Master's Little Girl

I'm fifty-two and have been playing little for about ten years now. Last week, my Master gave me a timeout in the corner of his den, standing on my tiptoes with my hands behind my back. The heat from the wooden panel scorched my thighs as I stood there, trying to maintain that posture perfectly. After an hour, he bent down and whispered, 'Now you know what it's like to be small,' before picking me up and carrying me over to a spanking bench. There was no holding back then; each swat left bruises on my tender bottom. Despite the pain, I felt a strange sense of relief, being little is more than just play, it's about trust and letting go.