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

wake-up call

Daddy,

I don’t think I love anything more than laying in bed and listening to you. I love being slightly drowsy and so warm and snug in my bed. I can’t wait until the day when you’ll wake me up by a gentle (heh or maybe not so gentle) touch and a soft word, coaxing me out of my sleep with the promise of what you want to do to me and the pleasure I can bring you. I love to imagine your hot breath on my ear and neck, your warm rough hands touching me here and there, spreading my legs and your lips finding mine.

I want to be your lil plaything bringing you constant pleasure. I want to make you proud. I want to wake up and slip right into my submission to you. I want to be yours, all yours and no one else’s.

I already think about you almost constantly through the day. But on days when you wake me up I can’t seem to think of anything else at all. I want you constantly; I count down the hours and minutes until you get online. I can’t focus all I can think of is your hands on me, your voice in my head. I miss you, Daddy. And I feel closer to you now than I’ve ever imagined I could be.

love,

sarah

Birthdays

Daddy,

I tell everyone that I hate birthdays. I think that deep down I think this will have a reverse psychology affect on them and they will try to prove to me that birthdays are good. Only so far my birthdays keep getting worse.

When you’re young, birthdays have themes and everyone in your class in is invited and they all show up. What kid doesn’t love birthdays when they’re like that? For the day you get all the attention. You get presents, you get the first piece of cake and everyone wants to play with you. But as I’ve got older birthdays have begun to really suck. The days of themed parties are over. The days when kids want to come to your party are over. The days of having a group of children your age that you consider all your friends are over. When I noticed that birthdays were only getting worse I resigned myself to hating them. Because if I’m not looking forward to it how can it let me down. Only it always does. Oh sure I have friends but even when they were all in the same town as me my birthdays were hardly great fun.

I’m sorry Daddy this post is sad and mostly pointless. Except that just once I’d like to have a party. One I don’t have to plan. One where all my friends and even acquaintances show up. One where I’m surrounded by people that I love and love me and are genuinely happy to celebrate the day I was born. It’s kind of silly really but I don’t care.

I miss you a lot Daddy. I can’t wait to talk to you.

sarah

Assignment #1

Assignment: I want you to write about how we met and what I’ve meant to you through all this.

Daddy,

Last night I was thinking about what I’d write to you today. It seemed to flow then but now it’s a little harder.

I wish I could remember when we met. It was on bolt right? Heh it’s no wonder they’ve shut down and remade bolt so much. There were a lot of bad things going on there. I wish I could remember what we first talked about. Sometimes I wonder about how it all started. Did I contact you or did you contact me? Who seduced who? Did you know when you met me that you’d love me forever? I’m sorry this isn’t about what you remember it’s about what I remember.

I suppose the earliest thing I can remember is talking with your other submissive lil girls. I seem to remember we were 15 or so. By then I was already trapped…(no that implies that I didn’t have a choice but maybe I didn’t maybe deep down I knew I was born for you), I wanted you so bad, but I wanted you all to myself. So I tried to play nice for you. You know I didn’t like it at all. You know I was selfish and jealous then and I still am. It’s bad of me I know and I try to be nice I really do. But I loathed talking to those girls. Lisa, wasn’t that one of them? I felt that they were so immature and stupid. And yet I was jealous of the experience they had because at the time I was so completely virgin. However, I felt like I was better than them and I deserved to have you all to myself. I didn’t understand why I had to share. But I did. Maybe I did like talking to them sometimes when you weren’t around. But when you were on I hated to share and I remember sometimes having to wait while you talked to them privately. But, and this is a big but, I also seem to remember you telling me I was your favorite. Sometimes I doubted you and even accused you of saying it to all of us. But I was your favorite wasn’t I? I wish I could remember more perhaps when we talk about it later things will come flooding back.

Now then, the second part; what you’ve meant to me through all of this. It’s so hard to write about this because words don’t come easily and don’t convey how I really feel. But I’m going to try. When we first met you were like any other older man I met on the internet who told me they were Dom and let me show them how I felt deep down in side; I didn’t trust you, I never trusted any of them…it’s why I’m still alive today. And also because when I was younger I never seriously thought that I would do this in real life. I knew I needed it but doubted I’d ever get it except over the internet; mostly I was scared. Scared of the lifestyle, of what it meant about me, and scared mostly of scary old men.

But you didn’t push me. You let me grow with you and learn that it doesn’t have to be scary and dangerous. You didn’t push me to come to you because you knew in time I would do that on my own. It speaks so much about your character, first that you’re patient and honest, and second that you were Dom enough to understand me and know that I was going to need this forever and I’d always come back. You let me grow to trust you and inturn I was as honest as I’ve ever been. You are the only person who knows everything, everyside of me. You know about Justin and Ricky, I tell you about my friends when they come up, you know what I need and what I want and I’ve never been afraid to tell you what I’m really thinking. I even tell you when I’ve been bad lol; knowing full well that I’ll be scolded and even punished or maybe sometimes because I know I’ll be scolded and punished. Even when I’m on a sabbatical I’ve told you about whats going on in my life and my problems and you always listened. I guess what I’m trying to say is you’re my everything because I can tell you anything. I don’t have to be afraid of what you think of me; you don’t judge me. You’ve been a listener and a teacher; you’ve molded me and guided me. You’ve been my best friend, my lover, and my father. I’ve been your slave, your sub, your friend, and your lil girl. And I’m not scared anymore because I trust you and I trust this because its evolved and changed and I know that it’ll only get better. love, sarah

what’s in a name?

Daddy,

I like calling you Daddy. It reminds me of my need to be protected and cared for, while still showing some respect. It reminds me that I’m your lil girl and you love me very much. It also plays into the whole over the knee spanking scene where a father would spank his lil daughter for being bad. When I call you Daddy I think about you taking me shopping and brushing my hair and taking care of me.

But I didn’t always call you Daddy. I used to call you Master and Sir. Those seem so formal to me, so much more strict. Yet they tend show more respect and submission. Sometimes when you’re upset with me I get the urge to call you Sir to show you I can be good and obedient. When I think of calling you Master/Sir I think of being on my knees in front of you; completely obedient and without any control, my head lowered. I think of trying to be the best lil sub I can be.

In the past when I’ve been on a sort of submissive leave (sabbatical even) I’ve called you Max. It seems so odd now when I think about it. But in the past I’ve gotten tired of the submissive life, busy with other things, other people and dropped you carelessly. I’m sorry for that now. But I know that I needed those breaks to think about who I am. I always come back which only reinforces my understanding of who I am and reminds me that I’ll always need this. And I’m afraid to think that there might be times in the future where I will take more breaks but I know I will. On these breaks I don’t tend to see you very often I suppose you know I need the break and you leave but you always come back. Sometimes a little too soon usually I feel like I want to talk to you but then when we start to talk about being yours again I can get angry, upset, reluctant to come back and when that happens I call you Max. I know because it happened not too long ago. I don’t like calling you Max. But when I’m angry at you when I want to show I can be your equal that’s what comes out.

I was just sitting thinking about this while watching tv with Jenny. I thought you’d like to know how I feel about certain things like this. I know it seems so small but I feel like there’s a lot of feeling behind what I call you. I hope you like this letter and find it informative.

Love,

Sarah

My first entry

Daddy,

A little while ago you mentioned me keeping a blog where we could post our conversations. I couldn’t shake you from my thoughts (but I rarely can anyway) after talking to you on the phone so I decided to take action. I haven’t done anything except pick a background and if you don’t like it we can change it. I want this to be a place where I can write about how I feel and what’s going on in my lil head (you know since I change my mind so much) and a place you can write too though I know you’re busy so I don’t expect you will. But here I can write and you can read it whenever you want and we can talk about it later when you’re online. I also thought here I could post links to things I want you to read and/or see. Because there is so much out there now in the way of bdsm blogs. Reading other people’s blogs makes me want to be yours more and more everyday. I want to share that with you.

I like the idea of this blog being written in letter form to you. So I miss you and can’t wait to talk to you tonight. Kisses.

Sarah