to be careful to never let him suspect that she was watching, and waiting, for an opportunity to escape.
CHAPTER FOUR
Tick tock... tick tock... the droning of the ticking clock that sat on the top of the dresser echoed through the room. Emma swallowed, listening for the sound of her tormentor's heavy footsteps. It had not taken her long to learn to fear the sound of those footsteps. Why was I so foolish, she lamented, remembering the myriad of mistakes she had made that had landed her here in the grip of a madman.
***
"Now, I'm sure that plenty of words rattled around in that little brain of yours after our talk, didn't they?" His voice boomed from the doorway. The previously abandoned chair creaked loudly as he sat down. "To start with, you think I'm a lunatic. Actually, I am a chemist. A very wealthy chemist with a lot of enemies. I invented the C-spill."
Emma's eyes widened. The C-spill had been the element that had ended the war and left millions upon millions of people dead—including her parents. This man was nothing more than a glorified mass murderer! Did Aunt Barbara know about this when she set up this meeting? Surely she could not be that evil and spiteful. Could she?
"Yes," he continued, "the C-spill was definitely brilliant. Did you know that I designed and programmed it as both a chemical and biological weapon? The mark of a true genius, right?" He glanced at Emma. She nodded, and received a return smile. "Most people don't even know how it worked. I combined the DNA of a mite with the elements for cyanide through a programmed microchip. We called her Mother. She laid millions of chemo-eggs in the target area. They hatched and fed off her body until they reached maturity. Isn't that amazing? True cannibalism!" He paused to take a deep gulp of water from a bottle on the nightstand.
Wiping his mouth with a handkerchief he had tucked in a pocket, the professor continued. "By eating their mother, these mite 'babies' inherited the coordinates of an area, including those of any underground or raised structures. That was a dazzling move as well—I had to make sure no-one could go into a building or hide underground from my little darlings, right? Once they honed into their victims, the mites attached themselves, and died. An odorless, tasteless fume was released and BOOM, the victim was dead. Just like that." He snapped his fingers, and then laughed. "Most of the time, anyway. I was also able to program specific DNA sequences into the Mother to target enemies of state. Or just enemies." He laughed, shrugging. "Those were the ones who had a higher tolerance to the poison, and took hours to die as it slowly melted their organs. People like your dad."
Emma's heart stopped before she heard her blood pounding loudly in her ears. This monster was sociopathic!
"Don't be so judgmental, young lady. I see how you are looking at me. He deserved a slow, agonizing death after stealing my future from me. He did it intentionally, you know. Just came right in and convinced your mom that I was the bad guy and broke my heart."
He paused to take in a deep breath. "Why do you keep distracting me from my story? Most of the deaths caused by the Mother were completely painless, just so you know. And for those whose weren't? Well, God clearly wished them to suffer for their crimes, and gave me the weapon to use in His name. He rewarded me by allowing me to become a billionaire. Can you understand why I am both articulate and living in the middle of nowhere? But, I digress. Where were we? Oh yes, the thoughts that are going through your mind. The next would have been trying to fool me into believing your behavior is genuine. Am I right?"
Emma nodded, her eyes following the hand that was aiming for her still simmering ass.
"I have a little gift for instinctively knowing what people are thinking. You also believe that you have a chance to escape. Maybe considering that I will, perhaps, leave the house to get groceries? Nope. I hunt and have a full meat locker, and, as you know, I grow my own fruit and vegetables. Once a year, our delightful government drops several crates of comfort items to restock anything I could ever need. Too much for me to use on my own, of course, so I have enough surplus to house an army for decades. I also have a cellar downstairs that is at least twice the size of this house, filled with enough food, water and supplies to live comfortably for two hundred years. Indefinitely, if I activate the hydroponics and duplicators. Did I tell you that I could repopulate the world with every known species if I wanted to? Just need the DNA sequence. I already have all the sequences of the heads of our government, banks, and licensed practitioners in the country."
Emma prayed that hopelessness was not showing through her eyes.
"Another brilliant move. Did you know that everyone who uses a touch screen donates their DNA to me? I've been collecting it for years and programming it into the Mother. The government knows that it's better to keep me happy and leave me alone. I simply ensure that they do. I apologize," he chuckled. "The topic excites me. Focus is important and a good professor must also be a good example. Back to you. Let's say that you do manage to leave the house like the naughty girl you are. Oh, you can run as fast as you want, but where? Do you have a map that will show you how to get out? I suspect that you did not pay too much attention in the directions you took to get here, did you? How many times did you turn around? Did you pay attention to where the sun was? Oh, wait, forgive me. The day was cloudy, wasn't it? And getting very cold. If someone didn't find you, you would freeze to death in this snow. That would not have made Professor Jack very happy."
He patted her bottom and stood, crossing his arms as he looked down at her. "And finally, you were praying that maybe when I discovered that you truly wanted to leave, I would help get you back to town. Simply so I could be rid of you. I never want to get rid of you, baby. No matter how bad a student you are."
He smacked her ten times, clearing his throat as Emma cried and twisted with agitation as she tried to escape both the pain of his hand and the restraints.
"Your final question is about where we are going to go with this. I'm going to teach you everything I can. First, how to be a good girl so that you can grow up smart and strong. Second, since you failed your first attempt at school, we are going to have our very own! Doesn't that sound like fun? The things I can teach you…" his voice trailed off for a moment. "And lastly, we will become the best of friends. Neither one of us has to be lonely again, nor will we ever be rejected by someone we care about, because we now have each other. We both deserve that, don't we?"
Emma began to hyperventilate. Did Barbara really hate her so much, to sentence her to this eternal hell? Obviously, she did. She screamed through clenched teeth as she tossed her body in any way that she could, panic hurling her into a frenzy of motion.
"I think someone needs a fussy pill before she really hurts herself," he said, resting his hand across her sit spots and laying his thumb across her slit before pulling away. She froze and held her breath as she heard the sound of a door opening, and then rummaging in a box in the hallway. Jack returned with a white, waxy looking object in his right hand. With a grim expression, he walked to the foot of the crib and hunkered down before Emma's still very sore, bare bottom. She yelled a protest as the fingers of his left hand parted her cheeks just above her very tense, and very tightly closed, sphincter. She closed her eyes in appalled disbelief as she felt the fingers of his right hand bear down upon the unidentified object, pressing it firmly against her bottom hole. He did not push it into her, but allowed time for it to make its presence known. Emma's breath quickened, her fear growing as she mentally compared the enormity of the item to the tiny ring between her cheeks.
Jack's voice stirred her attention from his actions. "Now, another one of your rules is that you are always to take your medicine without putting up a fight. You are understandingly anxious, since this is your first time truly being my special student, so I think it is a good idea to give you a little something to help you relax. This suppository is going to help calm you down. I don't want you drugged, because then you won't remember your lessons, so I promise not to use this very often. We both might find it helpful every now and then, while you grow accustomed to your new life and how things work around here."
Emma held her breath, trying not to cry out in fear as she felt the large wax bullet being pushed gently against her opening. Still suspended with her feet in the air, her body naturally began to open to accommodate the invasion. On impulse, she forced herself to fight for all she was worth, even knowing she would inevitably lose. She was no match for his strength, nor could she prevent the slippery end from violating her.
Suddenly, he withdrew the item and held it up by the bottom portion for her to see. "I'm sorry," he said in a kind tone, "that was very rude of me. I meant to show you what I'm going to put inside you. Like I mentioned, it contains a mild sedative. It's my own invention and my own, special recipe. It's completely organic and there's no waste at all—every bit of it will be absorbed through your colon and into your bloodstream. No fuss, no muss. But mostly no fuss." He smiled, laughing softly at his own joke.
Once again, the gift of sight was not a welcome one. Emma would have preferred not to have clearly seen what was going to be forced up inside her.
"The shape is rather clever, isn't it? It slowly widens to a nice flare, whi
ch keeps it from accidentally coming out. I also keep it cold to prevent it from melting too quickly. It's very soothing, isn't it?" Jack returned the nasty little object with more insistency to its target. "Answer me."
"Y-yes, Professor Jack," Emma whispered hoarsely.
"I haven't put any lube on this, because it melts a tiny bit as I insert it. Just the tip, though, because I designed all of your suppositories to be timed release, and thus to melt much more slowly than you might have experienced in the past."
All of her suppositories? Had she just heard him right?
"Pardon me, please," Emma whimpered. "You promised not to do this a lot. Remember?"
He noticed her panic. "None of these will poison you. You have my word. I did not always invent deadly weapons. I started my career in safe drug development and administration. As I was saying, I don't put much stock in lubes. I think they tend to slow down the absorption of the medicine into the mucus lining, and also make things slip out accidentally. We don't want that now, do we? Oh, don't look so frightened! I do keep it on hand to use for your rectal thermometers and enema nozzles. My instruments are larger than the standard, and we want to help everything slide in nicely so your little anus doesn't tear. I do hate the sight of blood." He shuddered.
Rectal thermometers? Enemas? She had to be dreaming, or hallucinating, or both. Jack was proving that his maniacal brilliance was beyond humanly possible, and that frightened her even more. This couldn't possibly really be happening, she sung a mental mantra. It was not real. It could not be.
There was no doubt of the reality of the situation as the huge invader advanced inch by inch into her reluctant, but slowly yielding, body. Her sphincter began to burn as it was forcefully stretched wider than normal. She could feel his finger pushing gently and rhythmically against the bottom of the wax plug, twisting and rocking it against her protesting muscles.
Emma's Corner Page 4