'I hope you'll dress smartly for your appointment,' said Abel as I curled up in my bath robe at half past 10 in the morning.
'What do you want, a ball gown?' I said. Nevertheless, I dragged myself upstairs to put some clothes on. At 11am exactly I was supposed to knock on his office door, reporting for my punishment.
This used to be a fantasy of mine: hours of anticipation, self-conscious squirming, minutes ticking away - walking up the stairs with enough time to spare that I can take a few deep breaths at the door to calm my nerves. We sometimes role-play with scenes like that, and I love it. Reality has shown that I'm just so good at compartmentalisation, that the first time I thought about the punishment that morning when Abel reminded me to get dressed for it. Not that I wasn't happy to get over with it: the punishment had been hanging over me for more than a day.