8- The beautiful american word

“Do you like anything other people hate on?” Scarlet’s eyes were bright, rested for once in her life, despite the makeup from last night starting to get uncomfortably stale. She was lying on her stomach, still in Emilia’s bed and her naked body delicately wrapped in the thin cover sheet beneath the comforter.

“Excuse me?” Emilia was likewise naked, sitting up against the headboard of her massive bed. She had been checking her calendar and silencing future alarms after her usual 7:00 AM ringing awoke the snoozing lovers. Scarlet felt bad for Emilia, watching as she winced at the noises of the street, and drank deeply from her water.

“Not, like, weird stuff, more how everyone acts like pineapple on pizza is evil? Do you like things people usually dunk on?”

Emilia looked back at the younger woman, an eyebrow rising in confusion, then eyes focusing on finding an answer. Scarlet had developed—depending on which of her lovers you asked—a strange habit of asking interview style questions the morning after, so long as her brain was rested enough to conjure one. Emilia seemed to be entertaining her bed guest’s request.

“My clientele and colleagues act like they are above eating McDonald’s because of how much they pay me. I could not care less how nice a suit I am wearing. If I get a craving, I will ravish a Big Mac. How about you, baby?” Emilia set the phone aside, stretching slowly, the shoulder Scarlet rested on last night popping softly.

Scarlet felt her ears warm and a shy smile grow on her face.

“I’m a slut for a really soft raisin oatmeal cookie,” she admitted, feet kicking softly behind her as they slid free of the sheets.”It’s underappreciated. Just cause it’s not chocolate doesn’t mean it’s bad.”

“I should start calling you ‘Cookie’, then. Are you Mommy’s Cookie?” Emilia leaned in to tap Scarlet’s nose, the tip of her finger emphasizing the last syllables and simultaneously cutting off an incoming rant. Emilia’s smile was less threatening, less sinister in the early morning sunshine. Instead, her eyes flickered as her head moved in and out of a shadow from the bay windows in Emilia’s bedroom. They always managed to find the light in the end.

Scarlet was thoroughly entranced. Her mind found a cheeky response when it stopped gushing.

“Tough Cookie,” she finally responded. “Big girl.” Scarlet’s cheeks ballooned in a mock pout. She certainly didn’t feel like a ‘big girl’ with the crinkling diaper still around her waist, the memories of last night fresh in her mind. When she woke that morning and could remember their passionate evening together, she thanked whatever goddess would listen that she hadn’t blacked that out.

“Ooooh, I am sure you think you are,” Emilia teased, letting the sheet fall off from her waist as she stood. “But whether you are or not we should probably clean up. My pores are furious with me.”

Emilia stretched again, bending at the hips before guiding Scarlet to the edge of the bed. She offered no resistance, smiling still at the playful, less domineering tone of the morning. The diaper Emilia had tightly wrapped around Scarlet was disheveled, no longer pristine like she had remembered. A night of sex, sweat, and gentle movements in her sleep had left the infantile garment a wrinkled, pathetic sight. Emilia made no mention of the state of Scarlet’s underwear as the submissive reached the edge of the bed, only gently pushing her onto her back.

The motion echoed Emilia’s firm physical guidance from the night before. Scarlet’s face gave a shy smile.

“Uh, not that I’m not interested…” Scarlet giggled nervously.

“Oh, I am quite interested too. But we should get you cleaned up here and changed first, right?” Emilia’s tone was matter of fact, like she was explaining the sky was blue.

“You’re going to change me?” The younger woman squirmed with a new kind of nervousness as Emilia’s hands reached for the tapes on the front of the crinkling plastic. “I didn’t use it!”

“I was assuming you wanted to use the potty and shower before we did anything else,” Emilia coyly retorted. She gave another patented Emilia smirk, brushing the platinum streak behind one ear. “I do not think my drains would appreciate you wearing this into the shower. If you behave, we can have a bit more Mommy and Baby time.” Her voice was sweet, a wink and a dimpled smile making Scarlet flush momentarily. Strong hands undid the diaper tapes and let the sad disposable limply hang off the edge of the bed.

Scarlet’s face went flush. “Sure.” She wasn’t mad, necessarily, more disappointed Emilia had laid another verbal snare. And like last night, Scarlet had sprung it, a flailing and panicking animal. Now she was also exposed physically, the lingering scent of sex and obvious stains on the inside of the diaper visible to both women.

Scarlet’s nervousness had given her excitement away, but even she knew she could use a fresh face of makeup and to rinse the sleep out of her eyes and frizzing hair.

Emilia helped Scarlet stand, taking both her hands. Emilia’s skin was cool, soft, and refreshing after a night of sweating.

“Use whatever you like in the shower, and ask if anything looks confusing to operate. I can bring you something clean to wear if you want your dress washed and dried?” Emilia balled up Scarlet’s old diaper, rolling it tightly and tossing it in a large trash can in said master bath.

“Please and thank you.” Scarlet tried to smile, but felt her red face was on display for everyone to see. She hadn’t been expecting their game to continue into the morning. Come to think of it, she hadn’t devoted a single brain cell to the morning after their date, too enthralled in the moment to moment, until she had no blood left in her brain.

Emilia smiled, blowing a kiss and sitting on the bed where Scarlet had been. Her phone buzzed the recognizable tone of work email, and Scarlet went off on her own.

Scarlet nervously approached the master bathroom. Her first stop was the bizarre-looking toilet, a high tech combination of sleek and intimidating. She was grateful she hadn’t needed to pee, such things had been incidentally forgotten on their date until Scarlet was diapered. She relaxed, letting out a long night’s worth of tension from her bladder, unable to stop herself from sighing loudly in relief. Scarlet abandoned trying to puzzle out the buttons and lights that looked like they belonged in a cockpit, depressing the flusher the old fashioned way.

She approached the glass walled shower, eyes lingering on a nearby jacuzzi tub and the shining fixtures. Carefully, she grabbed a nearby towel, hanging it within reach of the doors, and entered. She was certain that she would somehow break the water fixtures as she tried navigating them, knowing they were easily more expensive than some of the apartments she had grown up in.

Finally, the hot water rained down, warming Scarlet’s stiff joints and sleepy muscles. She found a heated mirror inside the shower, and used it to ensure her makeup was completely washed away, scrubbing herself clean with a found loofah and body wash that smelled of lavender. She hesitated when she looked down to her crotch, her member still showing the ring and dainty kiss of Emilia’s bright red lipstick. Scarlet smiled, wishing a gentle goodbye to the love-mark.

LOVE marks? Easy there, she reminded herself. This lady doesn’t know you. Just because it was good sex…OKAY, it was GREAT sex, doesn’t mean she’s incapable of being shitty to you. Scarlet scrubbed herself as she pondered, trying to balance reality and anxiety with post-coital fantasies. ‘More Mommy and Baby time’, huh?

Scarlet shook her head, denying the flutter of happiness in her stomach. She knew deep down that the prospect of more teasing and babying could be fun, hell, probably sexy, too. But what happens when I’m ready to be done? Will I disappoint her if I ever just want to watch TV and drink bad wine? She shook her head again, wet hair splaying in the shower. She tried to let the doubt wash down her back with the water.

You can easily over do this, just as she can easily be shitty and you just don’t know yet. Stay cool, stay in control of yourself. That’s all you can do.

After she was thoroughly clean and smelling good, she stepped out of the shower to towel herself off, missing the special towels she had for her hair at home. At least Emilia’s towels proved to be remarkably fluffy and soft, and for once in her life, tall enough for Scarlet’s frame.

I guess that’s the benefit of finally fucking someone taller than me, she giggled to herself before wrapping the soft material tightly around her body. Her hair was wrapped likewise, and she returned to the bedroom once she was sure she wasn’t dripping.

Emilia had moved, but not by much. Her purse had appeared on the nightstand, and she had a robe and underwear laid out for herself. Scarlet more urgently noticed a long, thin t-shirt bearing the crest of Emilia’s alma mater was lying on the bed, and the packages of diapers were now neatly placed at the foot. Scarlet’s clothes from the previous night, left in a sweaty, sex-scented pile, were now missing. Scarlet scanned the bed, hoping for underwear to go with the t-shirt.

No such luck. Her choices were going commando in her date’s home while waiting on laundry, or…she eyed the packages nervously. Emilia looked up from her phone, hearing Scarlet’s anxious swallow.

“Find everything okay?” Emilia’s bright eyes scanned the younger woman’s wet body, and Scarlet blushed, feeling her boss trying to see beneath the towels.

“Um, yeah,” Scarlet dumbly replied. “Listen, I-”

“The laundry started just a moment after you got in the shower, should be done in about two hours,” Emilia cut her off. “In the meantime…I think you would look adorable in this.”

Scarlet’s eyes followed Emilia’s hands as they lifted the shirt, draping it in front of Scarlet’s body. It was long enough to come just down to her thighs, if she was lucky. Whether her crotch was entirely covered, she was unsure.

“Do you want me to dress you?”

The question made her jump. Scarlet cursed her short sightedness, unsure of how to say she wanted to be done with the game for now. She wanted to be seen as an equal in most respects, if not outside of the bedroom. How would she respect her if she was being treated like that?

“Scarlet? Have something on your mind?” The question was sincere, not judgemental, and Emilia’s face softened to match. Actual honey, no lingering aftertaste of poison.

“I’m…” she still hadn’t found the words. The feelings made so much more sense than their logic. “I think I can do it myself. Are you sure there aren’t some shorts I could borrow? Some panties I can wash and return?”

She offered a way out, hoping Emilia would sense the discomfort. The words hung in the air.

“Well, we should talk about that. I was hoping you would stay. I do not think I have the energy or preparation for all of Saturday to be like last night,” Emilia crossed her legs, shoulders going back. Somehow she felt more together and more in command despite being more naked than the secretary. “But I would like to spend more time together. I want to learn about each other. And, if you would indulge me,” Emilia’s sultry tone lingered on the word, bouncing straight to the part of Scarlet’s brain that made her want to do such depraved things as the night before, “I would like for you to be in another diaper.”

Scarlet considered for a moment, remembering her promise in the shower to herself. But what harm could come from playing a little more? She merely nodded, approaching the bed, and taking the shirt with one hand.

“But I can do this part myself,” she replied, trying to bring back her mask.

“Aww, I thought you wanted a bit more Mommy time?” Emilia’s lips twisted to a mock frown, her bright eyes barely hiding the laughter building inside her. It was another little verbal trap.

And Scarlet was going to find herself pinned and prey.

Emilia accepted the towel from around Scarlet’s body in one hand. Scarlet could see Emilia taking in the sights of her body as she pulled the long top over her head, the fabric dangling in the right places to make her feel small. It reminded her of the night shirts she adored in her own closet, a big fan of sleeping in big shirts with no pants.

She met Emilia’s gaze, who flicked gold eyes down to her half-covered member. Scarlet looked away as a blush grew from being ogled. It felt nice to be viewed that way, but in the safety of this room where only the two of them could see it.

“Now, lie down,” Emilia smiled, gently laying out the towel for Scarlet and standing up, “and then, I need you to pick which you want to wear again.”

Scarlet complied, a simple enough scenario to submit and enjoy without being overt. That is, until she saw the new snare Emilia had laid. She was only holding the sampler pack, a smattering of different infantile prints more at home on a pack of Huggies than something an adult would wear.

Am I one of those adults now? That wears something like that?

The thought made her freeze, her wet body shivering as it felt like her brain was submerged. She made no movement other than wide eyed panic. Emilia was already scanning her response as part of the game, but her face relaxed further, attempting to comfort her.

“Scarlet? Can you pick one you like?” Emilia’s tone was soft, undemanding. She was asking a child to pick what they would wear for the day, and that terrified the younger woman.

Scarlet struggled to analyze her feelings, a paralysis locking her limbs. Last night, she barely managed to stand the humiliation of a plain diaper. How exactly was she going to manage further babying, with no safety net of planning to boot. Scarlet’s mind raced, filled with a crashing, dropping sensation, arousal and excitement turning sour.

When she didn’t speak, Emilia looked her in the eye, asking softly, “Scarlet? Scarlet, honey. Can you answer me?”

It took her a moment, but she shook her head, lip quivering with nerves. So much for playing cool was all that went through her head, logic overridden.

“What are you thinking about, Cookie?” The nickname snapped Scarlet’s disassociation. She became aware that Emilia's hand gently rubbed one of her thighs. It had the tenderness of a lover but lacked the underlying intention of sexuality. Scarlet could tell Emilia was pulling away from the game, just as Scarlet’s panic was making her.

“I…it’s a lot.” Ever a wordsmith.

“Overwhelming?” Emilia suggested. Scarlet could tell she was sincerely helping, but it wasn’t until she set down the bag that she realized she was holding her breath.

“A little,” she breathed deeply, looking away for a moment, anxiety still present but reaching manageability. “We didn’t talk about this beforehand, like we did last night.”

“I see,” Emilia nodded. “So what is bothering you is the lack of structure and planning? Predetermined limits?”

Scarlet nodded, swallowing before she spoke. “I think so. I loved last night. I just don’t want to get in over my head and disappoint you, I think.”

Or myself. She grimly added from inside her head. I don’t want the severance. I think I want you.

“Sure. More than Fair,” Emilia began, nodding in agreement with Scarlet. “So how about we decide on a few things? Maybe make some rules going forward?” Emilia went back to rubbing Scarlet’s thigh. “I am used to playing a little more fast and loose, but if you want specifics, I can give you specifics. Sounds good?”

Scarlet let a small smile crack her exterior, nodding back quietly. “Sure.”

“Good. Now, if you still want a diaper. Can you pick, or would you like me to?”

Scarlet considered for a moment, then pointed towards one that caught her eye. An almost subdued, simple green pattern on a plain white diaper, the front featuring brightly colored letters and numbers, like the pattern on a preschool classroom. Simple, childish, but not so much so Scarlet would be a blushing mess. Hopefully.

“Good choice. I can make us pancakes. Legs up, bunny.”

***

Scarlet was sitting cross legged in front of the mirror in Emilia’s bedroom, the long t-shirt of some Boston law school barely covering the ridiculous diaper she wore while doing a small amount of makeup. Nothing nearly as elaborate as last night, just enough that she wouldn’t feel gross as the day went on. As she finished with her face, she leaned back, eventually settling against the foot of the bed, facing the floor length mirror.

Her reflection was surreal, somehow both foreign and exactly right, perfectly her. The crinkling white bulk around her crotch was of course the source, but Scarlet’s thoughts danced between being repulsed and intrigued by the simple thing. She hadn’t seen how she looked in the diaper last night until Emilia’s photo, which made Scarlet blush every time she remembered it. She got the impression she wouldn’t be used to seeing herself in them for a long time.

Despite the soft padding, Scarlet’s bottom still stung, bees parading and dancing on her tanned cheeks. She had to shift to her knees, gently propping her diapered butt up with her feet to relieve the pressure. With the movement, Scarlet’s eyes caught evidence of the red marks that spread up and down her cheeks, largely covered by her ridiculous diaper, but also exposing the back of her marked thighs.

Scarlet couldn’t help but admire the marks, eyes taking in every detail as the red contrasted her pale skin. Remembering last night, Scarlet braced herself, and slowly dragged her nails with the lightest pressure she could manage. Instantly, a sharp but satisfying feeling erupted from her burning skin. She breathed sharply through her nose and sighed with satisfaction, reveling in the new kind of stinging sensation it brought. The burning subsided with gentle pleasure. She studied the marks closer, vaguely seeing the shape of Emilia’s hands

Emilia had marked her, and she had to admit she loved having the lingering symbol of dominance on her body. Emilia was an artist. Scarlet and her aching, stinging butt composed the canvas.

The artist in question was in the shower, leaving Scarlet alone. Taking advantage of the solitude, she tentatively reached for her phone. Shaking hands, from nerves and medications, took a picture of the kneeling and underdressed woman. It was not unlike nudes and risque thirst pics she’d taken before, save the diaper.

She looked down at her own crotch to examine the infernal diaper more closely. It was clearly designed by some kind of fetish shop, that much made sense. The design didn’t seem to be anything put on any actual diaper meant for actual infants, but she was no expert. It could pass for such a design, however, and that’s probably more important to most regular participants in the kink. Scarlet cursed her own curiosity, making her dwell on the thought of being one of those participants.

She thought back to how different her two diaperings were. Emilia’s humiliating, belittling tone the previous night rang in her ear, reminding her of how menacing someone calling themselves ‘mommy’ could really be. Scarlet reminded herself not to get aroused before any serious discussion of expectations for the day and their relationship. Then she thought back to Emilia’s efforts to comfort her as she froze in nonverbal panic. So tender, affectionate. Her head was still spinning when she heard the shower stop.

Scarlet deleted the photo, embarrassed, and tried to look nonchalant as she cleaned up her makeup back into her bag. Emilia soon came out of the shower, a simple dress and robe around her now dry body, the faintest scent of lavender as she unwrapped her hair. She smiled down at Scarlet, making her fidget nervously.

“Come along, dear,” Emilia started, offering a hand for Scarlet, “how about we get some food in that tummy?”

Scarlet accepted, being led down the hall in nothing but the diaper and the shirt that did little to cover it. She smiled shyly at the sounds her padding made, and took in Emilia’s home in the daylight.

The luxurious home was brighter, cleaner, and more comfortable in the light. Now that the kitchen was no longer the only beacon of light after a long night of drinking, it was even welcoming. Her walls were decorated with beautiful paintings, fantastical sculptures that suggested Emilia’s travels, a smattering of bizarre art objects, and flowers that Scarlet recognized from the garden. Emilia guided her to a breakfast bar and Scarlet sat slowly on a stool, the diaper throwing off her gait and crinkling loudly as she did.

“Two questions to start, then we can talk about rules and expectations,” the taller woman sang behind her as she entered her kitchen.

Scarlet nervously swallowed, preparing for the first of many serious topics they needed to discuss.

“Firstly, do you have any allergies? Secondly, do you want blueberries or chocolate chips in your pancakes?”