I still want to make you one of these for smoking. To get you stupidly stoned.
(via bittemeister)
The dream is not dead.
And sad trombones gave birth to jazz.
So don’t stop dancing. You never stopped when you were with me. This is what you want. And what I want. And all the other things from life we dreamed and made real as best we could.
The world may not know you, but I do. Death is a part of life. You are brilliant and amazing and all the fox.
I want to hold you in my lap and pet your head and let you feel that it is all okay. That it is safe to be who you are. To know with all your heart and your mind.
But I had to learn, I had to see all that was wrong with me. To see that those things that made you feel alone and crazy and hurt was all me and my failures, my learned behaviors about being a daddy. Mot being with you has made me see how much I love you, how much you mean, how much I have taken for granted as to you being the meaning in my life.
But we dance, learning to feel one another again. To trust and to know and to be certain. And that is wonderful, because we have to something different, I do. I have to be your heart as you are mine.
So my skittish fox, just so deeply by the machinations of man, I put out my hand for you to hold onto if need to, if you want to. I know you are scared of me. And rightfully so. I hunted you through the fields and I caged you up when I caught you. But it was a cage made of pain and loneliness, not of bars. When all you wanted to be cute and clever and beautiful. I gave you what I was taught by what was given to me.
And you gave me the tools to be myself for the first time in my life.
I miss you so much little girl.
(Source: hellohighheels, via justpets)
So I failed at being your Daddy, little girl, my sweet Dolly. I failed at giving you the the things that you most needed from me, like trust, comfort, security and stability.
I have spent too much time analyzing my failures, and not enough time doing what I could to change myself and our circumstances, so that I could be a Daddy that you can look up to and truly love.
You took off you collar, and I lost my way. Being your Daddy, itself, has changed me, changed my understanding of who you are and what you truly needed from me. After giving up the collar, you wanted to go out into the world, and I let my fear win. I ran away from you this time, little girl.
So I begin again. With a commitment to be the Daddy I am, the man I am, and not a man beset with fear and insecurity, the same fear and insecurity that has split us apart.
I have pondered what I can do. But now I do, now I letting you know how my feelings for haven’t dissipated, but have gotten deeper and clearer. That now, I see how your perception and intelligence were dead on concerning my personality flaws, insecurities, and fears. I have made a terrible mistake. I will never run away from you again.
I will stand there and take all your anger towards me when your mad, and be filled with compassion for my long suffering baby. I will let you pound on me with your fists and call me the vilest names because I know how hurt you are, how torn up inside you are, and how much you need a Daddy to be there, unperturbed and comforting in those moments of anguish, fear and dread. I will always be there for you until I fucking die.
And that is where the Daddy meets his worth, in those moments of terror and fear that come over you because of the shittiness of the world to such a beautiful little nymph as yourself. It all looks so stupid to me now, my behavior that undermined us. How I made my ultimate fear a reality because i cast you away. I promise to never do that again, to you, god, and the internet. I will always be here for you. I will always try to help you stay in that place of joy that characterized so much of our special relationship.
I long to kiss you once more, to open up the floodgates to all the feelings we have for one another, to let you know my deep and abiding passion is for you and you alone in all your incarnations, to be forgiven and to forgive. I long to kiss you once again, to you hold you tightly in my arms, to stare into your your eyes, to grin at you like a fool and see you smile so sweetly. So we both know what we already know, that we are meant for each other, warts and all.
Love,
Daddy
(via kitten-cream)
Extra scary Boo Box on wheels. The Starlight Express of Boo Boxes.
(via defiledgirls)
Cassius: Look now. Look at that.
Marcus Junius Brutus: It is a chair. What of it?
Cassius: A chair? It’s a throne!
Marcus Junius Brutus: I believe thrones are generally more decorative. That is decidedly plain, and chair-like.
Of course, any chair counts as a throne as soon as you chain a naked girl to it. Transitive properties, you know.
(Source: rivella-san, via autumnalmutterings)
The rope and chains and crops and canes are all delightful, but this is what it’s really about. If you didn’t possess me with just a look you couldn’t hold me at all.
(via collarandcuffs)
We’ve talked about having a Boo Box, but this is the first time I’ve thought about having a Patience Pole.
(Source: sinlikeyoumeanit, via ohpleasefuckmemaster-deactivate)
Today postdromal yuckiness on my part and terrible haircut aftermath on Daddy’s part (apparently so bad that he says he won’t let me look at him while we fuck until it grows out) led to communication problems. We tabled the subject for a better time, but I can’t help but think that being in this position would have helped matters immensly. There’s something about skin-to-skin contact that makes getting your point across so much simpler, especially when you can punctuate your statements with bottom smacks.
(I may still be able to see your hair, though….)
(Source: misslollymoon, via ohpleasefuckmemaster-deactivate)
And that pretty well brings me right around full circle, to Daddy putting a little steel collar around my neck and me having an existential orgasm during an omelette luncheon in response. If you told me what my life would look like a year ago I wouldn’t have believed it, but here we are nonetheless. It’s silly that I feel so mushy and ‘princess dream come true’ about getting fucked like a whore and treated like an animal, but there you go. I’m wearing the same collar I felt like I would never deserve, with the Daddy of my dreams choking me with it.
(Source: bdsm69)
When you told me to look at you, I was engulfed. Getting fucked ceased to be about focusing on my pleasure and instead became about basking in yours. Being your fucktoy is more rewarding than anything else.
(Source: fireonsex, via hisbabygirllucy)
Thank you Daddy, for taking care of me when I need it the most. You can’t protect me from every terrible bad thing out in the world, but that’s okay. Having my Daddy there to hold me when I fall and soothe my scrapes makes it possible to survive and thrive through the poop times.
If it hurts too much, just suck your thumb. No matter how painful it is when Daddy starts it always feels wonderful by the time he’s done.
(Source: thegifer, via rapemeat-2)
Then the most wonderful thing happened. He wanted to be my Daddy, really and truly. Missed having a novelty seeking pervert for a partner. Regretted the opportunities missed, the lackadaisical effort, the imperative that one must always deny themselves for fear of discovery.
The hard work of trusting began. I had to work at believing him to be sincere, at not pushing him to see if he would drop me or run away. Instead of being passive-aggressive, I asked directly. Instead of being manipulative I communicated openly. It wasn’t always easy, but it was much more enriching than martyred suffering based on a mutual fear of rejection. He started to be the boss of me, and that was the end of my chastity. It also ended my self hating actions. I quit trying to deny my own desire. I still didn’t masturbate, but that was because Daddy told me not to, and I wanted Daddy to be the boss of me more than I wanted to come. I wanted it more than anything else in the world.
(via daddieslilgirl)
