The Submission of Little Emmie Read Online Free PDF Page B

trained to keep your arms still without such assistance."
    Emmie began to cry in earnest now. Mrs. Pew reached into her hidden skirt pocket and pulled out a heavy leather tawse. It was a Lochgelly, made of the finest leather and longer and narrower than the more traditional tawses. It was all the rage in Scotland at the moment, and was becoming the tawse of choice among the finer English households. His Lordship truly spared no expense when it came to his little girl!
    Mrs. Pew grasped Emmie's left knee and forced it open a little further. Then, taking a small step backward, she raised her hand and swung with all her might, aiming for the soft, delicate inner thigh. 
    Emmie screamed in abject terror and pain, but Mrs. Pew was relentless, giving five strong smacks to first the left thigh, then turning her attention to the equally soft and delicate right one.  Knowing His Lordship would be claiming his husband rights with his new little girl later this evening she did not want to be overly harsh. But Emmie would have whole-heartedly disagreed with anyone who characterized this punishment as lenient. Never in her life had she felt such blinding pain mixed with fear. The blindfold only heightened the fear and agony, for Emmie had nothing on which to focus her attentions. She desperately wanted to shield herself but dared not move her hands. She could only sway her bottom back and forth after each strike in a fruitless effort to evade the cruel punishment.  
    Per Lord Burkewood’s instruction, at the conclusion of the punishment session, Mrs. Pew removed the blindfold and demanded Emmie view the damage. She began to wail even harder when she saw the swollen, mottled red condition of her thighs. Large welts were beginning to form. Mrs. Pew instructed Emmie to describe her pain.
    "I can't. I can't," she hiccupped through the tears. 
    "You must, or I will be forced to give you another five smacks on each thigh since you have clearly not learned your lesson," Mrs. Pew countered.
    With great, gasping sobs, Emmie described, as best she could, the pain.
    "It burns and stings. My thighs feel hot and swollen. Oh you have scarred me for sure!"
    "Stuff and nonsense," scoffed Mrs. Pew. "Whoever heard of a child being scarred from a simple discipline session? Now we have fallen behind schedule and I cannot abide being behind schedule. We must have no more fussiness from you if I am going to have you ready in time for dinner with His Lordship."
    Emmie felt a small sliver of hope through the pain. She would see His Lordship tonight!  She would fall upon his mercy and he would set things right! But she had little time to ponder this before she was distracted by the sensation of something damp between her legs. Mrs. Pew was placing a warm cloth over her pussy. Emmie glanced up with a gasp to see the nanny mixing a rich lather of shaving cream with a boar’s hair brush. The older woman put the cup aside, humming to herself as she began running a double-edged razor back and forth over a shaving strop.
    "What...what are you doing?" Emmie hesitantly asked through sniffles.
    "Why, shaving your little pussy, of course! We cannot have you walking about with all that awful hair! Little ones have smooth, sweet pussies. Now hold still." Mrs. Pew’s tone was matter-of-fact.
    Emmie did not know how to respond. Having no experience with any of this she had no idea what to think about what Mrs. Pew was going to do, but exhausted from crying and still in throbbing pain, she simply did not have any fight left in her any way. Mrs. Pew removed the warm cloth and proceeded to thoroughly lather the soft, downy hair between those poor, tortured thighs. Placing a firm hand on Emmie's abdomen, the nanny stretched the skin above her pussy taunt. Then she slowly scraped the cold, hard edge of the razor down the front and length of those delicate lips, exposing dewy pink skin. Emmie swiftly inhaled and held her breath, but otherwise did not stir. Mrs. Pew repeated