Up All Night

I was told to write yesterday and I failed. It was a truly challenging day with my son. The past few months of the teen years have been almost more than I can handle. He has some emotional problems and I’m spending a lot of time managing his doctors and treatments and, well, it’s really hard. He had anxiety all day yesterday. It was different in that most days there is an episode or challenges but not a whole days worth of it.

Daddy and I had a great adult weekend last weekend. We had time to play. Even though his knee has been hurting him, he still set out all the toys and took care of me. He is so good to me.

I know he wants to hear my thoughts on that play. He was leaving on a plane and sent me a text stating that I must write for him. Not that I had to write something specific but that it had to be yesterday. I accepted the order. I knew he was doing it for me after all. Over the last few months, I’ve realized the submissive part of our relationship is much more something I wanted and not so much something he craved. I think it is fun for him but not necessary.

Daddy wasn’t here to see how all consuming my son was throughout the evening. I ended up falling asleep with my son tucking me in and going back to his room. He was finally calm and I was out. I completely lost focus of Daddy’s command.

In the morning, I woke to Daddy being very upset with me…disappointed, he texted. I broke. The man gives me one command in months and I failed completely. He may not need a submissive but I know he wants me to write. He drops pointed comments often enough that I know how he misses it. I felt my heart drop to my feet. I love him so much and yet I can’t do a simple thing when he asks.

I didn’t even know how to respond. You can’t make proper amends by apologizing again for a repeated bad behavior. Who cares to hear that? No one.

So, here I am writing. I spent my one night alone in the house cleaning everything I never have time to clean. I’m so tired of not getting those things done. It was cathartic. At least the place smells better.

So, one thing at a time. Today I write, tomorrow I’ll sleep.

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Consent

During our time in Cancun we were with our kinky family and their vanilla family. So, with several non-kink folks around, we had to be careful how we behaved.  We didn’t want Goddess and El Jefe’s non-kinky family to be in any uncomfortable situations. 

There were a couple times where the lines blurred a bit.  One occasion ended up being very funny while another gave me pause. 

One morning Daddy took out the flogger, a crop and the slapper he made for me.  He bent me over the bed and gave me a small taste of a spanking.  It was a short tease meant to be the precursor for fun later. Afterwards, he left the implements on the bed. We didn’t think anything of it and went to lunch. Later in the day, when we were all sharing our pool, a couple that was part of the group chose to go back to their room through ours. 

“What are those?!?” The woman asked.  She had several vodkas in her already and she wasn’t shy. Her man was right behind her and chuckled.

“Those are toys for sex Hon.” She grabbed his hand and fell back into him as if for protection.  She looked confused. Mr. D began to explain to her and I tried to help.  El Jefe walked up behind this tableau and thought he could help too.  It probably didn’t help that all involved were plenty inebriated. 

“Honest Darling, the women who they use these on like it.  You might even like it.  You’d be surprised.” Her boyfriend trying to help.

“I like it.  It’s completely safe and you talk about it all beforehand.” Me trying to be helpful.

Mr. D tried to explain the roles and reasons of the lifestyle which would have been great had she not been so drunk and had El Jefe not decided to pick up the flogger.  He proceeded to whip the back of the couch with gusto as his friend (the woman) watched him in abject horror. Her boyfriend made the wise move to take her out of the situation. 

Later, when they were sober, she told us she understood but it wasn’t her thing.  No kidding!

The other event that happened was me asking Daddy to stop doing something that made me uncomfortable. I felt really bad asking him to stop something twice and it still doesn’t set well with me but as I think about it now I still would have asked to stop.

On the way back from the bachelor party (six of us went) Daddy and I were in the last row of a mini van taxi together.  He had me spread my legs so that he could play with my clit while the rest of the group was talking away in the first two rows.  One of the guys in the next row was watching me. His line of vision was straight toward me which gave him a view right up my skirt. He was drunk and it was dark so the view probably wasn’t what I thought but I felt very uncomfortable.  He wasn’t someone I’d ever play with and the thought of being the show for him freaked me out. 

The same thing with a different circumstance happened the next day.  El Jefe and Goddess were having room service in our room the next morning.  They had been tense with each other over pre-wedding stresses and had just ironed things out.  Daddy and I were lying on our bed because it was a comfortable spot and gave them space.  Daddy put his hand up my skirt and began to play with me but I just couldn’t. I wouldn’t normally mind in front of them but the tone was way off and it felt intrusive.  

Both times I asked Daddy to stop but they were for different reasons having to do with consent.  The first was my own consent and in the second I felt like I was speaking up for the consent of others. Would they have cared? In both cases, probably not. The random guy would have probably watched eagerly and El Jefe and Goddess would have taken it in stride even though it was a bad time.  Still, I needed the comfort level and it wasn’t there for me. 

Would I have continued if Daddy had forced the issue, yes I would have.  Did I do the right thing? I really don’t know. Daddy made an offhanded comment later about me not letting him have his way.  I felt really bad once I figured out what he was referencing. 

Exhibitionism is becoming more and more of a turn-on for me. But I need to know that the people watching have consented to it and really want to watch otherwise I worry so much about them and what they think that it throws me completely out of the right headspace. 

I should be leaving this worry to my Dominant shouldn’t I? I know it’s edge play and I should let him find the edge.  I need to learn how better to let my dominant lead in these situations. 

Starting Again

It has been ages since I’ve written.  So long now that this is well and truly a starting again.  Sigh. 

But I do want to start again so I will.  I left Daddy at the airport again today.  This living in two states and being a baby girl is turning me into a wilting flower.  I just think of leaving his side and I start weeping.  I’ve turned into one of those crazy  ladies who cry at airports.  A friend of mine’s mother would fall to pieces saying goodbye at airports. I thought it was terribly quaint and just a bit funny every time she did it.

But now, at some point during our drive or getting packed or saying goodbye I feel the tears. Daddy says, “No tears now,” and I feel quite vulnerable and well…baby girl.  I want to run into Daddy’s arms and have him tell me it’s okay.  But I put on a strong face and I act like my normal self to get through it. 

I feel unhinged but then I retreat into myself again to be the strong single mom.  He has uncovered my soft, utterly vulnerable, inner girl and I have to lock her away again each time. 

Sometimes it seems harder to find her again. This time Daddy was here for a week and I felt more my pragmatic shell of a self than usual. Financial concerns, work and parenting were hard to put aside. We didn’t have any alone time together.  Either my son was with us or we were caring for friends who needed our love and attention.  All good and necessary things but god I miss him.  

I miss being his baby girl. I miss being his submissive.  I want to be selfish and greedy but I try never to be that.  He is all I ever dreamed.  He is dirty and kinky.  He is so incredibly intelligent and caring.  He is my two sides in one person. My pragmatic mind finds a match in him. My business mind has a partner. My little girl has a protective Daddy. My dirty little slut has someone to make her debase herself for his pleasure. 

I had him all to myself for a while and I fear this new place we’re in. I fear at some point he’ll give me up. I fear this is too hard on him. I fear for his health, which is not good. I fear every little setback thinking it will be what breaks us. If there is a Divine plan at work please let us work, please let us find a way. I try everyday to believe we are okay and we will succeed.

Lastly, if I’m completely honest, I fear to write.  I’m afraid of saying something that will cause the protective Daddy in him to do something I don’t want because it’s for my own good.  I can’t stop that fear but I can force myself past it.  For good or ill, I will be brave and write. 

The Real Deal

We had drinks then he had me close my eyes and undress in the living room.  He had packages and rustled through them.  Soon he was putting something on me. “Lift your arms, tuck through, there.  Turn around.” He perused his handy work, his hands smoothing the garment on my body.  “Yes, that will do. Damn you are hot. Go look.”

I went to the bathroom and looked in the mirror.  I was in a red mesh dress.  Nothing was left to the imagination.  I was a red siren with all my femaleness on display for him.  I returned to him and he took the red off me.  Next came something smaller.  A black body suit.  It was crotchless and backless.  The sides rose high on the hip.  The sheer black material hugged my waist, covering my belly and framed my breasts which were exposed to the touch. 

“I bought these for you but they are most decidedly a gift for me.  Yes, yes they are.  Sometime this weekend you will pose for me in these.  Now, into the bedroom.”

At his direction, I laid on the bed.  He knelt between my spread legs. “Open.” He said.  I held my pussy open for him.  His tongue slid down my clit teasing me, awakening me.  His tongue flicked my clit with feathery strokes setting me on fire.  The fluttery flicks he does with his tongue drive me insane with pleasure.  He latched on and sucked hard. It was so intense, too intense.  It had been a month of no contact and now he was thrumming on my sex hard and fast.  My traitorous body responded.  

First it begins as far too much.  He sucks and works my pussy with an intensity my body rejects.  Too much, too fast.  Then she turns, she bends to his will, ultimately she betrays me.  My clit swells and my hips thrust to meet his assault.  I want it all.  I want the intensity and the heat then I lose all control. 

Rolling and bucking on the bed under him, I am on the bitter edge of orgasm.  His tongue has opened me, his power has drawn me out.  I am a willing prisoner in full abandonment to his will. 

He pulls up from my crotch and asks, “What are you to do when I give you an order, when I give you homework slut?” Oh shit. 

“I am to obey. I must obey Daddy.”

“That’s right. And if it’s hard?”

“I still must obey.” He was right and I knew this.  I felt horrible all over again for letting him down.

“Yes slut, because you still must obey when it’s hard.  Especially when it’s hard. That’s why it’s service.”  He had me utterly exposed and vulnerable. “Hold open your pussy.” That was when I saw the crop in his hand.  I whimpered, knowing he had played me. He had suckled my clit until it was swollen and raw with need so that this would really hurt.

The crop came down right on my clit and the pain exploded throughout my entire body.  “No Daddy, no please!” I knew I had to take the punishment, wanted to even, but I had not expected this pain.  It is the absolute center of me and he was inflicting precision blows with the crop. It was all I could do to stay open for him. 

I cried and he continued with the crop.  “You understand that I must punish you?”

“Yes Daddy, y..ye..esss.” I tried to catch my breath, it was useless.  

The crop came down again.  The pain shot through my crotch into my stomach.  I desperately wanted to curl up and protect myself. I put my hands over my pussy.  I couldn’t help myself. 

“Move your hands slut.” I whimpered and shook my head but obeyed nonetheless. “Good, you’re learning.” Oh that was insult on top of injury.  I had let him down.  That hurt so much more than the pain. 

“Now you’re going to count for me.” Oh god no, not the counting.  That means these were just the warm up strikes.

I held open my pussy and he let loose the crop.  The pain blossomed from my pussy outward and I counted, “One, Daddy.” Whimpering all the while with my eyes screwed shut. 

“What are you going to do the next time I give you homework baby girl?” He struck again.

“Obey Daddy, two!” I may have rolled over. I tried not to but damn if I wanted to protect myself. I got back into position.

“Good girl.” I opened back up and he struck again. 

“Three Daddy.” I said.  I whimpered and cried shamelessly. He hit again.

“Four Daddy!” Fuck it hurt.  My poor pussy was raw and on fire.  He hit me one final time. 

“Five Daddy.” I cried out and before I let out my breath from the final hit he thrust his cock fully to the hilt inside me.  I screamed as I felt him rip me in two. Daddy’s cock is very, very thick and it had been a solid month since any penetration. It burned all the way inside.  

Once he was buried balls deep in me, I felt his weight on me and it dawned on me that the punishment was over and Daddy was fucking me.  My body responded and I moaned.  Finally, we were together again and he was inside me.  

He fucked me with such intensity.  My pussy was so raw and sore but I didn’t care.  I was home and I was forgiven. 

Stop and Start

That’s me, the queen of stopping and starting again.   I suppose (so, I tell myself) that dedication does not always come in a long unbroken chain.  We all have fits of downtime, hard time, or breaks in our stride.  Clearly many more are better than I am but I pride myself on (at the very least) my dedication to beginning again. 

So, here I am for the long haul.  I’m dedicated to writing.  I’m dedicated to my Dominant.  I’m dedicated to my son and my family.  Now, what am I going to do?

What I’m going to do has been the paramount question on my mind for months now.  My son’s life is here, my Sweetheart is now in Texas.  What do I do?  When I ask for others opinions, I get them.  But really I get that person’s point of view.  They don’t quite  understand how I am so the help doesn’t seem useful.  I dearly love them all for trying.  But bottom line, I will have to make a decision and no matter which way I go, it will break someone’s heart. 

My Daddy wants me with him and I want to be with him to have our amazing life together.  But to do that I must take my son away from all he’s known and his father.  How can I choose?

Several people say, just take your son, your Ex will just have to deal with it.  That feels so crass and heartless.  The words make me recoil.  Just because he’s an Ex and he did some pretty crappy things while being an active drunk doesn’t mean it’s ok to take his son away.  He got sober.  He’s been sober for years now.  He’s a completely dedicated father.  He is selfish and lacks insight when dealing with his son but is that just cause to lose his son’s proximity?

My Daddy is in Texas now.  He chose a position that will free him from his financial bonds.  It has allowed him to make up a huge chunk of ground he lost during the recession.  He wants financial stability for our future instead of a long struggle.  I totally understand that.  We can buy a house there, a nice house for all of us.

I want to be with him always.  I can’t think of missing him too much or I start crying and I can’t lose myself to that.  I’ve never loved someone like this before.  In all honesty, I loved my Ex but nothing like this.  Daddy and I have a connection unlike any I’ve ever felt.  He compliments me, the real me, like no other.  He is so intelligent he puts me to shame sometimes.  I love our banter.  I love that he picks up on things others do not.  He is funny and lighthearted then dark and intensely sexual. All the facets of him feed the facets in my heart and soul.  He loves my son for who he is.  My son has challenges and is deeply into his puberty at the moment but Daddy sees his goodness and overlooks his growing pains.  

When Daddy moved in we were able to grow in the direction of a nuclear family.  We achieved a routine of sorts in the short time we had together.  Family dinners most nights, playing games, the little things of a complete life. My son was so enamored of it.  So was I.  We were a complete family together.  Our D/s suffered in the transition but I knew we’d eventually figure that out.  We are both focused on not letting that ever slip away. 

Now I must choose.  How do I choose?  Either way my son suffers.  If I stay, he loses out on a nuclear family.  If I go, he will be distanced from his father and will most likely have to go through a legal battle which (knowing his father’s slowness to forgive) could stain their relationship forever. 

Daddy says he will wait for me no matter what it takes.  His level of selflessness and willingness to sacrifice rival any submissive act I could ever offer him.  How can I ask this beautiful man to wait years for me?  

So, there is my torture with all my angst and anxiety.  I have laid myself bare.  Any thoughts you have for us would be welcome.  

Come Slut

I’m not sure how the mood turned but it did.  The smell of sex permeated in minutes.  

I sucked his cock after permission was given.  My tongue, my throat, his silky hard cock.  I was entranced.  I savored every lick, the stretch of my throat, my restricted breathing.

“On your belly, baby girl.” I felt languid from touching him.  I rolled over presenting him my ass, thighs, back.  His hands caressed, his eyes ravished.  I breathed in his pheromones.

The vibe materialized under me.  Pushed up between my thighs. It coaxed and cajoled my sex.  But his words, oh his words, those seduced my mind. “Are you my whore?  Yes, you are.  That’s a good whore.  You’re going to be my good little cum whore and give me what I want.”

His fingers curled into the close hairs at the nape of my neck and pulled my head up.  His teeth grazing the side of my neck as venom dripped from his lips.  “My good slut, feel it, take it.  Give me what I want.  You want to, I know.” 

His hand released the adder’s grip from my neck and pushed my face into the sheets.  His face pushed between my ass cheeks, his tongue assaulted my asshole.  My back arched on its own, opening me to him while vibrations continued their relentless affair under me.

“I should just fuck your ass right now, no warm up, and listen to you whimper.” His finger slid into my tight hole.  He knew how that threat would scare me, excite me. I feared him tearing me, but I ached for him stretching me wide.  Oh, the dichotomy.  My pussy spasmed with every threat. 

His finger fucked my ass.  The intense sensations from ass to clit were turning my soul. Rolling her like swine in slop.  “Dirty girl, you’d like me to take your ass.  You want to be my dirty whore.  Such a good little dirty whore you are.”

He pushed the vibrator up high and tight on my throbbing clit.  I would not take long, I was gone.  Only a dirty slut remained pinned under him. I responded to him now, the frenzy was upon me. “Yes Daddy, I’m your dirty girl, dirty girl. Wicked dirty girl.” I spoke in tongues to my Devil, my captor.

“Yes, my little cum whore, you want to give me your come don’t you?” He spanked me hard, once, twice, thrice, in staccato succession.  “Give it to me.”

My body convulsed, I continued to spew filth as the orgasm tore through my body and mind.  Hot sticky glorious waves of pleasure.  He pushed me down on the vibe knowing I’d want it gone now.  “No, take it, ride it.”  Fuck! Please let it stop, I can’t take it.

I kept coming with his hand pressing me down.  I rode the storm.  My mental ship and all her crew tossed on the churning, roiling tide.  The vibe stopped, it must have.  Breathing became my world.  His warmth and caress my heaven. 

“That’s right.  Good girl.  You did very well.  Such a good girl.” I wrapped myself in him.  His love, his approval.  My bliss.

A Prayer For Submission

Disturb me, my Master, when I am too well pleased with myself; when my dreams have come true because I have dreamed too little; when I have arrived safely because I have only sailed along the shore.

Disturb me, my Master, when with the abundance of the stresses I endure, I have lost my thirst for the dark passions of life.

Stir me, my Master, to dare more boldly, to venture on wider seas, where storms will show your mastery; where losing sight of land, I shall find the stars.

I beg you to push back the horizons of my hopes and to push me into the future in strength, courage, and love. 

Open my heart to the love instilled there. My Master loves me tenderly. What he owns is to be kept under lock and key or to be shared as is his wish.

The more I hold back the less I will experience. The more I share, the more I will know service. Let me ask Him, when it comes to asking for something, to help me to be willing.