PRE-TEEN DISCIPLINE

BY ANONYMOUS

A tiny nine-year-old girl sits before her mirror, alone in the
room, the special room reserved for the special secret purpose,
looking at herself. She sits alone, in the special room, looking
at herself, at her long blonde hair, at her pants, at her blouse.
Imagining herself naked, like her little dolls, bare and
vulnerable in the glass, bare before him, before and after. She
feels the heat coming through her jeans, feels the pain as she
sits, and knows that, unlike the image she envisions, the pain
she feels is real. "From what he had to do to me," she thinks,
hearing him moving in the other room, wondering when he'll come
back, knowing it will be soon, but no sooner than he chooses.
Longer than she thinks she can stand.

* * *

As she sits she remembers their play, how he looked at her with
desire, how she smiled with pride and happiness as he took her
face in his hand, gently touching her, feeling the warmth of his
fingers on her. Feeling possessed, the pride coming from his
pride in her, her knowledge of how he felt, sitting there,
looking at her still small child's body. Savoring her, more
delicious than any grown up woman could be, savoring the moment
with her, savoring the pause they were experiencing. The pause
before the storm, before he sent her off to the room, the special
secret room, to wait for him. Drunk from his attention, his
glowing pride in his little girl, as much as from the wine he had
given her to drink.

"Go to the room, now, sweetheart," he had said, whispering the
words into her ear as he held her face, so gently, knowing the
tenderness of his hands, as well as their steel. "Go to the room
now, and wait for Daddy to come. Wait for me in front of the
mirror." He had patted her little cheek, gently, tenderly, but
she had felt the menace behind the pat, recalling how quickly his
tenderness could become his displeasure. How his gentle pat could
become a short, hard slap that left her cheek stinging.

She got up, turned slowly and walked out of the room, feeling his
eyes on her, on her baby bottom and her bare tiny feet as she
walked off to wait. To wait in anticipation, fear, and arousal
for him to come to her.

* * *

As she sat before the mirror she felt her bottom under her, felt
its childish softness, imagined its whiteness, knew that it would
be red when he was done. Knew that she had displeased him, and
that his love for his tiny daughter would not stop him from his
duties. That he loved her more than he loved himself, and that he
expected so much from her that what had to happen now was
inevitable, and deserved. She had failed him, and there was only
one solution to the guilt she felt over it. "Discipline," she
said to herself, "I need it, I need him to punish me for it." She
said the words that she had said to him, after she had realized
what she had done. "Please, Daddy," she said in her soft and shy
little voice. "Please Daddy, I haven't been good, and I need to
be disciplined for it." She had put her hand on his arm, run it
slowly up his thick muscles to his hand, so soft and warm.
Imagining it descending on her hairless vagina, bared and lying
on her bed with her legs wide open, softly, "Please Daddy, I need
you to punish me for what I've done, so that I can be a better
girl for you. So that I can atone for my sins." He had moved his
hand, cupping it around hers, looked into her big innocent eyes,
and said only two words. The words that he always said, that
swept her away into the land of security and of fear. Two words,
"Tonight, Sweetheart." She had quaked at their meaning.

* * *

Sitting before the mirror, images swept through her mind, images
of disciplines past, of the discipline she would endure that
night. Her mind swept her away to the attic room of the chateau,
warm morning sun streaming in through the grating above her as
she knelt, naked and small, feeling the warmth on her, feeling
the warmth of her first arousal in her short life, feeling the
warmth of the whipping. Watching silently as the woman raised the
riding whip again, raised it to bring it in slashing down onto
the child's naked body.

She did not know her disciplinarian, had not known her fate when
he had tied her, such a small child, cut her clothes off from her
shivering body to leave her naked in the bright morning sun. The
woman had come in, silently removing her clothes to reveal a
perfect body in stockings and garters. He had come in after and
handed her the whip. Pulled a chair up to watch his little girl
as the whip descended on her bare tummy, her chest, her sex and
her legs. As she screamed and moaned, writing before him,
excited, terrified. He had watched as her nine-year-old body
turned to fire, incandescent as the morning rays. He had watched
as the woman handled her after the whipping, rubbing mercilessly
between her little legs until she began to feel the waves of
release sweep over her immature hairless genitals. Then, and only
then, had he risen, removing his pants to kneel in front of her.
Feeling him hard in her mouth, pulling free to walk behind her,
the sharp penetration into her tiny anus, then withdrawing once
more while the unknown woman lubricated her between her scalded
cheeks, and she hung from the ceiling, a child tied by her hands,
submissively, waiting the final penetration of her bruised anus.
The final penance that marked his forgiveness of her.

She recalls this now as she sits, feeling the burning in her
behind, remembering her Daddy deep, deep inside her that night,
remembering, suddenly, the incidents of the last few hours in
that room.

* * *

He had kissed her, tenderly, as he led her towards the desk. She
had looked deep into his eyes as his hands unbuttoned her pants
and lowered them, as she felt his fingers inside her pink
panties, exploring her soft sex, the place where he will punish
her. She had turned away from him then and raised her legs and
spread her knees. Knowing that he was looking at her, at her
virgin slit that was spread open for her Daddy to be whipped, her
hairless labia that he loved to suck on until afterwards until
she felt dizzy. She had opened herself for her Daddy, feeling her
growing excitement as her mind dwelt on the cane in his hands, on
that long thin stick, the instrument of discipline she feared the
most. That she knew she most needed. Alone in this room with him,
on the bed with her legs wide open waiting for the caning to
begin.

* * *

She remembers that position now, her blouse up, her child's vulva
spread open and showing its hairless innocent lips as she hears
him stepping back to raise the cane. She hears his voice, "You
know why I have do to this, its because I love you enough to take
your panties down and give you the cane when you misbehave." She
shudders as he SWISHES it through the air to get its feel,
feeling her legs almost tighten involuntarily as she prepares for
her martyrdom.

THWACK and the cane descends painfully, a band of pure throbbing
pain printed across the little child's vagina. THWACK THWACK
THWACK it strikes, again and again, leaving the lines that she
knows she'll have for several days after. He raises it again even
though she's crying now, and then lowers it, laying it into her
little folds between her cheeks and thighs. The most painful spot
of all, she knows from prior experience, the time in the caning
for the final ritual he practices.

"I love you sweetheart," he says to his pre-teen princess, "and I
want you to apologize to me for what you've done, and ask for the
cane." Her voice trembles as she obeys, and she feels the sweet
touch of his hand on her bare throbbing behind, hears him step
back, feels him lifting the cane from the crease and raise it
high over his head. She hears it whistling down …

* * *

She is pulled back to the present by the sound of his footsteps
in the other room. Kneeling, her hands tied behind her back, she
is afraid to look up at him as he comes into the special room,
but she feels him approaching. He puts his hand on her head,
gently strokes her long blonde hair. She recalls the caning -
many prior canning - she knows she is about to receive his
forgiveness now. His love, after his punishment. For she is his,
his little girl, his special little princess. Now and always. Her
tiny vagina has been punished, now she will be rewarded. Her
heart leaps as she feels his strong hands gently lifting her to
her feet …