Beauty in Bratting

Hello people. Sorry I dissapeared there. A lot has been going on. In life. With Daddy. With family..just a lot. 

So Daddy came back from his last trip and I got my punishment. Called yellow 3 times because it was intense and Daddy respected it. Let's just say I never want to meet grandpa again. The punishments were deserved and forgiveness given. Then when I kissed Daddy goodbye and he drove away I went in an cried. 

Some tears were shed because I missed him. But also because my heart was torn feeling like I couldn't keep up with our relationship the way it was. I loved Daddy as my dom but given the age difference I didnt feel like truly we could have a true relationship. One ending in marriage. But I didnt want to tell him. 

It led me to consider cutting again. To release the pain. I wanted to hurt myself for feeling I would hurt him. I will admit...and even Daddy doesnt know....i did recut open one of the wounds. But stopped when phone rang and I had to go take my cousins from their home. Finally I told Daddy. 

He asked if I wanted to be released. The answer was no. My life without Daddy doesnt make sense....but I'm 26 and I want a vanilla relationship..one I can see marriage in. I care so deeply about Daddy but deep in my heart I know my family could never accept us. Society couldn't accept us. And I couldn't accept that. 

So now we are navigating this new state of being. Do not be mistaken. Daddy is still my Daddy. I do not desire nor will seek another Dom. But I am open to explore the vanilla world as is he. It's hard. It will be hard not kissing him as we have determined that's too much of a connection. It's hard navigating rules knowing right now we are cutting off the love relationship of it. But he is the most amazing Dom I have ever had. My life would not be the same without him. And who knows...I may find he is who I do need as my forever. But I have to explore..

I just cant help feeling like a jerk for doing this. I cant help but feeling bad for Daddy. But he seems okay with it and trust me....he controls me just the same. For now though...there is a change in programming...and I'm learning to navigate this new space.

Hey guys. I dont know how Daddy is going to handle this but my anxiety and depression got to me and I cut again. Just one cut before I cried realizing what I was doing. I am starting with a therapist this week to deal with what happened but right now all I feel is shame for doing this again

So Daddy was gone all weekend and I felt myself slip beyond bratty into defiance and a world where I was in control and making bad decisions. I just dont know what to do. Daddy has to travel for buisness... I cant stop that from happening. But how do I deal with the ongoing longing for him when he is gone without rebelling out of anger. 

It's like I feel hurt when he is gone. Abandoned. Alone. And I lash out by rebelling which only hurts myself and me and Daddys dynamic. I'm almost glad he is coming tomorrow to punish me because I long to get back on course. I feel lost where I am now. Rules have been washed away by rebellion and I feel off center. Goals I was working towards I'm now farther from and I feel like the version of myself I hated before BDSM and Daddy. 

I need a find a way to cope with the longing. Realize Daddy doesnt want to leave me. And be a good princess when he is away. But it's so hard because it hurts to not have him here and I want to not obey. Literally break every rule to idk...force him to stay. But that's not realistic and not okay. But it's hard to just sit with the longing..ideas would be appreciated. Love yall. Wish me luck when Daddy comes home tomorrow.....I got a lot of explaining to do. 

Hello blog family. Well this brat got herself into more trouble. But this is beyond my usually antics to something that cuts much deeper. Literally. My Daddy is out of town for work and yesterday I had to sit with my feelings a lot about dealing with the assault that happened last week. It took my a very dark place. I could have coped with anything: journaling, calling someone, working out, getting out of the house. Literally anything. Instead I found myself sitting there with a blade in my hand ready to cut deep. Luckily, Daddy text me then called me right them. 

My Daddy has a way of just in his voice bringing me back to my center. Helping me to find my peace, my joy,and my purpose. And he did that with his voice. In that moment I didn't tell him what I was about to do, but I did flush the razor. And coped in other ways by listening to music and dancing and then relaxing. This morning I made the confession to Daddy and asked to be punished. With him gone I have lost my center and I needed him to re-center me. And thus...after some sentences, I am supposed to write this blog about why I shouldn't cut. It's taken a lot to think about that. 

But when I do think I realize this is Daddy's body. This is the body he finds beautiful. This is the body he cherishes. This is his. And if I cut it, I mutilate it, I carve into myself the very self-hate which Daddy wants to remove for me. And it doesn't fill anything. The release from cutting brings a brief relief in emotion, but shortly after it comes back. I never deal with the emotions because I turn them into physical pain. And that's not okay. It's not okay to run away from emotions or carve hate into my body. Instead I should talk to Daddy about my feelings. Let him be my strength. And when I can't talk I should journal it out and know I will talk to Daddy about it sometime. 

Getting to that point and not reaching for something to cause me physical pain instead of emotional pain, will be hard. But it will make me better in the end. And I don't want the scars on my body. I am ashamed of them. Because they mark a moment where my hate for self grew too strong to deal with any other way. Perhaps I don't like my body or the circumstances of my life, but that does not mean I need to do something so permanent to my body. A moment of emotion doesn't warrant a long-lasting scar. 

And cutting myself takes away from my relationships. With myself, my friends, and Daddy. Because it digs into me hate, doubt, and anger. It marks a body with hate, which Daddy wants to mark with love. It leaves an imprint that every day tells me how little I care about myself. 

Finally I shouldn't cut, especially with why I wanted to, because by cutting myself I tell the man who assaulted me that he is in control. Or whoever angers me or makes me hate myself. I tell them that their words matter more than mine, than God, or than my Daddy. 

This body is precious to God and to Daddy. This body is the only one I have. This body is held, nurtured, and cared for by Daddy and I will not make my own marks on it. My Daddy is the only one who will ever make marks on my body. And his marks are of love....and go away....and they don't cut deep physically. His marks, his love, go deep into my soul and fill me with light. So those are the only marks I will put on this body. This brat is going to find her beauty and this brat will never mark her body again. 

No no don't worry me and my Daddy aren't meeting each others family. At least not yet. But I am meeting some of his "friends."Let me start from the beginning.

So Daddy went on a trip yesterday and wont be back for a few days. I was punished before he left but let's just say this bronco was still bucking. So I had the bright idea that to get Daddys attention and make him feel bad for leaving I would brat real bad yesterday. Word to the wise and all the new subs out there.....not a bright idea..you could just use your words and say....I miss you. But nevertheless I instead cursed, refused to do my 10 am greeting, called him names all the while thinking....he cant call me. He cant punish me. I can do what I want.

Another word to the wise...do not forget that cars have bluetooth settings and even if your Daddy is driving he can....and will call you to put you in your place. So when I went a step too far with my bratting and refused to do something for Daddy....the phone rang.I answered it innocently enough. Trying to be sweet. Trying to get him to see my pouting and innocence without actually seeing me....but it did not happen. That's when Daddy said I was going to be meeting grandpa.

You see I did this funny thing and named so of the implements I am punished with....and the wooden paddle which made it hard to sit for 4 days I named Dr. Evil and apparently he has a dad named....you guessed it...Grandpa. I literally begged. Pleaded. Said Daddy was mean. Anything to save my...well Daddys...innocent booty from punishment. I'm trying to be super good today (we will see how long that last) so maybe Daddy forgets and I dont receive consequences. Oh yeah that's the other annoying....I mean amazing....idea of Daddys. 

I'm a teacher and I give my children consequences. When I kept telling Daddy it wasnt fair to punish me...he asked me what happens to my kids who dont listen. Again I got a clever idea. If I say a word other than punishment he cant use it to tell me I need a punishent. So I said...they get consequences. There was a brief pause and I can only imagine the look on Daddys face as I continued to brat. He said...fine then you wont get a punishment. Again a pause just long enough for me to get excited...you will get consequences. Literally my life and comfortable sitting crashed before me

. There was another punishment I wriggled my way out of where Daddy said since I cant seem to text him my I am beautiful greeting (which is still a lie Daddy) then I was going to have to post it on my blog every day at 11 AM. I am not about to annoy you all with lies....but if I miss just one day you all will know because I will be writing on the blog.

So wish me luck meeting the family. Pray for my booty. Pray for my bratting. And pray Grandpa is nice 

Yesterday I got to see my Daddy and it was amazing as always. I was DEFINITELY in trouble and definitely got what Daddy had spared me a few days ago, but I also learned a lot as I do every time I am with Daddy. Currently (and I hope Daddy doesn’t read this) I hate my body. Everything about it. I literally don’t look in mirrors, don’t take pictures, and before Daddy didn’t let anyone touch me.

In the past year I have beaten thyroid cancer but I also lost my thyroid and with it my fitness, my body, my health. I am back on the road to healing, but it doesn’t mean my body has healed at all. I have gained a ton of weight and cry when I look at myself.

Daddy’s first rule for me was that I had to tell him I was beautiful at 10 AM every day and he doesn’t let me speak bad about my…well his…body. I think I have obeyed that rule like once. But yesterday, strapped down and stripped….I wasn’t scared about my body. Not during our play…after the thoughts came, but during…I have never once felt less than with Daddy.

He reminds me every day how beautiful I am and it honestly makes me cry. Because I just don’t see it. I don’t see how anyone can look at me and think anything is beautiful. But Daddy does and I have to trust he isn’t lying. But still I cannot accept my body. I just can’t. Not like it is.

Now Daddy tells me he likes my body as it is, but he knows I want to change it for me. For my sanity. My joy. But I just don’t know how in the process to look at what he says in beautiful and not want to tear it apart. As my last poem said, I used to cut myself, beat myself, burn myself because of how disgusting I think I am. But Daddy says I am beautiful.

That is one thing I wish people knew about BDSM, the growth it brings. My Daddy never disciplines me out of anger. Never oversteps his boundaries. Never truly, in the mean angry sense of the word, hurts me. He does everything to make me better. Even yesterday, taking my punishment, I wanted to call yellow because it did hurt, but I didn’t because I knew that was me trying to get out of punishment. I knew if I called it Daddy would stop and I also knew that I needed to be corrected because my brattiness had gone a bunch of steps too far. And it was then I also realized how much BDSM is helping me to learn about myself, my strength, and ways I need to change.

Still though….this brat isn’t going anywhere. She is still here, messing up, fessing up, and taking her punishment from the best Daddy in the world. I just hope one day she can also learn to look at herself and call herself beautiful

Been a while since wrote poem here goes 

...............................

These scars on my body

Tell a story of pain

These scars on my heart

Tell the story of heartbreak

The scars on my wrist

Tell a story of survival

These scars I inflicted

Tell a story of hate

But these marks on my body

Tell the story of love

His handprints on my body

Tell a story of passion

His grip on my heart

Tells a story that he won’t ever let me go

His collar on my neck

Tells a story that I am his completely

This body is his

And will never be scarred again

Last night was one of the most amazing, touching, comfort filled nights with my Daddy. We hadn’t seen each other since I had been sexually assaulted by a man in the vanilla world over the weekend. Being covered with bruises from another man I felt used, abused, and ashamed. I still did, and still do partly, blame myself for the incident and I felt like I had let Daddy down.

I was nervous for him to see me. To see the marks on his body that weren't from him. To see his body marked by another. But I had to see Daddy. I had to feel secure in his arms again. I had to feel his strength, his control, his care. It was less about a want to be controlled as a need last night.

When Daddy arrived I shivered in expectation. I couldn’t even contain myself and greet him kneeled I had to have my Daddy in my arms. I forgot about punishment, I forgot about what was correct, and I did what my whole body had to do and embraced my Daddy. When that collar was placed on my neck again, this time with a lock on it, I felt complete. I felt safe for the first time since Saturday. I no longer felt exposed. I felt secure, contained, held. I was at home in my Daddy’s arms.

I tried to cover up as much as I could but the bruises on my arms were evident to Daddy and I saw the pain in his eyes as he saw them. I felt ashamed again and all I could do was hug Daddy and say I’m sorry. He then held me and whispered so gently, “It’s not your fault baby girl.” I know Daddy is right in all things, always, but it is so hard to believe it’s not my fault. So Daddy had to tell me over and over again.

As he inspected the rest of my body, something I hadn’t experienced with Daddy and which makes me super self conscious anyway, all I wanted to do was cry. I knew the marks left on my body were no longer from Daddy, but from an evil, manipulative man who treated me like an object. It broke my heart for Daddy to have to see this. I was convinced Daddy would hate me and walk away. Leave me un-collared, and alone. But he didn’t. He held me. He had me tell him what happened, or at least what I can remember, and he held me so tight I could feel his heartbeat. I felt truly loved. I mean Daddy and I haven’t been together long enough for it to be love, but it was the most love I had ever felt.

Everyone else in my life had blamed me for being drunk. Had blamed me for ever going. But Daddy didn’t. He held me. Without saying a word he made me feel like everything would be okay. Even if it wasn’t now it would be. He made the world stop spinning and made me find my center. He made me feel cared for, whole, unbroken, undamaged. He made me feel like he would never let me go. To me that is love. And one day I hope I do truly fall in love with my Daddy. I can’t wait for the day he holds me, looks in my eyes, and can tell me he loves me.

Then something unexpected happened. I had been a brat for a few days and definitely had punishments waiting. But when Daddy saw my bruises from another man, saw the pain in my eyes, he skipped punishment. I know I have it coming to me, but for him to not punish me right then, when I know as a Dom it is something he feels the need to do. It filled me with joy. Not that I don’t want to be punished as I like to be put in my place, but he denied a piece of himself for me. To help me heal. To help me feel safe. I mean we played, in other ways….and part of it was punishment—like, but more about pleasure. Then I just got to lay with my Daddy. Be with him. Feel held by him, cared by him. It was a moment that made our connection so much stronger. And I definitely feel like I’m falling for him.

I never thought seeing a soft side of a Dom would turn me on so much. But knowing the man who can force me to my knees and force me into submission with his power can also bring me to my knees in admiration, awe, and love is amazing to me. Now seeing Daddy’s bag of toys which he had planned to use and knowing those will be coming out in the future excites me and reminds me of his power, but feeling the softness in Daddy’s heart made him not just my Daddy, but my man. Like I say every single blog and will say until the end of times, I am the luckiest baby girl out there to be able to look into my man’s eyes and call him Daddy. 

As a brat it's hard for me to want to submit right out of the gate but today something is different. I feel like my bond with Daddy is getting stronger because now when I think of seeing him I think of falling at his feet. He is coming over tonight after several LONG days apart. Every day I have wanted him here. Every day I have longed for his firm hand to caress me and show me its gentle side. Every day I have wanted to feel his power and release for him. Now he is coming over and I can only hope I kneel patiently like I'm supposed to..but tonight this brat may just break that rule so she can jump in Daddys arms. I am so lucky to have my Daddy. 

It’s crazy to me that in basically a week of being in the IRL world of this lifestyle how much my views on it had changed. When I first experimented with online Doms I thought that rules and tasks were designed merely to make me submit, to give them power, to please them. I mean, I didn’t mind it, but my bratty side always got the better of me and I would rebel. Especially because I frankly didn’t see a point to any of the rules.

Enter my Daddy. We started with just a few rules and at first, again, I was thinking he merely made me do them to make him feel better. I didn’t mind, and only rebelled a little. Recently several more rules were added and I just didn’t see the point. Why all these rules. What happened to the bliss of just a handful.

The inner brat came out and wanted to break them. Wanted to push Daddy’s buttons for attention. Then, the terrible event that happened this weekend to me happened and I began to see the purpose to Daddy’s rules. Ask before I go do any kind of adult activities, because sometimes….okay basically all the time….Daddy knows what is best for me and sees red flags I look right past. Another rule, don’t talk to other Doms/men without his permission. Again I was pissed about this because most of my friends are guys, but this weekends event happened because I did talk to an ex without Daddy’s permission and he hurt me, just like he has done every single time in the past.

But the true act of love, compassion, and care I saw from Daddy was when I told him, I never wanted to drink again because it always gets me into trouble. Literally I don’t think, at least not in recent years, that I have ever drank and there been a positive outcome. That’s when Daddy added a rule for me that I cannot drink. In that moment things clicked. Daddy didn’t add rules to control me. Or make them to feel more dominant. He made them and adds them to make me a better person.

Yes, sometimes I brat, but I always correct my behavior once Daddy steps in. And no, this realization won’t make me brat less, but let’s just say I am going to choose which rules to brat with. Every day I grow more and more drawn to my Daddy. Every day I realize how much he cares about me and desires to protect me. Every day I find myself wanting to get better and better for him. This lifestyle is so much more than I could ever dream possible and I can’t wait to discover myself more and more in it every day. I can’t wait to become the woman I have always believed I could be through Daddy’s help and guidance. I literally feel like the luckiest brat in the world and am so luck my Daddy calls me his.