The Submission of Little Emmie (6 page)

Finally, he reached her maidenhead and she had no concept of what was happening other than the sensation of a sharp stabbing pain. He, of course, knew it was the proof his little one was a maiden and about to become his. Lord
Burkewood wanted to savor the moment. There was no need to rush. He pulled back a little and then once again pushed forward, not enough to breach her but just enough to cause another shock of pain.

"You are about to become truly mine," he breathed against her neck. "After pain comes pleasure." This time he violently thrust forward, pushing through her maidenhead and seating himself fully. Her pussy felt like a vise gripping his cock and she shrieked, for it felt like his cock had just burned her insides.
Emmie thrust her hips upwards in an innocent move to escape the misery, but the action only served to grind her now-sore pussy further onto his cock. Lord Burkewood grabbed her hips to keep them anchored and began to relentlessly thrust into her abused body.  

"It hurts!" she screamed. "Papa, it hurts!"

Hearing her call out Papa in her pain sent him into a frenzy. His left hand grabbed her long locks and pulled down, forcing her head back and her chest out.  He then clamped his mouth down on her nipple and began to suckle. His right hand moved between their bodies and his thumb found her clit, circling the little nub in slow, rhythmic circles. Emmie once again began to scream, but not in pain. His mouth on her breast, his hand on her clit, the piercing fullness of his cock inside of her - she shattered. Her mind went blank as bursts of light left her body, taking with them her will to move or even breathe. If this was pleasure she was now its slave. His Lordship thrust several more times before finding his release with a roar deep inside her body.

"Say it," he growled as he crushed her in an embrace.

"Papa," Emmie breathed.  

Morning Routine

Emmie
was limp and worn out when her Nanny came to collect her for bed a little while later.  If she thought it was odd that she would not be spending the night with her husband/papa, she did not comment. Nanny changed her charge into a soft, pale yellow nightgown with a lace hem that ended at the top of her thighs. After once again restraining Emmie’s wrists and thighs and forcing her into the fetal position, Nanny tucked her into bed. She placed Emmie's bunny into her embrace, gave her a quick kiss on the forehead and left the room, knowing Emmie would call out if she needed anything during the night. 

Emmie
fell asleep immediately, only to be rudely awakened later by hands that grasped her bottom cheeks and forced them open. Startled, she attempted to wrench away which earned her a smart smack from Nanny.

"Stop fidgeting this instant. I need to take your temperature."

"Cannot you take it the other way?" she asked desperately.

"Certainly not. Little girls get their temperature taken rectally. Now stop squirming about or you will start this morning off with a blistered backside young lady." 

Emmie craned her neck around to see Nanny dip just the barest tip of her middle finger into a small glass ointment jar resting on the table by the bed. She swirled the tip of her finger around Emmie's bottom hole twice, watching as it twitched and clenched. 

"Deep breath. Try to relax," Mrs. Pew advised, pushing her finger
past the resisting sphincter. She felt Emmie immediately clench down on the invading digit and smiled. His Lordship was indeed a lucky man, she thought. How responsive her little charge would be when he finally took her rosebud! The nanny twirled her finger around, pushing it in and out several times. Each time the little rosebud pucker resisted.

  Nanny, and His Lordship for that matter, did not believe in anything but the barest amount of lubricant when doing anything to a little one's bottom hole. It was instructive for them to strain to accommodate whatever was put in their bums, whether it
be a finger, a cock or something else.

"You are going to feel something cold and metallic at your bottom entrance,” the nanny said. “I recommend you don't wriggle about. The thermometer is glass and we would not want it to break while up your bottom now would we?"

She once again spread Emmie's buttocks and the girl gave a small whimper when she felt the cold tip push against her anus. She was still fully restrained, so there was little she could do to prevent this intimate intrusion and could only wince as the thermometer was forced deep into her bottom. It was cold and hard and felt uncomfortable and foreign. Emmie desperately wanted to pull it out, but there was nothing she could do. 

Finally having pushed the instrument several inches into
Emmie's unwilling bottom, Nanny gave the thermometer a twist for good measure. She said nothing as she began to time the procedure with her ever-present silver watch fob.

"You will stay still,” Mrs. Pew said. “We must leave that up your bottom for a good five minutes to make sure we have an absolutely accurate reading." Nanny patted the top of her head and began to move about the room straightening. 
Emmie in the meantime was in both physical and psychological misery. She knew it was her duty to obey her husband. But again she found herself unsure of whether she could endure the type of life he was insisting upon. To be treated like a little girl was so humiliating. But it was also strangely liberating.  After having to endure so much responsibility in her stepfather's household at such a young age, the idea of never having to worry about such things again was enticing. Sure there was pain, but there was also pleasure, and she found herself playing her husband’s...her Papa's...words from the previous night over and over in her head.
All you have to do is focus on pleasing me and knowing the pleasure I will give you in return.

"
There now. All done." Nanny’s voice pulled Emmie from her thoughts as the older woman gently removed the thermometer. "And a perfect temperature too! You are a very good little girl! Now, let's get you out of your bedtime restraints and into a nice warm bath." 

Emmie
let Nanny unbuckle the heavy leather restraints as she thought how lovely a warm bath would be. She was still sore from last night and just the thought of what Papa had done in his bed brought a soft, blush to her cheek. Emmie felt like a toddler as she hobbled to the bath. Her legs were weak from being kept in such a tight position for so long and so Nanny led her by the arm into the bathing room and up to the large clubfooted tub where soft curls of steam rose above the welcoming water.

"Arms up," Nanny said as she grasped the short hem of
Emmie's nightgown and slipped it over her head. "Now in you go." 

Emmie
climbed into the bath and Nanny soaped up a small bathing cloth. She started to rub her charge’s back and arms and did not stop till Emmie’s skin glowed a pretty pink. While scrubbing her back, Nanny's hand went straight down and forced its way between her butt cheeks. 

"Ouch. Not there,"
Emmie cried.

"Hush. Judging by what you and His Lordship were probably doing last night you need a thorough washing!" 

Emmie blushed hotly at the mere thought of Mrs. Pew knowing what transpired in his bed last night. She stayed mum throughout the rest of the washing, even when the nanny turned her attention to between Emmie’s legs.

Both
were so caught up in Emmie's bath they failed to notice Lord Burkewood lingering in the doorway, watching. He took in the wonderfully domestic scene, watching his child-bride blush as Mrs. Pew washed her pussy. He smiled warmly, memories of her deflowering still fresh in his mind. 

"Now time to wash that lovely hair," Nanny said in her no-nonsense tone.

"I would like that honor, Mrs. Pew." Emmie’s Papa entered the bathing room and Emmie startled, quickly lowering her shoulders below the water level to try and cover her breasts. His Lordship’s powerful masculine presence was even more pronounced in the small, girlish room. He began rolling up his shirtsleeves as he approached her in the tub. 

"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.