Satin Silhouette

Okay, I am writing this blog post on a whim, so it may not be as well put together as some of my other ones... but I simply needed to get this out. 

I spent quite a long time positively loathing myself, in every way. Mirrors had to be removed or covered, I would rarely speak to avoid hearing my own voice, and every moment trapped inside my own head was pure torture. I hated the way I looked, the way I talked, the way I thought. I hated existing. Fortunately, through years and years of therapy, various mental facilities, medication, and a truly miraculous support system of people close to me, I am not that girl anymore. I have my moments of insecurity, but I love who I am. I love the way I look, sound, think. I think quite highly of myself. 

All of this being said, I know that to some, perhaps even to many, I am appealing. I am someone people come to want, for a variety of things I am sure. As such, I tend to get a slew of messages in my inbox soliciting me for a variety of things. Therefore, to make things easier on myself, and on those who want to get in touch with me, I want to provide some insight as to what will catch my eye, and what will turn my head. 

If I receive a message, and it's all lowercase, and the sentences aren't complete and it just sounds like a child wrote it... I will not respond. I will immediately delete your message and there is a 50/50 chance I will block you outright. I am looking for a Daddy, and my Daddy must be mature, elegant, present himself with authority. I do not want a boy. I want a man. 

I you send me something vulgar, demanding sex, telling me in explicit details what you wish you could do to me, please just don't. I don't know your name or what you look like and all that happens is you look like a total creep. That is an automatic block. 

As for inquiring about being my Dom, or propositioning me, I am open to being pursued. But I get so many messages saying "I want to be your Dom", "I think we could be compatible", "Message me if you're interested". They all end up blurring together, and in the end they mean nothing. Sometimes, if I have the time and I am particularly bored or lonely, I will sift through them, but I rarely do. Nothing catches my eye, and so my first impression with you is just boredom, blandness. Never a good thing. 

If you want to catch my eye, send me something lengthy, show that you did a bit of searching, that you are making an effort. If you don't, why would I? Make your intentions clear, say something interesting, give me a starting point to get to know you, etc. I prefer long messages with information and questions and flattery. Right now, you exist only as words on a screen, as I exist to you. Don't you want to make sure they are good words?

And lastly, I like to feel wanted. I want to feel cherished. Perhaps this makes me vain, but I have been called worse. I want to be wooed, courted. I want to know, without ever having to doubt, that I am desired in all of the ways. So, as incentive, or a reminder, or whatever you want to call it, this is me, right now, moments before typing this post. Am I good enough?

Something I value greatly is elegance, sophistication. I don't view people that are childish or silly as less than, but it's also not what I want for myself. I crave wit, sarcasm, charm - someone who isn't afraid to bite. I want someone who can say everything with a simple raise of their brow.

I want someone who wants me in dresses and blouses and jewelry and makeup, and who liked that I care about my appearance. I want someone who likes to dress me up and show me off. I want someone who comes home in a suit and tie, who enjoys presenting themselves with dignity to the world, and wouldn't dare do otherwise.

I want someone who wants me to succeed, someone who wants to know my schedule, my assignments, my goals - and who takes charge of them. I want someone who sets goals and tasks for me, has high praise and higher expectations, who pushes me towards greatness.

I want someone who takes pride in their work, their success. I want someone who wants to build a life of comfort and splendor, to know that they accomplished something tremendous with their life, and who helps me to do the same.

I want someone I can be proud of, admire. I want to be inspired by my Dom, to view them in awe. I want someone that is mature and intense and deep and passionate and wise, every bit the Alpha he knows himself to be. I say I want a Beast, and I do (Gods help me, I do), but I need a man capable of controlling that Beast, of existing seamlessly with their own Monster.

I want an Alpha, an Apex Predator. I want someone who wants me as their own because they see value in me. They want me on their arm and by their side because they are the ONLY man worthy of keeping me, and because they know I am worthy of being kept.

Sex is great, sex is phenomenal, and I want it. Gods do I want it. But sex comes last on my list of what it truly takes to be my Dom and to truly, irrevocably own me. I am sophisticated, old fashioned, maybe even a bit pretentious at times. And the right person will match me, step for step.

When I say that I am a Queen, and I wish for a King, I mean it with every ounce of my being. I don't want a boy who plays ruler on a thrown he could never fill. I find myself increasingly bored with the world and those who inhabit it, unimpressed by the masses. Impress me, woo me, court me. Take a page out of the old books, follow the steps of whatever era or culture you want, but show me your worth, and mine.

I am hard fought and harder won, a challenge if there ever was one. But I am well worth it, because in the end, you get to keep me. All rights reserved.

Okay, so I am going to put my Big Girl pants on for this so that I get it all out there. It's tough, but I can do it!

I want to be cuddled, to sit on someone's lap and feel small. I want to be pampered and spoiled, made to feel precious. But I want boundaries too. I want to indulge my imaginative and playful side, and to have someone find it charming, endearing, rather than immature or annoying. I want to follow my senses, my tactile nature, to have soft things and chew on the end of my marker as I draw and get messy while I explore. Curiosity is amazing and I'm not quite ready to let my sense of wonder go yet. I want to be able to do all of this with joy and encouragement and knowing that someone is there to help me clean up afterwards. I want intimacy, deep affection and trust.

I want to make blanket forts with string lights and fluffy pillows. I want to wear cute onesies and pink dresses and bows in my hair. I want to take bubble baths and feel someone running a soft cloth or sponge over my body, caring enough to make sure I am clean. I want to snuggle on the couch while watching a cartoon, bake cupcakes in the kitchen while dancing to Disney music. I want to go on vacation to Disney World or Hershey Park and be able to get excited when I see Peter Pan because I too never want to grow up, not really.

I want someone to take care of me, to take the worry away. I want someone to look at me with a sense of adoration, to find me cute and absolutely love it. I want someone to be observant enough to know without having to ask. I want someone who truly cares about my wellbeing and decides to take matters into their own hands. I want gentle guidance, not commands and stern words. I want someone who treats me gently, at least in the moments when I need it.

I don't have an age that I regress to. It doesn't even really feel like age regression, because I don't feel like a child in that sense. I feel youthful, playful, less inhibited, but I don't feel helpless. It's about letting go, not losing that adult part of myself. It's about letting the adult and the child intertwine, about stepping away from expectations and responsibilities. It's about being allowed to just be. And it's not all of me, and there are other things, more adult and dirty things that I want, that I crave, that I need with a different kind of desperation. But right now, I needed to get this off my chest.

I want to still be me, have an adult life and be in an adult relationship, but I want this too. And I've decided that it is okay for me to want it all, because it's also okay for someone else to want what they want, to say no, to say yes. It's okay for me to feel like I deserve to be happy.

Now, I just need someone to be happy with.

As a girl who labels herself as a submissive, taking on a traditionally dominant role in a relationship does not particularly appeal to me. I don’t want to make decisions or set rules or even be very aggressive. I do, however, enjoy a certain kind of power. I enjoy the power of seduction, the power of want, the power of love. I enjoy being able to make people want me, to be the star in people’s fantasies, to make another person’s heart race at the mere thought of me. I enjoy jealousy, on occasion, and I enjoy envy. I enjoy when my friend or partner is jealous over someone else looking at me with want. I enjoy that possessive attitude because I know that it was me who made them that way. I enjoy when others want me but can’t have me, because in that moment, I hold a sway over them. I enjoy the rush, the exhilaration of being desired.

Do my eyes pull you in? Do my lips tell of kisses and moans? Does my skin seem ripe for bruises? Do my breasts seem supple for play? Do my legs tremble prettily? Is my ass round and juicy? Does my voice lull and excite? Does my presence command attention?

Is it wrong for me to enjoy this? Am I wrong for preening under keen eyes? Perhaps. But then again, I never said I was a good girl.

Recently, I have been exploring myself as a sexual, sensual, and kinky individual. I have been searching out all of my hidden nooks and crannies in an effort to understand the many different variations of my own sexuality. Through this exploration, many discoveries have been made.

The first, and possibly most important, is that nothing turns me on more than being wanted, desired, needed, owned. I do not enjoy degradation or humiliation because I want to be something coveted, someone that is loved, adored, desired beyond comprehension. This discovery acted as a segway into the world of primal play. I love the idea of being wanted by someone who is elegant, polished, even regal in manner… but I am wanted so much so that they are pushed to their primal, primitive, animalistic nature to claim me as theirs. I am their greatest strength and also their greatest weakness. They are not satisfied if my neck and chest aren’t covered in bite marks, showing anyone who looks that I belong to them. They preen when my body is left a mess, a map of where they were, decorated with bruises, bites, and scratches. I shiver with anticipation when they growl as I bend over for them, or as they whine furiously when I bare my neck to them. My pale body is nothing but an empty canvas for them to lay their claim.

So perhaps I do not fit inside one singular category very neatly, but I certainly know what I want. And what I want is Primal.

To be entirely forthright, I don’t know where to begin with these thoughts. This is just a stream of consciousness that I am experiencing at the moment, needed to get it out of my head.

Pain is so enticing, endlessly beguiling, but I fear it. I have been touched in brutal ways, both wanted and unwanted. Recently, however, I have learned just how little I have truly experienced. My curiosity has always proven to be a dangerous thing. The urge to push forward, simply in the quest for my own limitations, has become sentient. But how do I reconcile that my scream could equate someone else’s whimper, when a height of my own pain is someone else’s dull discomfort. I crave with every ounce of my being to be ruined. I be left with bruises and welts and cuts and scars… to wear them with pride. Yet, I still fear receiving them.

I have not felt true pain, not when I wanted to feel it anyway. How do I crave to be bitten, when the only teeth I have felt were those of an enemy? How do I crave to be bruised, when I still remember those foreign fingerprints? How do I crave to be destroyed, when I battled so heavily against the very thought?

This is not the time for me to delve into complicated emotions no one else deserves to unpack. I simply am scared. I am scared of myself, of my own need for more. I see the deep black and blue, the ache in a step, the blood on a tongue… and I wish it for myself. But can I handle the pain? I want to. God, do I want to. But can I?
If not, will I ever? How do I get there? Where do I even begin?

As I sit here, contemplating a million and one thoughts, thinking and dreaming and fantasizing about the most depraved things my mind can think up, I can’t help but worry that I am incapable of making my reality live up. Am I enough? Can I take it? I want to. I need to. God, do I need to.

There is an animal, something primitive, lurking, hungry for perversion buried in me. It’s just out of reach, hidden beneath a chasm of fear and doubt. I can not find a way through, a way across. What do I do? How can I accept that there is a part of me aching to explore, locked away by my own shortcomings? How can I? I can’t. But then what? What can I possibly do with the skin that I am in? Can it learn? Can I?

The more I try to figure it all out, the more questions I discover. I seem to be sorely lacking in answers.
 

Spank me, Spank me, Spank me please

Oh Daddy, won't you spank me please?

Push me down onto my knees.

I've been so good, I've been so bad;

Tell me are you really mad?

Face down, ass up, that's what you taught, 

You know that I love to get caught.

Spank me, spank me, spank me please, 

Spank me red so they all see.

With a paddle or with your hand, 

Spank me until I can not stand. 

Spank me, spank me, spank me yours

Spank me til I'm oh so sore.

I'm yours tonight, and every night

I'm yours to touch and hold on tight. 

So please, I ask, for this one thing, 

And my whol heart to you I'll bring. 

So Daddy, Daddy, spank me red,

And I'll be yours until I'm dead.

Last week, I shared a great many things about myself as a person and as a submissive. I shared my experience discovering myself as a submissive and how I see myself in that role. I discussed what the role of submissive means to me. I shed light on what I hope my Daddy will be to me. Now, I want to take a look at things from the other side.

Relationships are always a give-and-take, no matter what kind of relationship it is. Dom/Sub relationships have a natural power imbalance set in place by the two partners, and so that dynamic of exchange between the Dom and the Sub may look different than it does in other relationships. Make no mistake, however, it is still there. I have seen those who call themselves “submissive” act as though their Dom’s job is to wait on them hand over foot, and that their Dom must have their entire world centered on them. I have seen “submissives” expect their Dom to have no problems, and if they do, to keep it to themselves because it is “not a submissives job to take care of their Dom”. I was baffled and appalled by this. Yes, a large part of a Dom/Sub relationship is the Dom caring for, controlling, using their Sub. Just as a Dom is an anchor for their Sub, however, a Sub is an anchor for their Dom.

A true submissive must also be a natural submissive. When I say this, I do not mean it in the way it is often thrown around by abusive Doms trying to make a new, ignorant submissive feel special in order to mould them into exactly what they want. When I say “natural submissive”, I mean that the submissive gains pleasure from pleasing others. This will show in all aspect of a submissive’s life. They will find gratification in obedience, the pleasure and pride of others. In being as such, a Dom will have the security of knowing that their submissive finds joy and purpose in them. On the reverse, a Dom finds joy and purpose in commanding their Sub, giving them direction and safety. A Sub finds satisfaction in giving similarly to how a Dom finds satisfaction in taking.

Doms are not perfect people. No matter how strong or settled as an individual they may see, Doms are still human, they still are victim to the ebb and flow of their emotions. When a Dom is angry, they can seek solace in their Sub. Whether they need to fuck away their frustration (safely, consensually), or simply lay down and hold their Sub so that they know they are there, in their arms, safe and warm and real, this is the Sub’s role to play. When a Dom is sad, they can seek comfort in their Sub. This can be through hugs and kisses and kind, loving words, or through slow, sensual sex to express the love and trust in one another without words. Whatever a Dom is feeling, their Sub is more than capable of being a source of help and love through any emotion.

There are many nuances to a Dom/Sub relationship that I will never be able to understand. I am a submissive, and therefore could never possibly encompass the mind of a dominant completely. I enjoyed this exercise, exploring the needs of a dominant for their submissive. I look forward to learning more, understanding more, and hopefully allowing everything that I find to help me be an even better person and an even better submissive.

I don’t have anything particularly witty or kitschy to say in introduction of this post. I have had an overwhelming fantasy take over my mind for the last twenty-four hours that is begging to be released in some way, and the only way I know how is through writing. I hope you enjoy, and if not, I at least hope it allows you to glimpse a bit further into this corner of my mind.

. . .

“Welcome home, baby girl.” His voice rumbles through my body, and I sigh, letting my stress and worry drift away until I can no longer reach it. I immediately bow my head. “Mm, that’s my good girl.” His fingertips graze over my neck, and I tremble. “Let’s get you collared, shall we? Would you like that, little one?” All I can do is nod. My eyes are heavy as I trail after him, following obediently into the bedroom. There, in the center of the room, I see the St. Andrew’s Cross, standing proud and domineering. I peer further, and on the edge of the bed, I see Daddy’s flogger. It’s black and made fully of leather. It holds eighteen strands, each eighteen delicious inches long and half an inch wide, cut at an angle on the ends for additional, glorious bite. I bite my lip, thinking of the last time Daddy had lain into me with it, and how I had screamed and begged for what seemed like hours. I clench my legs together, a bone deep arousal coursing straight to my lower belly and pooling between my thighs.

“Daddy?” I ask, needing to know… “Was I good?” My mouth is parted, breaths drawing in quick and shallow. He stalks across the room, soft, black lace collar dangling from his hands. The air gets caught in my lungs as he reaches forward and locks it around my neck. It feels heavenly. “Thank you Daddy,” I breathe out. My skin finally feels like it is wrapped snugly over my bones, and I feel more grounded than I ever could outside of this room, uncollared, not close to him.

“You’re very welcome, young lady.” He hums appreciatively as he tilts my head back, exposing the long, pale expanse of my throat. “And to answer your question, yes. You have been a very good girl. And good girls deserve a treat, don’t they princess?” His voice raises as he finished, words enunciated and sharp. I feel the command shoot through my, from my head to my toes.

“Yes, Daddy.”

“Mm, that’s my good girl.” He cards his fingers through my hair, and when they reach the base of my skull, he tugs. “Now that you are collared, I need you to undress for me. Can you do that for your Daddy, little one?” I nod once, staring just a second longer into his eyes, seeing the hunger hidden there. I reach down and unzip my dress, letting it fall from my body in a puddle on the floor. Goosebumps break out on my legs and my stomach, and I reach to push my bra straps off my shoulders. Reaching back, I unclasp it one notch at a time, and it falls to the floor as well. My breasts sit upon my chest, nipples pebbled in the cool air. I bend down to retrieve the clothes, walking silently to the chair in the corner of the room. Folding the clothes neatly and laying them down, I feel Daddy come up behind me and kiss my neck.. “Such a good girl for me. Can you get into position for me?

“Yes Daddy,” I moan out. I walk over to the cross and stand with my arms out wide, feet spread along the base. He comes over and quickly locks my wrists, ankles, and waist to the structure. He pulls out a blindfold from his back pocket, waving it in front of my face.

“How about we hide those gorgeous eyes of yours, keep you in your head today, angel?” I can do nothing but nod, letting my eyes slip close as the smooth fabric is slipped over them. I can hear him walk around me in a full circle, and I can’t help but feel like prey laid out on a platter to be feasted upon. He stops, and I can’t breathe. I feel strung out with anticipation, and then I feel the light tendrils trailing across my back and my shoulders. I gasp, flinching slightly at the touch before settling down with a long, shaky exhale. “Where should I mark up your pretty skin, princess? Your shoulders maybe?” I feel the light glide move up over my shoulders, and I drop my head with a breathy moan. “No, I don’t think so. Perhaps over your thighs, that way you’ll feel me with every step you take.” Shifting down my back, over my as, and to my sensitive thighs, the rub of the leather strands making my already weak legs shake. “No, not there either, I don’t think. What about this ass of yours? It always looks so deliciously ruined when I beat it to a pretty pink.” I hear him let out a slow breath, and then the soft strands are gone, replaced with a rough hand gripping one round globe of my ass tightly. “I think I’ll save this ass for my hands, later. That leaves your back, little girl. Can you take it?”

“Yes Daddy,” I force out, my whole body begging to be lit on fire. I can hear him chuckle at my obvious desperation, but he doesn’t say anything. I wait for the first strike, but I am never ready for the initial sting of it. I gasp, pushing up onto my toes as I feel the pain flood across my skin. Slowly, one after the other, he strikes across my back, never landing in one spot twice in a row. The pace increases until I am screaming with the brutal rhythm. It hurts so good, and I am flooded with mind-numbing endorphins. Pain becomes pleasure, pleasure becomes pain, and I can’t distinguish between the two anymore. Each repeated thud rocks me forward, and I curl my toes against the sensations. My mind goes, and I am only aware of the blaze of my skin. All of a sudden the thuds cease, and I am floating.

“Mm, you’re doing so good for Daddy.” I hear him speaking as if he was far away, an echo of a whisper. I force out a desperate whine when two fingers push inside of me, pleasure singing up my insides. “And you’re so wet for me, my pet. Mm, I’m going to fuck you so good once I’m finished.” I can hear the promise in the distance, and then the strikes come again. They are impossibly faster, harder, and I scream. I can’t control what I am saying, desperate pleas tumbling out of my lips like a waterfall of pure desperation. I shout for my Daddy, beg for something I can’t even name. It could have been seconds, or it could have been hours before the thuds slow down. Then it is just one or two every minute before they stop completely. I am slumped over on the cross, having given up on holding myself upright. Sobs bounce off the walls and the endorphins flood my system.

“Please Daddy, please fuck me! I’ve been so good! I need it, please, fill me up and make me feel so good. I need the stretch, I need you to make me yours!” I beg desperately, unable to control any of the words slipping past my lips. He swiftly releases me from the restraints, catching me as I nearly fall to the floor. A bottle of water is brought to my lips, and I take slow, short sips to keep from choking. Once I have finished half of the bottle, I have stopped crying, but that ache is still their, demanding to be satisfied. “Please Daddy, I want you,” I whisper, wrapping my arms around him and kissing him with all the energy and passion I can scrape from my body. His arms wrap around me and I know he will take care of me.

“Mm of course, baby girl. I can’t wait to fuck that tight, wet pussy of yours.” He squeezes my hips and helps me stand. “Now get on the bed for me, let me see what I’ve done to you.” I scramble onto the bed and get on my knees, laying my arms and chest down on the mattress. My back arches, ass and pussy on full display for Daddy to gaze at his leisure. The soft thud of his boots on the hardwood floor come creepingly closer. “Look at you. You’re obscene, baby.” His hands come up and knead my ass. I breathe out sharply, feeling the remnants of pain at the base of my spine. Unprompted, a tongue drags its way through my folds, and I shout. “Always so delicious princess, I could spend a whole day just taking you apart with my tongue,” he warns, “but that’s for another time. Right now, I need to fuck you like the perfect slut you are.”

“Yes Daddy, please!” I shout, scooting back to get him closer. The bed dips where he kneels behind me, and I crane my neck back to see. He has stripped from his shirt, but his pants are still on. They are zipped open and pulled down just enough for his cock to spring free. I feel my mouth water at the sight, begging to get a taste, but I know that’s not when I need right now. His hand comes to my hip, and he enters me in one long stroke. I moan out long and pitiful, loving the stretch and burn of him.

“Always so tight for me baby, I’m gonna fucking wreck you.” With that promise, he sets a violent pace, fucking into me deep and fast, hips flush against each other, skin slapping against skin. All too quickly I feel that tight coil tugging in my stomach, and the tears are back. Wetness drips down my cheek and I can’t help but beg.

“Please Daddy, please can I come?” My legs tremble incessantly.

“Yeah, baby. You wanna come? Go ahead and come,” he allows, slapping my ass once, twice, continuing his utterly devastating pace. I feel the heat flood my lower stomach, and I am right there, and it feels so good, but I can’t come. Something stops me and I cry out.

“Daddy, please! Tell me, tell me to come!”

“I know what you need, don’t worry. I want you to do as you are fucking told, and fucking come for your Daddy. Right now.” As he says this, and his voice drops low and sharp, I scream as pleasure floods every cell in my body. I collapse in a trembling heap, shocks rocking through me as I cum. My moans slowly fade until it is a slow drag of sound.

“Thank you Daddy,” I say softly once I have regained my breath. I look up and see him stroking himself slowly, eyes ravenous. I crawl forward, and lay on my back, head hanging off the edge of the bed with his cock right above my face. “Come on, Daddy, put my mouth to good use.” He groans and then his cock is shoved down my throat as far as it can go. With no preamble, he fucks my face without mercy, grunts and groans growing louder and mixing with the sloppy, wet sounds of my mouth. I moan at the feeling of being used for his pleasure, tongue lapping out any chance it gets. After a few short minutes, he grunts and stops above me, shoving his cock as deep inside my mouth as he can and comes. I swallow because it's the only thing I can do. He pulls out slowly, and the taste of him bursts on my tongue. I leave a sloppy kiss on the tip as I chase every last drop.

“You’re so fucking good, baby girl.” He growls out, panting from exertion and satisfaction.

“Only for you Daddy.” I lay down with him and burrow into his side. I tuck my head into his neck, kissing his skin lightly as he wraps himself around me.

“I should clean us up.” He says, eyes still closed and making no move to get up. I giggle, holding him tighter.

“Later, now just stay here with me, please Daddy?”

“Okay baby girl, whatever you wish.”

      Today I will be discussing my hopes, dreams, and fantasies when it comes to my future Daddy Dom. I will talk about the roles I hope he fulfills in my life and some things that I spend a lot of my time daydreaming of. I will also describe what it all feels like and means to me as a sub. Read on if you dare!

      My Daddy must be my number one fan. He will believe in me more than anyone else in the entire world, especially more than I believe in myself. He will see me for all that I am, spectacularly, as well as all that he knows I could become. His eyes light up when I enter into a room, and they stay on me no matter where I go. He always want me at his side, at his feet, in his arms. He is always proud of me for what I accomplish, what I attempt, and who I am. He holds no reservations towards praising me, delighting in how I preen when he does so. He will accept me for who I am, mind, heart, body, and soul. Through this, I will always feel pride for what I do and who I am, because I know my Daddy is proud of me. I will always strive to be better and to work harder, knowing my Daddy will be happy that I did so. I will be comfortable and happy with who I am, because my Daddy loves me, and Daddy is always, always right. When I do something good, he will always be the first person I seek out, although he is probably already there cheering me on all the way. Whenever I am struggling, I find comfort knowing Daddy will be happy with my efforts, and help me try, try again. I always want to be good for my Daddy.

      My Daddy must be my confidant, allowing me to bare my very soul to him beyond all others, flaws and all. No matter who I have in my life besides him, whether it be friends or family, no one will ever know me more than he does. He will be the one person in existence that I talk to about anything and everything, no matter what, knowing he will value my trust and honor it above all else. He will be the one from who I withhold nothing. To me, this is the greatest gift I can offer someone: my trust. To offer up my body, my mind, my heart is to be generous, but to offer up my very soul laid bare for him to look at, observe, analyze, is to truly love. I will know that I can call him at three in the afternoon after I have a great class or when I see one of my friends who makes me happy, and I know I can call him when it is three in the morning and I am desperately sad, knowing he will be my source of relief.

      My Daddy must be my protector. Whether he is saving me from myself, or standing up for me against a threat, he will always be my shield and armor. He will not let anyone take a step to me or speak a negative word about me, and he will never let me do the same to myself. His protective instincts will make me feel safe and loved, and anyone should pity the poor fool who messes with my Daddy’s baby girl. To me, this is an act of pure love and devotion that I will have with my Daddy. I am his, owned by no one but him, and he will fight for what is his no matter what. And as I am his, I will let him. I will trust him to keep me happy and safe and satisfied, knowing that he will always make sure I am nothing short of happy as much as he possibly can. The world would never seem so cruel when I am wrapped up in my Daddy.

      My Daddy must be my teacher. He will show me all new things that the world has to offer. He will take me to new places, feed me foods I have never eaten, and do things with me that I have never done. He will take great pleasure in knowing that he has given me something I have never had before. This could mean getting me to try Quenelles de Brochet for the first time, taking me on a trip to Norway for the first time, or tying me down face first to be used without abandon for as long as he pleases, he will always give me as many firsts as he can possibly manage, deflowering me in limitless ways over and over and over again. To me, this means that the world will become tainted in the best way by my Daddy, and I will be unable to separate the rest of the world from him. Therefore, in more ways than one, he will be my entire world.

      My Daddy must be my guide. He will help me navigate the world, he will always be there to give me advise. He will always answer my questions, calm my fears, and make my insecurities go away. He will always be the one to remind me who I am and what I am capable of. To me, this means that I will be able to face the world head on, always knowing that my Daddy is there with me every step of the way.

      My Daddy must be my Anchor. A Dom is unyielding, an anchor in a storm strong enough to withstand any wind or rain or flood that is sent his way. No matter what I am going through or what I must face, he will always be there right where he has always been. He knows that the storm will pass, and I will be safe, but he is more than happy to hold me until then. To me, this means that I will not have to face my demons alone. I struggle through a war in my own mind every single day, and my Daddy will be there fighting with me, making me feel ten times stronger.

      My Daddy must be my disciplinarian. When I act badly, I will always expect to be disciplined or punished for my wrongdoing. He will implement structure into my like, giving me a schedule, chores, routines, and goals. He will choose what I eat, what I wear, where I go, what I do, and I will more than happily follow every command. He will be strict, but fair, punishing me effectively, but never out of anger. He will always be there to care for me afterwards, and I will be all the more eager to please him. To me, this means I will have the stability and protection I have craved from life for as long as I can remember. He will be my dominant in every way, and I will willingly give my life to him knowing he will take care of it with every breath he takes.

mon amour . mon coeur . ma vie