31 March 2010

A Monthly Battle

*** Warning!!!*** For those of you who may not be interested in the frantic wanderings of a submissive woman who is suffering through her time of the month, by all means look away now!!! Consider yourselves forewarned…

Wow…I feel off. I can’t collect my thoughts. I feel incapable of engaging in a normal conversation with Daddy. I’m scattered, depressed, and defiant. My body is rebelling against me and I am losing the fight. All I want to do is sleep and/or cry. I hate feeling like this because it’s not me. This is not who I am. Of course, I blame it all my parents. When everyone else was asking for a car for their 16th birthday, I asked for a hysterectomy. Do you think they came through? Nope. And I thought they loved me…*sigh* ;)

Ok, ok, now I’m admittedly spilling in to the realm of the overdramatic… Time to get some perspective and straighten my lines of thinking and reasoning. What are the things in my life that I can hold on to in order to anchor myself?

I have a Daddy/Master who loves me very much and always will, despite my monthly crazy spells.
I have a wonderful life as a submissive wife (and am evidently a decent poet to boot!)
Aside from not feeling too well right about now, my body, mind, and soul are in perfect working order and are prepared to serve Daddy in whatever ways he wishes.

Ok, baby girl, let’s focus and breathe… A less crazy tomorrow awaits you!

(I am actually posting this on my "less crazy tomorrow," and it feels great to be out of the hormone fog!!!)

30 March 2010

Day of Reflection

Sunday was a training day for baby girl… Daddy said that I had acted bratty on Saturday (and he was correct…I had…always a bit too feisty for my own good) and that he wanted to see his perfect little slave on her best behavior. “Sir” was to be used at all times and no blatant displays of willfulness were to be tolerated. He informed me of the day’s rules as he fucked me into submission first thing in the morning. As I was gagged at the time (and incidentally also had my nipples clamped), when he asked me if I fully understood what was required of me, all I could do was nod emphatically.

I was Daddy’s perfect little slave girl… I tended to his every need and made him cum three times while in my rightful place (twice in my pussy while I was underneath him and once in my mouth while on my knees). On all three occasions, Daddy made it clear that the reason I exist was to give him pleasure, but that he was so proud to have a little one who was so good at making her Master feel good. I never missed an opportunity to serve my Master and made sure that this training day was not in vain. It was for my own good…and if I did not perform up to Daddy’s expectations (as he informed me during the morning’s fuck/briefing session), then we would just have to continue to have more strict training days. I have no say as to Daddy’s decisions – obviously – but I have to admit that I agreed with him wholeheartedly. Master needed to see his little one’s focus, determination, desire to serve, and unconditional submission and I owed him all of those things and more.

There was only one glitch during the day…and it was a glitch that reminded me why I am so lucky to have Daddy in my life for the rest of my life. While preparing lunch for us, I cut my hand and began to bleed. It wasn’t terrible, but it wouldn’t stop bleeding. I continued with the lunch preparations, but then realized that I needed something to eat because I was feeling lightheaded. The combination of the lack of food and the sight of my own blood caused me to crumble to the ground in the kitchen like a ragdoll. It had been awhile since I’d had a fainting spell, but the one certainty is that I see spots and then I start to cry uncontrollably. Even though it was a training day (and perhaps especially because it was a training day), Daddy rushed over, got on the ground, and held me in my arms while he figured out what was wrong with me. He held and comforted me until the tears subsided and until he could get me to the couch to get some food in me.

I don’t pretend to know everything about the D/s lifestyle, but there is definitely one thing I do know. Any Dom who wouldn’t respond in a similarly gentle fashion to his submissive’s plight does not deserve to call himself a Dom. I am in constant awe of how wonderful my Daddy is to me and how perfectly we suit one another. The same Master who fucks me into submission and diligently trains me to fulfill his needs is also the one who holds me after my nightmares and cuddles with me for the sole purpose of showing me how much he loves me.

I guess I just didn’t expect to come out of a training day with so much perspective and enlightenment. Thank you, Sir…

29 March 2010

My Rights

Baby girl has written here -- quite wonderfully -- about what she has given up and gained in this relationship. As the Dom, I think differently from this. I think in terms of my rights with baby girl. What can I do to her?

Baby girl has no hard limits. None. We established the very first time we chatted that neither of us was interested in what I came, while chatting with girls online, to call "SCAB": scatology, children, animals, and blood. None of them do anything for either of us. Baby girl doesn't have to worry about me suddenly wanting to see her with a German Shepherd. It's not going to happen. That said, there are no hard limits around these items since baby girl doesn't have any such limits. I could wake up one day, change my mind, tell baby girl I want to watch her have a hot scene with Rin Tin Tin, and she'd have to accept this. But for the sake of simplicity, in a discussion of rights, let's leave out things I'm not going to do simply because I have no interest at all in them.

Let's also leave out the things I already do to baby girl. If you read this blog, you know that I belt and cane her until she enters subspace or breaks (the choice is mine). You know that I strap baby girl to the bed, gag and blindfold her, and then fuck her as hard as I want. You know that I slap baby girl across the face and breasts. You know that I wrap my hand around her throat and cut off her air as I'm about to make her cum. You know that I take her whenever I want, and that her orgasms are gifts from me when it pleases me to give them. So in a discussion of rights, let's leave out the rights we already know I have.

In other words, what the things I might want to do to baby girl -- no matter how unlikely -- but haven't yet? Well, it's a long list; too long to actually write up. I'd be working on it for days. But I'm sure I can hit some highlights:
  • I could take up another partner, separately from baby girl or together as a threesome.
  • I could order baby girl to take up another partner, male or female.
  • I could take baby girl to a sex club or other similar environment and use her in front of people or share her with others.
  • I could order baby girl to wear a collar in public. I could add a leash to the collar.
  • I could have baby girl tattooed. I could have her pierced or branded.
  • I could take away baby girl's orgasms for a weekend, a month, a year, or even permanently.
  • I could tell baby girl she's no longer allowed to wear clothes inside the house.
  • I could post pictures and/or videos of baby girl having sex online.
  • I could tie baby girl's ankle to the bed at night so that she can't get up without my permission.
  • I could put a permanent collar on baby girl -- the kind that won't come off without a special tool or being destroyed.
  • I could torture baby girl in increasingly painful ways -- implements worse than the cane and belt I use now.
  • I could strap baby girl to the bed and leave her there all day, only coming in to use her when I felt like it.
  • I could have baby girl spend hours -- all day, if I so chose -- on her knees in front of me, my cock in her mouth, as I watch television.
  • I could order baby girl to wear a butt plug anytime I chose, including while she's around the house or when we go out.
As I said, I could work for days and days on this list. The above is just a sampling.

Now, which of these rights will I choose to exercise, and when? That's for me to know and baby girl to find out when I do so. But it's a good bet one or both of us will write about them here.

28 March 2010

What I've Gained

As promised, here is the second of the two entries that Daddy commissioned so many months ago. Succinct yet powerful, this is the more significant of the two posts, the one that is representative of everything I’ve ever wanted or needed. The original list of what I’ve given up is a part of my past, something I use as a crutch when I’m feeling self-indulgent, irritable, and lacking in focus. This second list is my present and my future, a reflection upon what I’ve come to accept and embrace as my new life as Daddy’s baby girl…

I’ve gained the most intense orgasms I’ve ever experienced.
I’ve gained a tremendous level of comfort in my own skin and with my body.
I’ve gained the knowledge and power of true submission.
I’ve gained complete trust and obedience.
I’ve gained perspective on what I am capable of when I let go.
I’ve gained patience and acceptance.
I’ve gained new opportunities.
I’ve gained a new husband, home, and family.
I’ve gained confidence and focus.
I’ve gained ultimate fulfillment in knowing that I am His for life.
I’ve gained a new, more suitable name that represents my true self.
I’ve gained solace in the fact that I will be protected and taken care of always.
I’ve gained the ultimate sexual pleasure that can only be found once we stop denying who we are and begin to understand what we need.
I’ve gained a wonderful new life as a baby girl, slave, wife, partner, and best friend to my Master/Daddy.
I’ve gained…everything.

There is no way that I could ever thank you enough, Daddy, but that doesn’t mean that I’ll stop trying! I love you…

27 March 2010

This Morning

I've had to rise early most of this past week, so it was nice to not have an alarm waiting for me this morning. I woke up, catnapped for a while, and when I was finally ready, I curled up behind baby girl, spooning her in the manner we both love.

One of the best things about spooning is that it leaves both my hands free. If I want to arouse baby girl, I'll play with her nipples or put a finger or two in her mouth. If I want to reinforce her place for her -- which also has the effect of arousing her, unsurprisingly -- I'll wrap my hand around her throat or grasp her wrists in my hands.

I opted for the latter this morning. She moaned as she felt me restrain her that way. "Go ahead and struggle," I said, and she did, straining against my hands over and over again. Each time she would sigh and moan. When she calmed, I whispered in her ear, "You're never going anywhere, little one. You're never escaping." That elicited the loudest moan of all.

We usually sleep with our window open, but we're both loud in bed, so I ordered baby girl to get up, close the window, and come back to me. When she did, nestling in once again with her back against my chest, I positioned myself so that my cock was pushing against her pussy. I reached down with my finger to open her up a little and guide my cock in. She was so tight that, in that position, I couldn't force my way in as I so often do. I reached down again, thrust two fingers inside her, and spread her lips apart as much as I could -- which wasn't much. This time I was able to shove my cock in. She was tight, but I could feel the wetness coming.

I thrusted into her for a few moments, then rolled us so that she was on her tummy. When we're in that position, I fuck her differently than I've ever seen in porn. Normally you see the girl's legs spread wide, with the man's legs in between. I don't like that. It feels like I don't have the leverage I like. So I have her keep legs together, with my legs around them, and my feet press down against hers. I can thrust as hard as I like without having to grab onto the sheets or anything else.

One of the things I like about this position is how easy it is to wrap my hand around her throat from below. I did so and held it there for a moment. I told her I was going to let her cum soon, and as I said it, I tightened my grip. I held her like that for a few seconds and then ordered her to cum. She did so, crying out as much as she could with me choking her like that. As she finished orgasming, I released my grip. A minute later, I repeated the process, but this time I reached around with both hands. I had my right hand around her throat, tightened it, made her wait, and then just before I allowed her to cum, I used my left hand to cover her mouth and pinch her nose shut. She came in a closed-mouth scream.

Sometimes this would be more than enough raw dominance for me. Not this morning.

I told her to stay where she was. Lifting myself off her, I grabbed her cock gag from the nightstand, put it in her mouth, and told her to strap it around her neck. While she did so, I went to the walk-in closet and grabbed my favorite belt. Bringing it back to the bed, I looped it around her neck. I like the belt because it's so easy to make it as tight as I want: all I have to do is ensure the buckle is in the right place and then pull off to the side. I leaned down to whisper in her ear.

"You've given up everything," I said. "All of it belongs to me. There's nothing I can't take away from you."

"Yes, sir," baby girl replied. And with that I tightened the belt hard and ripped another orgasm out of her, bigger than the last.

A few minutes later, when I had made her cum another time or two, I announced from above that baby girl was going to get to swallow my cum this morning. She always moans with anticipation when she hears this. I pulled off the belt and released the cock gag strap. I lifted myself off her so that she could tie her hair back as she does whenever she sucks my cock. She moved into position, me on my back, her kneeling between my legs, about to lean over to begin the process that we both know will end with me roaring as I spurt all over her tongue and the roof of her mouth. But as she was about to start, she looked up at me plaintively.

"Daddy, can I have the belt around my neck while I suck your cock?"

I love my little slave.

26 March 2010

What I've Given Up

Before we began this blog, I used to write for an audience of one – Daddy. He would often read me posts from other D/s blogs, posts that he found especially erotic or applicable to our relationship. I’ll never forget the first day that I surprised him with a blog that I had “found” (actually, I was the author of the post), and after I read it to him, he exclaimed, “Wow…that must have really resonated with you.” I giggled to myself and said that it sure had…and then he realized exactly how much the post resonated with me. I had completely surprised him and he loved it! Even from the very beginning, he was encouraging and appreciative of my writing…so much so in fact that he began giving me ideas that he wanted me to write about.

There are two suggestions of his that I have yet to discuss although many months have passed since he originally mentioned them. They have never left my mind, but rather have floated around, gaining steam and weight until the time came when I would be capable of fully exploring and describing the ideas in all their glorious simplicity. Daddy wanted one post about what I’d given up as his slave and one post about what I’d gained as his slave.

Here is the first of those entries…

It would be simple to say that I’ve given up “everything” and be done with it, but then I wouldn’t be doing our relationship much justice or showing you the respect that you deserve for being my Master. In essence, this is exactly what I’ve given up, but the true beauty of relinquishing everything that I’ve ever had or ever known lies in the minutiae – those all-important little things that seem to blend into the fabric of our day-to-day lives and that are always there just under the surface…

I’ve given up control of my orgasms.
I’ve given up denying access to my body.
I’ve given up my rights.
I’ve given up my safe word.
I’ve given up my hard limits.
I’ve given up pushing back.
I’ve given up my job.
I’ve given up my home.
I’ve given up fears of rejection.
I’ve given up freedom and any possibility for escape.
I’ve given up my birth name to become baby girl, little one, pain slut, whore, etc.
I’ve given up the air that I breathe.
I’ve given up the word “no”.
I’ve given up my very life.
I’ve given up…everything.

This list is almost frightening in its minimalism and its brutal honesty. Daddy has stripped me of everything that I once was, but what he has made of me and what he has given me in return is what is truly remarkable… (to be continued)

25 March 2010


Before I had ever experienced a D/s relationship, before I had ever felt a belt across my exposed ass, before I became a slave to my Master, I had read plenty of stories about what this kind of life would entail…and I knew that I wanted it. I knew that, one day, I hoped to find a loving, patient and yet firm and demanding master who was worthy of my complete submission. To find the one who could own, command, abuse, restrain, collar, adore, and love me...to be able to turn myself over fully to another. When the women/slaves in the stories that I read wrote about finding their respective masters, I knew that this was a possibility for me, albeit a remote one. Yet there was often a part of their stories that gave me cause to question their genuineness – the mention of subspace.

I had always regarded subspace as a myth, something that clever submissives used to end a torture session or to top from the bottom in a rather surreptitious manner. How could it be possible to stop feeling the pain of a belt, cane or hand on your already tender ass? How could you not feel the stinging slaps on your bruised and clamped breasts? How could you make the pain go away and, even better, feel like you were floating in a pleasant, safe medium in which everything else disappears yet your submission remains in sharp focus? Impossible. Simply impossible. Until I went there. Well, until we went there, I should say.

I have been to subspace four times so far (no passport necessary). The very first thing that I realized about subspace was that I could never go there alone. I needed Daddy to take me there, to take me to the place that I could not get to by myself. The first time that Daddy took me there, he did so with his bare hand across my ass. I had never endured a spanking like this one before, and even though he had whipped me with a belt on a prior occasion, nothing could prepare me for the burning sting that his hand would inflict.

I twisted, I screamed out, I pulled away, I got terribly wet, I cried…and then I stopped. I knew that Daddy was still beating me, but my body let go under the successive blows. What had initially hurt me so terribly was now just a dull thudding. My body relaxed, I stopped squirming, my eyes glazed over and stopped darting around the room. For the first few seconds, I thought that I had somehow passed out but yet had remained semi-conscious. It was then that I realized that Daddy had taken me to subspace. So…it really did exist. By the time I had figured out where I was and what was happening, Daddy was in front of me, holding my head in his hands and bringing me back to him.

Coming back from subspace is almost as pleasurable as being in subspace itself because the connection between Master and slave is at its strongest point in that moment. Daddy had me tethered to him and never let me go the entire time…and when he pulled me back, all I could do was cry… Tears of fear from what I had just experienced and from the intensity of what we had done, tears of physical and mental exhaustion, tears of happiness and joy at finally being able to let go. I let go at the hands of my Master, my Daddy, my owner, and my partner. By letting go, it felt as though I occupied a (sub)space between the conscious and the unconscious, the present and the future, the living and the dead. Although unsettling, I doubt there is any experience that is more rewarding or fulfilling than that.

Daddy has taken me to subspace three more times since then and he’s beginning to experiment with the power of suggestion while I’m there. I had always assumed that subspace (even when I wasn’t sure of its existence) was an end in and of itself, yet Daddy is showing me that subspace can be the means to some very powerful and desirable ends. Intense pain. Writhing. Screaming. Heat. I’m so close, Daddy. More belting. Harder. Rhythmic. Floating. Peace. Whispers in my ear… “Baby girl, your Daddy just put you in subspace. Now Daddy is going to make you cum harder than you’ve ever cum in your entire life. Focus on my voice… Get ready for your orgasm, baby girl… NOW!!!” The orgasm, in all of its pain, ecstasy, pleasure, and release washes over me… I am unable to stop it, even if I wished to do so. My Master has me right where he wants me; he has never owned me more completely than he does at this moment. As the orgasm continues to rip through me, Daddy starts to bring me back. I am instantly turned into a quivering wreck of a slave, sobbing on his chest and unable to control myself. He holds me close, never letting go, reminding me that I belong to him and that he will always take care of me… The tears slow as I drift into a necessary and extremely pleasant sleep – being reborn is an exhausting process. It is also one that has just begun…

24 March 2010

On Being Broken

We’ve all heard the saying “Be careful what you wish for because you just might receive it,” but Daddy has taken this proverb to a whole new level. It’s not that I might receive it, but rather that I’ll get (as he always says) more than I bargained for. Yesterday, while trying to calm my nerves before a job interview, I mused that maybe I should ask Daddy to beat me in order to focus and center me. And that’s how Baby Girl came to be broken…

As I contemplated my fate, tied securely in place, blindfolded and face down on the bed, I instinctively opened my mouth for Daddy to put the gag in…but sometimes our instincts can be wrong. They certainly were in this case. He sat next to me on the bed, caressing my arm, helping me to relax…He wanted my full attention for what he was about to do to me.

“You’re not getting the gag, little one, because I want to hear every one of your perfect screams. But you are going to be deaf.”

He slid the headphones over my ears and switched my iPod on. Pure terror. I could not see nor hear his movements and would be unable to ascertain where he was, what he was about to do to me, or even prepare myself for the inevitable strikes. He’d never done this before and we had never even discussed it (not that I would have any choice in the matter), but the adrenaline surge in the room must have been absolutely palpable…just how Daddy likes it.

Daddy describes the caning/beating/breaking of his little girl in delicious detail in his post from yesterday, so I’m not going to repeat what he has so wonderfully captured already. But what I do wish to point out is that what I thought I wanted, what I said that I needed wasn’t what I wanted or needed at all. Daddy knew that he had to break me yesterday, he had to hurt me worse than he had ever done before, he needed to strip away every bit of doubt or pretense as to who owned me and why I belonged to him.

As I shook and cried in his arms once I was broken, Daddy lightly pulled my chin towards him so that my hazy eyes and his firm stare met. “You know that nothing else matters outside of this. You are mine. That will never change. All things outside of us and what we have are just noise. Never forget this.” It felt as though I had melted and seeped into his pores at that very moment…he was completely right and I was at peace with everything.

That interview was a breeze…

23 March 2010

Worked Down

I walked in to the dining room to find baby girl working at her computer. I brushed my hand across her face.

"Remember that when you ask for something, you always get more than you bargained for," I said.

"I know, Daddy."

I ordered her to the bedroom, telling her to be waiting for me naked, on her knees, with her hair pulled back. After she left, I grabbed her iPod to look for something suitably loud. A quick search and I knew that Guns N' Roses would do the trick. I put the iPod and headphones in my pocket and headed for the bedroom.

Finding baby girl there, I pulled the straps out from between the mattress and box springs -- not just the wrist straps, but the ankle straps that we had yet to use. I ordered her onto the bed, face down, and strapped her down. I put her blindfold on her. Knowing that she was almost certainly expecting the cock gag, I told her that I wouldn't be giving it to her, because I wanted to hear every cry of pain in perfect detail. "You won't be mute," I said, "but you will be deaf." I put the headphones on her and left her like that.

When I returned a few minutes later, I could hear music loudly enough that I knew she couldn't hear much of anything else. With her naked before me, strapped down in place, blindfolded, and deaf, I paused, then brought the cane down hard on her ass, completely without warning. She cried out and thrashed as much as she could given the straps. I saw the little bit of play in them and stopped just long enough to tighten them all, then resumed the caning.

With each stroke, baby girl would cry out. Sometimes she'd just scream. Other times I'd hear "It hurts," "Fuck," or "Fuck it" mixed in with the pain.

I'd pause a bit between strokes, long enough to ensure she wouldn't enter subspace -- if she did, there'd be no breaking her today. After five or ten strokes of the cane, I switched to the belt for a different sensation. After five or ten strokes of that, I would take her egg vibrator and hold it against her clit for a minute or so. Baby girl knows better than to cum without permission; this was about veering back and forth between extreme pain and extreme (but non-orgasmic) pleasure.

It continued like that for a while: cane, belt, vibrator. Cane, belt, vibrator. Cane, belt, vibrator.

At one point I stopped and caressed her face to reassure her. Another time I stopped and let her suck on my finger with the same goal. Each time, it was then back to the cane, belt, vibrator cycle.

I had switched sides of the bed to more evenly distribute the welts when finally it came: not cries of pain, not curses, but sobbing. Tears were flowing. I had broken her.

Quickly, I turned off the music, took the vibrator and pushed it against her clit, shoved two fingers deeply into her cunt, and as she gasped, I ordered her to cum hard. She did, screaming. I didn't let the orgasms cease. "Don't stop cumming!" I commanded, and she didn't. Over and over, in waves crashing atop one another, the screaming nearly constant, until I knew she was as spent as she needed to be. The vibrator came off, the fingers came out, the straps came undone, and we cuddled on the bed as she shivered, holding onto me for dear life.

I'm going to call that a success.

Worked Up

Worked up…that’s exactly what I am right now. It’s an unsettling feeling, to say the least. The truth is that I have a job interview in a few hours and I’m in the last stages of preparing myself for it. I should be in my comfort zone, I should have this job in the bag (it’s very part-time, but at least it’s something!), but still I’m worked up. My tummy is a little queasy, my brain slightly scattered, and my palms are cool to the touch…hmmm, in what other situations do I experience these physical sensations? Ohhhh, that’s right. These are the same symptoms that I get when Daddy is about to tie me up and use me for his pleasure (which usually results in a substantial amount of pain for me).

I perspire a bit, my eyes dart wildly, my mind races, and it’s all I can do to remain kneeling until Daddy instructs me to get on the bed in the desired position. The buildup is sinfully slow and precise, which more than adequately demonstrates Daddy’s methodical nature. He knows the state I’m in and wishes to savor the adrenaline-laced ambience of our room before he gets to work. By the time I’m strapped down, blindfolded, and gagged, I’m on the verge of tears and haven’t even felt a single blow yet.

The release after the first strike is indescribable. I crave it, I need it, I beg for it, and Daddy always delivers exactly what his baby girl needs…even when she doesn’t know what that is herself. Once the beating/caning/spanking is over, and the rush subsides, a peace washes over me as Daddy cradles me in his arms, reminding me over and over what a good little girl I am and how much I please him.

So, if I’m to make a long story short, do you think I might be able to convince Daddy to beat me before my interview? It seems like the only sensible solution to get me past these nerves, don’t you think? ;)

22 March 2010

Orgasm Denied

I've been thinking quite a bit lately about the control that Daddy now has over my orgasms and how it wasn't always this way... When we were long distance, Daddy used to let me cum whenever I wanted, knowing that the day would come when I would no longer be allowed to do so. Going through some of my old writings, I found this letter that I wrote to Daddy during one of those rare occasions when he denied me the pleasure that I so desperately craved. I am convinced that these first denials were the initial groundwork toward a complete dependence upon Daddy for my pleasure. I hope you enjoy...

It aches, Daddy…it aches so very much. And the worst part is knowing that this is what I’ve asked for. Although, and please forgive the basic teleology, this is my life from now on. This is a slave’s life. And I am a slave. It’s that simple.

It’s been over two days since I last came. After coming back from the airport today, I wanted nothing more than to get out of my clothes, slip into bed and masturbate…a lot. I wanted a couple – maybe a few – good orgasms…enough to tide me over until I got to talk to you, Daddy. Just as I was about to get naked, I got a text from you…and I will never forget the feeling as I read, “Baby girl isn’t allowed to cum until Daddy makes her.” Pitiful. Dejected. Desperate. As I slumped into my chair and sulked, I realized how much more aroused I was than just a few minutes before. What was different? What had changed? I came to the realization that my arousal stemmed from three main factors.

First, I wanted (and still want!) to cum so badly, but was denied. Not being allowed to fulfill what is, at least for us, a basic need, made the strain of not cumming so much more intense than it had been. Cumming has now become an obsession, both of body and mind. At times, I feel as though it is consuming me, yet resisting and obeying my Master makes me stronger…

Second, we both know that Daddy ultimately controls all my orgasms. We don’t want it and can’t have it any other way. You were, and are, exercising your right to control my body, even from afar. Especially from afar. I was completely caught off-guard by your order, Daddy, but you have found a very effective method with which to teach your baby girl an important lesson about who she is and who she belongs to. Which brings me to the third factor…

I am a slave. This is the life I have chosen. You have given me a number of opportunities for release, all of which I have turned down. I will not get any more opportunities. My life is yours. I repeat – I am your slave. Feeling you exert your power over me as my Master and my owner both frightens me and arouses me. By denying me what I most crave, you remind me of my true nature, the nature that only you fully understand and control.

Unfortunately, after writing to you, I find myself more aroused than before, waiting for a release that only my Daddy can give me…if he so chooses. Thank you, Daddy, thank you so much…

21 March 2010

On Being a Brat

Sometimes I forget that Daddy and I are a team… Sometimes I feel that my emotional burdens are mine alone and that no one would care to hear about them… Sometimes I think that I’m all alone… But I’m wrong – totally wrong.

It’s been a busy couple of months. Daddy and I got married and I moved across the country to be with him. I left everyone and everything behind (friends, family, comfort zone, work contacts, job) in order to spend the rest of my life with my Master. I have never and will never regret this decision – period. But, at the same time, it doesn’t mean that I don’t go through my fair share of loneliness and tears…

The past week has been especially difficult. I’m having trouble finding a job and there have been a number of emotional explosions in my former home city that make me wish I were there to lend comfort to my friends. I feel isolated and useless. Cue up the tears…and the petulance.

In my former life, I would simply depend upon myself to “ride out the storm” of my tantrums, knowing that the only audience would be a couple of stuffed animals who could care less if I were weeping for joy or grief. But that is not my life anymore. My life now belongs to Daddy. And although he understands my pain and loneliness to a certain degree (and will readily indulge my tears), he absolutely refuses to give in to my reckless independence. And I am eternally grateful for this.

When I was at my most defiant and crabby, Daddy commanded me to tell him what was wrong and let me cry it all out. At one point, he even fucked me into submission, reminding me of my place and centering me. He reinforced the fact that my pain was not mine to deal with alone anymore. It’s not a matter of whether or not I wish to share my feelings with him. I must tell him everything. He must have access to my inner thoughts. I musn’t deny him anything.

He is my rock. He is my sounding board. He is my everything and I must always remember this. Thank you for your patience, Daddy. Thank you for loving, wanting, and understanding your baby girl…

18 March 2010

Daddy's Hands

When I met Daddy for the first time, the first thing I noticed were his deep, brown eyes – eyes that can cut into your very soul and melt you at the same time. Although I guarantee that I will discuss his eyes in detail at some point, now is not that time. Right now, I want to talk about Daddy’s hands. The night that we met, he reached across the table and drew my hands into his as we talked about ourselves and why we were there. I was immediately impressed with how soft yet firm they were. Since then, I’ve had occasion to experience those hands in many different ways…all of which were intensely erotic and, in some cases, breathtaking. Literally.

When Daddy wrapped his hand around my throat for the first time, the initial instinctual panic quickly gave way to a deep-seated realization…his hand belonged there. First and most obvious, I was his property and, having given up my right to a safe word, I could not refuse him anything…even if I wanted to do so. Yet as he slowly and methodically increased the pressure around my throat, talking me through what he was doing to me and never letting my eyes stray from his, I found something in myself that I didn’t know was there. I found the strength to let go, to completely submit to the will of another, to put my life in Daddy’s skilled hands. I found absolute trust.

Since then, Daddy has held my throat, my very life, in his hands in a myriad of ways. He has squeezed and counted down from 5 or 10, delaying my orgasm for what seemed to be an excruciating length of time. He has grasped my throat while slapping my face and my breasts, keeping my head still for him in order to allow him access to my eyes, my soul and my total submission. He has cradled my neck in his hand, curling up behind me as we fall asleep. He has even had me take his hand and place it on my own throat, acknowledging that I belong to him and that I can only truly be fulfilled if I admit what I most want.

Daddy is the only one who has ever gotten my complete trust and will always be the only one…this being said, I know that I belong in his capable hands.

17 March 2010

Anal Fixation

Early on in our relationship, Daddy remarked upon how tight his baby girl’s ass was (and still is)…he would need to spend quite a bit of time working, stretching, and training his little one in order to take his cock (which, as I’ve mentioned on other occasions, is rather substantial). The thought of anal sex with Daddy, much as the rest of our D/s experiences, leaves me scared, wet, intimidated, and wholly submissive. I want to feel Daddy in my ass and crave the idea of pleasing him in this way, but fear the pain, the complete relinquishing of control, and the lack of any say whatsoever in the worst moments of panic. Until yesterday, anal sex with Daddy was only a mental struggle. It has since turned into a physical struggle as well…

After ordering me to shower and to get into bed, Daddy took his shower and then proceeded to assemble all the toys and lube that he planned on using. At this point, I still was unsure as to what he had in store for me. He commanded me to my knees, put his cock in my mouth, and as I sucked him lovingly, he informed me that he was going to play with my ass. If I was a good little girl, he whispered, I might even get Daddy’s cock in my butt. I immediately tensed up. Daddy sensed that he had gotten my full attention and decided to start in on me.

As I lay there, stretched out on my tummy, Daddy began to lick my tight hole with his devilish tongue. He knows how much I love this (and how he’s the only man to have ever done this to me), and yesterday he upped the ante by ordering me to use my vibrator on my clit as he licked and prodded at my back entrance. Pushing his tongue into me, he commanded a number of orgasms that left me in a somewhat ethereal, pliable state.

After lubing up a small plug, he pushed it into me in order to prepare me for much larger intrusions, as I was soon to find out. Daddy fucked me with the small plug until he felt I was sufficiently warm, then switched to a larger, well-lubed plug. We’ve tried using this one before, but were unable to fully insert it. This time was no different, except for the fact that Daddy took more time with the plug, holding it in place, letting me get used to it, and telling me what a good girl I was. The end result was a swift removal of the plug and a big surprise.

Daddy’s cock was pushed up against my asshole. As Daddy’s weight pressed down on my back, fear gripped me and I couldn’t think straight. Before I knew it, his arms were wrapped around me and the head of his dick was inside of me. It hurt, but wasn’t as agonizing as I thought it was going to be. This made it easier as he slid inch by inch of his slick cock into my too-tight asshole. Before I knew it, I had Daddy’s entire cock in my ass and the feeling of fullness and submission at that moment was truly incredible. Putting me on my knees, he pulled out and started to fill me again. Aaaah, true bliss…

Until he started thrusting. Although I was able to take all of Daddy’s cock (no small feat!), the searing pain of his thick shaft sawing in and out of me was too much to handle and I begged for an end to the pain. Daddy acquiesced, knowing that we had jumped a huge hurdle and that, with time, he would be able to train me to endure the deep anal fucking that we both need.

I can hardly wait to feel Daddy in my ass again…

Waking Up

When I wake up, if I'm in a mood for taking, I'll just roll baby girl over on her back, force apart her legs, and push my cock up inside her while she's still half-asleep. I love the feeling as her pussy involuntarily lubricates for me, becoming wetter as I work my way into her, but still very tight.

Sometimes I wake up in a more generous mood and, as we spoon together, I'll wrap my arms around baby girl and play with her -- stroke her nipples, insert a finger into her mouth, play with her clit, and so on. That's how I woke up yesterday. In fact, I was feeling especially generous, and so as I played with her, I whispered in her ear, "What do you want? You can have anything you like, little one." I expected her to ask me to go down on her, or make love to her, or just order her to cum while I teased her nipples. No.

"I want you to use me, Daddy."

And so I did just that.

Damn, I'm a lucky man.

15 March 2010

An Open Love Letter

With all our D/s writings here -- postings on everything from canes to cock gags, from beatings to blindfolds -- it would be easy for a reader to wonder about the emotional component of the relationship baby girl and I have.

It's spectacular.

It's hard to explain, even to other D/s types, but while she is my submissive, my slave, and my little girl, baby girl is also my partner, my companion, and my best friend. I'm amazed every day at how much in love we are, at how perfectly suited for each other we are. We talk for hours every day -- on the couch, in the car, in bed between bouts of sex, you name it. We make each other laugh nearly constantly. She'll take a swat at me and then I'll chase her through the house until she invariably follows a dead end (she'd be easy pickings in a horror film) and I catch up to her. I'll swat her three or five or ten times over compared to what she did to me, and then we'll both laugh until our stomachs hurt.

When I was sick recently, baby girl couldn't stop taking care of me. Whatever I wanted, whatever I needed, she was there -- not just when I asked, but coming over to me every few minutes to see if she could help. She ran countless errands for me and was there every step of the way.

When I leave on a trip, I always find notes and gifts in my luggage. When I come back, baby girl is always there to pick me up -- not at the curb, waiting in the car, but inside the terminal, waiting for me to come through security, waiting to hold me tightly and be kissed for as long as I want it.

As we're living our daily lives, at home or out and about, we're best friends... and yet the D/s is always there, just under the surface. Baby girl knows I can put her on her knees anytime, and she welcomes it. She knows that I could order her to go down on her knees in public (I thought about it in a parking lot recently) and she wouldn't hesitate for a fraction of a second. She can't conceive of disobeying me.

The funniest girl I've ever known, the sweetest, kindest mate I've ever seen, also happens to be my slave. My wife, who will forever be by my side, is a submissive who can never serve me enough, can never be used enough, and her greatest pleasure comes from making me feel good.

Honestly, I feel like the luckiest man in the world.

Baby girl, I love you with everything I am. And I always will.

Oral Fixation

Maybe it’s just me, but there is something so wonderfully appealing about a cock-shaped gag. Anybody? Anybody? I definitely don’t think that I’m the only one out there who feels this way, but I must say that my deep-seated affection for this particular gag has left me a bit, um, speechless(?). Before meeting Daddy, I had had very little experience with gags; they were of the ball variety and inevitably left a horrible taste and a sharp burning sensation in my mouth. Daddy and I discussed these lamentable issues, he conducted some research, and found the cock gag for me. Granted, if he had decided that he wished me to suffer through the use of a ball gag, it would be well within his rights, but I think his eye was on endurance and focus. In other words, I would best be able to endure long sessions of restraint and better focus on his pleasure if I weren’t struggling with a foul gag.

Now, as a woman who loves sucking cock (oh, I do, I do, I really do…) who belongs to a Master who demands to have his cock sucked daily, one would think that I would have my fill of having my mouth stuffed with dick. But alas, this is not the case. I routinely ask to have Daddy strap the cock gag on me and, on the occasions when I don’t ask for it, I feel a special warmth in my pussy when I see him reach for the gag after he’s tied me to the bed. In fact, when Daddy is being particularly severe in our sessions, I find that the rubber cock secured in my mouth is a tremendous comfort. I draw it deep into my mouth and suckle it like a child sucks her thumb (more on this later), closing my eyes and imagining that it’s Daddy’s cock that I’m pleasuring.

So what exactly am I getting at here? I guess I’m trying to make two points. First, thank you to Daddy for finding the ideal gag for his baby girl and intuitively knowing that a cock in my mouth would both comfort me and reinforce my submission to him. And second, yet another thank you to my Master for awakening his little one’s oral fixation. I’m thinking that this tendency is in both our best interests, wouldn’t you say?

13 March 2010


There are certain words that have always been “hot buttons” for me, ever since I was a little girl (pun sort of intended). Granted, back then, I didn’t understand (and perhaps, in some cases, I still don’t) what that electrical surge that coursed through my body was. Yet upon hearing words like torture, submission, collar, surrender, training, and force, I would feel my core melt into a writhing pool of sexuality. The part of me that was most instinctual and most feral responded intrinsically to these triggers, making my pussy damp and my stomach pleasingly tight with the need for release. I’m sure that I will discuss each of these words at some point, but for now, surrender is calling my attention and, let’s be honest, who am I to deny its call?

When I think of “surrender,” my brain doesn’t automatically jump to the Oxford English definition of what some stodgy, professorial types think it should mean. My first impressions of surrender are sharp-focused mental images of a woman (oh, who am I kidding? It’s me.) on her knees, blindfolded, with her hands bound together at the wrists and a tear running down her face. She is broken and totally stripped of every last defense that she ever had…surrender is her only option. And because surrender would not be complete without someone present to accept the willing (or unwilling) defeat, my mind conjured up a hazy-figured man looking down upon his submissive quarry, knowing that he has finally gotten what he always wanted – her…every facet of her being…every inch of her body…every soft whimper…every moan of ecstasy…every plea for mercy…he has everything.

Until recently, it was enough for the “hazy-figured man” to simply exist. As I would bring myself to climax, I could imagine him standing there, lording over me and taking possession of me. This man now has a face, has a defined shape and has a name…well, a couple of names, actually. Whether he is Daddy, demanding that his baby girl cum for him and filling her with his seed as he breeds her, or Master, pushing his slave’s limits beyond her most deviant imagination, he is a very real presence now…and so the true surrender begins.

Although I’ve always wanted to surrender – to completely relinquish my being to another – I’ve never had the opportunity to do so. But things have changed for me. It started slowly…a discussion of interests and proclivities…the mention of a collar…the use of words like “baby girl” and “breeding”… I was surrendering so quickly that I didn’t have an opportunity to check myself and ask if this is what I really wanted. But honestly, I already knew the answer to that question. Soon Daddy took control of my pleasure and my orgasms…the surrender was so natural and second-nature that I knew that he was the only one who truly deserved my everything.

But what I have learned from my Daddy, and it is something that I never could have realized on my own, is that surrender is a two-way street. Whereas I admit my (albeit proud) defeat, Master now takes on a tremendous responsibility. Those who accept the surrender are accountable for the well-being, safety, pleasure and pain of their possession. My fantasies had always ended at my climax, with the hazy figure looming heavily in the shadows. How was I to know that one day I would find the one that would accept my willing surrender and, in exchange, open my eyes to a world of possibilities that I had never even considered?

Call the Oxford guys. I’ve got a whole new definition of “surrender” for them.

12 March 2010


As we drove home from the theater last night, baby girl and I were talking about her lack of rights.

I've already written here about taking away baby girl's right to cum without permission while in my presence, and then taking away her right to cum without permission at any time. Those were rights I simply stripped from her. Her recourse -- had she decided that she didn't want a relationship in which she gave up orgasm control -- would have been to request to be released. But of course she didn't.

Baby girl doesn't have a safe word. This was a right that I felt she had to affirmatively give up, as opposed to me stripping it from her. We talked about it extensively before she said that yes, she wanted to give it up, she didn't want to have a safe word. And so she doesn't. She can't say no to me.

Baby girl doesn't have hard limits. Again, this was something I needed for her to give up on her own if it were to be true. We talked and talked about this early on in the relationship, and she realized that she trusted me enough to give up any hard limits, and that given this trust, she'd be happier without them. I believe that she is.

The only right baby girl retains is the right to request to be released from her slavery. As she says from time to time, this is a right she'll never exercise. And we've discussed her giving up even this one last right. It's something I'm considering. I think I'll consider it for a long time to come before making a decision. It's an erotic thought -- not superficially, physically erotic, but erotic as a profound, emotional level -- but I just don't know. I'm not yet sure that it's the right thing to do.

I was once in a relationship with someone who said that she wanted a committed relationship. (It turned out that she really didn't, but that's another story.) When I asked her what she meant by "committed," she defined it as neither of us leaving except in case of "the three As." The three As were adultery, abuse, and addiction. It's not a bad working definition for most people. I was thinking about this recently and realized how different what baby girl and I have is from this. There's no concept of adultery in our relationship; if I wanted to fuck another girl, or to have her fuck another girl, or another man, in private or at a club, she would do so without question. (I'm not interested in this, so it seems unlikely, but I always retain the right.) There's no concept of abuse in our relationship. If I want to cane her until she cries, and then keep going until she enters subspace, and then keep going until I've had my fill, I can do this, and she would never question me. (And in fact I did this just a couple of days ago.) And as for addiction; well, I'm not the addictive type, nor is baby girl, but again, I have complete control over how I choose to live my life, and it's not baby girl's place to question it. As I've said, for the time being, if she were so unhappy with my choices that she couldn't stand it, she could request release. But she never will, and we both know it.

10 March 2010

A Caning

Daddy put me on my knees and forced his cock into my mouth. After slapping my face and breasts a few times, I looked up into his eyes and as he caressed my face he whispered, “I’m going to hurt you so badly, little one. Time to get up.” As I shook with fear, he pulled me to my feet and instructed me to get on the bed, face down.

He methodically strapped my wrists tightly to the bed and put the blindfold on. “I’m scared, Daddy.” He stroked my arm and reassured me, “I know, little one, I know.” I heard him moving about the room and taking trips to the closet to collect the implements that he wanted to use on me. I knew what was coming…the cane. But there was to be more than just the cane as I soon found out.

I heard him take the cap off the lube, then there was a short pause before I felt him push the plug against my extremely tight asshole (more on this later.) As he slipped the slender plug into me, it felt wonderful to be so exposed and vulnerable for Daddy. A few intermittent, hard slaps across my ass brought my mind back to what was about to happen…a very painful session. With the plug in my freshly spanked ass, Daddy ordered me to spread my legs, took my vibrating bullet, and applied it directly to my clit, knowing how much I love this. He was taking his time to purposefully combine pain and pleasure for me. His ultimate hope is to have me crave the pain that he loves to give and I must admit that his training is eliciting the desired effect.

Although the plug was a bit too small for our purposes (it kept sliding out when I would orgasm or tense up), the feeling of having it reinserted time and again was very enjoyable. Daddy pushed it in firmly, turned off the vibrator and then grabbed the cane. I had never been caned before yesterday and the very thought of enduring a caning was almost too much for me to fathom. He slowly glided the instrument across my exposed back and legs, letting me contemplate what was about to occur. It was then that he brought down the first strike.

The pain was shocking because of the swiftness of the blow and the concentrated area of impact. Daddy continued to strike with the cane as I writhed in pain beneath him. He got on the bed next to me, partly to hold me down and prevent me from squirming and partly to reapply the vibrator to my throbbing clit. The intensity of the caning and the vibrations through my entire pussy were almost too much to take and Daddy was aware of this… He ordered me to cum, and although I could not see his face for the blindfold, I know that he must have been extremely pleased with the screaming orgasm that he ripped from my battered, over-stimulated body. He was so pleased, in fact, that he commanded another two orgasms from my quivering wreck of a body.

As he intermittently turned the vibrator on and off, the rain of blows from the cane became more intense. I knew what he was trying to do before he even told me of his plans. He wanted to put me in subspace (more on this at another time) and control me while I was in this hypnotic state. Harder and harder he beat me, my exposed ass burning with searing pain. And then it stopped…I floated. I was in subspace. I knew Daddy was still hitting me, but I couldn’t feel the pain anymore…I felt released. It was in this state that Daddy ordered me to have the biggest orgasm of my entire life…and as waves of pleasure flowed over me, I was always aware that Daddy was with me, guiding me through the miasma of subspace and pulling me back to him.

When I came down from my orgasm, Daddy unstrapped my wrists and pulled me toward him on the bed. I curled up in his arms and thanked him for the most amazing beating he had ever given me. I truly am a very lucky little girl…

Orgasm Control

I mentioned before that I control baby girl's orgasms and that I can make her cum on command. I thought I'd write a little bit more about this, because I think it's an important thing.

The first time we slept together, I didn't attempt to control her orgasms; she just came when she wanted to. But over the course of that first long weekend -- four and a half days, nineteen orgasms for me, and upwards of eighty for her (we didn't count as we went along) -- I gradually introduced the concept. I wish I could say this was part of a master plan (so to speak), but it wasn't. It just felt natural.

I had known one girl with whom I had had phone sex who could cum on command. She had been trained by a former lover, and she was trained to a specific trigger word ("Now!"). I didn't ask her a whole lot about how she was trained, but assumed it was elaborate and lengthy. But in baby girl's case, it all just sort of... happened.

The second or third time we had sex, which was that first night, I told her not to cum without asking me. She complied and it seemed to increase the intensity of her orgasms -- and of course it was erotic for me to control them. At first, I let her cum immediately, but then began making her wait longer and longer. She learned how to hold back the inevitable until I released her.

From there, it was an easy step to me telling her to cum on command when I wanted it -- so easy that I don't remember when this started. And once this was in place, it was an easy step to tell her that I only wanted her to cum on command when we were having sex. But again, this was all much less deliberate and planned than it might appear from my account. We woke up one day and all of her orgasms during sex were at my command.

Later on in our relationship, I let baby girl know that when we were together in person -- we were in a long-distance relationship then and saw each other only every few weeks -- I wanted complete control over her orgasms. She readily agreed; in fact, it was nothing more than a codification of what we were already practicing. I let her know that at some point I would demand control of all her orgasms, and she knew this was coming. When I told her that she would never again cum without my explicit permission, whether we were together in person or not, it wasn't a surprise.

You might ask yourself why someone would agree to this? First, baby girl is my slave, so she doesn't have a choice in the matter. (I'm sure we'll get into the depths of her slavery here at some point.) Second, even if she weren't my slave, it would still be in her interest to agree to this. Now that her orgasms are under my control, they're consistently much more intense than those she had before she knew me. I know that whenever I want, I have the power to make her cum repeatedly and far more intensely than any man before me ever made her cum. During one session yesterday, I made her cum four times, and if she had cum like that before meeting me, she would have described them as the best four orgasms of her life. Now they're a regular occurrence. So it's very much in her self-interest to want this.

But again, she's a slave. Her orgasms (along with the rest of her) belong to me. They're mine to give out when and how I choose.

09 March 2010

On Using

To my delight -- I always love her posts -- baby girl just wrote about the experience of being used. I thought I'd write about it from my viewpoint.

First, you have to understand that when I use baby girl, it's neither intended or interpreted as punishment. We don't "do" punishment. I understand couples who do, but it's not our thing. If baby girl let me down in some way -- whether she realized it on her own or I had to tell her -- she would punish herself with remorse more than I ever could. Neither of us wants that, so she simply doesn't misbehave in any way. If I order to do something, she does it without question.

I may not punish baby girl, but I do need to remind her of her place. I don't mean that in the "...or she'll get uppity on me" sense, but rather that in a D/s relationship, it's important for the Dom to reinforce the sub's purpose on a regular basis. In my experience, subs are submissive because it provides them with a deep sense of fulfillment they can't find any other way. And it's all too easy for people to get lazy in relationships, and this includes us D/s types. If I didn't regularly do things to reinforce baby girl's sense of her place, then we could drift away from D/s and lose the very thing that brings us both the most pleasure.

So, when I use baby girl, sometimes it's to reinforce her sense of her place (beneath me), her rights (essentially none), and her purpose in life (to give me pleasure). And when I do this, it fulfills her and keeps us both on track.

Other times when I use baby girl, it's more for my pleasure. Being a Dom can be a lot of work at times. Those of you who are Doms -- or who are subs who have been with the right kind of Dom -- know what I mean. I'm not referring to the physical and logistical requirements, but to the mental requirements. I'm baby girl's rock, plain and simple. I don't get upset about things. I don't bitch and whine about things. I don't allow myself to slip into anything that could ever be construed as submissive. Now, partly I do this because I enjoy being her rock. But also I do it because there are compensations, and one of them is getting what I want, when I want it.

I can and do spend lots of time focused on baby girl's pleasure when it suits me, and that's fairly often. But sometimes I don't feel like it. Sometimes I feel like just taking what I want. So I'll wake up turned on and think that it's a good time to use her. As she describes, I roll her on her back, force her legs apart, and force my cock into her tight, barely-wet pussy. I'll fuck her deeply knowing that it hurts her when my cock head hits her cervix. I'll thrust away however I see fit until I cum hard inside her. In short, I take her and use her for my pleasure. I agree with baby girl that it's akin to a rape -- though she long ago knowingly and willingly gave up the right to ever object to anything I do to her, still, I don't have her consent each time, and to someone not versed in D/s, it might look like a form of rape. So be it.

In any case, I get what I want. Which is how it always is. And how it always will be.

On Being Used

Daddy stirs in the pre-dawn darkness that envelops our room. This is the only warning that I will get of what is to come. He is about to use me for his pleasure. Although I am equally thrilled and terrified at the prospect, it makes no difference how I feel about this as Daddy will use me all the same, in any way he wishes. This delicious cycle of use, pain, pleasure, fulfillment is how most of our days start out and I couldn’t imagine it any other way.

He climbs on top of me, fully waking me from my deep sleep as he pries my legs apart with his knee. It is extremely jarring to be woken up in this fashion and Daddy knows this. He knows and takes pleasure in the fact that the first conscious memory that I’ll have every day is of the sweet pain of being forced to take his cock into my unprepared, tight pussy.

His rock-hard cock is at my entrance as he grabs a handful of my long hair, pulling my head back and forcing me to look into his eyes. He wants to see the pain reflected in my eyes as he pushes into me…he wants to see how bad his submissive baby girl craves her Daddy’s cock even while he hurts her. He begins to fight his way into my dry, still-sleepy pussy and it is at this moment that I am most acutely aware of the size of his member…he is positively enormous and the pain that courses through my body is a testament to this fact. Funny enough, it is precisely this pain that starts to get my pussy a bit wetter so as to fully take all of Daddy’s cock inside of me.

With my legs pulled back, Daddy stares down into my eyes as he pounds my cervix. I love the deep hurt of having my cervix pummeled by his cock, but I know that I will not be allowed to cum because Daddy’s pleasure is the only priority while I am being used. And although I must always focus on his pleasure, being used is more akin to being raped. I am an object, a piece of property that will be filled with Daddy’s spunk and then left to contemplate her complete servitude.

I beg him to fuck me ever harder. To remind me that the only reason I exist is to give him pleasure. To impale me with his cock and render me a slave for the rest of my life. To breed me. To rape me. To use me.

As Daddy shoots his load into my tight pussy, he lets out a deafening roar and then gently lies on top of me. He kisses me, tells me how much he loves me, and how he will never, ever get tired of using his little girl. With my arms and legs wrapped around him and his softening cock still inside me, I kiss him back and know, more than ever, that I want to be used by him for the rest of my life.

08 March 2010


Daddy, I am finally starting to realize fully the depth of my submission to you… You were so very right when you said that you are always with your little girl…you are with me and seemingly inside of me at all times. You know my innermost thoughts, feelings, fears... I am and always will be your little one and your slave. I look at myself in the mirror and see the curve of my hips, the slight swell of my pussy, the bruises on my breasts and my ass…and I realize that none of these are mine now. They all belong to you, my Daddy and my Master. The very thought makes me shudder with both trepidation and arousal…

I now have a very clear picture of what my life with you will be like…and it is rather intimidating at times. I have no rights, except for one which I will never exercise, and my life is eternally dedicated to giving you pleasure in any way imaginable. No rights, no limits, no safe word. Anyone looking at this situation from the outside would think me insane, or worse – utterly misguided and foolish. Yet what they don’t and never could understand is that all of those lacks, all of those things that I have willingly surrendered to you, aren’t lacks at all. They are a source of pride, of partnership, and, most importantly, of complete trust in you, Daddy. We both know that we can’t have it any other way. However our relationship changes and adapts with the years, my submission and your dominance are constants that will never change, save to deepen even further.

We both know that I am writing the truth and that none of this is new information for us. Yet, part of what I appreciate about our connection is that we are more than comfortable sharing and, in many cases, re-sharing our innermost impressions and feelings about where we’re at emotionally or how our sexual experiences have affected us. If I’m not mistaken, I think that you garner a great deal of satisfaction from knowing and hearing how profoundly I trust you with everything that I am. My submission to you is made that much stronger by voicing (or writing!) how your dominance brings me to my knees, so to speak. And I, although from the opposite end of the spectrum, love and need to hear how you dominate, own, and control me. At the times when I feel weakest and most likely to fight you, your voice commands me to my place, your size overpowers me, your words order and instruct me, your wisdom guides me and your eyes seize the very core of my being. I cannot express to you exactly how much I crave your dominance…yet I know that when you look in my eyes, you see your submissive little one who desires to please you forever and always.

05 March 2010

More Than She Bargains For

After months of experience, baby girl knows that when she makes a sexual request of Daddy, he may or may not grant it, but if he does, she's going to get more than she bargained for. That happened again this morning.

I'm still fighting off sickness, which makes vigorous sex somewhat difficult. Baby girl is on her period, and though we're perfectly willing to get out the big towel and clean up afterwards, it's in the back of our minds that sex without intercourse will be less of a hassle. So the last couple of days have been me ordering baby girl to cum while I play with and torture her breasts, and then me ordering her to suck me until I cum in her mouth (which, as noted here earlier, she's always delighted to do).

We followed this pattern this morning. I was curled up behind her and making her cum, first while caressing and teasing her nipples, then while pinching them harder and harder. After her fourth orgasm, I told her it was time to make Daddy cum with her mouth. As she was pulling her hair back and out of the way, she asked if she could have the clothespins (I keep a supply on my nightstand) on while she sucked me. I said yes and put them on her, one at a time. She winced and cried out but took the pain well.

She gave me one of her typically brilliant blowjobs, slowing down and using a very light touch as I got close, in order to draw out my pleasure. I roared as I came, spurting a large load of hot seed into her willing mouth. She opened up to show me my cum, which she always holds until I tell her what to do with it. Normally at that point I would allow her to swallow it, but not this time. I told her to get down on her knees beside the bed and to keep my spunk in her mouth. She crawled out of bed with me following after her, standing before her. I told her to look up at me and explained that I was going to make her cum incredibly hard. She knew what was coming (or cumming, as the case may be). Our eyes locked together, hers full of dread and desire. I ordered her to cum and within a few seconds her orgasm was starting. I told her to swallow and then ripped the clothespins off her nipples. The longer they've been on, the more they hurt coming off, and the pain was excruciating for her. She screamed. I crouched down to reach around and support her. Her body convulsed in my arms and she managed to whisper out the words, "White light, Daddy... white light." (More on that another time.)

After it was all over, when she could speak normally once again, she said, "Baby girl always gets more than she bargains for when she asks Daddy for something." Yes, she does.

04 March 2010

Making Daddy Feel Better

Daddy rarely gets sick, but he is really not doing so well now. After a trip to the doctor, he’s going to be taking it easy for the next few days. I’m sure that he’ll get well soon, and it’s times like these that make me think of the nature of our relationship and why D/s can be such a firm, yet fluid lifestyle.

Daddy and I have always accepted that we take care of each other, just in different fashions. He owns me, commands control over my body and my orgasms, lets me sleep in, writes me lovely notes and letters, cooks amazing meals, holds me close to him when we go to bed, satisfies my need to submit fully, puts me on my knees, indulges and helps me through my occasional mood swings, and always reminds me that, even at my most petulant, I am his – without question – and must never challenge his authority. He is, as he so often reminds me, my rock.

For my part, I take care of Daddy in a myriad of ways that are not quite so tangible on the large scale yet make the course of each day run so much sweeter for him. I fix his tea just the way he likes it, sneak little notes and treats into his suitcase before he leaves on business trips, keep the house tidy, wake up each morning with a smile on my face, make him laugh constantly, and remind him, by means of my submission and adoration, why he has chosen me to be his special little girl and slave for the rest of his life.

Yet when Daddy is sick, my role is slightly different… He needs more care, more relaxation, more sleep. I find myself fawning over him and slightly shaken by his rattling cough. Although he is my Master, he seems vulnerable now and this throws me off. I guess what I find most compelling is that even though he is somewhat vulnerable, he still holds the same amount of control and power over me. He puts me on my knees before him, he instructs me to suck his cock regularly (and even finds that he feels much better once he’s cum in his baby girl’s mouth – imagine that!), and always finds a way to reinforce my submission.

I guess the point that I’m trying to make is this – for submissives, it can be difficult to see their Masters, Daddies, et.al. in weakened states, yet for me, seeing Daddy sick like he is now helps remind me why I submitted to him in the first place. As Daddy says, we will always take care of each other, just in our own special ways. Get well soon!

03 March 2010

Long-Distance Sub

One of the blogs on our list is Long-Distance Sub. The author, sub lyn, is in a long-distance relationship with her Master. This is a permanent state for them -- they have no plans to be together full-time.

Obviously the relationship baby girl and I have is fairly different than that of lyn and her Master. We're married and live together. And from what I've read, orgasms work differently for us than for them -- in our case, not only do I exercise control over all of baby girl's orgasms, but I have trained her to cum on verbal command. And sub lyn and her Master share a shoe fetish, which we don't have (though holding on to a girl's high heels while spreading her legs apart and fucking her is amazing).

That said, I greatly enjoy reading lyn's perspective, and from time to time, she writes something that truly speaks to me, as in this post:
Throwing my legs up over His shoulders He ordered me to pull my panties aside and then He thrust His cock into me. i winced a little at the sudden entry, and He smiled. “I love seeing you grimace when I fuck you. And then the lubrication comes…” Just as it did in that moment and He trailed off, concentrating on fucking my now slippery cunt. Legs spread wide, He leaned over me. “Beg me to fuck You,” he commanded. i begged, begged Him to use His slavegirl, begged Him to fuck His sextoy, begged Him to use my body. “Tell me You love me.” And i poured out my love for Him – forever, always, more than anything, in every way – grunts and moans punctuating my statements as He drove into me. i looked straight into His eyes as He fucked me and it was like there was no skin between us. Just pure unadulterated connection. His come hit my cervix, and it was like it always is – like an electric current between us, whenever He comes in me. i don’t come, but i am transported, and my cunt goes crazy, thrilling and quivering with the feeling of Him in me. Spent, he fell forward on to me, and we clutched each other like a lifeboat in a storm, holding on for dear life, falling into each other, trying to become one.
The way she describes how he uses her, the way she begs him to fuck her, the deep satisfaction she gets from his pleasure... those all sound wonderfully familiar.

A Sharp Awakening

Daddy and I recently started this blog, but I have been writing about our experiences from very early on in our relationship. With this in mind, some of the posts I will share - such as this one - are from our first explorations together. Re-reading them now, knowing that I have the wonderful privilege of spending the rest of my life with Daddy, reminds me why I have chosen to submit fully to my Master... I hope you enjoy these as much as we do!

Daddy had told me that he would do it to me at some point, but I guess I didn’t figure that he would get around to it so soon after we had started our relationship. I quickly found out that my submission to Daddy made it so that I could not question his commands and that I was at his complete mercy for whatever pain or pleasure he saw fit to mete out. My lack of experience as a sub and naivety were painfully obvious…

The first slap to my cheek was light, not enough to hurt or even shock me, yet I instinctively knew what Daddy was doing to his little girl. He was beginning to train her for the slapping that she would need to endure as his property. I had never felt more submissive or owned than I did at that moment. The one light slap turned into a couple more, but I lost focus on what Daddy was doing as my brain started spinning out of control. Question after question flooded my over-stimulated mind - Why didn’t I give him this as a hard limit? What the hell was I thinking? Could I really be owned by this man? He won’t hurt me, will he? How could I be so scared and turned on at the same time? Did I really want this? Oh God….

My focus returned as I felt a sharper blow to my face. I met Daddy’s gaze with my own and within the strength of his powerful stare, I found what I was looking for… I found the inner peace and calm that come with turning yourself over to another. At that point, I stopped dreading the successive blows and focused on my Daddy and what he was doing to me. I fully gave myself to him, knowing that he would take care of me the way that only he could. As he knocked my face to the side time and again with his powerful hand, I made sure to quickly meet his gaze, knowing that looking into his eyes would be the only way that I could bear the slapping and the pain.

As I melted under Daddy’s warming blows, I was shocked to feel my clit throbbing in ecstasy. But wait. How was this possible? Suffering through a face-slapping was just a sign of my submission, right? Wasn’t I just indulging Daddy? No, baby girl…it was as if Daddy were reading my mind and ripping the truth out of my very soul. I was enjoying it. Daddy’s baby girl discovered that she loved having her face slapped by him. The jagged pieces of the puzzle finally fit together and Dom and sub were united in a common purpose, with him showing her the pleasure to be found in pain and trust and her crossing the threshold into a new world of submissive experience.

The next day, while looking in the mirror, I discovered some light bruises from the prior evening’s activities. They weren’t completely obvious, but were definitely visible. I showed them to Daddy and was thrilled to hear, as he flashed his all-knowing smile, that he wasn’t sorry about giving me those marks. He caressed my bruised cheek and gently kissed me. I felt so perfectly owned and have now been wearing those bruises as a mark of pride for the entire week.

01 March 2010

Missing Daddy...

Daddy is leaving for a few days on a business trip and this always leaves me sad and a bit “off” when he’s gone. The house too quiet, the bed too big, the laughter too infrequent, the caresses too absent. I always miss him terribly and I know that he misses his baby girl too, which makes his homecomings that much sweeter. Yet after a weekend like the one we just had, a weekend full of happiness, joy, good food, wonderful talks, and amazing (and extremely frequent!) sex, I have a memory bursting with erotic sensations, a body full of delicious bruises, and an imagination running wild with thoughts of what Daddy has in store for me when he comes back home…

It had definitely been awhile since Daddy tied me down to the bed to use me, and as he put my wrist in the second cuff, I struggled to catch my breath and focus on what was about to happen. He tightened the straps, ensuring that I could not squirm away during the most intense part of the exquisite torture that he was about to inflict upon me.

Daddy has a large and commanding frame, yet after he put the blindfold over my eyes, I could barely sense his movements or even hear his footfalls. As I strained to listen for the slightest disturbance in my surroundings, Daddy put the first clothespin on my sensitive and tender nipple…and then the other got the same treatment. I love the feeling of having my nipples clamped, despite the initial pain that always rips through my body. Of course, Daddy knows all of this and enjoys giving me the pleasure that can only be found in pain…

As he took his place between my legs, he spread them wide apart to provide him with ample access to my dripping pussy and a magnificent view of his submissive, bound, blindfolded, clamped, obedient slave who would never deny him anything. The sense of omnipotence at that moment is one that I can only imagine…