I went to the cloakroom to check my bottom for marks in the large mirror, knowing the slightest red splat would earn me even more from my dad, maybe even a stand-up whipping, I hate those, I hate the whip on my front.
I have such tender, still growing I hope, titties and he always makes sure they are well covered, marked and bruised.
He also liked to bruise below too to make me a tighter fit when he uses me, to console my upset and tears.
As I grow older, I feel I am growing wiser, if I act the simple little Baptist girl it really is who I am, but just lately, on the odd occasion I have felt I need to maybe question the odd thing.
It all depends how brave I am in the future if I do ever ask, knowing it's a beating for sure.
I got off the bus at the stop before mine, I wanted a little bit more of "Me Time" just to try and calculate what the next few weeks could bring, two options as I saw it.
Both with boys at the centre of my thoughts.
I had originally thought of 3 options, the last one just stopping with my Daddy and after training becoming the house 'Slave'.
Maybe slave is the wrong word, but anyway, I realise it could never be a true option.
"Hi mum hi dad your lost sheep is home."
We hugged and cuddled an had a cup of tea.
"Go change out of your work clothes poppy and put your dressing gown on, you have a strapping due after dinner."
"Yes dad." I kissed him as I went upstairs.
Now why was it a belting and not just a spanking. The norm was spanking in my bedroom then I would kneel to thank him and when rock hard he would place his willy in his preferred place, usually my waiting pussy but sometimes between my tiny tits.
Sometimes when he really needed me my spanking would stop abruptly and I'd be laid over the end of the bed and taken from the back.
Never in my bottom though, that traditionally is saved for a new husband and something I know Daddy will be training me for in the coming months.
I was in the shower when my bother came home from college and decided to join me, it was a tight squeeze but by placing various body parts in snug places we managed. :-)
We had dinner, the thought of what was going to happen after dinner never stemmed my appetite, I was starving.
Dad stood up, "Clear the table mother please."
My staring turn had come.
Dad unbuckled his belt, which was the signal for me to lose my dressing gown and he pushed me over the table.
I jumped back up with a fork sticking in my tummy, just a graze really but annoyed dad.
Mum pulled it out, "Sorry father."
