Emma's Corner

by Carolyn Faulkner

  "Are you gritting your teeth because it feels so good and you need more? Well, go on and play with your new toy. Just remember that Emma's Corner Chair can also be used to punish."

  Her hand trembled as she held the device and tried to will her finger to press against the trigger. He had set the switch on low, which meant a full sweep forward and back in a long motion. Emma held her breath and pressed. The relief of the phallus leaving her body was quickly eradicated as it reentered her, piercing her body with a long, drawn out lunge.

  She held her breath and pulled the trigger again, twice this time. Surprisingly, it was easier to take the movements when faster. She stopped trying to resist as she triggered off another couple of plunges, and then kept pressing until the counter read '50' and a loud ringing sound echoed through the house. And then she waited.

  "Well, well, so you like your toy, hmm? Let's go a little faster on automatic."

  There was no fighting back. Emma's saving grace was that she was exhausted and relaxed into the deep methodic strokes. Jack chuckled, bringing the speed and time up for a solid minute.

  "I see your fingers flexing," he said knowingly. "You want it harder, don't you? Not right now, baby. You've had all you can handle today." He shut down the chair, gently unbuckled her panting body from the restraints, and then lifted her carefully from the anchor. He patted her bottom gently as he took her to the crib, laid her on her back and placed the blindfold over her eyes.

  This time, he did not restrain her as he parted her swollen lips and studied her tortured orifices. Emma jumped when she felt something soft and warm graze across her womanhood. His lips and tongue worked her to a writhing need more than his fingers ever had. He bathed her moist flesh with a wet piece of cotton and then followed up with his mouth, mumbling the words 'wider' several times, to demand she spread herself for his access. He locked his mouth over her clit and slipped it back and forth, around and around, with his tongue. No amount of exhaustion or tenderness prevented Emma from arching her back to receive his mouth, and his fingers.

  "Should I let you come?" he asked. Emma shook her head. If he made her climax, he would have won the absolute last of her body's response. With a sardonic grin, he began to suck on her distended nub, winning the trophy and mastering her existence.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Tick tock... tick tock... the droning of the ticking clock that sat on the top of the desk echoed through the room. Emma swallowed, watching as the hands moved to a straight line like a frozen corpse on the ground. It was 2:45, and classes were about to begin. Her stomach turned as the sound of her tormentor's heavy footsteps approached…

  ***

  "Are you excited about your first day in school, little one?" he asked cheerfully.

  Emma blinked in confusion. He had donned an ancient headmaster's robe and hat, and would have looked comical if not for the pointer he swung in his right hand. He had restrained her to the student desk after dressing her in a costume of schoolgirl clothes, complete with white cotton panties, knee-high socks, and thin, black slippers.

  "I asked you a question, Emma. Are you excited about starting school like a big girl?"

  She nodded.

  "Good! Right now, you are to sit back and learn everything that I teach you. If you do well, I might even allow you to use your words. Would you like that?"

  Emma shook her head. She had grown accustomed to her silent world, where she would not be punished for saying the wrong thing or using the incorrect inflection of tone and grammar. The sound of a tree creaking outside made her turn her attention to the high, thickly paned window—her first glimpse of daylight since her arrival untold weeks, or perhaps months, before. He noticed her movement.

  "There is no need to be afraid, our home is well insulated from the ravages of the outside world," he said, walking to the window and looking outside. "We are having quite the snowstorm. It's been coming down for days. I thought now would be a good time to allow you a little bit of freedom, since you are growing up so nicely."

  Translated, his words meant—try to run, and you will freeze to death in a blizzard.

  "I am going to release you from these restraints and give you some time to look around the classroom while I make us something warm to drink. I want you in your seat at three o'clock sharp for lessons, understand?"

  Satisfied with her nod, Jack unbuckled the straps, kissed her on the forehead, and left the room. Emma glanced around, certain that there were cameras monitoring her every step. She slowly stood, again trying to balance herself on legs that had grown used to being carried. Her slippered feet protested the hardness of the floor as she slowly eased herself to the bookshelf filled with ancient novels written by authors she had never heard of—Jane Austen, Socrates, Ralph Waldo Emerson, John Steinbeck… Who were these people? she wondered. There was a large old chalkboard against the wall, a teacher's desk, and a high stool in the corner. Relieved to see that no 'anchor' was attached to this one, Emma still felt concerned as to what depraved punishment he would devise if she proved to be less of a student than he expected.

  She turned her head as he rejoined her, and quickly lowered her eyes to the floor.

  "Have a seat. Today's lesson will be in learning your alphabet and penmanship. A neat hand is vital to a focused mind. I programmed your tablet for you to use as your primer. You can write with that little stylus. No pens or pencils for you, though. We don't want you to get any ideas about using them for things they weren't intended for." Like stabbing him in the eye?

  If being around the professor had an upside, Emma found it. He was entertaining, intelligent, and patient as he went through the fundamentals. He praised her for 'being such a smart girl' and learning so quickly. Emma wrinkled her brow in wonder—did he really think she was unable to read or write? How warped was his understanding of reality versus this demented world he'd built for himself?

  "You have done very well today, Miss Emma," he said, sitting at his desk and looking over the work on her tablet. "Did you enjoy going to school?"

  Emma nodded, part of her hoping that he would not take this rare pleasure from her. Oddly, he did not disappoint her.

  "Excellent. I'm going to give you a test to see what areas you need improvement on. It's timed, and I need you to do as well as you can. You won't be disciplined for your score, just make certain you finish it. I want to see how smart you really are. I don't believe that intelligence can be forced; it just takes time and discipline to incorporate it."

  What? A reason not to hurt her? Was academics really a soft spot for him, or just another means of fucking with her mind, body, spirit and soul? He handed her the little computer, then sat back down in his chair. "When you're ready, hit the start button."

  She had never been good at taking tests, and this one was no different. Added to that was the fear that permeated her mind each time she looked up at Jack and saw his dark eyes watching her every move. She jumped, startled, when the timer buzzed, looking at him fearfully as he stood up to approach her. Trembling, she handed him the tablet, and then looked down at the little table, biting her lip to keep it from quivering.

  "You didn't get very much finished. Are you stupid, or just lazy?" he asked casually. Emma looked down and shook her head. "I expected you to try your best. Is this your best? Because, if it is, then I need to motivate you."

  "No, please…" Emma whispered.

  "Stand up! You dare to speak to me? After all this time?" His bellowing voice reverberated through the small room. "STAND UP!"

  Emma stood, her shaky legs collapsing beneath her, sending her tumbling to the floor. Jack picked up the pointer and slammed it loudly across the desk. "You have until the count of three to walk over here and bend over my desk. One…"

  Emma began to crawl, her unsteady legs refusing to cooperate. Tears already started to fall as she hurriedly made her way on bare knees over the cold, hard floor.

  "Two…"

  Grabbing the edge of the desk, she hauled herself to her fee
t and pressed her stomach to the surface. She grabbed the far edge with both hands, grimacing as her pelvis pressed uncomfortably against the beveled top.

  "You're a big girl right now," he lectured, flipping the schoolgirl skirt up over her bottom. "Big girls pull down their own panties for their spanking. I want you to take them off, and don't you even think about standing up while you are doing this."

  Squeezing her eyes shut, Emma reached behind her and slid the soft fabric down just to the crease of her bottom. Jack cleared his throat, and she continued to ease the fabric over her thighs and knees, using her feet to pull the underwear completely from her body.

  "Put your bottom in the air. More!" He slammed the pointer next to her head. She stretched up on her tiptoes, clinging to the desk for dear life. The long, thick stick was placed against the lower portion of her bottom and then, with a loud squishing sound, cracked against her flesh.

  Emma screamed, buckling instantly to the ground as the pointer slashed her bottom. He pulled her back to her feet and pushed her back over the desk, saying nothing as he aimed a second time, catching her across the backs of both thighs.

  He pulled her to her feet a third time. "Stay put, or I will cane you lower down. Your bottom is made for punishment, not the backs of your calves. It that what you want?"

  Emma shook her head, sobbing pathetically as she prepared for another stripe. Over and over, he whipped the thick pointer against her flesh; each time receiving a scream in return.

  "This will be one spanking you will remember for a long, long time," he lectured, as his strokes became rhythmic, each one digging deeper into her flesh. He cursed under his breath, stopping suddenly. He then grabbed her hair and yanked her to her feet. "You are to go and sit your bare bottom in the corner on that stool. Do not move until I tell you to. Go!"

  Emma stumbled to the corner and slowly lifted her skirt as she lowered herself on the stool. The seat was not only rough, but began to sting horribly. Jack laughed behind her.

  "Killing two birds with one stone. That's rock salt you are sitting on. It not only cleanses those stripes, but leaves a lasting sting, yes? Stop moving and let that salt work its way in and help you remember your place. Put your hands flat on the wall."

  Outside, the blizzard whirred; its high winds flinging branches and debris against the walls of the house. She focused on the sound of the wilderness, pulling her mind from the pain of her body. Behind her, the ticking clock mocked her, reminding her that every second of her life was his now. She began to pray that his madness would extend to putting her out of her misery, but inherently knew that she provided him with more entertainment alive than dead.

  "Emma?" his voice was soft. "Come to me, sweetheart."

  She slid off the chair and onto the ground, her beaten thighs and bottom too weak to support her weight. She crawled to him and stopped at his feet. Two giant hands reached under her arms and settled her upon his lap. He kissed her face, then rested his hand on the inside of her naked thigh. "Professor Jack was too hard on your little hiney. I don't like to draw blood. It's too messy."

  Blood? He was going to kill her! She buried her face into his shoulder, her body wracked with sobs. He rocked her gently, patting her back in a very nurturing, and strangely appropriate, manner.

  "I'm sorry I had to be so severe with you. I just don't want you to cheat yourself out of a good education because you don't pay attention. I know that is why you did not complete more of the test. Do you know how I know that piece of information? Because most of the answers you gave me were correct! Yes, you are a very intelligent little girl, but I can't stand by and see that go to waste, can I?"

  Questions flew through Emma's mind. My answers were correct? How could that be? Was I really not as stupid as Aunt Barbara claimed I was?

  "I'm going to make you a nice bath, and then rub some special cream on you. Shh," he cooed, lifting her up.

  Emma spontaneously wrapped her arms around his neck, crying against him, seeking any solace she could. Jack placed her in her crib and went to ready her bath. With more tenderness than she could imagine, he undressed her, landing soft, gentle kisses upon her exposed skin. He then carried her to the bathroom, tossed a bath pillow into the water, and lowered her carefully into the tub. Before her behind had a chance to touch the bottom, he turned her over on top of the plastic cushion, positioning her so that her bruised and broken backside protruded from the water.

  His fingers trailed softly, as if in awe, across the welts and open flesh of her bottom. "These aren't too bad. They feel much worse than they are," he stated, running soap across the shivering skin. "Please don't make me do this again."

  Was that the sound of choking in his throat? Emma turned her tearstained face to see two heavy drops fall down Jack's cheeks. On impulse, she rose to her knees and hugged him; holding her breath for his reaction.

  Jack took her gesture of comfort in a much different manner than the one she'd anticipated. He pulled her away, looked at her, and then crushed his mouth to hers. Emma fought to catch her breath under his punishing kisses, finally able to get her arms between them and push him away.

  She panted, trying to regain control of her breathing. He smiled, his eyes heavy with lust, and brought her out of the tub and back to her room. He laid her on her back on the crib, allowing her to dangle her bruised and swollen backside over the side, and bent her knees with her feet placed high and wide apart on the crib rails.

  "Do I need to secure them in place?" he asked. Emma shook her head.

  He unzipped his pants and freed himself, ordering her to look again at the massive snake that he had released from within his jeans.

  "It's time that I teach you what a real cock feels like, Emma dear," he whispered softly, as he placed the glistening tip between her legs, and nestled it snugly between her lips. Slowly, he pressed into her, withdrawing only to spread her natural lubricant around his massive shaft, and then resuming his course to fully take what remained of her virginity. Emma moaned, her body surrendering to his velvety hardness. The feelings raised by his cock were so different to those of his fingers that had repeatedly stretched her maidenhead over the course of time.

  "I am going to make you mine. Is that okay?" he asked, pausing.

  He was asking for her permission? Everything within her mind wanted to say no, but her body longed to be filled with his girth. She struggled against her own need and finally nodded, accepting that he would do as he wished, but hoping that her consent would buy her some mercy. He pulled back and then lunged forward, breaking through what remained of her body's natural defenses as he filled her with himself.

  She croaked loudly and tried to thrash in the narrow crib, but had no hope of stopping his assault any more than she could prevent the other atrocities he had imposed upon her helpless body. His strokes were long and demanding, smoothly penetrating her with experienced ease. Like with his hands and mouth, he knew how to arouse a woman with his cock. He fucked her hard, his bear-sized hands clutching her shredded bottom and hips. His control was both tortuous and exciting, and Emma whimpered with arousal. She was overwhelmed with self-contempt, loving the feeling of his huge member sliding back and forth within her.

  As she grew close to the brink, he pulled away. His rigid shaft, wet with her juices, swayed back and forth like a cobra sizing up its next victim. He pulled her feet from the rails and turned her onto her stomach.

  "On your knees, my love. Raise that lovely ass in the air for me. Higher, darling. I'm a tall man and want to aim just right."

  He was generous with the lube this time, stating that he didn't want to hurt himself if he encountered too much resistance. He placed the head of his throbbing cock against her tight ring and gently pushed through the opening.

  "Did I touch your bottom? I'm sorry," he said, forcing himself in harder as she screamed in agony. "My cock feels much better than Emma's Corner Chair, doesn't it? A little bit more… there! You swallowed me right up inside your bottom. Doesn't this feel go
od?" He fucked her hard, wrapping his arms around her body and preventing her from avoiding his powerful strokes "How do you end up so tight, when I stretch you pretty much every evening? Hmm, Miss Emma? You're near as tight as a virgin."

  He withdrew suddenly, and Emma knew by the sound of metal clicking that what he had in store next couldn't be good. He ordered her to spread her knees while keeping her bottom perched high in the air. A hard, cold object wiggled between her newly deflowered lips until it was fully inserted. The sound of a ratchet turning, and increased pressure against her vaginal walls, were the indicators of her future suffering. Turn by turn, her tender channel was spread, wider than even Jack's enormous cock.

  He repositioned her bottom in the air and, once again, pressed the mushroom tip of his rod to her puckered entrance. He teased her, dipping it in and out, pressing further each time, until it was about halfway inside. He stilled for several seconds and then slowly pushed it home.

  With a twist of his wrist, his generously lubricated thumb landed directly on top of her clit. He began to rub languorously, making her shoulders shirk and legs twitch as he played with her mercilessly. His pumping cock never broke its steady rhythm, and he listened with an obsessive expert's ear to the changes in her breathing so that he could grab the exact moment to withdraw his fingers.

  Emma moaned with frustration. His cock swelled inside of her, his speed increasing as he grew close to spending himself.

  "Squeeze me!" he ordered. Emma sobbed, clenching her buttocks as tight as she could, her muscles obstructed by the speculum holding her pussy wide apart and the horse-sized shaft moving rapidly in her ass. He stiffened and rammed himself deep within her body, flooding her overstretched bowels with his thick juices. He leaned over her back, breathlessly whispering a name. Not hers… her mother's.

  "You're finally mine, Emily…"

  "My name is Emma," she whispered, waiting for him to beat her for speaking. He merely laughed.