My name is Mindy. I’ve always felt my name was very… I dunno… girly, I guess. It may not be what led me directly to the lifestyle I have, but it did fit right in. I live with my Daddy. His name is Mark. Don’t misunderstand – he’s not my father. To everyone else, he’s my fiancé, but to me, he’s my Daddy, and I’m his little girl. I try to be his good little girl as much as I can, but sometimes I’m not, and he will correct me. I’ve been spanked, put in the corner, given enemas… But those are different stories for another time. Today is Saturday, and I’m going to have my weekly inspection. It’s a ritual that Daddy wanted from the very beginning. It’s very humiliating, but at the same time I know it makes Daddy happy, and somehow the humiliation makes my girly bits get all tingly and wet. Daddy usually gets up early. He likes to keep to the same schedule so Monday morning isn’t such a difficult transition. But I like to sleep in, and Daddy is fine with that, to a point. Our ritual is scheduled for 10:30 AM, and I’m usually not late. I have a gentle alarm on my phone set for 9:45. I sleep naked (Daddy likes it that way), and I take my time waking up to the music. Eventually I’ll get out of bed and go take a nice, warm shower. After soaping up my body, I spend some time massaging in some baby oil to keep my skin soft. I keep my long, brown hair up in a bun for this shower, since I don’t want to have to take the time to wash and dry it. I do, however, take the time to shave almanbahis şikayet my legs and go over my naughty parts, looking for any hairs that may be coming in from my last waxing. My fingers linger momentarily on my special jewel. Daddy didn’t give me an engagement ring when he proposed (he said that little girls didn’t wear rings). Instead, he had me get a VCH piercing and presented me with a real emerald in a gold setting for it. I don’t have a “rock” to show off, but then a plain old engagement ring wouldn’t be nearly as much fun when I wear tight jeans either. When I’m all done, I come out of the shower and spend a few minutes brushing my hair. I don’t put on any make-up (Daddy doesn’t want any for the inspection). I then go to the closet and get dressed in my uniform. Daddy picked out and bought the uniform for me, and makes sure I have a couple copies of the entire outfit. It starts with plain cotton panties and a white bra (36C). A button-up dress shirt like a man’s, but cut for a feminine figure. A pleated blue and green plaid skirt that ends just above my knee. White knee socks and saddle shoes. Finally, a woman’s crossover-style necktie, color coordinated with the skirt, and a forest green, fuzzy V neck sweater. As I’m dressing, it feels so redundant knowing what’s going to happen, but I don’t want to get ahead of myself. After dressing, I check myself in the full-length mirror to make sure everything is perfect. If I’m ahead of schedule, I’ll almanbahis canlı casino sit on the bed and wait. Daddy wants me to be right on time. At 10:30, I walk from the bedroom to the living room. Daddy has prepared the living room for what comes next. He made in his workshop… well, I don’t know what to call it, really. I guess its a pedestal. It’s two feet tall and square on top, but under the top it’s round, which makes it look like a column, sort of. Our living room has track lights, and he arranges them to point right onto the pedestal, which is sitting in front of the couch in place of the coffee table. Next to the pedestal is a coat rack and behind it is a short step stool. I walk over and step up onto the pedestal. Our living room is more or less average, and since I’m raised up two feet in the air, my head is only a few inches from the ceiling. The lights are dazzling, and I can’t see Daddy very well, but he’s there on the couch. I smile and hold my hands behind my back, standing at attention. He watches me without saying anything for a minute or two. My mind always races during that time. What is he thinking? Is my uniform properly done? Did I forget anything? I’ve done it often enough to know that I haven’t, but the thought of disappointing him with a mistake, and then being punished for it, always comes. Through it all, I keep smiling, waiting for his orders. They’re not always the same, but his first commands will often be to move my almanbahis casino hands from behind my back to behind my head, or to turn around for him. It’s always a bit of a game of “Simon says,” really. Except that there’s no trick – I just do everything he asks. I think he enjoys the control almost as much as I enjoy being an obedient little girl. Finally, he’ll have me turn to face him again and he’ll simply say, “That’s my good girl. Now let’s take those clothes off and we’ll get started.” My face instantly feels flushed and the butterflies in my tummy start, along with the tingling a little further down. I usually bite my bottom lip (he has often said that it is so cute how I do that), and I’ll start by removing the tie and carefully hanging it on the coat rack. I know I’m stalling, and I’m sure he knows it too, but I can’t help how embarrassed I feel at baring myself while being on such prominent display. I pull the sweater over my head next and hang it carefully. I carefully balance on one foot and reach down to undo the laces on the shoe and pull it off, and then pull down the sock and remove it. I repeat the action on the other side. I stuff the socks into one of the shoes and set them on the corner of the pedestal out of the way. My hands start to tremble as they start trying to work the buttons on the shirt. I want to turn around and hide, but Daddy has never allowed that, so I don’t try anymore. Finally, the last button is undone and the shirt comes off and finds its place on the rack. The skirt is next. It has a hook at the waist and a zipper on the side and then too quickly it is off and hanging on the rack. And now I pause for just a moment before reaching my hands behind my back to undo the catches on my bra.