Monday, September 13, 2010

Daddy (1)

He wanted to teach me to play craps. He has this plan. Well, he has so many plans. Plans, fantasies, schemes, chapters in the ongoing saga of my life as his poet and pet and whore and slave and property and treasure and collection of holes to offer to his friends. I have been and am all that.

All that and more.
For of course there is more.
Identities I have glimpsed but wasn't ready to see.
An identity he wanted me to discover for myself.

Right then, though, what he wanted was to teach me to play craps. Because he is planning on taking me to a casino. And there... well, don't expect me to tell you everything ahead of time. Just know that part of the script involves my knowing how to play.

So we had a nice long IM chat about some basic techniques, and he sent me to a free on-line craps game. Like craps solitaire. And then he ordered me to play, with little rewards and penalties along the way, plus a promised outcome, depending on how I did:

so, your task
I'm going to bed, as I have a huge day tomorrow
you close the window then re-open it, so you start again at a 1000 balance
continue as I have showed you
including the rewards
if your balance gets below 900 report to me and I will administer a punishment upon my next visit
if you get over 1100 you may masturbate to climax

Just reading his words again sends my pussy into paroxysms of twitching.

So I played as he taught me, keeping a running IM commentary going even though he was no longer on line. And oh my goodness, I was so pleased with myself! I did very well and in the end I earned the right to masturbate and cum. Isn't that delicious!

And all this the night before I was to drive up north to visit my parents. So it was important that my playing not run too late so I wouldn't be all tired for driving or haggard and crabby for visiting. But I won and it didn't take too long and oh my goodness, I did have such fun! And I don't normally go in for gambling, although it is one of the sadist's many vices.

Anyway. I won. And I sent him a message with a copy of the running commentary. And the next morning came back a message saying that he was very pleased with me, to which he added some hints on what would be happening if I had been playing for real, which I was to consider during the drive. A drive which was to be peppered with text and e-mail and phone messages.

I sent him one last e-mail before driving away.
An e-mail which revealed a crack in my blindness to the truth of who I am.
The truth of another piece of who I am.

Oh thank you, my Lord! I am so happy to have pleased you. I did have fun.

And yes, my Master, I had already started imagining my debut - at a real casino? The extent to which I felt out of my element at [the bar] is nothing compared to how lost and nervous - and fascinated - I will feel at the casino. (Or are we talking about a local party that you will assemble?)

I had an odd sensation last night, Sir, and it makes me rather uncomfortable to admit it. Do you remember that short period during which you became fascinated with my plain white panties and I gave you stories of me as a high school girl coming to your study? You would bend me over your large desk, push up my skirt, press yourself against my butt, and spank me. We neither of us had been into this sort of thing but for a while we played with it.

Last night, I started understanding the draw of the Daddy thing. Which made me very uncomfortable. But there you were, teaching me about something very "grown up", me being wide-eyed, excited, delighted at having this special time with you. Especially when I won at the end! I felt myself looking up at you as I wriggled and grinned and laughed and looked up into your eyes for approval and then, then, heard you say those special words.

"Good girl."

Plus other personal things, Sir, which don't interest you.

In any case, my Lord, it was very disconcerting to realize this, and I'd probably be happier if it went away. Or at least just be an aspect that is underneath as my demon mentor leads me through his vices.

Oh, and yes, My Lord, I did masturbate last night. It was late so I didn't take a huge amount of time. But oh, it was delicious! I think you opened something that afternoon in your car. [I never did tell you all about what happened in his car... --o.g.] This wasn't as huge, and oddly I barely cried. But it was an intensely clitoral orgasm, spasming again and again as I kept touching even after coming the first time. I haven't had one like that in ages.

Alas, I can't linger over this message as I need to dress and eat and assemble last items and leave.

Thank you so much for giving me ways to have you with me on my trip, my Master.

I love you.
And I am yours.

To which he replied:

We will explore the
Daddy thing a bit on your return.
What "other personal things"? Surrender them to me, so that I may use them in your debasement.

But in the end, there was more exploration even before I came back.
More exploration, and a lot more messages.

to be continued...

NOTE: click on Comments to read and join the conversation about Daddy-little girl relationships.


Anonymous said...

Yikes. Profoundly erotic, though as you note of yourself, the Daddy scenario has never been one of my several thousand turn-ons. The vocabulary of my youth did not include the societal, as opposed to familial, use of "Daddy" and it is thus unsurprising that my first response has always been to my own inference of an incestuous motif. Viewed through the lens of this experience, however, it is another exploration of the power dynamic - as you say, another thread of the self. And an awfully sexy one, at that. Nice to read you. - jcn

oatmeal girl said...

I would be dishonest were I to deny the incestuous motif. The sadist gorges himself on the transgressive.

I need to remind myself that this is like rape fantasies - just because I have them, just because his friends will, in fact, use my body for their pleasure, does not mean that I truly would want to be raped. It is all operating on some other level.

I have been at peace with being Daddy's Pussy, although I dealt with a lot of confusion before coming to this point. Except that now, revealing it, I am creeped out again. I expect to be judged. And I need to remind myself that this is my space to explore my life, and that I won't re-write my life to make other people comfortable.

Anonymous said...

But it is not incest. Its provocative cousin from "Tobacco Road" perhaps, but not the thing itself. For me, then, it becomes about power - and transgression, absolutely. Either of which is incredibly sexy. and all the more so when filtered through both flesh and synapeses.
I trust I need not say - (and why does one always say that before doing the reverse?) - that there was and is nothing judgmental here. - jcn

Melissa said...

OG - I have also struggled with the "Daddy thing", uncomfortable with its connotations. But as uncomfortable as it makes me, I am equally comfortable in his presense, as his little girl. It's a comfortable place to be.

I appreciate your stand on using this space to explore your life and sexuality, not concerning yourself with making other people feel comfortable with your personal choices. You gave me courage. Thank you.

Paul said...

OG, write as yourself, you always do, it would show if you didn't.
I can be shocked, but not by anything consenting humans do between themselves.
Incest is dangerous for both participants, both physically and emotionally, though it didn't seem to bother the Egyptians.
Daddy and little girl is quite common in kink world and can be very satisfying for both.
Love and warm hugs,

MrJ said...

I guess, OG, that Daddy-Baby Girl is... a metaphor.