I sweat gently as I drive through the Friday night traffic to "daddy's" flat. I'm concentrating on the driving, although in the back of my mind is of course what is in store when I get there. Every so often it leaps into the front of my mind and I feel a tightening in my belly.
Finally, I pull into the car park, find excuses to delay, change my shoes, fiddle with the CD player. Then with a strange mixture of reluctance and eagerness, I'm walking across the car park, pressing the bell, opening the main doors in response to Daddy releasing the lock...
Daddy's flat is on the top floor. As I climb the stairs, I feel myself getting younger. I hear Daddy open his front door.
Daddy takes me by the hand. He leads me into the living room. I pull back, and Daddy's grip tightens as he leads me firmly by the hand.
"Now, young lady..." Daddy gives me that "look ", over the top of his glasses.
"Oh... Daddy..." I protest, slightly breathless already, although of course nothing has actually happened yet.
"I warned you..." Daddy continues. It's about wearing a seatbelt. Or rather, the fact I keep forgetting.
"Now, go into your bedroom and get your pyjamas on!"
My bedroom is in fact Daddy's spare room. My pyjamas are a pretty little girly style in pink satin (I am small at just 5ft, and in fact they are designed for a modern-day youngster!)
Even as I protest, I am trudging towards the bedroom. I undress slowly. Symbolically, as each piece of "grown up" clothing comes off, I feel younger. High heeled shoes, lacy underwear, tight fitting dress.
Finally, a nervous little girl is standing in silky pyjamas waiting for Daddy.
Daddy is all too soon framed in the doorway. Daddy is tall and dark, and is looking down at me over his glasses.
"Naughty girl. Now...", he sits on the edge of the bed, and slowly and firmly draws me down over his lap.
"No Daddy!!" already protesting, even as I feel Daddy's strong arm around my waist and his hand in the waist band of the pyjama bottoms. Trying to squirm away is instinctive... then...
That first smack always seems to hurt more than I expect.
"Oww! Daddy, no, please...."
Daddy smacks firmly, first on one cheek then the other. I've never counted the spanks in this part of the spanking but I'm sure at least 50 land on my bottom. Through it all, Daddy is lecturing.
"Young lady..." smack
"Were warned last time..." smack... smack...
By this time I'm sobbing.
"If you don't stop this fuss young lady, I will cane you!"
[Now you should know at this point, I have never yet felt Daddy's cane. It hangs threateningly on the bedroom door] But that threat is enough to make me lay still, my burning bottom thrust in the air.
"Keep that bottom up young lady!" Is another spanking phrase of Daddy's.
We now have a pause. Daddy lectures, and I snivel.
"Don't think I've finished with you yet!" Warns Daddy.
At this point I'm allowed to get up. But only to stand in the corner, my pyjama bottoms bunched round my ankles and my bottom thrust out.
"Don't you dare move!" Warns Daddy, going out of the room.
I have never yet dared to leave the corner, but I always sneak a good rub at my hot bottom.
Ten minutes later, and Daddy is back.
He stands by the side of the bed, and my ears are attuned to the inevitable sound of Daddy's belt being drawn through its loops.
"Aww, NOOOOO Daddy.....!"
"On the bed!" Commands Daddy, and I reach forward to pile up the pillows before kneeling over them to present my bottom for a thrashing.
[Now, Daddy claims the thrashing hurts less because I've been warmed up by a spanking. That's Daddy logic for you!]
"It's going to be twelve, young lady. And you will count them!"
The belt whistles through the air and whips across my bottom cheeks.
I collapse on the pillows. "One" I whimper.
Now, Daddy has told me if I forget to count he will go back to the beginning. I've never forgotten so I don't know if he really would, but I guess so!! Not one for backing down, Daddy.
Between each stroke I actually collapse on the bed as if forced there by each lash. By the time we get to ten, I really, really don't think I can take it. But I can glimpse the cane in the corner of my eye. Absolutely anything has got to be better than that!
"Now," says Daddy. "Will that help you remember in future?"
"Yes, Daddy" I whisper.
"OK." Daddy gently pulls up my pyjama bottoms, and leads me back into the living room.
I wince as I sit down. Daddy cuddles me close.
"I spank because I care sweetie."
My thumb is already creeping towards my mouth. My eyelids are heavy. My bottom is stinging.
I am Daddy's little girl.