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.