The Submission of Little Emmie

by Zoe Blake

  "Certainly, your Lordship." The nanny placed a small glass bottle of vinegar, another bottle of rosewater and the cake of soap on a small table by the tub. Emmie was too stunned to say anything.

  "How is my pretty, little girl this morning?" Lord Burkewood asked as he rubbed the soap between his hands working up a strong lather. Nanny approached with a pitcher of warm water and helpfully poured it over Emmie's hair, giving her a bit of a reprieve before having to answer him.

  "I'm fine, thank you," she said very properly and politely. It was if they were meeting over afternoon tea rather than in a private bathing room where she sat naked in the tub.

  "I'm fine, thank you.....who?" he prompted.

  "I'm fine, thank you...Papa," she repeated.

  "Good girl. Now let's get this pretty hair washed." He began to massage her wet hair and scalp and the sensation was so lovely she soon forgot she was bared before his gaze. Lord Burkewood gently worked the lather into her hair and scalp, massaging her neck and shoulders before making his way to her breasts. Emmie startled at first, but he applied gentle pressure on her shoulders, silently communicating his need for her to stay still. She quieted down and he finished working the lather into her breasts.

  Emmie's cheeks were aflame not only from his ministrations, but from Mrs. Pew’s presence, although Nanny did not seem to be paying the least bit of attention. She was standing over the lower side table to the left of the room, folding what looked to be large white cloths.

  "Close those pretty eyes while I rinse your hair with the vinegar and rosewater,” her husband instructed. He followed this with another warm pitcher of water, rinsing her hair completely.

  "Oh my, now your hair will be nice and shiny and smell so pretty!" cooed Nanny as she handed a large bathing cloth for drying the body to Papa. His Lordship reached into the tub and grasped Emmie under the arms, lifting her small frame clear out of the tub. Then he began to vigorously rub her naked limbs paying special attention to between her legs and her breasts.

  "I can dry myself," she offered.

  "Don't be silly. Little girls do not dry themselves. What if they did not do a good job and developed a chill from damp skin?"

  Emmie could not imagine falling ill from failing to properly dry herself but she was not about to challenge him, especially with Nanny so close by. When he was finished, she was helped into a fluffy dressing gown with embroidered ducks and flowers around the hem. He then picked her up in his arms and carried her into the nursery, cradling her on his lap in one of the plush chairs before the fire. He had her back to the fire, so her hair could dry into a soft cascade of curls.

  "So, is Papa's little girl all cuddly and warm?" he asked as he tucked her tighter to him.

  "Yes, Papa," she answered without hesitation. It felt wonderful being held so close to him. She felt pampered and safe. It was so cozy, snuggling up to him before the fire.

  "Good. Now time for your morning bottle," he said as he held out his hand for the warmed up bottle of milk Mrs. Pew held nearby.

  "No. I won't. This is taking this too far," she objected as she squirmed to get off his lap, her cozy haze broken.

  "Uh-oh. Looks like my little Emmie is cranky and needs to be reminded to obey her Papa,” Lord Burkewood’s tone grew from kind to stern. “Mrs. Pew, please prepare Emmie for her punishment while I go choose an implement," he ordered as he stood and handed her off to Nanny.

  "No. I don't care,” Emmie angrily insisted. “You can spank me all you want but I won't take a bottle again like a baby!"

  She cried out as Nanny dragged her over to her little pink bed. And although she fought back, Mrs. Pew quickly had a kicking Emmie facedown on the bed with her hands secured to the headboard.

  "Would you like her legs secured as well, Your Lordship?" Mrs. Pew asked respectfully.

  "No. I have a mind to see them kick about as she learns just how harsh a punishment I can dole out. This will be very different from your pleasure spanking last night, little girl," he warned. Emmie groaned as he announced intimate details of their night together within Nanny's hearing.

  Emmie tried to raise her head to spew more angry protests but was cut off when Nanny secured the pink, silk blindfold around her eyes. Being placed into complete, vulnerable darkness made Emmie instantly regret her outburst.

  "I'm sorr...," she began.

  "Do not even finish that sentence," Lord Burkewood growled. “I put a roof over your head, feed and clothe you, pamper and pleasure you and all I ask is your complete obedience. A temper tantrum? Is that how you repay my kindness? Well, ungrateful little girls get their bottoms roasted. Perhaps then you will learn to curb your tongue."

  He chose a paddle for her first truly severe punishment. It was beautifully crafted of oak bark tanned harness leather. The blade portion was about twelve inches long, with eight small holes to give an extra sting.

  "Emmie, you are about to be punished for your disobedience and insolence. Moving your bottom around will only prolong it. Say, ‘yes Papa,’ if you understand."

  "Yes, Papa." He could barely hear her answer with her head buried in fright into her pillow. He grabbed the back of her dressing gown and pushed it up, baring her backside and lower back. Emmie had stopped kicking but she was nervously rubbing her feet together. As she was blindfolded she had no idea what to expect, which is what he preferred. He knew she was expecting the feel of his hand, anticipating the pain she experienced yesterday. She would be wrong. The first contact of the harness leather paddle on her backside was going to be extremely painful, made all the more so by her confusion. She would have no knowledge of the punishment implement being used on her - would have no idea what was causing her such pain. She would have no way of preparing herself.

  Lord Burkewood’s arm moved up and came down in a sweeping arc for the first blistering blow, the paddle making contact directly onto her sit-spot. Emmie's back arched, her head tilted back in a silent scream. She was so overcome with pain she could not even make a sound. Lord Burkewood followed the initial blow with a quick succession of five more, barely giving his child bride a chance to register the pain before a fresh onslaught would hit. By now, Emmie was incoherently sobbing and swaying her hips in a vain attempt to avoid the paddle.

  "That's an additional five on top of the twenty you are already getting,” he said ominously. “Move again and I will make it an additional ten."

  The paddle continued to abuse Emmie’s poor backside, with His Lordship varying the location of the blows. Some fell on her sit-spot, others on her upper thighs, still others directly on the cushiony softness of her butt cheeks. She had no way of bracing for the pain or knowing where the paddle would fall. Her backside felt like it was on fire. The sting was unbearable. She truly felt as if she would not survive this punishment and when he had finally finished she continued to sob uncontrollably.

  He released her wrist restraints and sat on the bed, cradling her head in his lap, gently removing the blindfold.

  "This is why you should always try to be Papa's good little girl so he does not have to punish you so harshly. Tell me sweet baby - tell Papa you have learned your lesson," he coaxed as he began to stroke her damp hair. Emmie was filled with conflicting emotions. Her body was wracked with pain but she craved his approval, craved the comforting touch made all the more so after the traumatic punishment.

  "I've learned my lesson Papa,” she replied through hiccoughing sobs. “I won't talk back again."

  "Now tell Papa what it feels like."

  She knew from the previous day’s spanking that he wanted her to describe the pain, and this humbling exercise would be part of her punishments.

  "It hurts, Papa. My bottom stings so bad."

  "What was my little one thinking about as I raised your dressing gown, exposing your vulnerable backside?"

  "I was scared," she said in a little voice. "I knew I had angered you terribly and was afraid of the punishment I would receive."

  "Try to remember that the next ti
me you want to question how I want to care for you," he admonished.

  "Yes, Papa." With that he raised her off the bed into his arms and carried her back into the bathing room where Nanny was waiting for them. Emmie was startled to realize she’d forgotten Nanny was even in the room.

  "Very good, Mrs. Pew,” Lord Burkewood was saying. “I see you have everything prepared. I think it would be for the best to do this now and Emmie can have her bottle after."

  He gave Emmie a stern look as he said this, brooking no argument from her as he carried her to the changing table and laid her on top. Each grabbed a wrist, securing her to the table but Emmie barely noticed, focused as she was on the piercing pain in her bottom when it touched the table’s surface. Papa was to the side of the table and Nanny at the end, at her feet.

  Emmie was mortified when Papa grabbed her legs by the ankles and lifted them both up high so Nanny could spread some kind of soothing cream over her buttocks and between her legs. Her mortification deepened when she felt Nanny place a cloth under and between her legs. As Papa lowered her ankles to force her legs into a knees-up position, Nanny continued to wrap the cloth around her hips, securing it with two large pins.

  They had placed her into a cloth diaper! Emmie’s mind rioted. She wanted to shout at them and rip it off but she didn't dare. She would not survive another beating; she was sure of it. She began to whimper in pain and embarrassment. The soft, padded cloth should have felt soothing against her abused bum, unfortunately for little Emmie, it did not. It felt bulky and trapped the heat radiating from her crimson cheeks. Every movement felt like sandpaper scraping against raw skin. She longed for the thin, cool linen of her drawers.

  "Not one word out of you, you naughty girl." Mrs. Pew admonished. "You have earned this diaper, make no mistake!" Papa then picked her up and once again carried her over to the plush chairs by the fire.

  "Let's try this again, but with a much better behaved little girl," he said. When he tried to give her a bottle earlier she was cozy and warm in his embrace, fresh from a bath. Now she was in a diaper with a red and bruised bottom. Without protest or a murmur, she opened her mouth and began to suck on the baby bottle's nipple letting the now lukewarm milk flow into her tummy.

  "If you had been a good little girl, Papa would have pleasured you during your bottle. But naughty girls don't get orgasms." He held the bottle and watched as her small cheeks hallowed with each deep draw from the nipple.

  "Your Lordship, perhaps under the circumstances, a second bottle with some warm water would be appropriate," Nanny stated as she handed him a second prepared bottle.

  "Excellent idea, Mrs. Pew." He withdrew the now empty milk bottle and replaced it with the water. Emmie's stomach was roiling from the trauma she’d experienced. The last thing she wanted was a bottle of milk, let alone a second bottle of water, but she began to drink it without protest. Little did she know that Papa and Nanny wanted to fill her tummy with liquid. The sooner it filled, the sooner she would be filling her diaper. Nothing showed a young lady her true place as the little girl of the household faster than a full diaper!

  Once she’d finished the second bottle, Papa rose and gently placed in her bed. Emmie quietly laid down in the fetal position on her side, careful to avoid brushing her bottom. He handed her Bunny and gave her a kiss on the forehead.

  "See you after your morning lessons with Nanny, little one," he said, and walked out of the nursery.

  "Come child, let's get you dressed,” Mrs. Pew said. “We need to get to your lessons if you are to be on time for training with your Papa." Nanny began to rummage through her dressing cabinet as her charge looked at her with questioning eyes.

  Training? Emmie thought.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Lessons

  Nanny dressed her in another frilly dress. This one had short puffy sleeves and blue and yellow ribbons woven into the lace edge around the hem and collar. Since the dress hem ended mid-thigh, her drawers peeked out below. They too had a lace edge with matching blue and yellow ribbons. A pair of white knee-high socks and black slippers completed her outfit.

  While Emmie was not completely comfortable with what her husband had provided for her wardrobe, she certainly did not miss the constricting corsets and tight, heavy dresses with drapes and drapes of fabric. With no lady's maid it would have taken quite some time to wrestle into her corset, petticoats, drawers and dress.

  Then there would be her hair. She had always had a mass of unruly hair filled with curls. Each morning she would have to tame it into an appropriately harsh, up-swept bun. Now she wore it cascading softly down her back loosely tied in a yellow ribbon. She felt light and free, albeit childish, in her new attire. The only thing keeping her from truly embracing it was the cloth diaper she was being forced to wear. Emmie refused to think about it. If she dwelt too long on the feel of the bulky cotton between her legs and what it meant, she was tempted to cry or – worse - rebel. She could not take another spanking.

  "There, we look like a pretty and proper little girl as you should. Now go take your seat at one of the school desks. It is time to begin your lessons," Mrs. Pew said as she glanced at her ever-present silver watch fob.

  Emmie was curious about the lesson portion of her day. When her mother was alive she had received the proper amount of instruction for a young lady. She could read and write, was fluent in French and passable on the piano. She loved to paint with watercolors and do needlepoint, and excelled at both. Of course she had also been trained on how to properly manage a household from the staff to the accounts to dinner parties - all of which seemed moot now. She hoped that the lessons would involve some history and perhaps learning another language. Emmie took her seat at one of the three children's school desks in front of the large teacher's desk and blackboard. With her slight frame, she easily fit the child's size desk and chair.

  "Let us begin," Mrs. Pew said, taking her place in front of the blackboard. "I understand last night you learned quite a few new words. I am going to write them out on the blackboard along with some other words you need to learn and you will write a definition for each." Nanny picked up a piece of chalk and began to scrawl several words on the smooth, clean surface of the blackboard. At first Nanny’s body blocked the words, but as she moved across, the words became clear to Emmie. Her cheeks flamed red hot at what she read. There in bold letters were all the words Papa had used the previous night, as well as others she did not recognize.

  COCK PUSSY FUCK CUNNY NIPPLE CLIT PENIS ANUS ORGASM DILDO TITS

  "I...I..." Emmie stuttered, mortified by even reading these words, let alone having to define them.

  "Do not stutter child!" Nanny scolded. "Now, I will tell you the definition of each and you will recite it back to me. You will then write each definition three times so we know you have learned it. Let us begin."

  Emmie thought she could not become more embarrassed. She was wrong. About halfway through the lesson, she respectfully raised her hand and asked Nanny if she may use the water closet.

  "No you may not. That is why you have a nappy on," Mrs. Pew responded, watching intently to see the very moment Emmie would realize she was meant to use her diaper.

  "You cannot mean for me to...to...." Emmie was so horrified she could not even form the words. Punishing her by forcing her to wear the diaper was one thing, but commanding her to use it was another.

  "I most certainly do. If you have to go pee-pee you need to use your nappy." Nanny knew His Lordship had no intention of keeping his child-bride in diapers all the time, but would only use them to punish and reinforce her child-like state in his household. Emmie decided in that moment her need was not so great. Unfortunately, twenty minutes later those two large bottles of liquid she had consumed were too much to hold in.

  "Please, Nanny, I beg you." It was the first time Emmie uttered the name out loud. She had been thinking of her as Nanny but to actually say it seemed too real. Now she hoped the small concession would earn her one in return.

&nbs
p; "No." The curt response was final. Emmie felt tears begin to flow down her cheeks. She did not know what to do. She was certain if she tried to make it to the water closet she would not get far and certainly earn herself a very harsh punishment. But she could not fathom actually using the diaper. If she waited much longer the decision would be made for her.

  "Emmie, you are not to get up from that chair until you have used your nappy. If you disobey me you will receive a second blistering spanking on your already bruised little backside. Now I suggest you use your nappy so we can move on with the lesson," Nanny scolded.

  The idea of another spanking frightened Emmie so much she unclenched her full bladder. She started to cry, realizing this was a turning point. There was no going back now. She had just used her cloth diaper like a child. Nanny quickly brought her back into the bathing room and had her up on the changing table in a thrice and her nappy was changed out for a fresh one with very little fanfare.

  "Do I have to use a nappy for everything, Nanny?" Emmie asked through her sniffles as she sat back at her desk, humbled by the entire experience.

  "No, child. Just for pee-pee, and only when you have been naughty and need to be reminded that you are a little girl who should not throw temper tantrums or talk back to adults."

  "Thank you, Nanny," she said sheepishly as she returned to copy the definition of “fuck” three times.

  Lunch was another glass of milk and some small sandwiches with a tiny piece of chocolate as a sweet. Emmie had to eat it at the little pink table set, but she did not mind and was grateful to have a meal that didn’t come out of a bottle. When she was finished with her lunch she was told she could play with her dolls before naptime. Emmie found it oddly comforting to just sit and comb her doll's hair without a worry in her head.

  By naptime, Emmie was truly tired. It had been a long and traumatic morning. Her bum still throbbed. She let Nanny take off her dress and just leave on the cute drawers and nappy. She slipped topless under the blankets of her sweet little pink bed, cuddled the Bunny and fell fast asleep.