24.7

Hi everybody!  Long time no write.  I looked back, and my last post was in November!  Shocking!  

The reason we haven’t been posting  is because I was sick for most of December (not dangerously sick, just too sick to be able to read or write or move around much).  I’ve read that it is common for people to get sick after a stressful period, once the adrenalin wears off, and that has certainly been a pattern for me.  September through November were very busy and stressful at work and the minute things slowed down BOOM! I was sick for almost four weeks.  I got well just in time to pick up the pace again lol.  

One interesting thing that came out of this time is that I noticed that being Richard’s little girl is becoming…natural?  routine?  de-sexualized?  I’m not sure how to explain it, but even when I was too sick to feel remotely sexy I still felt like a little girl.  

Part of that, I’m sure, was because he was taking care of me and pampering me more than I ever remember being cared for or pampered in my LIFE.  And I was very weak and dependent on him, although I know in the past no matter how weak I felt, I would have been quite independent and been taking care of myself and trying to do more.   Instead I just laid on the couch and was fed and coddled and jollied (BOY it’s discouraging and depressing to lie around for that long!) until it was time to go to bed and be cuddled and snuggled and loved until I fell asleep. 

I had kind of thought that maybe I would be less likely to feel submissive, if we were playing less and having sex less.  But that didn’t happen.  It’s become natural to always call Richard Daddy unless we are around other people, in which case I try not to call him by name, since it feels disrespectful to say eg “Richard, are you ready for dinner?”.  I instictively respond to his requests or questions with “yes sir” or “no sir”.  I wouldn’t think of leaving the room or using the bathroom or changing what I’m doing without asking his permission. 

Richard says that I have, however, become more sassy.  He thinks it’s because he hasn’t wanted to punish me, so I haven’t had any consequences for sassy behavior.  I can see his point.  I think I’m naturally pretty lippy and the only thing that keeps that at a low level is recent experience with a spanking and the knowledge that he is quite happy to administer another given any reason at all.  Or no reason at all, come to think of it. 

Yesterday we were in the grocery checkout line.  Richard had his arm around me and I was happily nuzzling his neck and chattering away at him.  He turned around to watch the cashier for a moment and I tried to nibble on his shoulder.  But he had on a heavy sweatshirt so I couldn’t reach his skin.  So what did I do?  I PINCHED him.   

He turned and said “That was too much.  Put your hands on the counter, young lady.” Omigosh.  I was horrified.  We were packed in with lots of people and I didn’t know if they heard him or were watching us.  I couldn’t believe he would punish me in such a public place.  Plus I didn’t find out until later how hard I had pinched him, so I hadn’t expected him to be angry. 

But.  While all of this was running through my head, my hands were already on the counter.  It was as if my body automatically obeyed him.  I had my head tucked way down, because I didn’t want to see anyone.  Richard said that I had turned bright pink. 

He laughed and smacked me solidly on one cheek and said “What a bad little girl you were!”

I was sure everyone in the store could hear him.  Then he gave me a quick hug.  Until he finished paying for the groceries I leaned against him with my face hidden in his sleeve.   He laughed again as he wheeled the cart out, with me pushed up close against him the whole way to the car.  

I was so mortified, both that people may have seen me being scolded and punished, and that I had pinched my Daddy hard enough to hurt him. I drove home completely shame-faced and also feeling more submissive than I have in a long time.  All I wanted to do is snuggle up inside my Daddy’s arms and hide for a while. 

Later Richard told me that he was surprised and pleased by how quickly I obeyed him, in spite of how much he knew I hated to feel exposed in public.  He said that meant a lot to him and that he was very proud of me.  It was nice to hear that he felt proud of me, instead of just disappointed in me for being so rude.  

PS It feels wonderful to be back and to be writing again.  I’m hoping we are going to have a photo-shoot this weekend, so stay tuned for some new pics.    

PSS Having trouble with formatting, so I apologize if this is hard to read.  I’ll keep trying to fix it. 

I awoke in the morning, just the two of us at home.

Predawn, the sky still dark, no signs of any light, and the California rain still damp on the windows.

I rolled up against Amy in the dark, wrapped my arms around her, and lay quietly. She shifted.

I told her to lie still, and I gripped her wrists firmly in my hands, hugging her arms to her like an Egyptian mummy, crossed over her breasts.

Obedience came hard to her this morning, and she continued to move, testing her bonds, trying to wriggle her wrists free.

I rolled her onto her belly and pulled back the duvet, and spanked her hard, a half dozen times, with her delicate voice giving a shocked and unhappy cry after each impact.

“Be still,” I told her.

She could not.

I spanked her again, briefly, with the same little protestations of surprise, and held her again, telling her to be quiet and rest.

To no avail.

A third spanking, and then she stopped struggling, and requested a moment to stretch her arms.

Granted.

The she settled in her back against my chest, her wrists held firm by my right hand, as my left roamed over her body. I stayed away from her most sensitive places, just lightly stroking her tummy, her hips, down below her navel, down farther, getting closed until I slip my hand out over her thigh just before I touch a zone certain to keep her from sleeping.

I pull her wrists together up to her face, letting her breasts spill out from under her crossed arms, and run fingertips along the soft undersides of her breasts.

We lie like this together for some time, she in my arms, my hand stroking her. A half hour, an hour, who knows?

Dawn came.

My girl made little noises, half whimpers, still groggy from the night but getting more awake with the shortening shadows.

I found her nipples.

With her wrists locked, she could just beg, as I played with and teased her nipples. Eventually, she begged to masturbate.

Granted.

But no coming. I enjoyed her desire, and toyed with the thought of having her aroused all day. I balance that with my pleasure in having her orgasm. Two pleasures, both wonderful. Which one did I want more today? Too soon to tell.

She continues to beg. She is so cute, so anxious to cum, while I toy with her nipples, and amuse myself with the need of her body. There can be few pleasures as great as being entirely satisfied, lying with someone so desperate for satisfaction.

I tell her I will count to ten, and then she can come.

I count.

At ten, she cums.

Good girl.

I let her body stop shaking, let the convulsions swindle to just and echo, and then I take her myself, fuck her tired and limp body, for my pleasure, this fucking, not hers, though she is welcome to enjoy it any way she chooses. Or not.

I cum in her as I choose, when I am ready, and she lies quiet and gasping under me, the clouded light of the early morning pure and bright in her eyes.