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…

1 comment:

  1. Baby girl: A good dom always is concerned about the welfare of his slave and he certainly showed you that he does by the tender way he handled the sitution when you cut yourself.'

    That must make you very secure to know that while you are being trained and controlled and fucked into submission by him, he is also looking out for what is best for you and your relationship. A slave couldn't ask for more.

    And I can imagine you got wet reading the previous post and seeing all the things he's thinking about and wondering which ones are going to be a part of your training and knowing you will submit, obey and accept whatever he has planned for you.

    And I hope you put up a site meter showing the number of times you two have sex and orgasms. All your readers would be impressed knowing how you enjoy each othre and meet each other's needs.