in Emmie's bath they failed to notice Lord Burkewood lingering in the doorway, watching. He took in the wonderfully domestic scene, watching his child-bride blush as Mrs. Pew washed her pussy. He smiled warmly, memories of her deflowering still fresh in his mind.
"Now time to wash that lovely hair," Nanny said in her no-nonsense tone.
"I would like that honor, Mrs. Pew." Emmie’s Papa entered the bathing room and Emmie startled, quickly lowering her shoulders below the water level to try and cover her breasts. His Lordship’s powerful masculine presence was even more pronounced in the small, girlish room. He began rolling up his shirtsleeves as he approached her in the tub.
"Certainly, your Lordship." The nanny placed a small glass bottle of vinegar, another bottle of rosewater and the cake of soap on a small table by the tub. Emmie was too stunned to say anything.
"How is my pretty, little girl this morning?" Lord Burkewood asked as he rubbed the soap between his hands working up a strong lather. Nanny approached with a pitcher of warm water and helpfully poured it over Emmie's hair, giving her a bit of a reprieve before having to answer him.
"I'm fine, thank you," she said very properly and politely. It was if they were meeting over afternoon tea rather than in a private bathing room where she sat naked in the tub.
"I'm fine, thank you..... who ?" he prompted.
"I'm fine, thank you...Papa," she repeated.
"Good girl. Now let's get this pretty hair washed." He began to massage her wet hair and scalp and the sensation was so lovely she soon forgot she was bared before his gaze. Lord Burkewood gently worked the lather into her hair and scalp, massaging her neck and shoulders before making his way to her breasts. Emmie startled at first, but he applied gentle pressure on her shoulders, silently communicating his need for her to stay still. She quieted down and he finished working the lather into her breasts.
Emmie's cheeks were aflame not only from his ministrations, but from Mrs. Pew’s presence, although Nanny did not seem to be paying the least bit of attention. She was standing over the lower side table to the left of the room, folding what looked to be large white cloths.
"Close those pretty eyes while I rinse your hair with the vinegar and rosewater,” her husband instructed. He followed this with another warm pitcher of water, rinsing her hair completely.
"Oh my, now your hair will be nice and shiny and smell so pretty!" cooed Nanny as she handed a large bathing cloth for drying the body to Papa. His Lordship reached into the tub and grasped Emmie under the arms, lifting her small frame clear out of the tub. Then he began to vigorously rub her naked limbs paying special attention to between her legs and her breasts.
"I can dry myself," she offered.
"Don't be silly. Little girls do not dry themselves. What if they did not do a good job and developed a chill from damp skin?"
Emmie could not imagine falling ill from failing to properly dry herself but she was not about to challenge him, especially with Nanny so close by. When he was finished, she was helped into a fluffy dressing gown with embroidered ducks and flowers around the hem. He then picked her up in his arms and carried her into the nursery, cradling her on his lap in one of the plush chairs before the fire. He had her back to the fire, so her hair could dry into a soft cascade of curls.
"So, is Papa's little girl all cuddly and warm?" he asked as he tucked her tighter to him.
"Yes, Papa," she answered without hesitation. It felt wonderful being held so close to him. She felt pampered and safe. It was so cozy, snuggling up to him before the fire.
"Good. Now time for your morning bottle," he said as he held out his hand for the warmed up bottle of milk Mrs. Pew held nearby.
"No. I won't. This is taking this too far," she objected as she squirmed to get off his lap, her cozy haze broken.
"Uh-oh. Looks like my little Emmie is
"Now time to wash that lovely hair," Nanny said in her no-nonsense tone.
"I would like that honor, Mrs. Pew." Emmie’s Papa entered the bathing room and Emmie startled, quickly lowering her shoulders below the water level to try and cover her breasts. His Lordship’s powerful masculine presence was even more pronounced in the small, girlish room. He began rolling up his shirtsleeves as he approached her in the tub.
"Certainly, your Lordship." The nanny placed a small glass bottle of vinegar, another bottle of rosewater and the cake of soap on a small table by the tub. Emmie was too stunned to say anything.
"How is my pretty, little girl this morning?" Lord Burkewood asked as he rubbed the soap between his hands working up a strong lather. Nanny approached with a pitcher of warm water and helpfully poured it over Emmie's hair, giving her a bit of a reprieve before having to answer him.
"I'm fine, thank you," she said very properly and politely. It was if they were meeting over afternoon tea rather than in a private bathing room where she sat naked in the tub.
"I'm fine, thank you..... who ?" he prompted.
"I'm fine, thank you...Papa," she repeated.
"Good girl. Now let's get this pretty hair washed." He began to massage her wet hair and scalp and the sensation was so lovely she soon forgot she was bared before his gaze. Lord Burkewood gently worked the lather into her hair and scalp, massaging her neck and shoulders before making his way to her breasts. Emmie startled at first, but he applied gentle pressure on her shoulders, silently communicating his need for her to stay still. She quieted down and he finished working the lather into her breasts.
Emmie's cheeks were aflame not only from his ministrations, but from Mrs. Pew’s presence, although Nanny did not seem to be paying the least bit of attention. She was standing over the lower side table to the left of the room, folding what looked to be large white cloths.
"Close those pretty eyes while I rinse your hair with the vinegar and rosewater,” her husband instructed. He followed this with another warm pitcher of water, rinsing her hair completely.
"Oh my, now your hair will be nice and shiny and smell so pretty!" cooed Nanny as she handed a large bathing cloth for drying the body to Papa. His Lordship reached into the tub and grasped Emmie under the arms, lifting her small frame clear out of the tub. Then he began to vigorously rub her naked limbs paying special attention to between her legs and her breasts.
"I can dry myself," she offered.
"Don't be silly. Little girls do not dry themselves. What if they did not do a good job and developed a chill from damp skin?"
Emmie could not imagine falling ill from failing to properly dry herself but she was not about to challenge him, especially with Nanny so close by. When he was finished, she was helped into a fluffy dressing gown with embroidered ducks and flowers around the hem. He then picked her up in his arms and carried her into the nursery, cradling her on his lap in one of the plush chairs before the fire. He had her back to the fire, so her hair could dry into a soft cascade of curls.
"So, is Papa's little girl all cuddly and warm?" he asked as he tucked her tighter to him.
"Yes, Papa," she answered without hesitation. It felt wonderful being held so close to him. She felt pampered and safe. It was so cozy, snuggling up to him before the fire.
"Good. Now time for your morning bottle," he said as he held out his hand for the warmed up bottle of milk Mrs. Pew held nearby.
"No. I won't. This is taking this too far," she objected as she squirmed to get off his lap, her cozy haze broken.
"Uh-oh. Looks like my little Emmie is
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