Free The Submission of Little Emmie by Zoe Blake

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 time 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