The Inner Workings of A Serial Submissive

Good question……

wait….what?   I’m SUPPOSED to be a good girl?

I think I should sit and think about what I’ve done, don’t you?   

There is an old story about a chicken and a pig.  The chicken invites the pig over for breakfast.  The chicken tells the pig that she will supply the eggs, if the pig will supply the bacon.  The pig thinks for a moment and says that he believes the arrangement to be unfair.  When the  chicken asks why, the pig responds….you are only contributing to breakfast, while I have to commit to it.

Contribution or commitment…..do I just go through the motions of my routines, or do I put thought into each one as I perform them?

Contribution or commitment…..do I haphazardly and almost complete my tasks, or do I give my all so that I can feel the pride in myself as well as His?

Contribution or commitment…..do I pick and choose what I want to do, knowing that He may not ask for proof, or do I follow my instructions and send proof so there is no doubt?

What do I offer in my submission? Do I just contribute or do I commit to a dynamic?   The choice is mine every day.  

My first thought as I wake up is about You and the fun we had last night. I slide out of bed quietly so I don't wake You, but can't resist looking back to watch You for a moment. Your feet hang off the bottom of my bed and it makes me giggle. I feel like all of me got a workout last night and a hot shower is in order. 

     I hear You grumble as You roll out of my bed and kick the foot board. I forgot to warn You that it does attack at times. I hide my smile in the washcloth when You walk into the bathroom. Without hesitation, You step into my shower and block the water from me. Now I am not amused, but before I can say anything, You gently turn me around and continue washing my hair that is covered in shampoo. I raise my arms and lean forward into the shower wall a bit.

     You ask how I'm feeling and I just moan. “Daddy can fix that”, You tell me.  You slowly lather up my washcloth and gently wash all of me and then set me under the water to rinse me off. Before I know what's happening, You scoop me up and take me back to bed. I feel so cared for and cherished as You dry my hair. Soon Your hands start to roam. Your simple command of “lay back Angel” makes my heart race. I am learning that You call me Angel when You want to play.

     You start at my inner thighs and kiss Your way to my ache. “Yes Daddy, kiss it and make it feel better. Please. Please Daddy!” I close my eyes and just feel You explore me. Tongue on my clit and fingers in my wetness. I feel the need build.....”not yet Angel, wait till Daddy says you can.”   “Please Daddy, I can't wait!” I grip Your  head so You won't stop. I hear a low chuckle.  “Ok my Angel, cum for Daddy.” I rock my hips as I cry out and my release rips through me. 

     After a few moments of pure bliss, I look down at You and You give me a stern look. "We're going to have to work on your patience baby girl. Ready to try again?"

I have a secret that very few people know.......I hate to wear panties. I hate how they feel, how they restrict, how they bunch up in places and fall down in others. I wear them to work because it's mandatory, but that is pretty much it. 

     Daddy bought me a pair the other day. They are black and say Daddy's good girl. I giggled when I opened the box that he put them in and wrapped like a gift. He asked what was so funny and I said that he knows I don't wear panties.  He smiled that cocky smile of his and said that was exactly why he got them.

     They are for when I need to be reminded to be a good girl. Panties as punishment!   He has more on the way.  Daddy has found a way to outsmart me and find something to keep me in line that I truly hate.  

     I asked how many panties are on the way, his response was a pair for every day of the year, if need be.😮

……and put it on repeat

I am back at my happy place.  The ocean always calls to me. For me it is a bit of solitude and reset, with a some adventure and thrill mixed in.  It’s depths amaze and awe inspire every visit.  

The beach where I am is littered with shells, totally covered in them.  The first few visits I spent hours combing the beach for whole conch shells, but to no avail.  I kept finding just pieces and the inside swirls. The surf batters the shells on the way up to the shore and I would be disappointed at the end of the visit.

The last two trips, I have changed my thinking.  On close inspection, the swirls are quite beautiful in design.   The outside of the whole shell hides that secret from the world.  I now gather the swirls and “just the tip”s of these wonderful little shells.   They are the strong parts of the whole that could not be broken apart by the beating waves.  

I plan on adding these beauties to my “just the tip” jar at home.  It sits in my bedroom to remind me of my visits and that what is inside me is way more beautiful than my outside.  

oh, in my search for shells, I found a sharks’s tooth!

I’m curious 

1. Do we really?

2. How many men would send one?

I was tied up and suspended 

I was terrified and excited

I shook and might have whined a time or two

I was pushed to my limits and made to reevaluate where my hard ones are.

I feel worn, tired, and sore. 

This was not my typical play session!

4 stories of zip line fun with a free fall at the end!

What do you do when you have to stay late at work, waiting for a surgeon to show up?  You color!

It’s calming and keeps me occupied.  

maybe littles have the right idea!