They're salivating at the thought of me.
There's a gang of "old guys" salivating at the thought of me.
The thought of getting their hands on me.
The thought of getting their cocks in me.
And the sadist is quite delighted at getting to watch.
Delighted?
He's hot.
I could probably get him to cum just by talking about it.
He loves to think of watching them admire me.
Inspect me.
Poke and prod and explore me.
Spank my lovely pale white ass.
Fuck me in every possible hole.
Sit back and revel in the services of my expert mouth.
My tongue.
My teeth.
My lips.
He wants to see me work hard to please them.
He wants to see me suffer.
To see me reduced to a thing.
And he'll know.
He'll know it's all for him.
That I'm doing it all for his pleasure.
Because I love him.
Because he owns me.
Because he wants it.
And if he wants it,
then so do I.
(And the guys? They're pretty excited, too. Though I won't service them all right away. We're working up to it. The first event will be me and Daddy and the ringleader and his male sub. Date not set yet - my new employment status has made scheduling more difficult, as a weekday afternoon encounter had been under discussion. But I expect within the month. And yes - though you didn't ask - he declared condoms de rigueur. After all. I'm his property. I'm his baby girl. A Daddy like to look after his baby girl.)
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2 comments:
Oh my! How exciting and yet how daunting to be contemplating being shared.
I'm sure your sadist will take especially good care of you.
My christmas present from my Daddy was being used by his friends. It was also my present to him, because I am his and I am here to be used as he sees fit. He turned me from Daddy's baby girl, into Daddy's slut and that made him so very happy which means the world to me and more. I lost count of the amount of times they used my holes, my mouth. I lost awareness of who did what, only knowing that he was with me every time I was spanked, or fucked, beaten or used. I was reduced to a thing, just like you mention in your post. But I always remain His thing. Daddy's thing, whatever that is, that he wants.
He wanted it. So he got it. And although it was incredibly liberating, I had to deal with a lot of feelings of guilt afterwards. But, knowing it was for him, because he wanted it, is all that matters to me.
Whether I am his baby, his girl, his slut or his thing, whether he shares me with none, 1 or a group like he did on Christmas, I know without doubt, I am his. And that makes me the luckiest girl in the world.
I so understand what you have written and share that understanding of the bond between Daddy and his baby girl. And you're right, Daddy would never hurt us.
Shelly.
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