Homecoming

by Maggie Ryan

  When she had recovered from her cold, he escorted her to the park along with both of her parents. As they neared the ice cream cart, he waited until her father had purchased a cone for her mother and then calmly explained that Emmie would not be allowed to enjoy a cone because she needed to understand that throwing tantrums would never lead to her receiving a treat. She had listened and accepted his decree, again apologizing for her behavior, once more seeming to shock her parents into silence, though both gave him a smile of approval. Once they returned to her home, Stefan sat with her cradled on his lap and had a long discussion with her about his desires for her. He had been honored when she had expressed her love for him, as well as her desire to become whatever he wished. Her parents had been thrilled when he asked for her hand in marriage and accepted their child’s decision to submit to her future husband’s plans, both secretly agreeing that though their child was the most precious thing on the planet, she was in desperate need a far firmer hand than either of them could or had ever provided.

  Stefan was aware that while some secret part of her had acknowledged her unspoken need to be coddled and even punished like a much smaller child by the man she loved deeply, she had no true understanding of how completely her role as his little one was to change her life. Having no desire to spend months gradually introducing her to his specific desires, he had arranged for her to attend the special school run by Eleanor Summers. He had escorted her to Miss Summers’ school and watched as she observed several other little adult women going about their daily routine throughout the rooms of the large house. When they witnessed one of the girls being bent across the back of her chair during luncheon, getting her bottom tawsed for refusing to eat her vegetables, Emmie had not fainted or run from the room. Instead, she had slipped her hand into his, her body trembling slightly but her eyes telling of her desire. As they finished their meal, all conscious of the welted red bottom being properly displayed in one corner of the room, Stefan had known this was the place for his fiancé to begin her lessons. Eleanor met with the couple, explaining more of her curriculum, and though Emmie had blushed and squirmed about on her chair, both Eleanor and Stefan knew she was ready. Being of legal age, Emmie had signed papers to give her consent to all that would be required and listened as Stefan assured her that if she changed her mind, if she found she couldn’t truly embrace her lessons, he would release her from her betrothal.

  Emmie had many days during her six months at the school when she thought about asking to be released. However, one of the conditions had been that she could not make such a decision in the midst of any lesson or during a punishment. It would be far too easy for a student to decide they wished to leave when learning how to properly present and open their small bottom-holes for either their Papa’s pleasure or penance. It would be too convenient to declare their intention of leaving when told to bend over and offer their quivering cheeks for a caning that they had earned for being exceptionally naughty. Emmie had been positive she would request her fiancé to release her the first time she was put to bed on her tummy, her swollen and well-striped bottom continuing to throb, its burning heat trapped inside a fluffy nappy as she tried to sleep in her crib, that first plug making its presence known inside her bottom, a dummy in her mouth, her arms and legs bound to the rails. However, when she woke the next day, she realized that she felt content and forgiven, her heart and soul free of the guilt she had felt when she had been so very naughty. Wishing to remain, she made a proper apology to Miss Summers, thanked her for her loving guidance and discipline, and threw herself into learning all that she could before she became Stefan’s wife and little one.

  Stefan visited once a month to discuss her feelings about her lessons, having received weekly reports from Eleanor about Emmie’s progress. If his fiancé had decided to leave, these visits were the time to declare her intentions. Though Emmie admitted that she occasionally thought about asking to leave, she confessed she only did so when her bottom was burning from a spanking. Stefan would smile and tell her that he understood, he knew that spankings made a little bottom ache but that he was proud of her for being his brave little one and remaining in school. Emmie adored the visits and the time spent with the man she couldn’t wait to claim her as his own. Even though every visit ended with her over his lap getting her bottom roasted as a reminder that she was to be his good girl and mind her teachers and Miss Summers, Emmie had blossomed. By the time she graduated, she was prepared far more than most women to enter into marriage as a very willing bride, as well as to become her Papa’s special little girl, submitting to anything her Papa decreed his little one needed to be his good little girl. After their wedding, both of her parents sought him privately to thank him for making their daughter the happiest they had ever seen her. He had thanked them for raising such a treasure and promised he would always love and protect her, adding that he would never hesitate to redden her bottom if she reverted back to her bratty behavior. They had been married almost a year, and so far, she was proving to be a perfect match for him, continuing to blossom under his care and discipline. He loved her completely and treasured the fact that she was not only fulfilling her role as his child-bride, she seemed to be truly happy with her life.

  Hearing another soft moan, Stefan left his memories behind and looked at his little one, holding out his hand. “Come here, Emmie,” Stefan said, clasping her hand when she took his, drawing her across the small space and pulling her down to sit on his lap.

  Emmie sank against him, grateful that she could roll a bit in his direction, her bottom no longer pressed against the surface of the carriage seat. Though the seat was well padded, her bottom was still tender from her morning punishment, as well as the plug that had been inserted into her bottom-hole. The jostling and bouncing of the carriage did nothing to alleviate her discomfort.

  “I’m thinking my little one is deeply regretting her naughtiness, isn’t she, Emmie?” Stefan asked, one hand moving to pat at the very center of her bottom.

  Emmie nodded against his chest, trying not to flinch when he patted her just a bit harder. “Ye … yes, Papa,” she said, softly.

  “Emmaline,” he said, using the tips of his fingers to lift her chin, her eyes meeting his own. “You are usually such a good little girl.” He saw her face begin to flush, her eyes attempting to slip away from his steady gaze. “No, look at me,” he instructed, and didn’t continue until she obeyed. “I am sorry that it has taken several days of repeated lessons as well as the one you will receive at home, to remind you that your Papa loves you enough to make sure you remember to be that good girl. Spending a month with your family was not the holiday I intended, nor did it do you any good. Instead of remembering all your lessons, you decided to test both your nanny and your Papa at every turn, didn’t you?”

  Emmie slowly nodded, her heart pounding at the realization that her husband knew exactly what had driven her to become so naughty lately. It was as if being coddled and treated like a little princess, allowed to do whatever she wished, had set her off the path she had not only struggled to accept, but learned to fully embrace.

  Stefan had allowed her to visit her family while he attended a long judicial conference. Knowing he’d have little time for his bride and understanding she wasn’t comfortable in strange cities and did not wish to spend all of her time in a hotel room, she had begged to be allowed to visit her childhood home while he was gone. Though he was hesitant in leaving her among people he knew couldn’t bring themselves to discipline their precious daughter, he had agreed only after her parents assured him that they wouldn’t allow their daughter to rule over them again. Bertha had been given leave to visit her own family as well, knowing it would be quite some time before another opportunity to take a holiday was practical.

  Upon his return, Stefan didn’t find the sweet, loving, and obedient girl he had wed and begun guiding down the paths she had vowed to accept. Instead, he found that without the presence of her Papa or her nanny to remind her of the consequence
s of her behavior, his precious little bride of only a few months had reverted back to a spoiled, demanding brat, her parents finding it far easier to give in to her demands than to spend the necessary time and energy reminding her to be a good girl. Emmie argued over everything—simple things such as taking a nap or being required to retire at an early hour turned into long, drawn-out battles that found her in bed with a hot bottom.

  However, when she continued to pout, throw tantrums or attempt to wheedle her way out of a spanking, something in her protests seemed a bit contrived to Stefan. Though he was willing to be patient, knowing that they would soon be returning home and not wishing to spoil the last few days of her visit, she continued to push against every rule. The night when she had informed him that she would no longer be drinking milk but would instead enjoy wine with her meals, he had given her a warning look that should have turned her blood to ice. When he instructed Bertha to remove the wine and she was given a full glass of milk, Emmie’s response was totally unexpected. Keeping her eyes on his, she picked up the glass and flung it against the wall.

  While her parents sat in stunned silence, Stefan had finally acted. He pulled her from her chair, raked up her dress, pushed her drawers down to her ankles, and truly blistered her bottom in full view of her parents and various staff. When through, he sent a sobbing Emmaline to a corner to display her crimson rear and then required her to mop up the milk and apologize to her family and the staff that had to pick up the broken glass shards. Removing her to their chambers, she had demonstrated the fact that she well remembered the penance required for such atrocious behavior. Afterwards, as she watched her husband tucking himself back into his trousers, she had thrown herself into his arms, clinging to him as she begged for forgiveness and thanked him for her spanking.

  Stefan knew his little one had felt lost and confused by the lack of discipline she had become accustomed to receiving. Thinking the delicate balance had been restored, fully expecting his good girl to finally return, he had been a bit surprised when she continued to refuse her milk, even when told her behavior warranted she be given a bottle until she proved she could be his big girl and drink out of a glass. Having to board the train the next day to return home, Stefan had sat her down and informed her that since she continued to be naughty, she had lost the privilege of drinking her milk at all. Thinking she’d never have to taste the beverage again, Emmie had started to smile, only to gasp upon learning that, until she proved she could be a good girl and drink a bottle, all of her milk would be delivered to her in a much more embarrassing manner, followed by a good, hard paddling from her nanny. Emmie had not been happy about his decree, but at the end of that first day had seemed to settle. Her naughtiness slipped away as her desired routine of strict, firm discipline and much love and comfort calmed her as it reassured her that her Papa had not forgotten exactly what his little one needed.

  Her behavior this morning made him sure that his little one was still testing his resolve, as if to make sure that upon their return to their home, her Papa would never again allow her to become that horrid, spiteful and unhappy girl to whom he had returned.

  “I thought you had learned that you can trust your Papa not to let you down, little one,” Stefan said, as he bent to kiss her cheek. “Perhaps after today, you’ll never find the need to continue to test my promise. I’ll always be here to make sure you remember that it would be far better for your little bottom if you remembered your lessons, Emmaline.” She felt a sense of peace at his assurance, as well as a sense of trepidation flowing through her as he spoke again.

  “Does your little bottom still hurt?” Stefan asked rhetorically, as he continued to both rub and pat at the wonderfully-rounded cheeks beneath her dress.

  “Ummm, y … yes, Sir,” she answered, quivering when his hand lifted from her backside only to slide up under her dress. Her face flamed when she felt him slip his hand into the opening of her split-crotch drawers and move to cup her bare bottom. She deeply regretted the fact that she had continued to misbehave, as her papa and nanny had kept their word about her daily enemas and spankings. Instead of accepting her last promised paddling with grace, she had fought and kicked and refused to submit properly to her nanny’s paddle. When she had managed to roll off her nanny’s lap and had run around the small water closet, attempting to avoid being placed again across those firm thighs, her nanny decreed that Emmie would regret her blatant and ridiculous behavior. As usual, Nanny Bertha had been correct, as her actions had earned her an additional strapping given by her Papa.

  “You haven’t had to wear your naughty-girl drawers in quite a while, have you, Emmaline?” Stefan asked, knowing from her past protests that his girl hated being put into split-crotch drawers, hating how easily accessible they made every part of her bottom. “Tell me, Emmaline, why did Nanny put your naughty-girl drawers on you today?”

  Emmie didn’t want to speak of such things, especially knowing that her nanny could easily hear every word of this embarrassing conversation, as well as see her Papa’s hand moving underneath her skirts.

  “Answer me, Emmaline, or do I need to lift your dress, push apart your drawers and give your bottom another dose before we even get home?” he asked, looking down into her face, his own face showing his determination to remain firm.

  Shaking her head, she managed to answer. “No, Papa. Nanny put them on me because I … I was naughty. I didn’t submit when she pad … paddled me. I didn’t submit properly when you strapped me. She … she put me in my nau … naughty-girl drawers because it’s easier for you to … to bare my bot … bottom to spank me.”

  “That’s right, sweetheart. You were a very naughty girl and didn’t submit to what you need to teach you not to be naughty. Your naughty drawers let me or Nanny Bertha bare your bottom to paddle your behind, as well as let us check on the naughty plug your nanny had to put into your bottom-hole,” Stefan said, moving his fingers to firmly tap against the flange of the plug protruding from her bottom. Despite the embarrassment her face showed at his action, Stefan knew that if he moved his fingers just a bit lower—if he slid them between the lips of her quim, he would find her extremely slick. Feeling his cock stir at the sound of her soft moan, he continued to tap against the plug as he posed his next question:

  “Tell me, Emmaline, what is Papa tapping? What is the hard item between your soft little cheeks?”

  Emmie’s face flamed at his questions, her heart hammering as she felt the plug in question being pressed by his fingers. Though she would give anything not to be made to answer, she knew she hadn’t been given the option of remaining silent.

  “It … it’s my naughty plug, Papa,” she answered, and then buried her face against his shirt, knowing that her nanny could not avoid hearing the embarrassing conversation.

  “Why did Nanny Bertha need to put your naughty girl plug into your bottom-hole, little one?” Stefan continued, knowing that despite the physical discomfort his wife received when her bottom was being spanked, paddled or strapped, it was these conversations which caused her the embarrassment that served as far more effective lessons.

  “Be … because I was naughty,” Emmie confessed, her words muffled by his broad chest.

  “No, that is not the true reason,” Stefan corrected. “Look at me, Emmaline,” he instructed and waited until she reluctantly turned her face to meet his eyes. “You were paddled by Nanny and given a short strapping by me because you were naughty. Your naughty plug was inserted for a different reason. Tell me what that reason is.” He saw the sheen of tears in her eyes and knew the lesson he intended for her to learn was indeed being taken to heart.

  “Because … you … you haven’t finished my … my puni … punishment, Papa,” she managed to answer, though her words were broken her emotion.

  “Is your naughty girl plug serving its purpose? Is holding it in your little bottom doing its duty to focus your mind on what is going to occur?”

  “Ye … yes, Sir,” Emmie whispered. “It … it remin
… reminds me that I … I have another … another spanking to … to come.”

  “I’m glad your plug is doing its job,” Stefan said softly, allowing her answer to stand, though all three of them knew she was due more than just a spanking. “Papa and Nanny spank you to teach you to be our good girl. Fighting your nanny is very naughty and serves no purpose other than to make it necessary that I give you a strapping as well. I’m sure you were embarrassed, knowing that little Lucy saw you in your corner and discovered you had been so naughty that you had to hold your little plug in your naughty bottom.” He paused long enough to stop tapping and press firmly against the plug, causing her to arch and moan against the pressure. “Emmaline, I sincerely hope you are learning that it doesn’t pay to be so naughty.” Stefan bent to kiss her cheek. “I want my Emmie to be my good girl. I don’t like having to punish you, little one, but know that I will when you deserve to have this precious bottom strapped.” He removed his finger from the cleft of her bottom and gave each of her tender cheeks a gentle pat before deciding to see exactly how she was responding to him. He drew his fingers slowly through the lips of her sex before removing his hand from her clothing. He met his wife’s eyes and saw the flush on her cheeks as well as the desire in her eyes. His grin caused her to quiver in his arms, her cheeks turning even pinker as he withdrew his handkerchief and slowly wiped his fingers clean of her essence.

  Emmie had to swallow hard to suppress a moan of desire, her quim pulsing as if demanding the fingers return to their play. She swallowed again and then spoke softly. “Yes, Sir, Papa.” She turned her head to her nanny. “I’m really sorry Nanny. I … I promise I won’t be naughty again when you paddle me.”

  Bertha smiled and reached across the small aisle to pat Emmie’s arm. The older woman had heard such empty promises before, not only from Emmie, but from other little-girl-women she had served. It was always easy to promise things when your bottom was still tender from a spanking, precious spanked cheeks held slightly apart by the flange of a naughty plug being held in a small bottom-hole. It was even easier to make such promises when that same little one knew she was still facing additional discipline. She also knew that testing the authority of those who cared for these special women was very common. She had seen child-brides graduate as well-trained little ones only to be returned to the school after a month or two to undergo additional, even more stringent, training. It wasn’t an easy path to take, but once a small one finally and truly embraced her need for what her mind fought against, these were the women that found complete and total happiness in their submission to their husbands and Papas. “Thank you for apologizing, Emmaline. I know you are a sweet girl. I hope that your lessons on the train and the one you will receive at home will cure you of the need to test your Papa’s rules.”