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 ...