Thursday, September 07, 2006

Little Slut

I got to have a nap with my Daddy this afternoon. I love those kinds of moments. His breathing makes me feel so relaxed.



I've been a good girl lately. Or at least, grin, more manipulative than he's willing to deal with. That works for me too since I skipped school today!! I laid around, played games with Daddy, watched TV, dyed my hair ma(ca)roon and read more of my book.

I have been alternating, or maybe alternating is the wrong word, but simultaneously existing in a state of littleness and a state of voracious sexual desire. I want to fuck all the time. I want to think about my Daddy using every part of my body for disgusting things. I want him to rape me and slap me and make me bleed and make me scream; I want him to fuck me, and fuck me, and fuck me until my pussy never stops throbbing. I want to suck him like an automaton, follow him around the house on my hands and knees, opening my mouth to be used at every chance I get.

I want to be his little girl and sit on his lap and have him talk to me like a child, explain things to me, praise me, tell me stories and give me kisses and pats. When I'm naughty, I want him to lecture me and ask me condescending questions and punish me like a child, send me to the naughty step, to bed early, spank me where ever we are, just quick little smacks to keep me obedient. I want him to put me to bed and turn off the light and tell me only bad girls pet themselves under the covers, to kiss my forehead and my teddy's forehead, to leave me water and a nightlight.

And this is mortifying.

And only anonymously can I say all of this. Even to him, I can't say how much I want it. It's conflicted and yes, disturbed. I am disturbed.

I could break it down intellectually...because I am educated and insightful. I could bring up the schism between having lived independently, as a mother-figure, shouldering responsibilities of education and careers, and now having to return to my childhood home temporarily. I could suggest that mentally attempting to balance those drastically different lifestyles, whilst simultaneously fighting familial control and craving Daddy's, is wrecking havoc on my already fragile psyche. I could say that the shift from a relationship fraught with maternal demands and personal sacrifice to one of submission of will and power to the benefit of my personal growth is both confusing and overwhelming. I could say that the opportunity to absolve my past and exorcise memories of other men by replacing them with my Daddy's sound, smell, cum and command is devilishly tempting. I could say that for once, someone has enthusiastically met my sexual appetite with one of his own, at times darker, dirtier, and more compelling.

But, in the end, I just want to be cuddled and raped, and no amount of psychobabble or litigious rationalization, as flowery as it might be, can stamp that out. Simply, I am disturbed.

I am lucky, however, to have someone who loves me despite this. And so...



Daddy, I need to be punished. Here is a short list of things that I have done to merit consequences:
  • three nights of teeth grinding
  • going to school very late yesterday
  • knowing that I did poorly on my Chem test, but still skipping all my homework for Trichology
  • a list of profanity and vulgarity both longer than me and scathingly impolite
  • being argumentative and resistant when I am told to go to sleep
  • lots of chocolate
  • touching myself all the time without permission
  • cheating on my timecard (grin, clever girl)
  • saying mean things to my loving Daddy and calling him names

Anyway, I will regret posting this, and perhaps I will get a chance to remove this last portion before you see it.

Adoringly yours,
macaroon.

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