Friday, November 28, 2014

"I'm sorry, Daddy." (FFF)


It's been awhile since I FFF'd. And I really wasn't sure I'd be able to find inspiration for this photo...but, I just started writing, and this is where it took me. Head over to the Flash Fiction Friday site to join in the writing fun!

"I'm sorry, Daddy."

“Will you spank me, Daddy...” Her slightly averted, pleading eyes, her bouncing pigtails, her pink-cheeked, smiling face..all of it framed by his naked, spread knees, made him smile. 

“Why, princess?” His right eye squinted as his lips curved up in a wicked curl.

“Because it’s my birthday.”

“It’s not your birthday, princess. Why are you lying?”

“I’m not lying, Daddy.”

“Oh, but love, you are. You are lying, and you know it, don’t you?”

“Why would I lie, Daddy?”

“Because you want me to spank you harder, baby. And you know what, I ought to send you away right now for your naughtiness. But, you know what I’m going to do instead, my girl?”

Her smile had faded, a shamed blush taking its place.

“I’m going to spank you. I’m going to spank you so hard you won’t forget it. And the next time you feel the need to hand me such an unnecessary and silly story just to get what you want, you’ll be sent to the corner.” He inhaled and exhaled slowly, with great intent, as if he were counting backwards to keep his calm. 

He patted his lap.

She moved instantly, positioning herself across legs, her full breasts pressing into the outside of his left thigh, her belly pushing against his right.

“With every strike, princess, I want to you say I’m sorry, Daddy.”

Meekly, she whispered, “Yes, Daddy...”

Raising his voice slightly, he demanded, “Speak up, girl.”

“Yes, Daddy,” she said, clearly and obediently.

His hand came down hard to meet her bare bottom, leaving its telltale red print, like a semi-permanent tattoo.

Her voice rang out, in between each resounding smack, her rear-end quivering, “I’m sorry, Daddy!”

But she was not.

Wednesday, November 26, 2014

Things that go "mmmmm" in the dark

We live on a dark road, about a mile off the highway, nestled between cedars and maples. Our sky does not look the same as the sky above a large city. It's much darker, and shines with dense pockets of twinkling stars so numerous it looks as if a salt shaker has been upended.

When the clouds roll in, and the moon does its monthly disappearing act, it becomes so dark, you can't see your own hand in front of your face. And if you are paying attention to the crunch of the leaves beneath your feet, you might not even notice someone coming up behind you.

Maybe a pair of warm hands and the comfortable smell of recognition.

With one sense fully at the mercy of nature, the rest will be left to experience those hands with more intensity. The sense of touch...fingers tracing curves, entering crevices, exploring places in a way made more surprising by the inability to see them.

Smells...the wood stove smoke lingering in the still, cold air, kept low and closed in by the clouds, making the atmosphere seem heavier, the pressure of winter bearing down and making your bodies feel weighted and slow. The day's cologne and perfume will have withered beneath more natural scents, muskier and mouthwatering.

You might feel the heat of breath on your neck, a hot tongue licking at your nape, and the cool air immediately stealing the warmth. That will likely be intoxicating. The quick contrast. The shift in temperature.

That tongue will take away the salt of your skin, taste buds swelling with the sting, causing the mouth to water. It will come back for more, only this time, it will invade your mouth, filling it, pressing itself between your teeth, sucking.

The hands might make their way between your legs, probing, searching...and eventually finding your sweetest spot, already wet and ready...hot.

If you could see, in the darkness, you would notice the steam rising from the hand as it is pulled from the band of your loose evening clothes. The steam caused by your heat as it meets the bitter reality of night.

Best to go in...out of the cold...out of the dark...and into the warmth of the house. The subtle glow of the lamplight will be a cozy invitation to snuggle up on the couch and finish what has already been started.




Sunday, November 23, 2014

Learning how to be Daddy's girl....again

Okay...amazing revelation while perusing another blogger's website (A Slut's Memoir). And quite honestly, it just shouldn't be a revelation. So I'm fairly disappointed in myself. But...it's all a learning a curve, I suppose. One person's epiphany is another's "duh."

I'm not the best sub. I'm certainly not the most knowledgeable. So, I've got a lot to learn. I can be bratty, resistant, and downright FAIL. In fact, so much so, that we just put that whole part of our life on hold because it just wasn't working.

However, the underlying dynamic never went away. We are who we are, after all. But all the rules and the pomp and circumstance...the label...the shared goal...bye bye. And I'm sure it depressed him...and didn't do a damn thing to help in all of our other marital "issues" (which seem to be mostly related to sex).

We've struggled with it for over a year now. My dwindling, sometimes non-existent, libido...our sort of new communication issues...really, we've been pretty frustrated for awhile.

And about a month ago, after a night of hair-pulling good sex (...just because we have marital issues doesn't mean we don't still love each other and want to be together...and it doesn't mean we never have sex...seriously), the thought came back to me, heavily, that I really needed him to be my Daddy again. Because when He was...I wanted Him more, I respected Him more, I thought about pleasing Him more.

My brain grabbed hold of it all and just ran with it (because that is what my brain does...and it only does it when it wants...can you say ADD?). But, I was smart. I said nothing. I read. I researched. I tried to make better sense of it, figure out what I wanted and why I wanted it.

Daddy is nothing if not a good detective...and I knew He'd want evidence. After all, we'd tried this before, why was this time going to be different?

And why did last time not work?

After weeks of consideration and writing, I finally decided it had come to the point where I could go no further with it by myself. So I brought it to him. And we talked. And we made very simple first decisions.

We're taking this a step at a time. No bells and whistles at first. It can't be complicated. It has to be natural and intuitive.

I know it works differently for others, but for us, this is it. He is completely responsive to me. Open and willing to guide and question. Basically, He's my perfect leader. The leader I follow willingly.

Which brings me to the impetus for this post:

"I...need to remember to take better care of Sir's property in the future." (A Slut's Memoir)

Indeed.

It's so easy to be lazy, to say no to the gym, to drink just one more beer, go all day with out getting dressed on the weekend, say no to getting my nails or hair done because I'm being frugal. It's easy to stress myself out, stay at work too long, bring work home, stay up too late, forget my vitamins, not drink enough water.

But...if I change the way I think about it, I have to remember that this body is His. I have to keep it clean, healthy, refreshed, pretty, and ready at all times. And I have to accept it, lovingly, because He loves it the way it is.

While my mind may be my own, He has a pretty good hold on it. He deserves my time, my attention, my focus, and my devotion. I need to keep my head straight (not only for myself) for Him. 

I can't push myself to illness (mental or physical), because that would be abusing His property. I shouldn't stress myself out, because that would not be caring for His property. I shouldn't disrespect myself...because that would be disrespecting a choice that He made in choosing me. Daddy has good taste. Daddy knows best. And Daddy chose me. 

Wow. 

That's a much more powerful set of reasons for taking care of myself. 

It's not just for me, it's for Him. And it's a hell of a lot harder to say no to that than it is to myself.


And seriously...applying that seemingly simple mental shift last night made masturbating in His arms feel perfectly natural. He doesn't judge me like I so easily judge myself. And He wanted it. It wasn't about me. It was about Him. And so I let myself go, and for the first time (really...in 9 whole years) felt completely at ease getting myself off in front of him. Weird.