In the kink world, I have always been a bottom.  I’ve been the one that someone beats.  I giggle, I squirm, I make smart ass remarks.  But I rarely submit. I rarely call the top Sir.   I am clear that I am my own person.  I am clear that the exchange is not in my submission.

I have played with Daddy Doms before.  Yet, I have never felt the need to call them Daddy.  The power exchange was equal.  It just didn’t feel right.

But now, now I have a Daddy.  Oh lord, calling him Daddy makes me wet just thinking about it.  Daddy beats my ass with his hands.  He beats my ass with his flogger and canes and paddles.  He puts his handcuffs on my wrists and blind folds me – forcing me to give myself to him.  And I know that Daddy will take care of me.  He will be mean – he will make me cry out – but he will take care of me too.

After he makes my ass the color of a blazing, fiery red, he will wrap himself around me.  He will kiss my forehead, my nose and my lips as I come down.  He will take a glass of water, put it to my lips, and make sure I drink enough.  He will make sure I’m taken care of as I come down from my high.

And in the morning, he will make sure I have coffee.  He will get me food. And make sure I eat.  He will tell me what a good girl I am as he makes sure I consume the substance he has given me.  He makes sure I am tucked in.  He make sure I am warm.  He takes care of me.

Don’t even think for a second that what he does is less than dominant or sadistic.  It’s simply right.  He takes care in a way that is old school.  It is appreciation but it’s as a Daddy should.  He ma

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