Blogs and Memories

Daddy,

I woke up this morning at around 6 am and as much as I tossed and turned and touched my clit I couldn’t get back to sleep. As 7:30 rolled around I was so frustrated that I worked up the energy to masturbate to the thought of your cock in my ass (which has been the subject of much masturbation lately) but even after cumming I could not get back to sleep.

So I got up and started to read Confessions of an English Gentleman. I’ve read several posts so far and will probably read more but I wanted to bring your attention to three seperate ones in particular. First Slut which I think touches on what we’ve talked about lately. I hadn’t really thought about it until recently but it is a new development that I want to be called a slut. It’s probably because I feel regret and guilt from what I’ve done recently and I am ashamed that I slept with Ricky and a little embarassed that I went back to Justin. And all for purely selfish sexual reasons. And I couldn’t really be your lil girl if you didn’t know that and make sure I know you know that. I think we should talk about it later as I think you can help me sort out what I’m feeling.

Secondly, What makes a submissive?. I’ve always considered myself a born submissive. When I was very very young I dreamt of being helpless. It seems odd now but this usually manifested itself in me being a baby I suppose it was all I knew that was helpless. I can think of two particular dreams (one a day dream the other a night dream) which are actually both about babies but that I used to touch myself to. It amazes me now that I can recall so much of this first day dream in detail. I find it rather silly now and hesitate to tell you but now I’ve worked it up so much that I might as well. It was a cartoon starring Donald Duck. He goes into this museum of new inventions; robots and things to make your life a lot easier. There’s a robot that will shine your shoes and do your hair and as he’s walking around he walks by a baby carriage with robot arms. The arms literally grab him up as he walks by and shove him into the cradle, then he’s sprinkled with baby powder and a bonnet and a diaper are put on him all while he tries to get away. Next he’s force fed a bottle and probably several other things happen before he is able to escape. Heh it seems even sillier after typing it all out and I have to stress that this does nothing for me now. But when I was as young as 4 or 5 its all I thought about as I drifted off to sleep with my hands between my legs. lol Just one of the reasons I think I was born a submissive or maybe just with a Donald Duck fetish.

The second dream is really not important as this is getting so long now and I had other things I wanted to explore. In ‘What makes a submissive?’ I really want to draw your attention to the small paragraph about father-daughter relationships. I wish he had touched on this some more. Mostly because I obviously have issues with father/daughter and age play and I can’t seem to place them in my childhood. My father is a good man when I was younger we would go fishing and hiking together. He loves to go bird watching and when I was younger I would tag along. We had a good relationship back then it seems normal. Perhaps its because he never spanked me, it was my mother’s job to discipline me. Maybe secretly I wished it as him though I don’t remember wishing that. As I got older we grew apart but that always happens. He’s busy with work a lot. He works 6 long days to make sure we’ve always had anything we wanted and to pay for my expensive catholic education.

Which brings me to The religion of submission. If I wasn’t already well on my way to being a submissive the Catholic church certainly took me there. When I was younger we had to go to confession in grade school and I despised it. I couldn’t stand how shameful and embarassing it was and almost always my fat old priest got a rehearsed line about lying and fighting with my brothers. Though I rarely fought and had no reason to lie. Oh and I never did any atonement. Maybe a hail mary but never much and what did anyone care anyway I wasn’t doing anything wrong I was only 10. Of course back then I didn’t realize that touching my lil clit every day and night of my life was certainly against my religion. Imagine my distress when in 7th grade I realized just what I’d been doing for as long as I could remember. I even attempted to stop though half heartedly. I mean lets face it by then I was addicted and I am addicted.

Wow, weird memories keep flooding back to me but this is so long already. Perhaps remind me to tell you about where I used to masturbate when I was younger. I realize this whole post is rather unorganized and may be alittle hard to follow and I’m sorry. I try to read it now and I’m thinking what is my point? I suppose there really isn’t much of a point except that I want you to know me and understand me more than I understand myself. Even if I have to admit to some embarassing masturbation stories.

love,

sarah