My dream

I dreamt this last night, and miraculously, it stayed with me till morning.

Standing in front of you. Feeling ashamed. My feet turn inwards towards each other. I’m standing like a little child. My hands are clasped together in front of me, and I’m playing with my fingers. I can’t do this. You sit there. You know what I’m working up to saying, but you’re not going to make it any easier for me.
Each second that passes feels like an hour. I know you are looking at me, waiting, but I can’t bring myself to meet your eyes. Can’t bring myself to see the disappointment in them. I know my hesitancy is making it worse. I know this is part of our deal, that I come to you, that I ask you this. But it’s too hard.
I stare at the floor, at my feet, anywhere but you. My toenails need repainting, I can see. I suppose my fingernails must do as well. I glance at my fingers. All these random thoughts flick through my head. Anything to delay the inevitable.
I start to fidget, looking ever more like the naughty little girl that I have been. I can’t do it, I just can’t. Can’t bring myself to voluntarily ask for the pain. To ask for the humiliation of being bent over and bared. To hear the real disappointment and sadness in your voice when you talk to me about why this is happening. That’s the worst part of it. I can handle the pain, I can handle the humiliation, but it’s knowing that I’ve let you down that really kills me.
But the time has come. We can’t stay like this forever, frozen in time, though I sometimes wish we could. It has to happen, and it won’t happen unless I ask for it.
I stand up straight, and put my hands by my sides. Pathetic though it is, this is taking all my determination and willpower. I raise my eyes to meet yours, still sitting there, looking at me. I take a deep breath, and stutter out the words I always dread having to say. “Tom, I really screwed up. I need to be spanked, please.”