Emma's Corner

by Carolyn Faulkner

  "My, my, you are certainly very tight back here. We're going to keep you that way, although you need to get used to the idea that you will usually have something tucked away inside your bum. That's a good girl. Isn't it easier to submit and accept your medicine quietly than for Professor Jack to have to take the paddle to your cheeks?" he asked, reaching with his free hand to caress her exposed bottom.

  Emma instinctively tried to jerk away, and found that his hand became much less gentle, deliberately rubbing over the most obvious bruised areas of her scalded flesh. Her muffled groan became a stifled yelp as she felt her body closing around the last of the suppository—her untried muscles hugging the finger he used to seat it deep within her.

  Jack sat back and reached for something else, saying, "That was number one."

  The entire humiliating, uncomfortable process was repeated two additional times, leaving Emma's rectum feeling distended and fully packed. The final suppository barely fit, pressing back uncomfortably against her opening with the threat of slipping out.

  Once again, Jack seemed to be able to read her mind. "You had better not lose any of those, Emma, or you're going to be one very unhappy baby girl. I think you are catching on that I am a man of my word, so kindly do not challenge me," he warned.

  Prayers to a deity that Emma had only heard of went unanswered. Instead of letting her be, Jack washed his hands with a wet, soapy washcloth, dried them on a towel, and donned a pair of rubber gloves. He leaned forward and parted her inner lips with two gloved fingers. He peered as he gently probed between them.

  "Well, well, well." He sounded immensely pleased. "Am I seeing what I think I am? You're a virgin, Emma—that's wonderful! So many young women just throw it away nowadays. That's just perfect for my girl. You aren't the slut that Barbara claimed you were after all."

  He rested his fingers on either side of her clit. "Your aunt said a lot of unpleasant things about you, my dear. She was not a big fan. She said you had fucked her fiancé. She lied, didn't she? Unless you let him take you in the ass." His voice suddenly turned menacing. "You didn't, though, did you? Answer me!"

  "N-no, sir."

  "I am so pleased with you. Even better than this wonderful discovery," he cooed as he dragged his fingers down her slit, "is that you are wet, Emma. Just like I'd hoped. Things just can't get much better than this."

  Once again, Emma was mortified with the very evidence of her response that elated him. Her body betrayed her, finding his attentions upon it enticing and compelling, and hated that it reacted in the most natural manner of which she had no control. She held her breath as his thick fingers rooted around a bit in the area and tried, with surprising gentleness, to work their way up inside of her. He chuckled about her being 'well-guarded' and pulled back, giving her momentary relief from her terrified expectations that he would just simply rape her.

  She watched, her lower lip trembling with fear, as he leaned away to dip the tips of his fingers into a small container decorated with more carousel horses. The substance upon them shimmered and Emma automatically stiffened. He had donned the infamous lube, and there was no possible way to protect herself from the assault. She was completely helpless as she lay restrained and suspended on her back, her legs splayed wide apart to whatever sadistic delight he chose to indulge in. Emma squeezed her eyes shut as he brought his hand back between her spread legs and waited for the brutal attack upon her body.

  His fingers moved gently up her slit and stopped to lay bold claim to her protruding clit. "Oh, child, I can feel how you're pulsating! And you're so swollen! Very well done! I am so proud of you," he acclaimed, as though she had intentionally given him this response. Shame filled her as she found herself wishing that she would never hear praise like that from him again.

  To her horror, the discovery of her intact hymen didn't satisfy him. He settled down between her legs to play with her clit, reminding her firmly to 'watch and learn', and adjusted the mirror for better view. She was doing her best to ignore the heat that was rising within her. Her clit had swollen enormously, even under his unwanted attentions—and she refused to think that it might be because they were unwanted. She could also feel the liquid between her lips running rivulets down her crack.

  Emma began to cry now harder than she had when he was punishing her. Her sobs became breathless gasps as he brought her closer and closer to an explosively hard orgasm. It had built into every fiber of her body, and even her toes tingled as she tensed in anticipation. His fingers slipped over every inch of that swollen bud, worrying it, tugging it, and watching her intently as though he was studying her reactions.

  It was seconds from that precarious point of no return, when the climax would claim her body and send her soaring to a place of weightless bliss, that he pulled his hands from her. She growled, her body protesting the robbery of the only semblance of pleasure she could receive in her position. Still bound in that obscene way—her privates glistening with her own juices and the lube—she flexed her hips towards the teasing fingers, silently begging him to finish what he had started.

  A sardonic smile crept across his face as her flesh quivered with unsatisfied need. Silently, he stood and stroked her thigh. A pacifier found its way into her mouth and the blindfold over her eyes, submerging her once again in total darkness. She felt him secure her diaper and then release one limb at a time in order to slip a onesie over her body.

  "A friend made this for you. The same friend decorated your room and bought the stuffies for your bed. Can you tell that she sewed this to your exact measurements? I asked her to make sure it fit you like a glove, and that she took the bulk of your diaper into consideration. I also had her line it with the softest fake fur she could find. Wasn't that considerate of me?"

  Emma nodded her head, her heart thumping with both fear and anger. The only one who would have known her size was Barbara! Was there no limit to the amount of evil that woman would embrace?

  "Let me describe the rest to you. We made sure that, even though you are comfy cozy inside your little cocoon, the outer fabric is stiff enough to restrain you. She put a drop panel in the back, too. While I never thought of using it, I can see where that might come in handy if I need to have quick access to your naughty little bottom. Do you like these mitts? They are attached on the end of each sleeve and can be placed over your hands to keep you from pushing me away or, even worse, diddling with yourself. That's a big no-no, my love," he said firmly. "My belt will be used if I even suspect that you are trying to relieve your desires. Just in case, we have straps at each wrist and at your feet."

  He shuffled around before unbuttoning the cutouts over her nipples, and began to gently twist and pull at the tender tips, then slide something over them. Emma whimpered in pain. "You will like this. I invented these special metal-ringed, elastic clamps to keep your sweet nips erect whenever I'm so inclined. I also rigged up both vibration and electric shock capabilities to either reward, or punish you—depending on your behavior during the day. I won't use them often, but I thought it would be good for you to experience how they feel."

  She groaned as he turned on the vibrating current and turned the pain into a delightful tingling sensation, reawakening the throbbing need between her legs. He drew a hood down over her face, leaving only her nose and mouth exposed, and gently attached the edges of the pacifier to either side, preventing her from spitting it out. "I won't keep this in your mouth except when I need to quiet you down. I don't want your pretty teeth getting messed up. See? I'm not that bad of a guy after all, am I?" he mused, as he methodically smoothed the material in place. His last move was to bind her arms and legs together, immobilizing her as much as she had been when suspended.

  "Now you sit tight while I go make breakfast. Not a peep out of you, either."

  Emma silently groaned. It was still morning…

  CHAPTER FIVE

  The few minutes that passed felt like hours to the trussed girl. Her jaw ached from the pacifier's presence, and the flesh of
her bottom burned against the diaper's padding. The irritating, slowly melting suppositories rotated around inside of her, stimulating that uncomfortable feeling of urgency. When he returned, he removed her hood and pulled the pacifier from her mouth before stripping her of the cocoon, reassuring her that he would introduce everything slowly to her in small increments so that she would not be 'unpleasantly startled'.

  He dressed her in a simple, pale pink dress with white socks, and then lifted her like a sack of beans in his massive arms. He placed her on his hip and carried her into the roomy kitchen, depositing her into an elaborately carved, adult-sized highchair. Her ankles were secured to its sturdy legs by well-padded cuffs, her wrists to the side-arms, and a thick leather safety belt was drawn around her small waist.

  An adult-sized bib of pink satin with a lace ruffle was tied around her neck. Emma had no doubt the price she would pay if she stained it, and held her breath as he approached her with a large bowl of oatmeal. She felt bile rise in the back of her throat. She hated oatmeal.

  "Be a good girl and eat every bite. I put honey in it, just for you. Open up."

  Obediently, she swallowed every spoonful he offered, feeling very relieved—and very full—when the bowl was empty. Her stomach turned when she was presented with a large baby bottle filled with a white substance that smelled suspiciously of vanilla.

  "The flavor of these survival shakes leave something to be desired, but they are filled with everything that a little girl needs to grow strong and healthy. I warmed it up for you so that your tummy won't get cramped. It messes with the flavor, but better that than a belly ache."

  She gagged at the first sip. It was absolutely disgusting. She began to gag again, unable to swallow another ounce. Jack looked concerned, holding her pale face in his large hand.

  "Are you going to throw up?"

  She shook her head. "I'm not used to eating so much at once. I feel real queasy," she whispered.

  "Hmmm," he tapped his chin. "The suppositories must be working. Let's clean you up and put you down for a nap."

  Emma's head grew heavy as she sat in the tiny chair next to the bathtub. While it filled with warm water and velvety bubbles, Professor Jack stripped her of all her clothing except the diaper. He placed a large towel around her shivering, stooping shoulders and stirred the water for her. Once satisfied with the temperature, he stood her on wobbly feet, removed her diaper, and carefully lifted her into the water. His touch was tender as he thoroughly washed every inch of her young body, dwelling on her breasts and between her legs. His gentleness decreased when he reached behind her and scrubbed her aching bottom with a rough-sided sponge. A thick finger found its way inside her and he mumbled that the suppositories were not even half-way melted.

  Once satisfied with her cleanliness, he lifted her from the tub and immediately wrapped her in a voluminous, soft towel that he had warmed over the radiator. The more sedated she became, the more docile she grew, focusing her energy on trying to remain upright as he sat on the closed toilet seat and patted her dry. He hummed, focusing on her private parts as he turned her around.

  "Bend forward and put your hands on the edge of the tub, Emma. Good girl! Spread your feet. Wider now. Wider…" he pushed her ankles further apart. The towel dragged repeatedly over her clit, the roughness causing her to grimace. She said nothing, gritting her teeth at the discomfort while still struggling against the effects of the drugs.

  "Aww, are we tired? Let's put you to bed. I'm going to do something special for you since you were such a good girl in the bath. I'm not going to restrain you in your crib."

  He put a fresh diaper and nightgown on her and laid her head on a pillow, tucking the blankets over her shoulders. Emma was barely able to keep her eyes open, vaguely aware that he slid the cover atop the four rails and locked it in place. Locking her in the cage was moot since she was unable to even lift her head off the pillow, let alone run away.

  ***

  Emma groggily opened her eyes, unable to focus on the beast that stood over her holding a bottle. Before she could say anything, the nipple was placed in her mouth after he lifted her head from the pillow.

  "Drink up, baby girl. We need to put some meat on your bottom."

  She started to choke and he lifted her limp body from the mattress and held her over his shoulder, patting her back.

  "There, there," he cooed, rocking from side to side as she coughed violently. "Let's put you in the highchair. Are you wet? No?" he responded to her head shake.

  Once again, Emma was placed in the chair, restrained only around the waist. Professor Jack held the bottle to her lips for a second time and ordered her to 'drink up'. Still barely able to hold her head upright, she tried to obey; however, the combination of the sedatives, her anxiety, and the horrid flavor and texture of the bottle's contents led immediately to her shoving the bottle harshly out of her mouth and onto the pristinely scrubbed floor.

  Before she could utter an apology, the tray in front of her was removed and both her wrists were snatched in a single swipe of his hand and used to pull her across his lap. He planted his booted foot on a well-placed rung of the chair, lifting his knee, and her bottom, higher than her head. Up flipped the hem of the nightie and down came the back of her diaper, and then his hand followed. She was kicking her legs and wailing within seconds, begging him to stop, when he reached for something on the counter and commenced swatting in double time. Her screams became frantic as the wooden spoon splatted without mercy over her already bruised hind end.

  "You will drink every drop and eat every morsel of anything that your teacher puts in front of you, Emma. I will not have any pupil of mine wasting food in a world where people kill for food and fresh water. And don't you ever speak to me during a punishment unless I specifically ask you a question that requires words. Do you understand me? You can cry and weep unless told otherwise, but I am never to hear another 'no', 'stop' or other command. Do it again and I will take off my belt and use it to roast your butt."

  While it was humanly impossible to endure a spanking of this magnitude soundlessly, Emma pulled together the strength to 'cry and weep' instead. Her shrieking grew in pitch every time the back of the bowl of the spoon connected crisply with her bum, and did not stop until the horrid instrument broke in half and went flying to the far side of the room. He abruptly plopped her back in the chair, buckled her in and set the bottle firmly on the tray.

  She finished it quickly, determined to spare her body the anguish of another punishment for the rest of the day. She was lifted up, carried back to her bed and returned to the confines of her 'cocoon', this time with a pair of headphones over her ears through which played classical music. She heard his voice over the music saying, "It's time for you to go down for a nice long nap, baby. You sleep as long as you want to. I'll be listening for you on the monitor and also be looking in on you frequently. Nightie night!"

  She was asleep before he left the room.

  ***

  Days and nights quickly blended together between the multiple naps, repetitive and unchanging meals, and use of the sedatives. Except for the ticking of the clock, she no longer possessed any idea of day or time. She began to feel her mind grow numb as she attempted to mentally depart the daily routine.

  The amount of suppositories Professor Jack used on her eventually took their toll, and Emma cried with pain as her stomach rolled, wanting to expel everything in her intestinal tract. This was one area in which the man allowed her a twinge of control, placing her on a real toilet instead of forcing her to use the diaper. He stood in the doorway, watching as she bent over in half and clutched her stomach, chuckling as she refused to look at him as he gently cleaned her afterwards.

  "I have a special surprise planned for you, darling. But first, we are going to make sure that you are all squeaky clean inside." Emma's mouth went dry as she lifted her face to look at him. He continued cheerfully, "Don't look so glum. This won't hurt a bit—as long as you behave."

  He pro
duced a large red bag and a long hose that ended in a fairly large plug; one that was similar to the design of the hated suppositories. He whistled as he filled the bag to bulging with warm water and sprinkled some dry soap inside it, talking about how amazing the stars had looked the night before.

  Emma listened with interest. She still had not seen the stars that had been promised to her, or the sunlight. In fact, this was the first reference to time of day that she had heard since arriving. Despair had taken over her mind—had it been three days? A week? For how long had she been sedated and forced to sleep the hours away? She watched the suds overflow from that horrendous bag and realized that none of it mattered. Tears flowed silently down her cheeks at the knowledge that within a few minutes, the contents of the bag would be wreaking havoc to her insides. This was her existence now, and he would never allow her a means to escape.

  He hung the bag on a hook just above the towel rack and opened the stopcock. The solution flowed rapidly into the tub, making odd sounds as the air was removed from the bag. He clamped the end closest to the plug, hung it over the hook, and reached for Emma. His big, rough hand closed around her wrist and pulled her towards him with surprising gentleness. She barely resisted, having neither the strength to fight him nor the inclination to invite a spanking, and savored every reluctant step.

  Jack knew exactly what she was doing. A small, amused smile settled onto his face, reflecting the knowledge that she was going to do exactly what he desired of her. She could struggle and fight him, but there was really no possibility of it ending any other way but the way he wanted it to. For right now, his way included her draped over his thick thighs, with neither her hands nor feet touching the ground. In this position, helplessness settled over her more acutely than in any of the others. She did not quite understand why—perhaps it was the bathroom setting, or the fact that the door symbolizing the potential for escape was close by. There was nothing of substance that she could use as a weapon, so even having her wrists and ankles unrestrained provided no benefit.