So did the beast.
The latter was both unexpected and uninvited.
Well, unexpected by Daddy at least.
I rather thought he'd be here.
And perhaps I'm the one who invited him in.
Before leaving, Daddy said that when I blogged about his visit - and that I did have permission to blog about his visit - I should be sure to say that it wasn't my fault.
So I guess it wasn't my fault.
Although it felt like it was.
There are all sorts of ways to arouse my Master, to make him feel good, to build up his excitement, to make him cum. On top of my superbly skillful cocksucking. There are things he likes me to say... I use my imagination, I read his mood, I spark his most powerful fantasies. But there's a trick to it. And a danger. Because the images that excite Daddy can also be the ones that cause the beast to break through the bars of his cage.
I'm not the only one kept on a chain.
He says it wasn't my fault.
And in general he is right.
Anything could have done it.
The bars had been gnawed through.
This is always a very stressful time of year for Daddy. I've said that before. Holidays can be stressful and demanding, and particularly so for him it seems, for a longer than the standard Thanksgiving through New Year's stretch. With his visiting so soon after Christmas weekend, I rather expected him to be - if not the beast exactly - then at least a very hungry Daddy.
Instead he arrived all sweet and gentle.
The way he looked at me.
The way he caressed me.
And then, once we were down in the dungeon,
there were his sweet kisses
and the way he stroked my breasts
and reached down for my pussy
and even when he spanked my butt
it was just right.
Just hard enough to hurt
but not so hard that it hurt too much.
The right amount of pain
to yield the right amount of pink.
And then I handed him the glass of ice water
and he filled his mouth
and took me in a kiss
and watered my mouth from his.
He was still thinking about yesterday's poem, Ice Hot.
He took an ice cube from the glass and rolled it around in his mouth. He sucked and smoothed the ice cube, then took it between his fingers and slipped it into my mouth to suck before rubbing it against first one nipple and then the other until they were cold and red and even harder than usual. He rubbed the ice over my tits and down my belly and now my memory is somewhat fuzzy but it was oh so sensual and oh so beautiful. And then I sucked his cock again and my mouth was moist and cold and I was making him feel so good and I sucked his cock and sent out words around it and then rubbed my hard, icy nipple against his leg which he loves and spoke of how he loves my hard nipples and then made the mistake of saying how he loves to hurt them.
And that's when something snapped.
Right after I said the words, I worried that maybe I had triggered something. And within seconds I knew that I had. He pulled me up to him and I felt it and I saw it in his eyes and he saw in mine that I saw what was in his and he said something about there being someone else in the room.
But I already knew.
The change is so dramatic that it's not just that he slips into a different level of arousal or desire. It really is almost as if he were another person. Except he's not. He is and he isn't. I even looked up multiple personality disorder. It's not that. He doesn't forget what happens. he doesn't forget what he does. Daddy doesn't disappear, he isn't driven out by the beast.
But the steering wheel is wrenched from his hands.
He was fierce.
He wasn't all that dangerous but he was fierce.
His kisses changed
and his eyes
and his voice
and his grasp of my nipples.
And his urgency.
I can't remember exactly, but I think the chain was already around my neck. I think it was already clasped very snugly around my neck. In any case, he grasped it at my throat, shoving his hand between the chain and my throat, and pulled me harshly to him. He wrapped the loose end around my neck and pulled it down and then yanked it up through my pussy, pulling up roughly so that it was wedged and I felt contained and constrained and raped by the chain and utterly perfect.
He wanted to be my sweet Daddy but he needed to be the beast. I think there would have been no way to contain it.
It unnerved him, though. Because there had been no warning. No nasty thoughts of torture had been setting up camp in his brain.
As he was leaving, I said "I love you, Daddy. I belong to you."
"You belong to Him," he said.
"I belong to You," I replied.
Later, I wrote:
I love you, Daddy.He replied with but 2 words.
And I'm worried about you.
I'm worried that perhaps,
when you said that I belong to HIM,
you might have meant/thought/feared that you belong to him.