ezithemuse

[16- a woman that wants you] There is terror in relying on another, no matter how intimate your history. A fear of being dropped. Dizzying, spinning, from familiar heights; too high, too far to fall again. Scarlet’s heart pounded in her chest, blood loud in her ears. Her boss removed her panties, then grabbed her ankles in one hand and lifted, and the girl pursed the lips on her blushing face, trying to contain the whimpering sounds she was making. Every crinkle, every plastic sound was a firecracker to Scarlet’s senses. She could only make it easier on herself if she didn’t resist, lying back and blushing a bright, furious red. Emilia had once again backed her into a perilous trap that would expose her to strangers. It took all Scarlet’s willpower, in combination with flexed toes and calves, to keep her genitalia from giving away how much it thrilled her. Her efforts worked; between her cheeks and her legs, there wasn’t any blood to divert to arousal. Given the company in the office waiting room, she needed to remain silent to keep attention off of her. Not Emilia’s attention, that is—Scarlet couldn’t escape the amber-gold eyes that doted on her now, flicking between the nonchalance of doing dishes and a devilish grin whenever she had to remind Scarlet in a whispered voice, “Don’t hide that pretty face from mommy. Hold your skirt up if you need something to do with your hands, bunny.” Scarlet’s shaky hands complied. She needed to avoid the attention of the couple in the waiting room, whispering to each other, unaware Scarlet could still see them while being changed, the CCTV feed visible from her spot lying back on Emilia’s desk. Lila never really settled completely in the office chair, but Chris sat back with one foot on his knee, looking like he owned the place. Scarlet couldn’t calm down, every instinct telling her to run, to not give up control to Emilia, to not allow herself— Scarlet shivered, and her torturer cooed down at her, “Aww, don’t worry. We’ll get you covered up again just as soon as we can.” Emilia’s eyes gleamed and her teeth flickered in the light as she smirked. Scarlet saw Emilia’s own cheeks grow a small flush, noticed her breathing speed up. Emilia was getting off to her squirming and blushing, trapped by the scheme of her own invention to humiliate Scarlet. The younger woman quivered again, the whimper escaping this time. She recalled the story of a woman butchered in her apartment, her neighbors unable to hear the torment even through the thin walls. Part of her wanted to tempt fate, to play up her enjoyment and make Emilia breathe even faster. Scarlet finally took a shaky breath as Emilia brought the thick diaper up between her legs. She hadn’t even noticed her ankles being released from her girlfriend’s grip, nor that she’d been powdered, yet the delicate but inescapable scent of talc wafted in the air. She tried taking square breaths, trying not to think about if the smell would be obvious to their clients, while Emilia began taping the thick white plastic around her crotch and replacing Scarlet’s tights. Satisfied with a job well done, Emilia gave Scarlet’s sensitive crotch a gentle pat through the diaper. Scarlet winced at the touch, sudden and reactive nerve endings jolted awake despite her best efforts and the puffy underwear between Emilia’s skin and hers. She glowered up at the taller woman, making Emilia chuckle in satisfaction before offering a hand up.. “You are adorable when you get fussy. We should do this more often,” Emilia teased, all the while fixing Scarlet’s skirt and brushing away stray baby powder with a tender hand. “If you’re ready, you can bring back Christopher and Lila. Can you be a big girl for me?” Emilia was laying it on extra thick, goading Scarlet. Trying to get me to embarrass myself in front of clients? Emilia must have read the dawning on Scarlet’s face, and merely smirked with a raised eyebrow, daring her. Scarlet wrinkled her brow at the continued teasing, silent frustration rolling off her like a wave of heat. Emilia’s eyes grew soft, both patronizing and tender, like she was watching a puppy’s first growl. Scarlet’s mind scrambled for a retort. She found one, then hesitated, and thought better of letting her words get her in trouble. Again. She departed the office with a gesture befitting her treatment; sticking her tongue out and flipping the bird. She closed the door just in time to muffle Emilia’s laughter, loud and high, like birdsong. The relief melted the tension in her shoulders as she walked, only to be unsettled by the crinkling beneath her tights and loose skirt. She had to remind herself how no one could hear her disposable underwear when Emilia took her grocery shopping, but it still might as well have been a jet engine in the long hallway. “Mr Arnold, Ms Smith? Thank you for waiting, Miss Kane will see you now.” * * * Everyone sat in their same seats, like their previous week’s meeting had merely been a rehearsal that the four of them now continued. Emilia opened and thumbed through an identical folder, even wearing the same platinum studded earrings as last time, just as Christopher wore the same jacket. Lila had a different coat at least, but one that was still just a touch too big but just as expensive. Scarlet had to look down to make sure she hadn’t worn the same outfit as well. Something about the uncanny repetition made Scarlet’s head throb again. She almost felt her body slip away from her, but imagined her ancient laptop as an anchor that chained her to her body, keeping her attached to what was real. Déjà vu was one thing, but she couldn’t afford an actual out-of-body experience while working. “So here is the amended copy of your previous contract, everything should be exactly as we discussed, but I needed to edit the language to be specific and consistent. There’s highlights and tabs on all of those changes,” Emilia’s voice had the same courteous, professional tone with the hint of her posh, melodic cadence that Scarlet had been hearing all day, every day since she’d moved to Caulfield Valley. She sounded like she was reading fun facts from a trivia card, not like the woman who just got them both flustered enough that Scarlet had to actively prevent herself from getting turned on. She could convince herself it had just been a dream, or that what was happening right in front of her wasn’t real and she’d float away on the next cold breeze, if only she couldn’t feel the extra padding beneath her skirt. Scarlet blinked back to the waking world when Emilia stood to pass the folder to the blonde couple across from her desk. “There’s obviously still room for final changes if you two have reconsidered any of the topics we left open last time. “However, since you were fairly settled on the actual design of the contract, I started a model to let you see it in person.” The thicker cardstock gave a deeper warble than the folders as it was passed, but Scarlet got a chance to see its contents as Chris placed it on a small table between himself and Lila, a giddy grin spreading on the small woman’s face. It was the first time Scarlet had seen the young woman do something other than nervously blush, and her dimples framed a beautiful, bright grin. Thick, deep gold ink with strong, steady lines made up a headline, perhaps like the university name on a diploma, or the heading of a birth certificate, and bolded black writing in neat lines lay beneath it. It was too far for Scarlet to read, but she made the connection, remembering Emilia’s gold pen and the craft project after Scarlet’s little meltdown. She really does that shit by hand? Chris took the document, passing the cover to Lila and gawking at the second page. Lila took the paper in her hands, holding it like antiqued stained glass–something crafted so impossibly beautiful, so delicate that it was hard to believe it was made by a person. This second page mirrored the first’s small black ink, numbered in a list, making Scarlet recall her own rules with Emilia. Cresting the top of both pages was a small drawing that she could only distinguish as a small bow and arrow, a heart shaped arrowhead placed across the arch with a dainty grace. It wasn’t a weapon drawn for violence, but ornamentation. Scarlet was awash with respect at the craft itself, Emilia’s capabilities, as well as a strange sort of connection with Lila and Chris. Though they didn’t know it, Scarlet was more like them now than she ever could’ve imagined during their first meeting. Their contract, once something so incredible and foreign to the young woman, was now something she too was working on with the very woman that brokered their terms. “—one more time to make sure Miss Finch can record it?” Emilia’s voice pulled Scarlet out of her awe. She could hear the subtle point in Emilia’s tone: Come back to reality while we work. The younger woman couldn’t help but blush as she straightened her back, correcting the slouch she didn’t know she’d started. They’d already moved on from examining the model contract. Lila stammered for a moment, and Chris chimed in when she couldn’t, though not without the vaguest hint of a blush himself. “We’ve backed off from diapers 24/7. I’m not really into that, and they aren’t very practical when you consider wearing them full time means using them full time. We don’t want to deal with messing like that.” Lila and Scarlet matched blushes, though Scarlet had the wherewithal to hide hers as she heard Emilia clear her throat, shifting the room’s focus. “Noted. Did you get it that time, Miss Finch?” The jab to Scarlet felt too obvious. In her mind, Scarlet was sure the other couple could read the intent of her boss in an instant, divining Scarlet’s secret interest that she’d developed since last seeing them both. It taunted Scarlet for both previously spacing out and at the implication, making Scarlet’s face burn with embarrassment just as the concept of a messy diaper had the weekend prior. She tried to keep her voice even as she answered, “Yes ma’am.” That was all that was needed, despite the shake in her hands and her confidence both. She told herself panicking would accomplish nothing except draw more attention to herself. She knew better than to trust her immediate emotional response to embarrassment, given how handy Emilia was at twisting Scarlet’s desperation back around on her. “And as such, we’re also reducing the ‘Plug Clause’ to once a week or at our agreement. Still having some of the routine and order, while also allowing us to be spontaneous.” Chris never quite returned back to his relaxed posture Scarlet had seen from the CCTV. He no longer had the air of assumed control. He was playing at being collected, yet the topic, or perhaps the fact he had to go back on his confidence from last week, made it clear he was no longer entirely in control. He conceded that point to Lila, didn’t he? Scarlet thought before shaking her head and focusing on her note taking. The negotiations weren’t supposed to be a contest according to Emilia. Chris is treating it like one anyway. “That’s all of our marked points,” Emilia said, leaning back in her chair and marking off one last spot inside her folder, bright red sharpie in hand. “Are there any other modifications we’re considering?” Her eyebrow rose, expectation building as she watched between the two. “Yes!” Lila squeaked from her chair, the loudest Scarlet had ever heard her speak but still softer than everyone else in the small office. She wrapped her arm around Chris’, hanging on to it as she leaned forward with a sparkle in her eye. “We found someone to do a day collar for me, and we’re going to include that.” The fuck is that? Scarlet wanted to ponder, before realizing she’d actually typed ‘the fuck is that’ on a document her boss would eventually see. She worked quickly to edit her work and try to listen to the discussion. “Oh?” Emilia’s voice betrayed her attempt at disinterest. Chris leaned forward and locked eyes with Emilia. “And I’m quite impressed with the quality. There are good designers, and then there’s this guy. I’d be happy to introduce you, you have to see his work,” he explained, the two of them beaming. They stopped just shy of gushing like they had a crush on this mystery man. “I’d be open to that, Christopher,” Emilia answered, fingers interlocked under her chin in thought. It was impossible to tell if she was politely entertaining their excitement, or if she was sincere. Emilia’s thoughtful eyes didn’t leave the giddy couple. She tried to redirect them to business, “So that would be item…fourteen, correct?” Lila nodded, and Chris concurred. “It’s probably simplest, doesn’t disrupt the layout of the other pages you showed us.” “I would start again from Square One if you two wanted,” Emilia waved her hand as she spoke, dismissing his concern and shooing it away. “The two of you want something special, and I provide a service to help make sure that you get exactly what you want. If I were printing something mundane, something innocuous, sure. I’d want to save the ink too. “But that’s not what this is. This isn’t the negotiation of a corporate merger. This is your pledge together, to each other. I will make something that is as concrete, serious, and worthy of the veneration you two hold for your dynamic. It is more than worth my time to get it exactly perfect.” The happy couple nodded, and Scarlet typed away as quiet as she could. This had the gravity of a marriage certificate to Lila and Chris, and she’d made hers with Emilia over a weekend. The stereotype about sapphics is that they fall hard and move fast. Was Scarlet throwing herself at the first person to want her? Was she not taking this seriously enough? Was Emilia? Within the hour they were done. The happy couple smiled, Lila bouncing in her seat in celebration as decisions were finalized. Emilia’s calligraphed model contract was passed around a final time with notes in bright red pen, and Scarlet’s notes were bursting with new words she would need to find online; shibari, harness, inspections, and something about “submissive posture”. Lila sat with a straight enough back that Scarlet knew it meant something else. Scarlet could only speculate, but the care with which Lila and Chris talked about this contract, it may as well be their marriage certificate. She made a mental note to ask about this hobby later, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d either gone in over her head, or somehow dug the ground out from under something that deserved better care than she gave it. The conversation slowed as the sun started to turn golden orange, the magic hour signaling the end of their meeting alongside Emilia’s alarm. “Did we forget anything?” Chris questioned before standing, placing his jacket over one arm and helping Lila up with the other. “I believe that’s everything on the business end. I suspect you’ve got other questions however.” “You know me too well.” “It’s only been a decade at this point, Christopher, give me some credit. Are you going to ask about next month’s potluck?” Emilia leaned back, eyes betraying only the smallest hint of exhaustion setting in. The whole room had been a honed and focused machine, despite the bizarre subject matter. A long day at the office. Clients wouldn’t agree on how often remote controlled vibrators are going to be involved, Scarlet mused. “You do know me. Yes, I was wondering if you were coming at all, let alone had a date. It’s been a while since—” “I am,” Emilia cut in, the only change in her demeanor that Scarlet could detect were the daggers in her eyes and the tense line her lips formed. “I will be there. A date can be procured but I fear I won’t be bringing any pastries at all. I’m more interested in seeing my old friends than I am in baking.” Scarlet hesitated, seeing confused faces all around. Lila, like Scarlet, could tell the discussion was something Chris and Emilia didn’t want at least one of them to hear. Judging by the look on Christopher’s face, however, he wasn’t quite following along either. “Well, feel free to bring the dishes then,” Chris was stuck in thoughtful looks. Scarlet could tell he was piecing together his coded responses on the fly. “Are baking and the potluck somewhat…mutually exclusive?” he asked, his hand gesturing as he translated on the spot. “At least for the time being?” “I may have found a new recipe I’d like to try,” Emilia confessed, nodding in thought as she spoke without meeting Chris’ gaze until she continued. She didn’t need the buffer time he apparently did. “I would rather like to practice making it before I show off to everyone.” Scarlet was torn between active resentment at being talked over and anxiety about the subject matter. What could be so secretive that they couldn’t discuss this after describing how often Chris and Lila used long term butt plugs? The magnitude of importance unnerved her. “A new Red Velvet Cake?” “Angel Food cake, actually. I obtained the recipe, then some advice from Damian and Annalise.” “I’ve always thought of you as the one giving advice.” “I’m still working my way up to miracles. Once I do, I’ll let you know.” Chris sighed, then let out a breathy half-chuckle as he stood. “I think that’s all of our time then, Lila. We’ll pick up the contract on…?” “I’ll drop it off the instant it’s done, expect it at your door.” Emilia had drifted in her chair, completely turned away from her clients as she spoke over her shoulder. “I don’t trust couriers with something this important.” “And that new recipe? Scarlet, have you tried it?” Chris looked expectantly to her even as he helped Lila into her coat, the smaller woman almost swallowed by it. “I’m…no?” She cringed at herself. To call her befuddled response an answer was generous. “So you don’t have any interest in a picnic? Maybe a buffet–” “Yes, Christopher, I was going to have her try it. Are you happy now?” The groan was evident in her voice, but as if for emphasis, Emilia leaned back in her chair, her annoyed reflection barely visible in the window she now faced. “I’m lost. This was…a cake? You can’t expect—” Scarlet wasn’t given time to voice her frustrations. She’d been shoved into the spotlight after being talked around like she wasn’t there, combined with the pair’s attempts at talking in code as if to mock her. Her anger threatened to flare again. Emilia pinched the skin between her eyebrows. “The potluck is a long way off, Scarlet. I wanted you to meet my friends, assuming you felt up to it and the venue wasn’t too…bougie for you. I wanted to wait to discuss it, that’s all.” Lila met Scarlet’s gaze, a similar trepidation on her face. She pleaded with her eyes, more afraid of the context than Scarlet’s anger. The girl opened her mouth as if to speak her mind, stopped, then finally forced the words out with a crack in her voice, “If you want, Mistr—um, Miss Kane, I’d be happy to um…bake with her?” Christopher and Emilia both turned to look at Lila, Emilia spinning in her chair like a supervillain to face her. Lila’s eyes met Emilia and Chris’ each, then nodded to them. Scarlet could tell the other young woman wasn’t quite as lost as herself. Lila didn’t like being talked around either, and perhaps she was looking out for Scarlet. “Lila is very good at making angel food cake and more. Quite the little baker!” Chris nodded as he spoke, agreeing to something that still eluded Scarlet. Emilia’s thoughtful look returned, eyes locking on Scarlet. The younger woman felt her spine go rigid as she sat up, feeling like she was about to be punished despite the present company. Emilia’s silence lingered, looming over the room until she freed Scarlet from the quiet tension. “Saturday, ten o’clock?” “It’ll be a fun little playdate.” * * * The door clicked closed behind Lila and Chris, and Scarlet spun on her heel to storm back to the office. “Care to let me in on this one? I don’t like being—” “Told what to do?” Emilia let the corners of her mouth curl, her dimples appearing with her smile, eyes half closed like she needed to sleep for twelve hours straight. “You could’ve fooled me, princess.” “Emilia, this isn’t fair!” Scarlet rolled her eyes at Emilia perking up, ready to pounce. “And no, I don’t need a title because it sure sounded to me like rule fucking one got broken in there!” Emilia closed her mouth, blinking at Scarlet. Almost like she was impressed. For some reason that still made Scarlet happy. She’d actually avoided a rule infraction given the context, and made her girlfriend proud. “I didn’t put you in danger, dear,” Emilia explained, leaning back slowly in her chair. The powerful expert domme wasn’t operating at full power, worn down by a long day and having the air taken out of her sail by Chris. “Really?” Scarlet crossed her arms, squeezing herself until almost white knuckle. Maybe the pain would help her focus and decide between seething or explosive fury. “Was I supposed to gather that when you were talking about cakes? ‘Cause for all I know, you just gave me to them for some, like,” she stammered, floundering to explain her fear. She didn’t want to believe Emilia had somehow given the couple permission to dominate her, or traded her away like property. She blinked, shaking her head and realizing those weren’t likely. “Speak your mind.” When you’re honest, I feel safe. You’re not being honest. “I don’t like being talked around like I’m stupid, that’s what’s on my mind,” she spat the words out before her feelings betrayed her further. “You aren’t stupid. The ‘code’ isn’t so that you can never understand. We did have a bit of fun at the expense of Lila and you, however.” Emilia’s small smile hadn’t left her mouth, and it stiffened here, looking unnatural for an instant. It could’ve been a mask or the real her, and Scarlet couldn’t tell which was scarier. “That’s not a great way to treat an employee, let alone your girlfriend.” “It is an excellent way to tease my submissive, however.” Emilia giggled at Scarlet’s pout, even as the joke made them both soften. “I do apologize, though. Chris wasn’t supposed to bring anything of the sort up before I was ready to explain in detail. I wasn’t trying to hide anything, just avoid overwhelming you. And he wasn’t exactly gentlemanly with you.” “Explain what in detail?” Scarlet pleaded. She found some validation in Emilia’s apology and explanation, but not enough to stop her from feeling lost. “The potluck is an event with friends like Chris and Lila. Couples with dynamics like ours, either friends of mine or other couples I've counseled for in the past.” Scarlet looked to Emilia with more confusion before a few revelations struck. “Wait…so you would’ve invited me to that, and Chris…Chris knows we’re dating?” “He could’ve put that together. Specifically he knows you’re my submissive.” The two weren’t interchangeable. The implication wasn’t lost on her. “Why? What else does he know? Did you tell him?” Emilia sighed. “I’m sorry. I confirmed it to stop him from getting any cruder. I trust the man with my life but he wasn’t exactly full of social graces when we met and hasn’t gotten any more tactful.” She stood up from her office chair, walking to the front of her desk. Scarlet resisted the urge to reach out, even as the taller woman was within arm’s length. “So he was being gross about me? What did he say?” The frustration of not knowing weighed on her. “He was trying to make a stupid joke at your expense. He’s a chauvinist but he’s my age, not a frat boy. To be completely transparent, he knows you’re my submissive, a Little, and Lila invited you over. I’m not ordering you to do anything, and I wouldn’t have agreed if I thought he would do anything to make you uncomfortable.” She was lost as to how to feel. Indignant? Frustrated, surely. It was comforting that Emilia was looking out for her, but it had been Emilia who introduced the man to begin with. “So what am I supposed to do? What would I even do over there? Is this…is this a sex thing?” “No, no,” Emilia held back a laugh, and Scarlet blinked back a pang of hurt. Emilia noticed the change immediately, softening. She could tell Scarlet was feeling the acute, anxious pressure of the unknown but found the idea preposterous. “No, dear,” she repeated, gentle and understanding. “Nothing like that. We aren’t the type.” Scarlet tried to fight how Emilia’s simple change in tone made her feel so much safer. She still felt small, but unlike before, she wasn’t being dangled over the lions. She was experiencing the barest hint of being cared for. She sniffled before she spoke,“The Eyes Wide Shut type? I bet you’ve got a mask somewhere.” Emilia smiled at the joke before leaning back to sit on the edge of her desk, thinking. “I’m not ordering you to do anything. I’m not even going to force you to go over. But Lila wanted to host you, and I’d like you to go, if only to make a friend in town. You don’t have to do anything there that makes you uncomfortable, okay? This isn’t the same as calling red to one of my instructions.” When Scarlet didn’t respond, Emilia changed her approach. “You didn’t make a contract with Christopher did you?” Scarlet shook her head, blushing at the change in tone again. Emilia went on, layering the mommy voice on further, “And you didn’t make rules with Lila, correct?” “No, ma’am.” Scarlet’s voice cracked, so soft it didn’t even carry. “Then who did you make a contract with?” Emilia smiled, her voice even softer, still patronizing, but tender, like practicing flash cards with a small child. “You, mommy.” Her blush grew tenfold as she said the words out loud. There was something so humiliating and exciting about it; being talked down to, pushed to talk like that, and wearing a diaper under her work clothes. She felt lightheaded for a moment, then saw Emilia’s amber-gold eyes, a sunset through crystals, locked on her. Scarlet looked away, still feeling small and stupid at needing the explanation and the comforting. Her boss opened her arms and the shorter woman pressed her face against Emilia’s shoulder, hands softly resting on her boss’ collarbones. “It’s not some orgy thing? She just wants to have lunch or something?” “Exactly, princess. And anything beyond that you two have to agree on.” Emilia shifted to hold Scarlet, still leaning against her desk but now with Scarlet standing between her legs. “Like what?” Scarlet still couldn’t look up at her girlfriend, trying to soothe herself and save from trembling in Emilia’s arms. “Coloring and playing with dolls, whatever Littles do together,” Emilia giggled at Scarlet’s expense again. The girl gave a halfhearted stomp of frustration, her body too electrified and nervous to accept any more laughing against her. “I tease. Scarlet, you’ve heard her contract, she’s got Little-type interests. I suspect that if you ask her, she’d talk to you about all of that, since you already know how often Christopher puts her butt plug in.” “Ew,” she deadpanned. Both women were aware of the unspoken hypocrisy of the supposed disgust when it was coming from the girl who had grown a recent interest in pissing herself. “I just mean that she’s much more experienced in this than you, and she is probably going to be able to answer any questions about the submissive side of the experience. You don’t have to decide yes or no right this second. But I do think it would be fun for you to have a little playdate.” “Yes mommy,” Scarlet rolled her eyes as she answered, still hidden by virtue of her face being pressed into Emilia’s skin. “I felt that, bunny.” Scarlet giggled at being caught, and was rewarded with a light slap on her padded butt. “I promised I’d take care of you. I won’t let this happen again,” Emilia whispered once Scarlet had come to rest against her once more. “You super promise?” Scarlet didn’t know where the juvenile phrase had come from, but it felt right to ask. In the moment, it had the gravity of how serious they were when making their rules, how solemn a vow Lila and Christopher had made. “I’ll do you one better: It’s a super mommy promise. Unbreakable, on pain of death,” Emilia tried to look resolute and noble, but both women giggled and broke the facade. “And you promise to be good on your playdate, princess?” Scarlet took her cue and ran with it. “Super princess promise.” “Good girl.”

[15- did I scare you] The cab driver was the same, but today every single bump and dip in the road made Scarlet’s head swim in throbbing, painful sensations, like the shock of jumping into freezing water, all contained inside her skull. It was not a migraine, or a hangover—she knew how to remedy those, even as she got older and they got worse. No, this was from missing a dose of her medications. She’d been so caught up in her time speaking to Emilia that she’d missed it, and she was paying. A sip from her coffee helped her head, even as her hand shook. The only cure for it now was more caffeine and praying, frankly. Doubling morning meds wouldn’t help anything, and she’d just have to wait it out. God I want another burrito. She fished her phone from her jacket pocket, finally trying to dress for the cooling weather, and gave Velásquez’s five stars and a little blurb about how well their food traveled. The cabby pulled to a stop, he was paid his usual fare and tip and Scarlet was out and headed to the elevator. Somewhere between déjà vu and a recurring dream, Scarlet lingered on the plaque on the directory. Scarlet did not think of her boss as the proprietor of Kane Arbitration & Mediation Legal Services this morning. How do you do this sort of thing? Act normal? I’ve fucked coworkers before, but this is a little different than a cute hostess…right? The poor woman only got more flustered as the events of the weekend came back to her in flashes. She stood there, struck by her own depravity and remembered the culmination of their prolonged date, wetting herself willingly, and then an orgasm inside the wet diaper. Scarlet bit a knuckle and, finding the elevator only halfway up and herself the sole occupant, allowed herself a small stomping release of blushing frustration. Her appearance was already returned to its proper neat and prim status by time the elevator doors opened. The door to the office was already unlocked when she arrived six minutes before the start of her shift. Scarlet entered hesitantly, like she was expecting an ambush on the other side, but the room was silent. She could hear movement from Emilia’s office, the sliding of steel cabinets and clicking of heels. Scarlet took a sip of her coffee again, set down her bag, and went to face the awkwardness head-on. “Em-Miss Kane?” Scarlet corrected herself. Emilia turned from an open file to look at her with a small smile. “Good morning, Miss Finch. How long until my first appointment?” The words were distant, but the tone was pleasant, more than just office familiarity. Scarlet already knew, but stumbled over her words anyway, unsure how to act. “Uh, about an hour until your first call, Miss, and you have the follow up appointment with Christopher and Lila this afternoon. Did you need anything from me beforehand?” She stood there, scanning her boss’s face, trying to make sure she hadn’t done anything wrong in the short time since they spoke and now. Her head buzzed, uncomfortable pressure making her feel a little dizzy mixing with fluttering, blooming feelings. If Emilia noticed, she didn’t say anything. She moved around to the edge of her desk, closer to Scarlet, and sat on it like she had last week. “Then you can drop formalities until then. How are you, dear?” The tone was unchanged, but her smile brightened. Scarlet couldn’t help but feel a flutter of delight as she watched her boss turn back into her girlfriend. This was the woman she’d kissed in the moonlight. “Good,” she said, dumbly, wishing she could describe how she’d actually felt. “I wasn’t sure how we’d handle things, even with the rules, if I'm being honest.” Emilia beckoned her closer with one finger, and Scarlet obeyed. The taller woman took the coffee from her shaking hands, setting it down on the desk and then gently resting her palms on Scarlet’s hips. “I think that’s natural. It’s new territory,” Emilia said, in a low, conversational voice. Probably to assuage her nerves, Scarlet assumed, but it only elicited a different kind of physical response. “Unless stated otherwise, be mindful of what you call me, say, twenty minutes before someone’s supposed to arrive?” Seemed reasonable. Seemed—rational. Seemed…practiced. Did Emilia think about this a lot since Sunday morning, or— Scarlet nodded, banishing the thought, and placed her hands on Emilia’s shoulders, at first for balance, then to feel her defined collarbone through her blouse. “I can do that. Are we still on full rules otherwise? Like, calling you a title and all?” “I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Emilia smiled, leaning in, giving Scarlet’s lips a delicate brush of her own. “Two questions, dear. Do you have your lines from your punishment last night?” Scarlet blushed as she nodded, feeling small. She retrieved the folded sheet from the pocket of her skirt. Scarlet watched Emilia unfold it and examine her handwriting, not realizing she was holding her breath until her boss gave a small smile. “Good girl,” Emilia purred, making Scarlet give a bashful grin in return. She wasn’t used to such an overt desire for praise. Emilia cleared her throat and continued, “Secondly, is this lipstick the same kind of lipstick you wore on our date?” Scarlet turned her head in confusion, wanting more of a kiss and to make sense of the question. It took her a moment to respond, trying to remember. “Yeah, the same brand and line. Why?” “Because it held up very well on our date. I wanted to make sure before I smeared your makeup everywhere.” Emilia leaned back in, kissing her with deep, firm intent. It reminded Scarlet of their first kiss, the tension leading to it, and made her just as happy. Scarlet let her hands wander to the back of Emilia’s head in a happy clasp of prayer around her lover. “You’re very smooth when you want to be,” Scarlet couldn't hide the smile in her voice once they separated. “And you are quite the kisser.” Emilia’s smirk returned and Scarlet could feel her eyes scanning her. “Is everything all right?” The swimming, buzzing sensation hadn’t entirely left her head, but Scarlet nodded anyway, coming up with another excuse on the spot. “I just,” she started, finding an actual concern along the way. “I believe you when you say it, but it’s hard to accept. I’m really not in trouble anymore?” “You’re really not.” Emilia leaned in and left a gentle kiss on Scarlet’s forehead, the instant of contact pressing right on a nerve that lessened her head’s dizzying sensations. “Besides, you enjoyed that first spanking so much, I figured they could mostly be a fun pastime, rather than a punishment. Just don’t lock your knees next time. It makes it harder to breathe.” Scarlet blushed, hiding her face in Emilia’s shoulder as she realized the truth in her statement. Scarlet had panicked and done the exact wrong thing at every turn for her last spanking, and that had probably only made the situation worse. Emilia lifted her hands from Scarlet’s hips, one resting on her back and the other to the curls on the back of her head. The taller woman’s arms comforted her as they wrapped, holding her tight. “I’ll have to get started preparing for that call and the rest of my meetings soon. Before that-” Emilia said, a soft-spoken, almost tender voice that Scarlet recognized from when her boss had to plead with her to breathe. “I’m not going to hate you for earning a punishment. Your ex maybe gave you a bit of a complex over little things like that?” A reflex, a kick from her heart, and Scarlet realized she wanted to defend Barbara. In the before-before, they’d loved each other, and if anyone had done anything to hurt each other intentionally, they would be equally culpable. Besides, her parents were the original designers of many of her complexes. Another, just as vocal shard covered for her instead, “None that I didn’t say last night.” It was a shallow deflection, even for her. She wanted to have something more clever to say, or to even be righteously indignant. How dare Emilia play psychoanalyst first thing in the morning! Her brain raced, not with clever subject changes, but with snippy, crude barbs to match the pain inside her skull. She didn’t like that impulse. Emilia’s hands didn’t allow her the satisfaction of getting angry. She could feel fingers run through her freshly washed curls. Scarlet couldn’t help but allow the tension drain from her shoulders, something she hadn’t realized had happened. “That’s my princess,” Emilia cooed. Scarlet could hear the smile on her voice as it took on its saccharine, tauntingly sweet tone. “Ready to get to work?” * * * Scarlet could hear snippets of her girlfriend’s voice down the hall as the day started to pass in a rhythm that was growing familiar. She noted how even if she couldn’t quite make out the words, Emilia always signed off a call with the same lilting, almost birdsong-like cadence, and it always made her ears perk up. The work was slow, the content often dull, but Scarlet could always feel her motivation improve with a stray thought of Emilia’s smile, her eyes, her dimples, how muscular her back looked… Scarlet shook her head to clear her thoughts, and when she opened her eyes again, the ping of a message from Emilia appeared on her monitor. Can you come back and we’ll start planning lunch? The woman smiled, typing a quick confirmation before gathering her things and heading to Emilia’s office. When she arrived, Emilia was bent over the bottom drawer of a cabinet, holding files in her arms. “Can you hold these, Miss Finch?” When Scarlet was done staring at her boss’s ass, she took the growing stack of files, struggling momentarily to balance something tall enough to block her vision. “Rearranging? Or should I shred these?” “Something like rearranging,” Emilia replied, and Scarlet could hear the nefarious grin in her voice. Scarlet looked at her, puzzled, unsure how someone could manage to lay a trap just by rearranging a filing cabinet. It only took the time Emilia needed to arrange the files distributed throughout the drawers above before her evil plot was exposed to Scarlet. Emilia returned to her desk, reaching under it and producing a tote bag full of something that made loud, plastic crinkling as it moved within. Scarlet’s eyes went wide in recognition. Emilia reached into the bag, and placed baby oil, wipes, powder, a small box of trash bags, and finally the bag of megamax diapers into the bottom drawer. They’d bought multiple of each of the changing supplies, and Scarlet deduced this wasn’t her girlfriend’s entire supply, but that only made her ears start to burn more. Emilia closed the drawer, and sighed contently at a task completed. She looked over at Scarlet, who felt her face get ever so slightly warmer and her pulse accelerating as she looked away. Those were the ones we bought together, and she’s going to keep them here? Scarlet’s thoughts raced, her pulse turning an ignition key inside her still swimming skull. Another thought came, one that diminished the slight enjoyment she derived from such an embarrassing, patronizing, controlling gesture. Has she been planning this since then? Or has she done this before? Has Emilia done this little dance with a new hire before? Her employer spoke, and she was forced to focus, if only momentarily, “I wanted to be prepared for when I want to play with my favorite toy.” Scarlet couldn’t help but feel her eyes grow big, giving Emilia a pleading, eyelash batting look as she melted on the spot. She was still torn between her anxieties and enjoying Emilia’s domineering performance, but the latter was definitely winning out. “Use your words, bunny,” Emilia cooed to her before giving a dark chuckle. “Do you have something to say before I send you out for our lunch?” The simple, cloyingly sweet words made her hands shoot up to her eyes, eliciting a whine and a shake of her head. She cleared her throat after a moment and answered with a small but noticeable quiver, “N…no... mommy.” “Good. I’ll have to order more soon and keep a pack here. Care to go to the little bistro down the block today?” She’d never moved so fast to do a task at work in her life. * * * “So be good and finish all of your drink, and I’ll go easy on you. Deal?” Emilia smirked, looking across her desk at Scarlet. They both poked at soups and salads, though Scarlet had turned bright red and was gazing intently at her lunch to avoid her girlfriend’s dominant gaze. “Something tells me you ‘going easy’ on me is still going to fry my brain.” Scarlet tried to quip back, but regretted confirming how susceptible she was to Emilia. “Oh? And what makes you think that, Miss Finch?” “Call it a Woman’s Intuition,” she answered between bites of lunch. “Or basic pattern recognition.” Scarlet was a bit proud as Emilia had to cover her mouth to laugh. The prim and proper woman wasn’t so disastrously mannered to speak with a mouth half full, even covered (unlike Scarlet), but her retort caught her mid bite. “Mouthy, always getting the last word, don’t you?” Emilia laughed, finally clearing her throat of her choking hazard. “I wonder how sassy you’d be if you couldn’t talk? I’ve got a gag or two.” Scarlet swallowed her nerves and the remainder of her lunch. “Like…like a gag where I can’t close my mouth but also can’t speak? The little red ball kind?” She felt her face turn red with a simultaneous shock of fear in her eyes. After Emilia nodded, Scarlet panicked, scrambling for a defense. “Is that really a good idea? Like, I kind of shut down…I couldn’t talk for a bit, right? Does that not seem…like smoking in dry brush?” “Ah, clever little thing.” Emilia smiled, taking a long sip from her drink. “When doing a scene like that, where someone cannot speak, it’s best practice to use some kind of hand signal or gesture to answer the dominant or use a safeword. We would establish that before I limited your speech or restrained you.” Scarlet nodded sagely, trying to follow along, or even appear like she understood, even as her swimming head struggled. Scarlet winced as Emilia’s eyes lit up, not even trying to hide that a new, nefarious thought had just crossed her mind. “Maybe since you’re a little, it should be baby sign!” “Baby sign?” “Baby sign language? Simplified ASL for tiny baby hands to talk to their mommies and daddies before they can say a lot of words. Would you like that, baby?” “Emms….” Scarlet gave a quiet whine, hiding behind the plastic bottle of her drink as the thought set in. She couldn’t think, too flustered from her ears burning and her head swimming, to fully decide if she liked the embarrassing notion. “Aww, are you getting shy, sweet thing?” Emilia’s cooing turned up a notch, the intensity telling Scarlet she was on the prowl, looking to back her into this wordplay trap. “I think it would be sweet. Kind of like taking a Mommy and Me class, right? And if you do go nonverbal again, it might actually be helpful for asking for things, no?” Scarlet finally conceded, unable to fight as her body responded to Emilia’s tone, finishing off her tea. She focused, only acknowledged her embarrassment and the small, enjoyable flush of arousal. At least, she told herself that she wouldn’t acknowledge her impulse to avoid asking for her wants like a leper. “I’ll learn them, I guess.” Scarlet poked at the last bits of vegetation and her bread, trying not to think of a Mommy and Me class with the domineering woman. “That’s ‘yes, mommy.’” She corrected, finishing the last of her own drink. “Yes, mommy,” Scarlet obeyed, another small smile growing. “Sorry.” “No problem, bunny. Mommy is going to excuse herself to the powder room. Enjoy the rest of your break and then make sure you’re back in work mode before the two pm appointment, she’ll be here in person.” Emilia slid her office chair back as she spoke, gathering bits of trash. Before leaving, she produced yet another gift from under her desk; a massive canteen water bottle made of hard, shiny metal. It clanked and thudded as it landed on the desk, making Scarlet’s head sting momentarily. “And I expect you to drink this throughout the day. I want it at least half empty by end-of-day, understood?” “Yes, mommy,” she repeated, and let a quick thought cover her blushing. “Any other surprises under that desk, Miss Poppins?” Emilia gave her a raised eyebrow, but Scarlet could tell she was suppressing a grin at the younger woman’s jokes. “It’s a title! ‘Miss Poppins’ is a title.” “Not helping your case, little one,” Emilia said, gently scratching Scarlet’s scalp as she passed towards the front door. Scarlet let a meek smile grow at the praise. “I had a few more lined up.” “You’re lucky you’re cute. No more, okay? Back to work.” She looked down, then back up to her girlfriend. Emilia returned her concerned look. “Can I,” she stopped, looking for the words, “can I say one more?” Emilia raised an eyebrow. Scarlet quickly continued, “If it’s not funny you can count it against me?” “Are you sure about that? That’s a dangerous precedent.” “I was gonna call you ‘the Bride of Frankenstein’.” Scarlet saw Emilia’s eyebrow somehow go higher, and Scarlet giggled. After a moment, Emilia lifted a tentative hand to her head, before wrapping the shock of platinum blonde hair in her fingers. “I was going for Anna Paquin from X-men…” Emilia couldn’t hide a smile back as Scarlet broke out in laughter, and Emilia turned to leave, speaking over her shoulder, “Precedent set, little girl. Funny or not, I expect you to drink, understand? Be good.” Now that she was alone, hearing her girlfriend’s departure, she eyed the massive canteen warily. Her face turned red, and her leg bounced, trying to puzzle out the meaning of both Emilia’s order and her quip. * * * Scarlet was at her desk two hours later, hearing her girlfriend’s voice match their client’s down the hall, and she eyed the canteen warily. Her face was hinted flush, her leg bounced, and she had deduced the answer to her questions. She was already close to the halfway mark, as instructed, with a few hours still to go before her deadline. Perhaps that was too fast to drink. Or perhaps it was the androgen she took with her hormone therapy being essentially a diuretic. She merely had to wait until the client left and they had a long break before their final meeting with Chris and Lila. Scarlet had to pee like her life depended on it. Desperate, she began typing, I need to run to the restroom real quick, will I miss her on her way out for follow -ups if I go right now? Her leg began bouncing even faster, but she knew she wouldn’t sit here until she pissed herself. If she didn’t need to be there to make an appointment for follow-up, she would’ve already left. Both immediately before and immediately after were the only times she really needed to be at the front desk. Her computer beeped, and Emilia’s reply made her give a small seethe to herself, so long as she was alone. Are you asking me as your boss or? The implied ‘mommy’ wasn’t needed. It occurred to her that Emilia probably didn’t want any of their play digitally recorded. Miss Kane, that’s not funny. Hold her for five minutes. Her message was sent, she stood from her chair, only for her to hear the door to the office open. “fuckme,” she muttered under her breath, sitting back down and getting ready to do her job. A minute later, she was entering Emilia’s office. “She is scheduled for a week from today at 10:30, Miss Kane.” Scarlet stood there, her notepad in hand, under the assumption Emilia needed her for her secretarial duties. The smirk on her boss’s face told her otherwise. “I don’t think you give orders to me, sweet thing, either as my employee or my submissive,” Emilia teased, half sarcasm and half mocking taunt. She didn’t mean it, Scarlet could tell, it was merely a way to demonstrate her power in their dynamic. Scarlet opened her mouth, only to feel another painful pang in her bladder. Her face turned red, and she hid it behind her notepad. The cramps were still building, the dam near overflowing, and yet somehow…the pressure felt nice? “Aww, no hiding. Can you use your manners and ask again, bunny?” Scarlet couldn’t see her girlfriend, but she was certain that Emilia’s teeth had grown pointed like a devil’s as she flashed them in her smirk. She had no time to be coy and play into the humiliating scenario, even if she wanted to. “I-” she squirmed in place, both in pain and in embarrassment, interrupting herself. “Miss, I’m sorry, please, I'll be more polite with my words,” she scrambled for her words, moving the notebook down to give her domme a pleading, puppy-eyed look. “Please let me use the bathroom.” “That was much better, princess! One ‘sorry’ and two ‘please’s, I think you’ve earned it. Quick like a bunny, before you make a puddle.” Scarlet dashed from the spot, only slowing to toss the notepad onto her desk, open the office door and make sure no one would see her sprinting to the bathroom in obvious desperation. Once she was sure the hallway was clear, the ladies room door flew open and she claimed an open stall for herself. The relief washed over her, and she had to clench her jaw to hold in a deep sigh in the event someone else had been in the bathroom with her. She’d never felt her body relax as much as it had now, desperate pressure finally lifted from her poor bladder. Scarlet still allowed herself a deep breath, and got comfortable. She’d be there for a while. It afforded her time to think, but not much else. Had Emilia been plotting this as well? How long has she been hoping to do this to me? She thought back to how much water she’d been ordered to drink today and recalled a similar scenario over the weekend. I drank like four sippy cups full of fucking water! She’s been trying to make me desperate like this. What would she have done if I actually did lose control in the office? She shook her head, unable to help herself but laugh at the thought. She finished her business in the toilet—like a big girl, she grimaced to herself, imagining Emilia’s saccharine sweet taunt— and stood. Her missing medication dose reared its head again, making her dizzy and her brain throb inside its casing. Scarlet decided she was still miffed about how much Emilia had plotted this out, even if the sensation of relief (and ONLY the relief, she told herself) was nice afterwards. The walk back was filled with the click of her shoes on the floor, scoring her anger. She didn’t stop at her desk, instead heading straight back to Emilia’s office. “Miss Kane, I need-” she stopped her indignant speech short, getting dizzy again for a moment. When her eyes refocused, she saw Emilia standing next to the filing cabinet. Scarlet’s eyes went wide as she realized, the one she loaded this morning with the diapering stuff. “Oh, no need for formal work talk, dear. I think mommy is in and ready to take care of you.” She pulled the drawer open with one hand, not breaking eye contact with Scarlet as she produced one of the diapers. Scarlet wasn’t sure if she was dizzy now from the headrush of blood as she blushed, the embarrassment in general, her missing medications, or the mere prospect of Emilia diapering her at work. Her arms full, Emilia returned to her desk, moving the arm mounted monitor out of the way and clearing the few stray items temporarily. When Scarlet didn’t move, Emilia gave her a look of faux-confusion, as if the implied order was the simplest, easy-to-follow command ever given. “Hop up, Scarlet. I’m going to pamper you to help you manage all that water you’ve still got to drink.” “Miss…” she stammered, lucky that she had defaulted to something close to a title in her stunned confusion. “Yes dear? Do you need my help getting onto the desk?” Emilia smirked as the diaper, wipes, powder and oil were set on the desk. The open space was big enough to hold Scarlet, just barely, but it felt ominous as she loomed over it from the opposite side. “Mommy, this isn’t fair!” she answered, giving a meek little whine. She hated that she felt her skin getting flush at the prospect, her arousal fighting with her anger in her throbbing skull. “I didn’t–” “Scarlet, baby, this isn’t a punishment,” Emilia said. She was trying to head off what she imagined her concerns to be, but she was missing the point, she wasn’t letting her talk. “It better not be, because I didn’t do anything!” Scarlet paused, closed her eyes and took a quick breath, trying to force herself not to yell. Just as much of her had wanted to give in initially. But being talked over, the mention of punishment, the throbbing in her skull, maybe even just the audacity of the act in question? It was too much. Take your pick of which, or maybe all of them combined. She let her anger speak. “Is this what you do, plot all weekend on how to domme your employees? How many times have you done that before?” Both women blinked in recognition at what was actually happening, the words hanging in the air. “Miss Kane, I’m sorry,” Scarlet scrambled again, the second time in fifteen minutes to avoid catastrophe in Emilia’s office. “I…can see why you thought that.” Emilia looked at the diaper, pensive. Scarlet couldn’t tell if it had hurt the way she’d wanted to in her anger. She hoped more than anything before that she was wrong. “I didn’t mean it. I just–” “You’re fine to be overwhelmed, dear,” Emilia supplied when Scarlet couldn’t finish her own thought. She didn’t seem hurt, but Scarlet heard words she’d been dreading; “Does this mean you’re done?” Emilia turned back to her, looking more like she’d had an appointment cancel at the last minute, than the end of a relationship. “No!” she pleaded. It was so frustrating how she couldn’t manage to talk her way out of anything with Emilia. “No, not at all. I…” Scarlet cringed to herself. She’d done it again, stuck her foot in her mouth in anger. It was almost worse that this could be attributed to her medication slip, like she’d relapsed on her deplorable habits in more ways than one. “I take it back. I felt backed into a corner and I tried being hurtful. I’ve been miserable all day from missing one of my prescriptions and-” she sighed in frustration at herself, but was blocked from continuing. “Easy, easy, no harm no foul, dear-” Emilia cut her off, preempting the onsetting ramble. “We’ll dissect that issue with your medication another time. It takes much more to wound me than that. Are you okay?” The sudden tenderness in Emilia’s voice confused her, unsure of, yet again, why Emilia had deemed her so easily forgiven again. “That…that’s what you’re worried about?” She finally landed on, feeling dumb. “Yeah, I'll be okay. I don’t get how I’m more upset about this than you are.” “Being upset at a little verbal barb wouldn’t have helped,” Emilia said, sitting at her desk. “I think you can make it up to me by getting on the desk unless you’re tapping out.” Scarlet blinked. “And the answer is ‘no,’ I’ve never dated a subordinate. Colleagues, but not coworkers, and that was before I was a domme.” The small triumphant smile gave away that she truly hadn’t been hurt. Hell, she probably took it as a compliment, I improvised something so devilish that you assumed I was a practiced hand. “Oh.” Scarlet was always verbose and collected in these moments. She felt like she had shrunk in place, her blush returning despite herself. Emilia really didn’t care. She was able to handle Scarlet at her worst, most destructive tendencies. She can handle me, she shivered, the realization washing over her like the cold fall winds. She could be physically overpowered, outwitted, go blow for blow in quips, and do her absolute worst. Emilia would be on top no matter what. Scarlet felt her skin grow flush again at the notion. “Now, if that’s all settled, and you’re ready to be my good girl again? Up up!” Emilia sang, pointing at the desk before her. Scarlet took a shaky step to obey, earning a cooing, adoring look from her girlfriend. “That’s my good girl, much better!” Scarlet was lowering herself onto the desk when Emilia continued, “Just remember, the longer you protest, the better the chance they will hear you.” Her domme pointed to the computer screen, and a small security camera feed showed two people in front of the office. Scarlet’s eyes went wide as she recognized Chris and Lila opening the front door.

❤️ i love this story and working on it so much. hope people like it!

I’m so so proud of how this story is developing. You’re doing amazing stuff PC

Oh? Do you think that was intentional on Emilia’s part? Or is Scarlet misunderstanding? Does Scarlet have a safe word if she can’t say red?

Thanks so much for the comment, and I’m glad it’s connecting with people even if it means a lot of my readers have had some hard times. care to elaborate on the first point?

14- love-apple The instant Scarlet walked through the front door of her apartment, she felt the weight of the multi-day date land on her shoulders. It wasn’t uncommon for her, or most women who dated women from her understanding. Now that the date was over, she wanted to sleep by herself again. She wandered over to her couch to flop face first in exhaustion. The performance was over, she had taken her bow and gone backstage. Now, in the safety and seclusion of her apartment, she could do little more to damage how Emilia saw her until Monday morning. Tomorrow morning. She groaned, mouth muffled by her pillow. I need to do laundry, make lunch and dinner, make a shopping list for house keeping stuff next weekend, lay out my clothes for tomorrow, do prep work for Emilia’s meetings on Monday, her brain went into overdrive, the tasks now squishing her as they pressed her deeper into the couch. No…no, I can relax for just a bit longer, she told herself, willing it to be true. Hell, it’s a special occasion—it’s not every day I get done with such an…’interesting’ date. Groceries can wait till tomorrow night. Her phone quickly redownloaded food delivery, something she’d purged in the lead up to her move to save money, absently scrolling the local offerings. All the usual fast food, mixed in with things far out of her price range. Just when things seemed hopeless…a light rose on the horizon. “Velasquez’s?” she dared not get her hopes up. Many things had been left behind in her move from coast to coast. Among other things, California still had her blood family even if she didn’t speak to them. It also had her friends, many of the things she’d had to sell or donate before moving, and of course her ex-fiance. The only thing that had hurt as much as ridding herself of her keepsake belongings and relationships was the knowledge she’d never have a good burrito again. But here it was, a beacon to her and only her, the West Coast Transplant. Few reviews, but each was eloquent and glowing, reasonably priced items but with mediocre quality photos. All the tell-tale signs of a hole-in-the-wall that was a secret local treasure. And by god, it was beautiful to behold. Scarlet’s mouth began to water as she ordered. She sighed with satisfaction at a reasonable total, made a mental note to review it after, and got up to busy herself. No sense in being restless when she could at least attempt being productive. She gathered a laundry basket, the same one that was falling apart from her former apartment in the Bay, and tried gathering up enough of her workwear from the previous week along with her date night outfit. She was preparing to navigate her building’s laundry room, when she caught her reflection from the bathroom mirror as she moved down the hall. She blushed, allowing herself a shy smile, the mirror reminding her that she had ended up wearing Emilia’s shirt again. She was practically swimming in the oversized top, but it still managed to hug her curves to make her feel femme. Her smile spread in the reflection as she lifted the neckline to her face, attempting to give her reflection a coy, teasing smile from behind the material. When she got a whiff of the soft cotton, she got the barest hint of a scent. Lavender, fresh sheets, and peaches. Smells like Emilia, she realized, unable to even attempt to suppress her smile. Scarlet shook her head, but didn’t lose the fuzzy feeling the revelation brought. She decided to change into clean panties and a cute pair of high-waisted shorts, but stayed in the silly college shirt to enjoy the rest of her Sunday. She got back to her living room, and decided to crack open the rest of her wine. Pouring a glass, she got out her work laptop and attempted to remember one of her streaming passwords. She had put on clean and comfy clothes, poured a drink, settled on a show, and got everything just how she wanted when the food finally arrived. The delivery app had shown her all the best signs of a perfect local restaurant. The sign of a perfect restaurant that traveled well? A greasy bag, lots of napkins, and the styrofoam was hot to the touch. She was in heaven. She hit play, unwrapped her burrito, and took her first bite. No. Now she was in heaven. A good veggie burrito was hard to do well. Fast food selections ended up being rice and beans and low quality lettuce, lest you request a million add ons. This was expertly made. Seasoned sofritas, perfectly proportioned chipotle sauce, spicy salsa that wasn’t so spicy as to be distracting, and how do you make Mexican rice this good? Scarlet wanted to cry, feeling at home for the first time in her new apartment. Drinking shitty wine, eating a Very Good Burrito, and streaming a so-bad-it’s-good movie. Like she hadn’t left the Bay. Almost. The sickeningly sweet wine paired perfectly, clearing the pallet in her mouth and her memory, refreshingly kind, and slowly building a flush on her cheeks and with a pleasant buzz. It was allowing her to finish her food and make the trek down and back with her laundry with a tipsy smile. The sun started to get low in the sky, the early autumn air turning crisp as it slowly darkened her windows. Scarlet decided she was craving a smoke now, and cleaned up after herself before making her way to her balcony. The lighter flickered in the wind. “Fuck, I missed you,” she whispered after taking her first drag. She was speaking to no one in particular, save maybe the cat on the next balcony over. If she was honest with herself, she wanted to smoke more. It felt good, and not a lot had done that for her the past year. Hell, I think I came more this weekend than I have in…the last six months? But there was the fear of how indulging would affect her. A million anxieties swirled inside her heart every time she considered small joys. A cold wind grabbed her hair as it blew. Have I truly gotten better, or just better at hiding it? Emilia doesn't know me. She hasn’t seen it. She isn’t obligated to stay if my brain goes bad again. She tried to take a long breath and ground herself, but the thoughts just kept circling. She let out a deep sigh, and allowed herself a few final thoughts. Might it be harder to date with her personal fragrance being the smell of smoke? Maybe her voice will get deeper and scratchier in an unsexy way, sounding more like a man than a husky, sexy singer like Scarlet saw for other women. Would she get sick like her mom had? When the honeymoon butterflies die down, she’ll see me for my flaws, she finally concluded. If you don’t iron out the flaws, plaster over the cracks, then it’s just a mark against you, for all the issues themselves and your inability to fix them. And I can’t promise that’s the last time I have a breakdown around her. Her phone buzzed in the pocket of her shorts, allowing her to stop her spiral. She took another drag and checked, almost dropping her cigarette when she read the text. Scarlet wanted to spit over the side of the railing. ‘Went to our spot on the beach, can’t stop thinking of us getting drunk here when you first moved in. Miss you hon.’ “You bitch.” She wanted to tell her how she really felt. “Missed me enough that you picked her, huh Nicole?” She didn’t think there were the right kind of emojis to portray being abandoned by a best friend. The only person she’d been able to tell besides her psych about struggling, emotionally and with her relationship. And now, she was doing a pity check, and all Scarlet could feel in return was spite. She went left, taking the high road away from Nicole and Barbara both. ‘Is it cheesy to say I miss you?’ She hit send before she could worry about sober consequences, and only had to wait a moment before ‘delivered’ blossomed to ‘read’. ‘As cheesy as fondue, but I like fondue,’ Emilia replied. ‘It was my pleasure, sweet thing. Thank you for a lovely weekend.’ Scarlet felt a wide smile, then looked around to make sure she wasn’t grinning like an idiot while on display for someone else to view. After confirming she was alone, save the orange tabby from next door, she giggled to herself and prepared a response. ‘YOURE the sweet one’ she typed, punctuating it with a blushy emoji smile. ‘We can both be sweet, silly. I trust you are behaving? I expect you to be a good girl even when I’m not around.’ Scarlet blushed again, crossing her legs. ‘yes ma’am i did laundry and ate, prepped for tomorrow.’ She rushed to correct herself, ‘yes mommy*’ Scarlet bounced in place for the duration of the heartbeats it took to watch Emilia text, reconsider, delete, and text again. ‘Good catch, Bunny’, punctuated by a small kissing face. Scarlet swooned at the pet name, torn on if she wanted to hear it from Emilia’s mouth right now or if that was too much sapphic yearning. There would be plenty of time for that later. ‘Thank you!’ she giggled as she typed, deciding to keep going, ‘what occupied your day?’ ‘Meeting up with an old friend, Damian. You’ll probably meet him eventually.’ ‘Gossiping about me?’ she teased. ‘I did tell him I had a lovely date with a lovely young woman. He understands that a Lady doesn’t kiss and tell.’ She blushed deeper, pounding her fist on the balcony railing in lieu of a squeal of joy. The cat slinked away, giving her a look. ‘whatr you and mystery mr damian up to?’ Instead of an answer, a pause, followed by: ‘Can I text you back after we get done? We’re paying the bill and I’d rather not make him feel ignored.’ ‘Oh, yeah, of course. Don’t text and drive okay?’ She cringed again at herself, thinking, She’s a genius with more money than you've ever seen before and you think she needs you patronizing her? C’mon. She huffed, and worked on finishing the cigarette. God she wanted another, but that’s how it always starts. Slopes are made slippery by vices. Or addictive chemicals at least. Why did I feel the need to patronize her? Patronize. Why can’t it be ‘matronize’? Ugh, you get dysphoria over the stupidest shit. Scarlet got out a second cigarette, sparking so she could let the embers and smoke blow away, scattered like her thoughts. Still can’t wear blue dresses. The remainder flew by, ashing on a tray she’d brought from the Bay. Barbara didn’t smoke, and had no use for it, so Scarlet had packed it. She didn’t like thinking about her previous balconies, the one shared with Barbara or her depression cave of a bachelorette pad. Shivering as the sun finally finished setting, she put out the cherry and went inside. Scarlet told herself she would be more diligent in keeping the ashtray clean. It was one of a million small things that started to slip once things started to get bad. I wouldn’t have forgiven me for that many small things, either. That’s not even counting the Big Things. Too much straw and not enough camel. She huffed to herself, mad at how quickly her mood soured. Scarlet remedied it by pouring more wine and sitting in front of her couch. It had been how she’d always watched when her laptop was on a coffee table, but now it served as an additional reminder of how she’d coped yesterday. She scrolled back up, rereading the texts to recapture the blushy feeling of being Emilia’s plaything. A commercial interrupted her reading and her show, and so she allowed her attention to wander, looking over her apartment. Even as it started to feel like home, it was still lacking. It felt desolate, stale, like a set missing a good prop master. It lacked heart. Her heart. Decor she had picked out over years, now resting in peace with new owners or in some landfill. One corner of her lips dipped into a frown. Her eyes scanned the blank, barren walls, and she eventually landed back at the multicolor tattoo on her arm. Maybe I should get another pet. Her phone buzzed again, and Scarlet’s face turned to a relieved smile seeing it was from Emilia. ‘Updated. I can voice text until I’m home. What do you think?’ A second message made her phone chime, and Scarlet struggled to identify the image Emilia had sent. Opening it, she recognized the last third of the test contract Emilia and her had hashed out together. The new rule made her eyes go wide, the big bold number nine catching her attention immediately. 9) Scarlet will wet any diaper she wears unless given explicit permission not to. She cannot ask to be changed, checked or refuse to be checked nor changed. Emilia will change Scarlet at her discretion, but won’t allow leaking or rashes to the best of her ability. She blushed, a small fear from this morning now confirmed by Emilia’s suggestion. It is just a suggestion, right? She texted back in a flurry, ‘im not sure. you want that?’ Scarlet paced for a moment, and finished off her wine before finally getting a response. Each second between messages, her heart pounded under the ton of bricks Emilia had dropped. She forgot to blink until Emilia’s response finally arrived. ‘Your blush when you did it was just so adorable, how could I not? It was fun, correct?’ “Dammit, Emilia,” she whined to herself, just as frustrated at her girlfriend as she was that the wine bottle was empty. ‘Look, I said I didn’t want to, and even if I like bits of it, I dont want to do it everytiem!’ She felt her heart pound, and a mix of worry and anticipation filled her chest with a cold, sinking feeling. Was she doing the right thing by standing her ground on this? She never would’ve worn a diaper without Emilia, and she was open to that going forward. Was this another thing Emilia would end up correct about? Her brain always ended up back at the same question; Why did Emilia even want me to piss myself so bad? ‘Is this a secret kink of yours? Cause you wanna handle my pee so bad it seems like you’re REALLY getting off to it’, she typed, hitting send to try and cement her discomfort. A chime. A retort. ‘You didn’t seem to mind it once we were in my bed playing with one of my toys.’ To say Scarlet was split was an understatement. She didn’t know how to feel, still disgusted at the thought of her own urine covering her body. She missed the vibrator and being in Emilia’s arms. Maybe not the other parts. ‘Okay, but I still get to say no, right?’ ‘We agreed we’d try some things and if you liked it we’d talk about it as a rule. That’s all this is: consideration. I was certain you enjoyed it?’ Perhaps she’d been overly defensive. Getting tone from text was hard enough as it is, and she definitely could have been wrong, feeling pressured when it wasn’t there. And she had agreed… ‘And it’s okay that I don’t want to do it all the time?’ Her heart pounded in her chest, wanting more than anything for Emilia to be straight with her. She’d had a few no’s ignored this morning, afterall. The same kind of nagging doubts she’d had sporadically since Saturday morning had returned, but she couldn’t articulate it. She’d had a few no’s ignored this morning, afterall. ‘It says “unless given permission otherwise” doesn’t it? It’s just to make you blush and need mommy to take care of you.’ Emilia seemed sincere, and the logic seemed consistent. Her heart slowed down a hair, even as each beat gave a shiver of trepidation. ‘that s a little bit less daunting. I have to admit when I read it the first time it felt like way too much.’ Her hands shook. She quickly added, ‘You promise you’ll take care of me?’ She flipped the phone over and put it on the table, covering her face with her hands. The phone chimed, but she left it there for a moment before she could bear to turn it back over. ‘Until you say red, you’re my Princess.’ Scarlet let out a sigh of relief, a small blush on her cheeks as the tension in her body dissipated, smoke from an oven where her flesh was burned. Before she could respond, she got a series of chimes from Emilia as multiple messages rolled in. ‘Just walked in. I want you to know I mean it. If you want to say red, then our little arrangement ends, no hard feelings, you get your check. I want you as my submissive as long as I can have you and not a second less. ‘I had something else I wanted to suggest related to the section on punishments, considering how the other afternoon went.’ Another image, another close up on their contract in her notes app: a) General Accepted Punishments include but are not limited to time out, restraints, spankings, edging, orgasm denial, humiliation. b) Under no circumstances are things like ‘the silent treatment’ or overt shaming acceptable punishments. Both parties reserve the right to update this list. c) Being triggered is a valid reason to end a punishment prematurely. A small sniffle, overwhelmed at the gesture. She could feel Emilia reaching out, the text on her screen just as tender and caring as how her girlfriend had held her that afternoon. ‘are you sure? doesnt that defeat the point of punishments?’ She didn’t need to wait long for a response. Emilia was still attentive, reading and responding to Scarlet’s worries. ‘Of course I’m sure. The point of a punishment is to be forgiven and learn from your mistake, not to bring up traumas. I wouldn’t have told you I want to keep doing this if I wasn’t.’ She hesitated, then let her fingers type. ‘i’m forgiven for breaking those rules? Just like that?’ ‘Quite forgiven, I promise. And just to make it clear that things will be different in the future, a perfect example appears:’ Scarlet raised an eyebrow, not following Emilia’s logic. She wondered to herself, worried that this was a nicety, something insincere to placate her nerves. She fought the thought’s logical conclusion; is it really that easy to forgive someone? Another picture, and Scarlet raised her eyebrow even higher. It looked like the cup Emilia bought her, sitting on the breakfast bar by where she’d been that morning. It took Emilia’s follow-up text to clarify. ‘You forgot to clean and put away your sippy of milk and it went bad. Did you know oat milk smells just as bad as dairy when it sours?’ “Fuck.” Scarlet released a mortified groan, cringing at herself. One step forward, one and a half back, she told herself. ‘Emilia, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to, it was just an accident.’ ‘That’s okay, sweet thing. This isn’t yesterday. You’re not getting shamed or spanked over it.’ She hesitated, turning over the words she was reading in her mind. Emilia had taken her on an emotional rollercoaster this evening, and she was a little disoriented between the buzz and her own nerves. ‘youre sure?’ ‘Of course. I meant it that you won’t be getting shamed like yesterday. Besides, a spanking over every little thing takes the fun out of it.’ Scarlet sighed, relieved and happy that Emilia seemed to be on the same page. She was still embarrassed to need such considerations, and she didn’t like the looming threat; either of them ever saying red would lead to the whole relationship ending…but if Emilia was going to be this attentive to how she felt about punishments? Maybe this could work. ‘Thank you. I want you to know im still sorry, fwiw’, she typed. A deep breath of relief, happy the emotional weight lifted off her chest. Another ping kept her attention, and she realized how late it was getting, already past eight. ‘Well you’re still getting a punishment. Just not a spanking. And then you’re more than forgiven.’ She swallowed, nerves suddenly threatening to reignite. ‘Yes, Mommy.’ ‘Good Girl. I want you to write lines for me, and send a photo as evidence of finishing them. 25 times, “Good baby girls always help Mommy clean up”. Make sure to keep the sheet so you can give it to me at work tomorrow.’ “Lines?” She couldn’t help but blink in disbelief. Scarlet hadn’t had to write lines since middle school, maybe even earlier. More importantly, she wondered if this would really make either of them feel better. The circumstances were too similar to plenty of texts and annoyed reminders from her previous lives. She had gotten more than her fair share of warnings for overlooking “such simple and basic things”. The frustrated insults she started receiving afterwards had stuck with her. ‘Yes, Mommy.’ Was that really all she had to say? She felt a knotting, claustrophobic sensation in her chest as she recalled more and more. ‘Not that I’m complaining, she started, but are you sure that’s enough?’ A moment passed, she saw the small indicator that Emilia was typing and stopping and starting again, before finally Scarlet received a response. ‘Even good girls forget things, and it’s a mommy’s job to remind them. Does this have anything to do with what your ex said?’ She swallowed. Emilia was proving to have an annoyingly good ability to read her mind. ‘But im not ACTUALLY a child. I can take care of things. I wouldnt be a v good girlfriend if I couldnt. Im not going to be a baby the entire time were together and I dont think I want to be.’ Scarlet hesitated. She deleted the message. ‘its what started a lot of resentment with my ex. She had to clean up after me. I was being disrespectful by leaving stuff in my wake. ‘i didnt do it on purpose,, I mean it.’ Scarlet decided to try and play more coy so she wouldn’t have to be this exposed going forward. Scarlet ignored the chime of the stupid phone for a moment. She felt in over her head, frustration bubbling at having to share so much about her last relationship before she was ready. Emilia was owed that much, after her little meltdown. Finally, she faced the message. ‘I promise, you’re fine dear. Go find a notebook, you’ll feel better when you’re done. Trust me?’ She nodded as if Emilia could see her. Scarlet went to work scrounging up something to write on. She ended up settling on her notebook for work, and flipped to the last page of the legal pad to begin her so-called ‘punishment’. She blushed, recognizing how infantile and embarrassing Emilia’s lines would end up being. She silently penned ‘Good baby girls always help Mommy clean up’, and marveled at how bizarre it looked in her neat script. Her blush worsened at the implication. She was the ‘good baby girl’, and she had to be reminded of her few responsibilities when her mommy was around. She took a moment to cover her face, whimpering in frustration. Emilia is miles away, and I’m flustered over her making me write lines? She thought to herself. What the fuck is happening? She got back to work, wanting the humiliating task to be done with. ‘Good baby girls always help Mommy clean up’ ‘Good baby girls always help Mommy clean up’ ‘Good baby girls always…’ She finished, marveling at how much her mood had changed. The wild changes in her mood had almost left her drained, but she in fact did feel better. The humiliation had largely worn off about halfway through, and it almost became meditative if she let her mind wander. Like letting your eyes go unfocused, Scarlet allowed herself to ignore Emilia’s implication. It was fairly easy, at least, until her hand started to cramp. She had to lean back to frame the neat, organized lines for a photo on her phone. Twenty-five uniform lines, in delicate, feminine script. ‘Good girl! Does my princess feel better?’ She whined in frustration. Scarlet hated how Emilia was right. ‘Mostly. its not a big deal? And no spanking?’ ‘Like I said, little girls just need reminders sometimes. And not unless you want one!’ Scarlet laughed at the smirking face added to the end. It was a poor substitute for Emilia’s dimples and predatory grin. ‘Maybe a fun one, but not over this.’ ‘Well that’s all your punishment entails. You’re forgiven Scarlet. ‘im still sorry’ ‘And you’re still forgiven, bunny. Cross my heart.’

Such an incredibly sweet thing to say!! Thank you for reading 🖤🖤🖤 14 coming soon(ish)

that means so much to hear ❤️ I know most people don't comment but really, it's one of my only ways of getting feedback/getting a feel for what readers are thinking, since my beta readers kind of know the arc of their relationship and look for signs and such.

always love seeing you enjoying this! you're like my most consistent commenter ❤️

13- A white pond rose Scarlet wasn’t even sure if she asked out of her usual rested, spontaneous morning thought process or a simple, self-conscious need to pretend the rising sun erased the previous afternoon. Either way, she saw Emilia rub her tired eyes and sigh with a chuckle at the young woman’s question. “What made you want to be a lawyer?” She was still lying on Emilia’s chest, her body naked beneath the royal purple silks, save the white Megamax Emilia had wrapped her in before bed with affectionate, gentle hands. “It was just something I enjoyed.” Emilia covered her mouth to yawn delicately, and Scarlet puffed her cheeks at the non-answer. “Law school, for fun?” she countered, giving her partner a look of annoyed disbelief. She watched Emilia allow herself an eyeroll. “There has to be more.” “Oh, you know my younger self better than me?” She rolled her eyes in return. “Fine, I’ll rephrase it. What gave you the idea to be a lawyer?” “A much better question.” Emilia smiled at her, and she stretched her arms, gently jostling Scarlet with a giggle. “I was actually asked by a teacher to debate a persuasive paper we wrote when I was a sophomore. It led to the Debate Team, and then that led to studying law.” “Did the teacher ask because yours was especially good?” Scarlet watched Emilia’s eyes turn away, trying to recall the memories. “If we’re being honest?” Emilia began, a strange bashfulness Scarlet hadn’t seen on her before. It was still dignified, like she was confessing to taking extra portions from the charity banquet dinner rather than any transgression. “It was extra credit. I wasn’t going to pass the class without it, and my best friend at the time was in the same boat. If we presented our topic and positions well enough, we would pass, and I did. David did not.” Scarlet’s eyes went wide for a moment. “Did your teacher, like, pit you two against each other? Battle Royale shit to decide who passes?” “No, no. We weren’t debating with each other, just trying to be persuasive,” Emilia answered, eyes still lost in recalling the past. She turned back to Scarlet in the present. “I guess that technically makes the assignment more of a…call to action? David got tongue-tied and spoke over the time limit. His argument was good but he couldn’t really handle public speaking.” “Oh,” she responded simply. “So why were you failing?” “I was actually a pretty bad student overall until about then.” The alien bashfulness returned to Emilia’s face, her normally direct, confident gaze wandering away from eye contact. “No!” Scarlet gasped. Emilia? But she’s so… The silence in the room built, Scarlet decided to cut the growing tension. “That means we both were! High five!” When Emilia didn’t move, save an arching eyebrow, Scarlet took one of the taller woman’s hands by the wrist, raised it up, and celebrated with her girlfriend by proxy-five. “You’re quite intelligent,” Emilia said, taking back control of her hand to pet Scarlet’s hair, “but you also strike me as…one who struggled with traditional schooling.” Scarlet giggled at the colorful rephrasing of her two-point-two gpa in high school. “That’s a good spin on it. Promise me you’ll never be a politician, though.” “Oh, goodness, no. Can you imagine What would happen when one of us leaves the curtains open and they see a grown woman in baby-printed diapers?” she asked, one eyebrow raised as she teased her. Scarlet at first was touched by the undeclared hope she’d be in Emilia’s life that long. She recognized a relief that spread inside her chest, acknowledging to herself a lingering doubt that Emilia would want her. Then, as to not give away the interior revelation, she pouted again, much to Emilia’s delight. *** They went downstairs together, and Scarlet went about pouring coffee as Emilia began a breakfast of hashbrowns and oatmeal, and a side; a sunny-side egg for herself, and toast with jam for Scarlet, who detested eggs “more than orange juice right after brushing your teeth.” Emilia was plating their food when she looked up, appearing to have an epiphany to Scarlet, sipping her coffee at the bar. “I failed to ask you in kind,” she explained, turning to the younger woman. Scarlet had a turn to raise an eyebrow, mid mouthful of caffeine. “I failed to ask you your own question in return,” she clarified, bringing the loaded dishes over to her. “Why did you want to study poetry?” Scarlet’s host then passed her the cursed sippy cup, freshly washed and loaded with non-dairy milk. The order to drink was implied. “Well, I guess I’d say the same thing—I just like poetry.” She stuck out her tongue before taking a bite of her toast, relishing the sweetness of the jam. Emilia shook her head, tutting in mock annoyance. “I should’ve expected as much. Should I rephrase as well?” Scarlet nodded, chewing. “Do you have a favorite poem?” The question was innocent enough. Emilia meant no harm, Scarlet knew that. There was no way her boss could have known about the inscription on the inside of the engagement ring hidden in a drawer. It was to remain there until she could bear to find a way to rid herself of it, or until it was forgotten. She hesitated as she chewed, deciding to attempt at honesty. “’Wild Nights!’ by Emily-” she began, but stopped short. She shook her head, and tried again. I’m not to begin the new day with another pity party. Emilia blinked in concern. “Then again, Andrea Gibson. They’re pretty modern, but there’s a verse or so I loved from one called ‘Give Her’.” She sipped again, the caffeine soothing the sting from her own cowardice. “Can you tell me the verse?” Emilia leaned back in her chair, eyes softening as they waited on Scarlet. Scarlet claimed a breath, closed her eyes, and tried to recall the rhythms: “…I see your lipstick on a coffee cup and feel like I have never known a bruise. And I want to give it my best, and I want my best to be incredible because people take me serious, but I know I am a joke…” A silent second passed, and Scarlet blinked before continuing her breakfast, the satisfaction of sharing apparent. Emilia took another moment before speaking again. “Isn’t there any more? It feels like you ended it halfway through the line.” “There is,” she admitted, drinking from her maroon sippy cup. “But that part’s my fave.” “And is that the one with your name in it?” Emilia finished her drink as she posed her question. “Nope.” “Will you tell me the one it’s from?” “Maybe if you’re good.” *** Meals were finished, the younger woman was forced to finish an additional full cup of milk, the dishes were cleared, Scarlet snuck in her medications as Emilia helped her collect her things, and they both prepared for a shower before parting ways for the remainder of their Sunday. Scarlet studied Emilia as she finished laying out clothes on the bed next to her. A clean dress, a deep forest green and a black leather belt to accentuate her hips. The golden eyed woman then stopped in the doorway to the bathroom, looking back at Scarlet while she relaxed next to the outfit on the edge of a newly made bed. “I think before we call this date finished,” Emilia began, voice hesitant as she figured out how to best phrase her thought, “we might want to talk about going forward considering how yesterday went.” Scarlet frowned and looked away, and wished to be out of the spotlight for the rest of time. Fearing the worst, a change of heart, she gave a small sigh and replied, “Okay, sure.” “I want you to know that just because neither of us have personally dealt with that before doesn’t mean you did a bad job or that I don’t want to do this again.” Scarlet looked up in relief, then a wave of confusion took her. They hadn’t talked much after they kissed and made up, but she still was almost certain Emilia experienced an overwhelming reaction from one of her submissives before, if only because of how well she handled comforting the distraught woman. “Never? No one else has done that?” “Not tears like those, Bunny.” Emilia gave her a look that Scarlet couldn’t parse, splitting the difference between a comforting smile and pity. Not even the joy of one of Emilia’s adorable pet names for her could entirely douse the feeling. Scarlet brought her knees up to her chest hugging them close, looking away again, trying to not get angry about hypothetical pity. She could save it for the real shit. “Emilia—uh, Mommy. I don’t think that’s helping like you think it is,” she admitted, a bit of sting in her defensiveness. She immediately regretted it, but still resented feeling like she had to use a title now since she was still diapered. “Sorry. I wasn’t trying to be snippy or forget a rule.” “I get it. But you’re doing great, dear. I wasn’t trying to make you feel like you’re worse than anyone else.” Emilia being so magnanimous caught Scarlet off guard for a second. “You didn’t do a bad job submitting just because it triggered a bad reaction.” “Okay, but calling that a trigger is a little much, right?” Even as she said it, she acknowledged memories of a childhood filled with similar tones. The recollections harmonized as they started sewing their flesh together with memories of her ex-fiance, building a monster. She started fidgeting with one of the piercings in her ear and added, muttering mainly to herself, “And I think needing your kiddy gloves does mean I’m not up to snuff.” “I’m not a psychologist, but that was a bigger, more paralyzing kind of crying than I’m used to when giving spankings.” Her girlfriend approached, sitting on Scarlet's free side. “There’s a catharsis for both parties afterwards. Crying is release from pain in the moment, then relief as hormones and endorphins flow, and sometimes people go nonverbal then, and that’s fine—it’s not fine when it comes from…upsetting experiences.” The last words land delicately, like they would make Scarlet crack if they reached her ear without Emilia’s care. “Okay—I do not go nonverbal.” Emilia had struck a sensitive nerve, and it made her want to run her mouth again, more than was good for her. “People who are dealing with real shit have that response—actual trauma. Not women who had an ex that was not-so-nice, and parents that were really busy. I’m not the model for neurotypicals but I’m hardly that.” If Emilia noticed her slip of an overshare, she didn’t take it as bait. “For better or worse, I believe it’s best if we stick to ‘fun’ spankings only for the time being.” She put her hand on Scarlet’s shoulder. The younger woman rationally guessed it was to be supportive. That didn’t stop her feeling talked down to, that same sour distaste for pity on her tongue. “And as we go, we can keep trying new things slowly until we can feel out what’s too similar to those feelings. If they happen again, I’ll be here.” Scarlet looked to her domme, feeling her eyes go glassy. She would be there? She thought back to how this all had started, to how she made herself a parachute if things had gone wrong, and how much she didn’t want to need it. Then, a growing concern started forming in her mind. I needed a parachute to feel safe trying this, but I’d hate to actually need it. If she wants me to trust her, to figure out what’s so trigg—upsetting—about that kind of talk, but saying red is the nuclear option, then… “Penny for your thoughts?” Emilia asked, and Scarlet felt her thought fade— both from the interrupting question and as Emilia’s hand gently began scratching her scalp. The soothing sensation made her forget her surroundings for the duration of a blink. She decided to go with the last thing she could remember, saying “Just that I don’t want to get treated like I’m fragile.” “Oh, sweet thing, I don’t call you ‘Princess’ because I don’t think you can take the real deal.” The hand in her hair went to Scarlet’s chin, forcing her face to look up and lock eyes. Scarlet felt a shiver run down her skin as Emilia’s voice turned husky and low. “I do it because if you’re my Princess, then I’m your Queen. That means I and I alone, decide who gets the princess treatment. Understand?” She swallowed, nodding silently. “Then I refuse to hear you talking down on yourself any further.” Emilia stood, gave a wink, and kissed Scarlet on the forehead. The younger woman felt her face turn red and thanked god she was so gay. “Can I clarify anything else before I get in the shower?” Emilia asked, gathering a fresh towel and bringing it with her to the bathroom door frame again. Scarlet would’ve had a better chance of getting ice water in hell than to remember her original concern, but something else was starting to bother her. A growing need she’d hoped to avoid when she was put in the thick, crinkly, padding. “Just…the toilet,” she muttered, trying to sound more like an adult than she felt, sitting in a diaper on the edge of her ‘mommy’s’ bed. Her ego wouldn’t have survived if Freud could see this. Another eyebrow twitch, arcing in curiosity. Scarlet could just imagine the musical sting in the movie of her life every time Emilia did it, but couldn’t pin down if it was playful and light, or a foreboding omen. “And?” Emilia made a show of standing in the doorway, grabbing the frame above her with both hands and letting her dimples return with her smirk. Scarlet held back a whine, both from Emilia’s imposing, albeit dashing stance, and the conversation she knew she’d be forced to participate in. “Please? I said I don’t do that, I don’t want to do that,” Scarlet replied, trying to cut the conversation off before it reached any kind of negotiation. Somehow, Emilia always managed to be the one with the upper hand. Scarlet tried to even the playing field, standing and walking up to her girlfriend, not even flinching. “And we also agreed to try it once and see how it is before saying no forever, didn’t we, sweet pea?” Scarlet huffed in annoyance, trying not to feel like this counted among Emilia’s little verbal snares. The ones from the date had been exciting, enticing, and this one held a certain…allure that she wanted to deny, but one she only wanted to entertain on her own terms. “Not now, okay? If we have a plan, a safety net? Then maybe.” She stood and tried to shoo Emilia from the door frame with one hand. Emilia didn’t budge. Her voice went low and husky again, her smile growing predator fangs in Scarlet’s mind. “Aw, are you sure Princess? There isn’t even a teeeny part of you that thinks you might enjoy being that small and blushy for your mommy?” A shiver went down her spine. It wasn’t lost on her that she was now just like the woman in her video, trying not to wet a diaper and being denied. Maybe she should’ve been firmer. Maybe she should’ve just called red right then and there. But she didn’t want this to end when it’d only just begun. She didn’t want to say goodbye right after Emilia just said she’d be there for her. Instead, she was too flushed in the face to put her foot down as she stood in front of her. “Emms~” she whined, sounding more like the toddler she was dressed like than she’d intended. Emilia pounced on the ambiguity. “Don’t you want to be my good girl? Can you be brave and try something new for me?” The taller woman’s voice—her ability to balance just the right amount of patronizing, sweet, encouraging, and commanding—all made her feel weak in the knees. Scarlet’s eyes darted around, her bladder starting to become desperate. “Babies try new things all the time, you know. How do you know you like something if you don’t? Even you tried cookies for the first time once.” Scarlet blushed harder, feeling her ears start to burn. She couldn’t deny that even as her muscles clamped tighter around her bladder, she could feel the pulse of arousal start to spread inside her. They stood there for a moment, Scarlet’s pleading, desperate eyes locked on Emilia’s, her golden jewels full of the saccharine, devilish smirk that Emilia was suppressing for the moment. Scarlet just knew by how her date was looking at her, the same look of a hunter eyeing prey she was familiar with from their date, that her blush was obvious. Scarlet began hopping from one foot to the other without noticing, and Emilia approached, slowly taking the younger woman into her arms. “I know it’s scary, Cookie, but I’m here. Mommy’s here. You can call red, or you can try to relax and let go. Mommy will be here to catch you.” Scarlet whimpered in the formidable arms of her boss, feeling both the comfort of a weighted blanket around her at the same time as it tried to strangle her. It took a moment to decide, Scarlet weighing her options from her spot, head resting against Emilia’s shoulder, the potential outcomes all scaring her and her bodily needs making it all the more pressing. Emilia began to rub her back in soothing circles while Scarlet agonized. She finally chose, breaking from the woman’s arms and going for the porcelain that had so much riding on it suddenly. Emilia turned around as Scarlet sat, willing her muscles to relax. When nothing happened, Scarlet looked up to Emilia, and blushed. “I…I think I just need some privacy.” Emilia nodded in understanding, but stayed silent, a twitch of the corner of her mouth wanting to smirk at Scarlet, the only betrayal of her true feelings. She returned to the bedroom and out of view. Scarlet sighed in deep relief, looking down at herself. She still had on the thick diaper, the lid of the toilet was still closed, and she was really going to do this for Emilia. *** The rest of the evening was a blur of firsts for her. Scarlet had never guessed she’d know what it was like to pee herself willingly, but the warm, soggy padding enveloped her. She never thought she’d see such a surprised look on Emilia’s face when Scarlet called her back, nor getting to watch with a bashful smile as her domme processed what she saw. She’d never imagined a tall, domineering woman leaning over her and darkly whispering, “See, good girls use their diapers, and good girls get rewarded by mommy.” She’d never dreamed of feeling this kind of burning, blushing arousal without even being touched. And, by proxy, she never thought the act of wetting herself would wind up with the two of them in bed together. Scarlet was quickly whimpering, whining, trying to stifle moans of pleasure as the vibrator from the previous night made contact with the squishy padding around her crotch. Emilia supported Scarlet, letting her lean against her chest as she sat up in the bed. Emilia gently pushed the vibrator harder against Scarlet’s diaper, causing her face to turn even redder as the vibrator head reached the perfect spot. Her legs quivered, and she heard Emilia chuckle in her ear, a menace in her voice that made Scarlet perfectly imagine the older woman’s dimples and predatory gaze. “So much for someone who doesn’t like her diapers,” she whispered, causing Scarlet to whine. Of course Scarlet tried to rationalize to herself, tried to tell herself it was only the vibrator and the humiliation, exacerbated by the unique feeling of the padding. This logic only conjured Emilia’s speech from the night before. You want to let go and be controlled but you will not say it out loud. Instead, you want to resist and be forced to comply. The heat in her cheeks increased, sweat starting to bead on their bodies where their skin touched. Scarlet felt the shame, the embarrassment of knowing Emilia had read her like a book from so early on. She was being controlled, and she adored how it made her body shake with pleasure and her heart race. She nodded meekly, a small squeak of acknowledgement at her Mommy’s statement. “Such a good girl I have!” Emilia suppressed another laugh, instead leaning into the baby voice, like she was praising an actual toddler, or a puppy for learning a trick. “Can you be good enough to remember to ask before you make cummies, baby? You’ve been so good for me, even if you broke a few rules, today and last night. Can you do it again, Scarlet?” Scarlet couldn’t hide the moan this time, balling her fists and hiding her face in her lover’s chest. She’d managed to do this in every conversation since their date started last night—saying just the right thing to make her face feel like it was on fire. She was running out of time, and she knew Emilia would need an answer, and not just another nod, if experience had taught her. The cool metal of Emilia’s nipple piercings against Scarlet’s skin relieved some of the hot shame while she whimpered and said, “Yes. Yes, Mommy.” Her mouth ran frantic. “I can be a good girl. Please, Mommy. Please?” “Please, what, my Princess?” This time Emilia made no attempt to hide her chuckle. Scarlet could clearly decipher the grim laugh’s glee and sadistic satisfaction of dominating her, making her blush, and the pleasure Emilia got from it. Likewise, Scarlet made no attempts to hide her whine, more pathetic than she’d intended, equal parts desperation, humiliation, and arousal at being treated this way, like a toddler learning her manners. “Ohh, baby. Baby babble like that doesn’t count, no matter how cute. I need just a few big girl words from you. Can you do that?” Scarlet was out of time, Emilia’s sickeningly sweet tone, the same venomed honey she used to make Scarlet squirm under her thumb, combined with the vibrator, and her own humiliation was too much. “Please!” she begged, forgoing any self-respect or dignity. “Please, Mommy, may I make cummies?” Her voice was a whimpering, desperate and pleading voice, as high and small as the first moans of a powerful, flooding orgasm, despite still being on the runway. “Yes you may, precious thing. Go ahead, good girl.” Emilia relented, not even giving the pretense of making her hold it. Scarlet thanked god for that, as she immediately felt her sensitive, throbbing girldick shoot a warm, sticky load into her already soaked padding. She moaned, a falsetto squeak, into her lover’s chest, while Emilia continued to coo to her. Emilia slowed the speed of the toy as Scarlet finished, letting her catch her breath, and then removed it with a soft toss to the other side of the bed. Scarlet curled tight against Emilia as she panted, and Emilia’s arms wrapped tightly around her, and gently started rocking her submissive. Their hot, sweaty skin slowly cooled, and Emilia made no attempt to further humiliate Scarlet while she held her. Scarlet would later have to process how she felt about wetting herself and then being treated to an orgasm, but that could wait. For now, the two stayed there until both their hearts returned to a resting rate, and then got in the shower.

That’s such an understandable anxiety to have, and unfortunately it came from some real life parallels for me too 😅 if Emilia knows one thing, it’s handling a submissive’s headspace and I try really hard to keep that consistent, even if I’m sprinkling hints in about the other aspects of her character as the story progresses

12- and they will be simple Her pulse pounded in her ears as they approached, the master bedroom now held the menace of a firing squad. Scarlet was barely able to move on her shaking legs, drawing closer to the edge of the bed where Emilia sat. The smaller woman felt her throat go dry when she got within arm’s length. Though the walk had taken mere seconds, she could not shake the feeling Emilia’s scowl wasn’t the same kind of play-acting disappointment as before. “For the sake of this being your first punishment, I want this to be crystal clear for you,” Emilia began, throwing her hair over one shoulder as she crossed her legs. Scarlet couldn’t read her tone. “Emi—er, Mommy,” she corrected herself, knowing that it would earn her no favors if she continued to make mistakes. “I’m sorry, please, I didn’t mean to hur—” “Of course you are sorry, you are getting punished,” Emilia cut her off, eyes locked on her. Scarlet wanted to wither under her gaze, and a cold shiver ran down her spine. “Save it for after. I want you to kneel.” Emilia pointed to the floor in front of her. Scarlet swallowed, and obeyed despite their dynamic being nothing like this prior. The plush carpet would certainly be more comfortable than the hardwood downstairs, but she still couldn’t help a growing dread as disappointment radiated from her girlfriend’s face. Emilia now loomed over her, the mere two or three inch difference in height now magnified not only by Scarlet’s spot on the floor, but by her own withering expression under Emilia’s gaze. She squirmed under her golden eyes, and hated to admit she enjoyed feeling smaller than her. If Scarlet hadn’t been in trouble, she might even be happy kneeling. “I want you to tell me,” Emilia brought her shoulders back, her chin up, speaking slowly and clearly, “why you are being punished.” The young woman’s heart had not stopped pounding, and now adrenaline made her stumble over her thoughts. She opened her mouth to begin twice before actually speaking. “I was given multiple warnings about using proper titles,” her voice quivered, “and about trying to find technicalities.” She swallowed, and her nervous, shaking hands came together to fidget. “But, I mean it, I’m so—” “Scarlet,” Emilia interrupted, her voice terse. “I gave one request, I did not ask for your commentary.” She folded her arms over her chest. The younger woman’s hands shook harder and she looked down. She managed a small “i’m sorry,” so softly whispered and where Emilia could not see her lips. It wasn’t even the tip of the iceberg for an actual apology, but it was clear to her that Emilia wasn’t interested in an apology yet. Yet, she tried to remind herself. Yet is the operative word. Her chest pounded harder as an old, familiar anxiety crept in. Scarlet slowly looked back up. If I could just say sorry— “Correct. Therefore, as part of the rules we both agreed to,” Scarlet could tell Emilia’s mind was in overdrive as she spoke, complicated consideration of each word and decision behind her eyes. She spoke, “You’ve earned a punishment. I didn’t think you could earn one so quickly, but I seem to be mistaken. This will hurt more than last night overall, but be shorter, more intense. Concise.” The words rang in her ears, the lingering implications twisting as they reached her brain. She did not have the opportunity to dwell on them long, as Emilia used one hand to give her lap a firm slap. The message was clear: You have one chance to get over my knee yourself before I force you there. Scarlet swallowed hard, nodding to show her acceptance of the order, despite her body freezing in place. I really made her mad…but I earned this, right? She did not remember standing, or lowering herself down, or the beginning of her girlfriend’s latest order as she settled her core onto the larger woman’s strong thighs. “—and if you try to block my hand I will start over, understand?” Emilia’s tone was serious, but calm, lacking the expected anger or frustration. Scarlet imagined the dagger look Emilia was giving to the back of her head. When she hesitated, a hand shot to her scalp and gripped her hair—not as tight as the night before, but tight enough to focus her attention. “Are you paying attention? Or should I add more—one set for the original disrespect and an additional set for ignoring me?” Scarlet panicked. “I was making sure you were done!” A gag reflex, an old standby when her brain took longer than the average person to comprehend. Her words hung in the air for a moment before Emilia relaxed her grip. Scarlet’s heart continued pounding, now for her own half-lies while already in trouble, her own brain betraying her. She could feel the soft material of the tights against her skin, sliding down to her knees as Emilia prepared her. “Fine. No blocking my hand, but squirm and cry as much as you want without getting out of my lap. Am I understood?” Scarlet nodded, almost missing the hand in her hair, if only for the moment she could pretend it was a loving touch. Instead, Emilia’s hands grazed Scarlet’s hips, hooking a nail then popping each tape on the diaper in sequence. If she wasn’t so terrified, she would’ve been impressed. The phrases and commands resonated in her chest, eery echoes of her childhood. Scarlet’s stomach dropped. She swallowed again, her throat still dry and cold, all energy of life fleeing in her fear. The back of her diaper was pulled open, softly crinkling as it unfolded, and cool air directly touched her bottom for the first time since being taped into it on this very bed. A sudden, sharp SMACK cracked the air. Scarlet’s bottom began to burn from the impact, no warm up period like the night before. She yelped, a small squeal of pain escaping. “Which rule is it that pertains to titles, Scarlet?” Emilia’s voice was stern, but still lacked anger. It was impossible for Scarlet to parse if she was putting on a persona to fulfill the punishment or even if she truly wasn’t upset. The uncertainty unnerved her. SMACK. Her right cheek was greeted by a second surprise spank. “Uh, Rule Four?” Scarlet wasn’t sure anymore, and her voice said as much. Emilia’s hand landed hard on her left cheek. That’s the one for calling her a title right? Or am I misremembering? Five? Will I get punished more for speaking wrong twice? “More specifically?” Again, unreadable. She felt her panic rise as the spanking continued, four more spanks landing, spiking her heart rate with each blow and speeding along her train of thought, faster and faster. Or would this be the three warnings rule? Fuck, which one was that? “I’m to call you a title whenever…I'm dressed like this.” She finally confessed. She knew this answer was right, but the only response Emilia gave for a long time was her hand coming down and leaving stinging marks. “Correct. I didn’t force any of these rules, you wanted them just as much.” The words stung in Scarlet’s chest, still unable to parse Emilia’s performance or genuine offense, though the latter felt very believable. The stinging strikes continued as Scarlet realized, I do want them…I just messed up. Please— Emilia was not as distracted as Scarlet. She continued, “You helped pick them, and you agreed to honor them. This is what you’ve earned.” Heavy, the newly minted truths weighed on her. I do deserve this, she agreed, though the thought was unable to escape through gritted teeth. The pain and intensity of the spanking had already reached the worst heights of the night before. She lost count of how many times Emilia swatted her butt before she continued, “You’ve had rules for all of what, five hours, if that? And you’re already here over my lap for punishment?” Scarlet bucked as another hard SMACK rained down, at first unable to help her reaction. A sudden, desperate urge told Scarlet that she could save her relationship by not shouting or squirming, so she decided to lock her limbs, bracing around Emilia’s. If Scarlet’s domme noticed, she didn’t comment. She’s right though. It’s my usual routine… The spanking continued and Scarlet screwed her eyes shut tight. Why did I think I was ready for this? Just for being horny? I’m not good enough for a relationship, this is proof. Burning pain continued building in each cheek as her ass continued to be pummeled, followed by a growing weight of a cold, familiar feeling in her chest. It took her a moment to remember, but the dawning recognition was ominous as lightning on a clear day. No.Nonono. Please, I know that’s not what— She cut off the thought, trying to force it out, not even the recognition of what was coming could be allowed in her head. This sounded too similar, rhymed too well with her past, and her eyes grew wide with panic. “EMILIA! Please, Emilia, I’m sorry!” She yelped, whimpering at each swat from her girlfriend’s hand. They slowed, and Scarlet was able to catch her breath. It was then she realized that her eyes were stinging with tears that refused gravity. From her position, she couldn’t tell the moment Emilia would resume. Scarlet waited for it like her turn at the guillotine. Emilia’s legs shifted under her core. Scarlet flinched, gritting her teeth, and braced herself… Emilia’s hand never came down. Scarlet hesitated, still panting, counting heartbeats, then opened one eye, daring to turn and look up at her partner. Scarlet watched as Emilia saw her move, then turned to face her, and a small smile appeared. “That was all of them, Cookie. Mommy just needs a second afterwards, too. How’re you feeling?” Scarlet didn’t respond. Instead, every part of her body started going numb. Emilia must have thought this was an indication of relief, as she merely giggled and guided Scarlet’s sliding body. She landed softly onto her knees at her girlfriend’s feet. She felt her eyes screw shut again. Emilia used a few soft fingers to turn Scarlet’s face back to look at her. Scarlet had to blink a few times, letting her stinging eyes calm. She could make no tears fall. Her vision focused. She saw Emilia, still dimpled and smiling for but a moment. She watched Emilia blink into soft concern, gold eyes searching her ruddy, russet ones. Some part of Scarlet knew that Emilia was reading her now. The parts of Scarlet’s brain that still cooperated knew she’d need help in a moment. She watched Emilia’s mouth move, probably calling her name, but heard nothing. The taller woman’s hands moved, one to caress Scarlet’s cheek, the other gently petting her hair, tousled from sweat and movement. After a moment, she could hear the soft reassurances from her partner. Scarlet felt the cold linger. Frostbite clung to the inside of her ribcage, stinging the tender parts within. She slowly lowered her head into Emilia’s lap, unable to feel the needling pain that was surely radiating from her bottom, nor the endorphins that she imagined repeating their performance from the night before. Instead, she let out a shuddering, painfully shallow breath. Her body started shaking, deep grief now escaping the cracks in her best forward face. The next breath was more stable, but every third inhale wracked her body. It took only an instant for Emilia’s hands to move, supporting Scarlet as she felt her body refuse to support her weight. She landed hard on her bottom, and threw her arms around Emilia’s calves. She pressed her face into her lover’s skin, trying to crawl into her and away from sight. Scarlet squeezed tight, and Emilia put a hand on her shoulder. Between slow, sharp breaths that struggled to provide enough air, Emilia’s tender words reached her. “Scarlet, I need you to breathe. Talk to me, are you okay?” She nodded to acknowledge her. It was a sign this was not going to be as devastating as it was the time with her ex. Both then and now, she couldn’t make her throat cooperate. “Do you need a minute?” Scarlet nodded again, and a hand began rubbing soft circles on her back. She took a few more breaths to try and calm down, still fighting how suddenly the feelings had overwhelmed her during her punishment, a freak storm on her clear day. “msorry,” was the first thing that escaped her mouth, her vocal chords numb, her throat tight. “msorry,” she continued begging, “donhateme. please.” Scarlet spoke an unfiltered harmony from twin hearts—one that begged her lover to forgive the transgressions against her, and the second pleading from beneath long healed scars that made fresh, new wounds by the day’s events. She was still pressed against Emilia’s legs when she felt the taller woman move. Emilia leaned over her, turning Scarlet’s head, permitting a sudden rush of air to come with it. Scarlet’s scattered senses could tell Emilia moved slow, not just for the adrenaline coursing through her body, but to be both tender and firm. Emilia pressed her forehead to Scarlet’s, heat started exchanging, and Emilia whispered, “You’re okay, dear. Breathe for me, and we’ll talk it through. Deeeep breaths for me.” Scarlet shuddered again, gasping. Crisp air returned, and she felt the muscles in her throat finally release their grip. They stayed there, Emilia guiding Scarlet’s breathing, allowing one muscle to uncoil from the white knuckle lock they had formed around her heart. The two women were silent otherwise, save the occasional pleading apology, accompanied by a gentle shushing. They stayed in that spot for a long, quiet afternoon. Scarlet’s breathing evened, and they did not move from their spot, arms wrapped around each other’s bodies. *** The light streaming into the first floor windows grew low, turning a brilliant shade of gold as it reached not-quite-sunset. Scarlet’s body had long since come down from the heightened state of emergency. Now when she checked in with her body, she was somewhere between empty, listless, and bored. Must be the bad kind of comedown from something like last night. The thought made her shiver momentarily, until a soft hand gently petted the top of her head—a familiar sensation that afternoon as evening approached. They had moved—Emilia first led her by the hand to the bathroom, where she let Scarlet wash her face and use the toilet, then down to the living room couches. She brought down a book she thought Scarlet would like, along with some kind of hobby kit. Scarlet’s brain had been so fried she didn’t retain the novel’s title. They settled, Emilia guiding her to the couch, until Scarlet had asked if she could sit on the floor by her legs. She remembered Emilia’s hesitant but comforting smile, “Sure, Scarlet.” Now she was here, leaned against the soft, cool skin of Emilia’s leg, fingers absently tracing the raised textures of the hardbound book cover. Carmilla. Like the drinks I mentioned? she mused to herself as she read the title again. Sitting like this, not unlike her kneeling before the spanking had begun, helped her remain calm. She’d sat there for god knows how long, Emilia diligently leaned over some craft on the coffee table. They were practically silent, the only sounds the soft scratching of Emilia’s pen and the occasional reassuring touch. The silence was nice in its own way, but every passing second made it harder for her to finally speak—and the longer she went without speaking, the more self conscious she was of what Emilia thought of her. “How long have we been down here?” Scarlet finally asked, breaking the shared simplicity of the silence. Emilia’s hand returned to Scarlet’s curls, gently brushing them clear of her eyes. “An hour and a half, maybe a bit more,” Emilia smiled down to her, contemplative furrowing of her brows accompanying her concern. Scarlet sat up on the floor, removing her weight from Emilia’s leg and resting against the couch. She could now see Emilia working on some art project, but it didn’t look like an illustration or scrapbook to her. “Sorry,” she whispered for the umpteenth time. She hated the compulsion to apologize. She knew it was all in her head. Everyone said the same thing. Emilia was gonna say— “There’s nothing to apologize for.” Her soft eyes warmed Scarlet’s chest again, even if she preferred the cool feeling of her skin on her cheek and neck. “I’m still embarrassed. When you took me here last night you didn’t sign up for…whatever that was,” Scarlet explained, dragging her fingers along the well-loved pages of the book. The sensation seemed to distract her brain from spiraling, and she continued to try and fidget without being distracting. “That may be,” the other woman began, capping her gold lined pen without looking, “But that’s what ended up happening. Has anything like that happened before?” Scarlet swallowed, closing the book again with a snap. “There’s…it’s the ex,” mostly. Her voice gestured vaguely, words omitting how much she knew. That wasn’t much, to be fair. The feelings came up from familiar sources, a deep wellspring of ice water from memories that were not dissimilar from each other. But why they were this intense, and why now? She couldn’t tell. “...I’m not sure I follow,” Emilia leaned into the back of the couch, looking down to her, but not down on her. It means I don’t want to dig into this with a new girlfriend. I didn’t want to break rules or have a panic attack when I have to take what I've earned. Ruin the afternoon. “I…wasn’t exactly expecting to be asked out when I moved here,” Scarlet began. Sometimes her mouth did this, running tangential to her thoughts, or parallel, but winding up at the point eventually. “I didn’t do the work to prepare and make sure I didn’t let things from my last ex interfere…cause I didn’t know you were going to do something like this.” She turned away, cheeks a little flushed, looking at Emilia out of the corner of her eye. Emilia’s dimples returned. Her soft smiles made Scarlet’s heart feel fuzzy. “Do you mean ‘something like this’ as in…being diapered, or as in being asked out?” Scarlet let out a giggle despite herself, bringing her hand up to her mouth, and she could see Emilia’s shoulders bounce in soft laughter as well. For an instant, she regretted that Emilia hadn’t tenderly diapered her again, craving the tender intimacy. Instead, she’d given her the cleaned panties she’d discarded the night before. Actually, she reconsidered, maybe not. If I'm this messed up right now, they might just make things worse. “I’ll let you decide,” she responded, looking up to the taller woman. “I just…it’s been over a year since I ended things with her,” it was critical to Scarlet she remembered that’s how things had gone, “but it was, like, a six year relationship. I didn’t want anyone to think I was still hung up on her.” Emilia reached a hand over and lifted a coffee mug from the table, sipping softly as she listened, like she had this kind of conversation every day. “Oh, I know you’re not hung up on them. You don’t move to the other side of the country if you were still hoping for things to work out. I just think you’re still mourning. A different matter entirely.” Scarlet frowned, thinking. Emilia certainly sounded wise. But given how she reacted to something that even vaguely echoed Barbara’s words when things were getting bad— “So what about that reminded you of your ex?” The words returned her to reality, with a sinking realization that she hadn’t been able to dodge the crux of the question. “I don’t want to get into specifics,” she tried. She desperately wanted the energy to put her mask back on, to move away from the topic. Even if it meant she didn’t come back to Emilia’s for kinky play again. “Scarlet,” Emilia grabbed her attention, a hand on her chin turning the smaller woman’s face. “The only way this works is if we trust each other. That was a fairly standard punishment and fairly standard treatment, at least from what I am accustomed to. I went light and simple in terms of how intense it was, comparatively, but it wasn’t supposed to be that…affecting.” Scarlet looked deep in her eyes, trying to find the truth in the words. “If you need something different from this dynamic, I need to know so I don’t cause you that kind of panic again.” Her brain translated her partner’s words; ‘If you can’t handle this, then I can get out the kid gloves.’ She was already a ‘Little’ of all things, it would make sense she couldn’t handle the real kinds of dynamics Emilia was used to. She cringed at the realization. “Not to mention how scared I was,” she looked away as well, Scarlet only catching a glimpse of the change in expression. “Right after my relief that you said I was a good mommy, I was terrified I’d really hurt you.” Emilia looked back to her, resolved, and said, “so I need you to answer me.” Scarlet’s eyes went back and forth, thinking, searching for an answer in anything that caught her glance. “I don’t even know how to explain the important parts. Something about the way you talked to me…hit close to home, I guess?” She was exploring as she spoke, unsure of where her words would wander to once more. This brought a thoughtful finger to Emilia’s chin. When she didn’t respond out loud, Scarlet sighed and continued. “Things ended for a lot of reasons. But the most important thing is that I wasn’t my best,” she pointed to her skull, gesturing ‘up here’, in order to explain what she couldn’t say. She saw the recognition in Emilia’s eyes, and looked away, hoping to avoid the piteous gaze that always followed. “So when I couldn’t really, take care of myself,” she continued, trying to rush to the point, “all of our fights became about how I wasn’t a partner for her anymore. I was a dependent, and a child, and an invalid.” She felt her face screw up again, tight and hot with stinging eyes. “Maybe she was right at the time to say I needed more help, but when I wasn’t able to help around the house and lost my job…the talk changed to being taken to an inpatient center, and being ungrateful for what she did.” The words kept spilling out, snowballing out of control. She didn’t like saying it aloud, even thinking about it made the memories weigh on her, ringing cold in her ears. She hadn’t been vulnerable like this, telling another partner, let alone her boss, in a very long time—If the meltdown hadn’t already done so, she was officially stripped of any chance of this woman respecting her. Scarlet brought her knees to her chest, and hugged herself tightly. Another memory bubbled up to the surface, one of the more upsetting fights, a signpost in hindsight to warn them both that things were not going to recover. Scarlet felt the words build in her mouth and overflow. “And just, I wasn’t even allowed to say sorry,” her mouth operated entirely on its own as she rambled into her knees. “No matter what, she just kept saying ‘don’t be sorry, just do better’. Like, I know she was trying to help, but between that and always being told I wasn’t doing enough,“ She breathed deeply, hesitating to commit completely and say the thing she had never spoken out loud. “It felt like she just wanted me gone. Long before it ended.” Emilia wrapped both arms around Scarlet and a hand in her hair. Scarlet shook off the return of the shuddering breaths. “Honey, no wonder you got so upset.” Emilia’s words were soft, barely more than a whisper as well, spoken into Scarlet’s wild hair, “It sounds like you spent a long time hearing those sorts of things, and they’re still with you. I’m no therapist, but I think the way I was talking was too similar to that, huh?” Scarlet merely gave a nod, silent again. “Are you getting those feelings again?” Another nod. “Stay with me, honey, focus on my voice.” Scarlet recognized the concern in her voice, and felt another wave of guilt as she realized what she was doing again. Making her girlfriend panic over her stupid insecurity. I’m sorry, I hadn’t even thought about those conversations in so long. I didn’t know. “Can you do something for me? Can you…” Emilia moved outside Scarlet’s vision, before finding what she was searching for. “Can you tell me about this tattoo?” Scarlet felt a finger gently outlining a long spot on one forearm, from where her sleeves would roll and up to her elbow. She didn’t need to look up to know which it was, just like she didn’t need to look Emilia in the eyes to know a grounding exercise to distract her spiraling. “That’s Slinky,” her voice cracked, eyes landing on the technicolor design of a cheery-eyed reptile. “He was my ball python from when I was a kid.” She was able to breathe deep, and a small smile formed. “You had a ball python?” Emilia’s finger gently traced the winding coils, portrayed as if he was wrapped around her arm like jewelry. “I didn’t know they came in a rainbow pattern like this.” She giggled. Everyone who asked said the same thing, but this repetition of conversation made her smile. “They don’t, he was pretty but a normal morph,” she started, her left hand going to pet where his head rested. “But he was so small and sweet. He was one of the only things constant in my life when I came out. My whole world flipped upside down, and within a year or two he was one of a handful of things that sixteen and twenty year old me had in common.” “So it’s a pride tattoo?” Scarlet nodded, looking up to her lover. “I can tell how much you cared about him. I also envy you for knowing so young.” “Knowing? That I was trans?” That caught her off guard. What could a rich, cool, hot lawyer envy her for? “I didn’t know I was gay until thirty,” she smiled wryly. Scarlet could tell maybe she regretted how the little distraction had panned out, but not that it had worked. Scarlet hesitated with her response. Blushing, voice only marginally louder than her previous whisper, she asked, “I wasn’t…sure about your age, and didn’t want to be rude.” “I’m forty.” There was no shame, or embarrassment, or eyeroll acknowledgement that someone would share with Scarlet to mask insecurity. “So…I've been out longer than you? Eleven years to ten?” “I suppose so, Princess.” Emilia let her hand move from Slinky’s portrait back to Scarlet’s hair, gently rubbing like before. “I think that means I should be in charge,” she laughed, earning a different kind of eye roll from Emilia. “Over my dead body,” Emilia squeezed Scarlet’s body, letting out a squeak and giggle from the sassy woman. Scarlet leaned into her girlfriend’s embrace once she’d settled back down, another small smile forming as their hands reunited and fingers interlinked. “So…are we good?” Scarlet’s nervous voice acted on its own again. “Yes, honey. Until you say red, you’re my Princess.” Emilia leaned over and kissed her forehead, tender lips meeting Scarlet’s skin. She realized how long it had been since they’d kissed, and craved it. “Thank you.” Scarlet turned to look up at her partner, and leaned in. “You are more than welcome.” Emilia leaned in too, and their lips met.

FINALLY fixed the formatting, idk why the text was so giant and bolded. sorry for the ugly text, i had to get help from a site veteran in order to get around it

11- come nervous brave Scarlet stood at Emilia’s sink with a grimace on her face. She knew she should be thankful Emilia had let her off easy. Again. But something about the way she’d been ordered had tweaked her nerves. “Be a good girl and clean up for us? I need to get something.” Emilia had winked as the sink filled, disappearing out of the kitchen. Scarlet had felt the butterflies return and eagerly jumped up to help. She was more than happy to NOT feel like a freeloader after someone cooked for her. It was Emilia’s echoing words from the hall that annoyed Scarlet. “After all, you are the sub.” A small laugh followed the statement. Scarlet, unfortunately, was one of those people; Happy to help, until directed to. It took all the good will out of the act! It made it a chore instead of a deliberate act of service! She rolled her eyes at her own unintentional pun, huffed in annoyance, and rolled up the sleeves of the oversized shirt. The day's dishes did not take long, gentle scrubbing being more than enough for the leftover oils and sauces. Once finished, Scarlet remembered the medications she had gotten with Emilia, and went to go take them from her purse. She unfortunately still had water in the ridiculous sippy cup Emilia bought. She unscrewed the lid and downed the pills and water all in one go, hoping to be done with the infantile thing for the day. Scarlet was treated to the ever present threat of nausea. The white triangles mixed in her stomach, and she gagged before sitting heavily on the couch, annoyed at her brittle constitution and her crinkling bottom. In practiced fashion, she stuck her head between her legs and squeezed her eyes shut, grateful that Emilia was not here to see her embarrass herself. The pressing feeling of vomit didn’t come, instead her stomach slowly settled. The pressure of squeezing her eyes shut helped, and the sensation passed. When she opened her eyes, she blushed hard. Scarlet was staring up her own skirt at the crinkling plastic diaper she wore, the infantile patterns peeking back at her. A green stripe covered by toy blocks spelling out her ABC’s decorated the disposable. She felt her face go hot, with a small, shy smile to go with it. Trying to stifle her embarrassment, she slowly rose from the couch, face still red and twisted in a vain attempt at nonchalance. She tried listening for her girlfriend, only to be met by the soft silence of the house. She got comfortable on the couch, like she had with Emilia earlier that morning. Clutching a pillow tight to her chest, she allowed herself to lie flat on her back, legs dangling over the arm. Scarlet’s brain was still focused on her blushing confessions from lunch, and the humiliation she endured while preparing it. She thought back to when Emilia had threatened, no, promised that she would have anal orgasm from her, and Scarlet felt herself involuntarily wiggle and press her hips down and into the couch. Time was not on her side, however. Her mind wandered, counting the times she heard a certain birdsong outside, or the number of times she was able to recite a poem committed to memory. It was her forth pass on Cerise/ streak across her cheeks. Blood-/ blistered, when she threw the pillow onto the couch with a huff and got up. Really, what would happen next was Emilia’s fault for making her wait this long. A short walk to the stairs and Scarlet could not see where Emilia had gone. She got the impression that she was not supposed to be following—maybe Emilia was in that forbidden second-floor room. A careful, quiet step up allowed her the confidence to try the rest of her sneaking mission. The lack of shoes and the soft crinkling did make her smile. Scarlet felt like a child tiptoeing through the house past her bedtime. A strange kind of glee filled her, a lightness in her chest not felt in a long time, and a small smile at the thought of something as silly as sneaking around. Was this what being Little felt like? She reached the top before she could find out. Sure enough, the forbidden room had its door cracked just enough that light shined through. Not natural light, but the warm, yellow-orange glow of deliberately placed lamps and fixtures. Scarlet could only guess what was inside, a red wall the only thing visible through the crack. Still at the top of the landing, Scarlet tiptoed closer, trying to see more. The wall wasn’t just red, but blood red. She squinted to try and make out more details. The door swung open. Scarlet’s heart flew up into her throat as Emilia stepped out with a small bag, locking the door behind her with a small key before she noticed the diapered woman at the top of the stairs. Scarlet stood there, surprise across her face, and suddenly felt self-conscious of the fact she was standing there in the oversized shirt, too-short skirt, and a diaper. “I wasn’t going to!” Scarlet scrambled to find a defense. Emilia merely raised an eyebrow, one hand depositing the key into her shirt pocket and finally resting it on her hip. “I was just looking for you,” Scarlet added, trying to save a small amount of face. “I finished quickly and got bored.” “Mhm. But I told you directly not to go in, right?” “And I didn’t, I was out here!” She stopped herself from saying ‘technically’. “Also, it was from before we wrote the contract. Invalid now—uh—ex post factor, or whatever.” A flimsy excuse, she knew it. But now neither of them would ever know if she was going to go in or not. Emilia laughed at the latin malapropism. “Schroedinger’s rule breaks will not result in Schroedinger’s punishments. You were trying to peek inside. What did I say about technicalities?” “Okay…” Scarlet finally conceded. She liked being teased, but was unsure why this felt different. She would have to think on it later. “What took you so long anyway?” “I checked on the garden first, that's all. Would you like to see what I’ve got?” Emilia motioned with the bag, dangling it over one shoulder as she walked further down the hall. “Of course!” Scarlet stopped, controlling her volume and to hide her eagerness. “Definitely no intent to puzzle out what’s in there.” “Too bad.” Emilia giggled to herself and dropped the bag with a soft thud onto the carpeted floor of the bedroom, turning back to Scarlet. “I want you to finish your bottle on the couch while I set up a few things for tonight.” “It’s not a bottle! And I did finish it!” Scarlet’s pout was becoming less and less ironic each time she did it. This order felt wrong too, like it also rode the fine line between fun teasing and a hard to articulate meanness. “Not yet it isn’t, Missy, but it could become one.” Emilia teased. “You are to go back downstairs and fill and drink it all again.” Her tone was that same sweetness that made Scarlet’s face bloom with blush, but something was wrong. Scarlet tried to reconcile the teasing threat, which was admittedly hot, with what she was now realizing felt like rejection. Was Emilia trying to get away from me? Am I being too much again? She felt her eyes go glassy for a moment, but no tears welled. A dozen rejections flashed in behind her eyes; desperate job interviews, romantic partners, even blood relations turning away from her. She wouldn’t allow the hot tears to get beyond that, and she did not want the pity that tears brought anyway. “Scarlet?” Emilia had watched as her emotions passed over her like a cold wave. “Did you hear me?” There was no angered urgency or scolding demand in her voice. Emilia was checking on her. “I, uh,” she stammered dumbly, trying to say something convincing. “I spaced. Sorry. I have to go back downstairs and drink another?” “That’s right, Princess.” Emilia smiled, and immediately Scarlet’s heart was lifted. “Just a few more minutes so I can set up a surprise for later.” “You um…” she swallowed hard, trying to synthesize the jumbled, tangled, hurt feelings into something concise. “Getting sent downstairs isn’t a punishment, right?” was as close as she ever got. “No, Scarlet. You’re not in trouble…yet.” She sighed, shaking her head. “But, please be good down there, okay? Play on your phone if you must, just a few more minutes.” Emilia walked the hallway, giving Scarlet a soft kiss on the forehead, and another on the cheek, before squeezing her tight. Scarlet, for all her jumbled feelings and unspoken thoughts, squeezed back. Emilia gave her a love pat on her padded ass as they separated, eliciting a giggle from them both. Scarlet refilled the stupid, cute, inane little sippy cup, and tentatively went back to sipping on the couch. She decided to check the stories from her friends back in the Bay. The same ones that had picked sides in her break-up, with half hearted attempts to check in on her. Probably just making sure I was alive so they wouldn’t feel guilty, she added grimly. People were enjoying the warmer fall on the west coast, and Scarlet’s jealousy flared. However, it didn’t take long before They made an appearance in a photo, causing Scarlet to solemnly lock her phone and drop it on the couch beside her, letting her eyes go unfocused in a thousand yard stare through the ceiling. Her former friends were moving on without her. Of course they were. They had lives without her. The new distance was not making her heart grow fonder for them, and they seemed to feel the same. She would not let any of them ruin this. She found herself on her back again, this time with the sippy cup beside her. Her first thought was to merely down the embarrassing drink, but instead…she decided to give it a whirl for its intended purposes. She was still diapered, she still liked the theoretical humiliation of what Emilia had ordered for her, so why not give it a go? Scarlet tentatively brought the maroon plastic to her lips, and gently sucked, not like she was pounding water, but like she was self soothing. She was rewarded with a slow trickle of water. A surprising sense of calm washed over the woman, who closed her eyes and drank deeply. Emilia was upstairs, doing grown-up things, and she was here, suckling her sippy in her diaper. It brought a flutter of excitement and made her smile to herself. Her imagination started to wander. Emilia coming downstairs, praising her for finishing the sippy cup. She’d then check Scarlet’s diaper, then, finally completely divorced from reality as Scarlet’s imagination was, take her upstairs to be dicked down. She squirmed happily, kicking her feet without a care in the world. The afternoon dragged on, and boredom set back in. Scarlet was feeling completely underwhelmed and understimulated by the infantile sippy cup and lack of social media that didn’t feature Them. Now her kicking feet were slowing, the placid touch of littlespace was diminishing, but her horny thoughts of being brought upstairs would not subside. Thankfully, Emilia’s heels began clicking down the stairs. Scarlet sat up eagerly, halfway through her drink, before her padded bottom settled on her feet as she finally saw her boss, her domme, her mommy, her girlfriend with her own eyes again. She squirmed happily in place as Emilia approached. “It looks like you do know how to listen. Good job, Princess.” Emilia smiled down to her as she approached, finally reaching Scarlet for a gentle caress of her cheek. The younger woman sighed contently at the praise. “Does this mean…” Scarlet spoke around the sippy cup at first, before turning red and realizing her mistake. She took it away before continuing. “Does this mean you’re done? We can…go upstairs?” She was usually far less meek about sex than this, but something about Emilia’s piercing gaze and dimpled smirk made her wither and blush. “Maybe after dinner, if you keep behaving.” Emilia cupped Scarlet’s chin with one hand before lifting it to a kiss. Scarlet couldn’t help but whine at the refusal, half whimpering and half moaning into the kiss as she returned it. They parted after a moment, and Emilia’s predator grin returned. Scarlet knew she had fallen for another trick. “Besides, you need to finish your drink, silly little thing.” Emilia giggled as the younger woman turned red again, retreating into the corner of the couch as she tentatively returned the plastic vessel to her lips. “am workin’ on it.” Scarlet lisped around the sippy cup, pouting slightly behind it. The small opening limited how much water she could get from it at once even if she wanted to down it like before. “Good, keep going baby. If you get fussy, I might have to put you down for a nap instead of taking you upstairs. Fussy babies who don’t listen don’t get to play, do they?” Emilia’s words were loaded with that same delicious condescension Scarlet was coming to enjoy. The taller woman sat next to her, and let a hand fall on her thigh, gently rubbing at the edge of her skirt. Her long, slender fingers fiddled with the fabric, dancing across a tattoo of a bouquet from years ago. Scarlet merely nodded, either at the implied proposition of touch, the threat of denial, or the encouragement to finish, she wasn’t sure. All three, if she wasn’t imagining things. She leaned fully into the couch cushions, and tried drinking faster. Emilia’s hands immediately began to wander, as Scarlet expected. She cupped the front of Scarlet’s diaper, murmuring under her breath. “Don’t seem to be wet yet.” She shifted to her knees and leaned over Scarlet. Scarlet’s legs closed in embarrassment, prompting Emilia to slowly force them open, gentle but firm. “No, no, honey. Let Mommy check, just in case.” Emilia’s devilish grin was suppressed only barely by her performance, taking on the appearance of a doting, concerned mother as she thoroughly squeezed, rubbed, and groped every part of Scarlet’s diaper. “I don’t do thaaaat.” She could merely whine in response, flustered. She was still red in the face, shyly staring down at Emilia’s roaming touch. She shook, trying not to thrust into her hands. She knew on some level every small concession that she made would just be more fuel for Emilia’s humiliating taunts. Part of her wanted to give in anyway, for the satisfaction and the teasing both. “And yet your princess parts are so excited?” Emilia had her dead to rights, and she knew it. Scarlet could hardly hide her arousal through the padding. Something about that new phrase, princess parts, left her feeling even smaller than the night before. Emilia’s words, combined with that firm touch, made her hand feel so much bigger between Scarlet’s legs. “Why might that be, baby girl?” She couldn't contain herself anymore. Gasping, Scarlet dropped the sippy cup and threw her arms around her domme's neck, meeting her boss’s lips for a hard kiss. Emilia returned the kiss, and Scarlet felt nothing but bliss. Their lips worked in tandem, giving her that pleasant floating sensation again. That is, until she heard a mysterious splashing sound in her ear. She turned away to see Emilia shaking the cup, sloshing at the bottom with barely a whisper of liquid. “Emilia, please!” Scarlet whined as Emilia used a hand to gently push her onto her back. “There’s barely anything there!” “Is that backtalk and the wrong name for the third time I hear, missy?” The hair on the back of Scarlet’s neck stood up at the warning. “No…Mommy.” With a sad pout, she unscrewed the top and knocked back the last few drops. Her brain felt fried, overwhelmed by all the blood in Scarlet’s cheeks rather than her brain. “Good! I know my princess does not disrespect mommy that way. Especially since the bottle is so small.” Emilia pointed to the small plastic, and Scarlet realized in that moment just how little water she had actually been drinking. “I’m sorry, Momma.” Scarlet said the words without a second thought, but she noticed Emilia’s hesitation. “Momma, huh?” Scarlet raised an eyebrow. “Adorable. Do you know what that means?” “It… means ‘Mommy’ right?” Scarlet was unsure if she was stepping in an unseen snare. “Does it not count?” “That’s not it, silly little thing.” Emilia reached over with a single finger, lightly tracing Scarlet’s high cheekbones. “You came up with your own version of Mommy. That is very little of you. I must be doing something right afterall.” Scarlet’s face went more flush, the buzzing, overclocked feeling in her head, a hallmark of humiliation rising in her. She also felt a warm endearment forming; Emilia was clearly moved by the notion that she was a good Mommy. “I’m having a really good time if that’s what you mean…” “I adore hearing that.” Emilia gave another smile, looking down at Scarlet from her spot on the couch. “To be clear, I meant more that while I’m familiar with Littles and I've played with them before…I’ve never had one myself. I worried I’d be too firm.” Scarlet’s mouth ran without permission from her better judgment. “I don’t have a rule about obeying, remember? How firm could you be?” “I just gave you a chance to walk back your third time breaking Rule Four, no?” “Sorry, Momma?” The affectionate twist on Emilia’s title would not save her. “And after you promised me no more technicalities.” “In my defense,” she started, knowing immediately that this would not fix anything. Her mouth joyriding again, “I didn’t promise, I just said okay.” It took a moment for Emilia to respond. “Excuse me?” “I didn’t say ‘I promise’…so it’s not a promise right?” Scarlet knew the moment she said it the bit wouldn’t land. Deep down, she also knew it was a genuine deflection, but it is hard to admit that to yourself in the moment. “Astounding.” Emilia’s mouth twitched with an emotion Scarlet could not pin down. Her tone was halfway between her performative disappointment and frustration. Scarlet tried to apologize, tried to downplay her joke as merely feeling out the limitations of her new dynamic. Emilia spoke over her. “I didn’t think you could manage to get a real punishment on your first day with rules, but here we are.’ Emilia pointed over her shoulder towards the stairs. “To the bed. Over my knee.”