Squirm

“I’m going to leave my hand and teeth marks in places no one but us will ever see so you’ll know you’re private property. I’m going to edge you until you weep. I am going to leave you throbbing and sore. Do you understand?”

She nodded so fast I thought her head was going to fall off.

“And that’s exactly how you want Daddy to use you… isn’t it, Babydoll?” I asked her, taking the panties out of her mouth long enough for her to open her mouth and work the muscles until she could speak again.

“Yes Daddy, oh yes Daddy. Please use your filthy little girl, Daddy, please-.”

I put the panties back into her mouth and slapped her ass before she could finish her answer. I’d heard what I needed. As excited as I already was before, hearing her beg with that pretty little voice was almost mind-breaking. I guided her up to a seated position and placed my left hand around my little princess’ throat, smiling as I watched her tilt her head back and accept my grip as I applied more and more pressure to her slender little neck.

“Daddy’s gonna huuurt you…” I said in a sing-song manner, licking my lips. “Daddy’s gonna huuurt you… Mmm, and that’s exactly what my baby girl needs right now.” I licked her cheek and growled into her ear as I kept a tight grip on her. “My little girl needs her Daddy to remind her who owns her… don’t you, Babydoll?”

I slapped her right breast through her cress before she could answer. The question was rhetorical anyway and her squeal said more than any words I could allow her to speak ever would. I slapped the left, the right again, the left again… over and over, listening to her struggle to shriek through the wadded and saliva-soaked fabric of her panties. After each tit got its 8th slap I paused, rubbing her cheek and kissing her forehead.

“You sound so pretty when I hurt you, little one…” I whispered, kissing her forehead again. “Oh, you make such sweet music for me. You wanna make more music for Daddy? You gonna be my little music box?”

I received a muffled ‘yes daddy’ through the cloth and an enthusiastic nod. So I grabbed her hair and yanked her off the couch, knees on the floor, and bent her over the coffee table.

“Sing for me, Babydoll.”

My little girl knows the sound of my belt coming off very well by now. When she heard it in that situation, well to put it mildly… my sweet little doll put on quite the performance. At first she was thrashing and slinging her little rump side to side so much I thought she might actually manage to wiggle right on away. But that wasn’t a problem – it was never her plan to even try getting loose anyway. My precious princess, instead, propped herself up into a presentation position: balanced up on her tippy-toes, ass propped high in the air, head down against the cool wood of the table. She’d told me she wanted the worst of me, but I’d never expected her to be this excited about getting it… this eager to get to it. There was a moment, reader, where I simply looked down at the feast my precious one presented me with and was simply marveling at her. I wondered for a moment if I’d ever figure her out and what I’d ever done to deserve her.

Then I started lighting her ass up with my belt. As loud as she was with the gag in, I’m sure she could’ve woken several square blocks without it. She flinched, she squealed, she squirmed, and she wriggled about like a worm on a hook… but she never spent long out of position. I didn’t even have to tell her to get back into place – all I had to do was hold the belt still. If I stopped for more than 5 seconds she practically threw her perfect little ass back into the air as her silent way calling out ‘Thank You, Sir, may I have another?’

When I hiked her dress up out the way and began laying lashes right to her bare bottom, she wasn’t quite as quick with her repositioning. But to her credit, she got that booty back up in the air despite that.

It was at strike 28 overall, strikes 10 without her dress in the way, that I began to notice just how wet Babydoll was getting. I wrapped the belt around my right hand and rubbed the middle and ring fingers of my left against her briefly, pulling them away and marveling and the sopping sticky mess she’d become down there. She was practically dripping onto the floor already.

“Look at this…” I said, taking the soft silk out of her mouth for the time being. “I haven’t even touched your little princess place once… and the first time I do, my hand is drenched.” I placed the fingers near her mouth for clean-up, which she did eagerly. “All of that and all I’ve done is spank you? You must really like it when Daddy hurts you, huh?”

“Mmmph… yes Daddy, yesssssss…” she groaned out, the last part hissed through clenched teeth as I grabbed her hair again. “It hurts so good, it hurts so good…”

I guided my little princess up to her feet, then into her tip-toes, grinning as I gripped her neck again. “You’re a dirty little thing, aren’t you?”

“Yesssssss, Daddy…”

“Your little cunt throbs when I hurt you, doesn’t it?” I slapped her right breast before she could answer.

“Fuuuuuuuuuck… yes, Daddy.”

“And being at my mercy is your favorite place to be, isn’t it little girl?” Another slap.

“Yes, yes, yesssssss Daddy…”

I took the same two fingers I’d caressed her hunt with and began fucking her face with them. “Hopeless little fuckdoll…” I growled, pulling them out only to wipe my hands off on her cheek. “Drooling from both holes like the greedy, desperate toy you are. You look so pretty when you’re ruined.”

“Guh… phaaah… then ruin me, Daddy…” she rasped out, legs trembling from being on her toes so long. “Hurt me as much as it please… phaaah… break me into pieces… do with me whatever you want. As long as you enjoy me, I will endure anything else.”

“Silly girl… what use is a broken toy?” I said this as I turned her around, feeling her tense as she began to brace for more spankings. “If I did break you, I’d merely put you back together.” I slid my hand between her thighs, pulling her hair back as I roughly rubbed her clit. “I’m gonna make you y little ballerina Babydoll… I’m gonna make your dance right on that line… right at your breaking point. Just so you know I can bring you there.”

I knew as I was saying those words I meant them. I also knew that saying those words and meaning them meant that I was hopelessly falling in love with her. This strange, short, beautiful woman with her natural black hair and the melanin-saturated skin and the sweetest of sweet voices and a body and mind built for sin was taking my soul and heart. And I wasn’t even sure she knew it. Moreso than showing her my dark side in its fullest form, this terrified me in a way I cannot explain. And then, she said a single phrase that launched me into a full-on free fall.

“And if I start to go over the edge…” she whimpered in a breathy voice, her little voice, the voice she always used when calling me ‘Daddy’ with degrees of both need to be owned and a sense of ownership, “Daddy will be there to catch me?”

I wrapped my arm around her, squeezing her softer, smaller form against me. I felt like I’d just given blood – lightheaded and dizzy, on the verge of swooning. I closed my eyes and kissed her until the woozy feeling made me feel like the world around us was spinning, like we were the center of our own little galaxy. Nothing outside of us in this moment mattered.

“Always, my little princess. Always.”

She let out an adorable little squeak and shivered against me, and I had to hold her tighter as I felt her knees give up on her at last.

“You’ll make your Babydoll fall in love, Daddy…”

I held her like that a few moments longer, swaying with her back against my chest, cherishing this intimate moment we were having. Then I began lubing up my fingers and slid the middle one into her tight little asshole with barely any warning as she groaned and whimpered at the intrusion.

“Daddy claims ownership of all your holes, Babydoll…” I growled into her ear. “You will give each of them to me at my whim, without hesitation. I will take them without hesitation, any time and place it suits me. Are we clear?”

“Yes, yes Daddy…! Nnnghaaaah… all yours, always yours…”

“I will turn you into my private butt slut, who constantly prepares her ass and begs for Daddy’s cock in this hole like she does with all her other holes.”

“Ooooooooh… fuck…” I could hear moist squishing as her thighs rubbed together, the though alone making her leak like a faucet.

I reached onto the coffee table and picked up the small princess plug I’d gotten for her, replacing my finger wit it after a bit of gentle coaxing and effort. She seemed rather surprised… but she didn’t shy away and nodded when I asked if she was okay. From there, I laid her out on the table, still bound and blindfolded, and took the Hitachi to her pussy. She wasn’t used to the sensation of having an orgasm with something stuffed in her ass. I loved introducing my little girl to new things, of course… and I love spending an evening giving my little fuckdoll more orgasms she thought she could bare. I edged her 3 times with the Hitachi, her screams and whimpers of pleasure as she begged to cum like music in my ears… then as she approached orgasm for the 4th time I began talking to her.

“I think my little fuckdoll would like an orgasm now, yes?”

She nodded furiously.

“Hmm. Well, I’m almost inclined to give you one. But first answer all my questions to the best of your ability. Can you do that for Daddy, little girl?”

She nodded again, biting her bottom lip. There were tears soaking through the blindfold now. She looked so desperate that part of me did just want to start fucking her but… I held off for the time being. There’d be time for that.

“Tell me little girl… Are you about to cum?”

“Yes, Daddy… if you let me.”

“So you’re about to cum with a plug shoved up your ass?” I took the head of the Hitachi wand off her pussy and licked her juices from it. Just as I thought, all the suffering and denial made them taste so much sweeter. “Only dirty girls cum like that, y’know. Guess that makes you a dirty girl huh?”

“Yessss, Daddy… I’m a dirty girl, I’m your dirty girl…” She thrashed a bit, testing the tape. It still wouldn’t budge. She had that sugary tone of desperation in her voice, the one that crept into a person’s voice when they were willing to do or say anything. There was an unspoken ‘motherfucker, let me cum and I’ll say you’re Mary Queen of Scotts if that’s what you wanna hear, just let me cum please!’ in how she said things.

“Good. Repeat it until I say otherwise.” I turned the wand back on and stared at it for a while. “If you stop saying what a dirty girl you are, it better be to ask permission to cum. Otherwise I’ll edge you the rest of the night for the fun of it.”

With that I placed the toy back to her clit and listened to her squealing and whimpering as she called herself a ‘dirty little girl’ over and over. After a while I made her sing it just for laughs. When she started begging, as expected, I decided she’d been so well behaved she deserved a few additional orgasms… so I kept her going past the point of no return until, based on my count of her ‘please may I cum Daddy?!’ frantic pleadings she was on her fourth orgasm of the night.

The night proceeded in much the same way. I took the belt to her again when she lost track of her orgasms: each time she was off was a lash for each number she was over or under. I also put her back on her knees, fucked her face, and came on her panties before stuffing them back in her mouth and taking the Hitachi back to her until she erupted like a broken fire hydrant all over my table, my hand, the floor… it was quite the evening.

By the time all was said and done, I cut her loose and laid her on my lap rubbing salve on her whipping marks and kissing her forehead gently while we watched one of her favorite shows and talked about her experience. She seemed to be okay, but I wanted to make sure. I’d never been quite that rough with Babydoll before.

“So, now you’ve see what I’m capable of…” I said with a nervous smile, rubbing her hair again. “To be honest… I rather enjoyed it. How’d you feel though?”

“Used, pained, like a tool for your pleasure…” she said, kicking her feet idly to get the circulation back. “In other words… perfect.” She looked up at me again and smiled. “I know it took a lot out of you to be that hard on me. And I know you were scared to really let me have it. But… you did. And it made me happy you believed I could endure it all. And honestly… it felt so good to embrace my inner pain slut I didn’t think I’d ever stop cumming.” She giggled and then paused, looking down at her fingers. “Did I do good, Daddy?”

“Heh… I know you’re a tough girl,” I replied, shrugging my shoulders as I turned her over and began applying ointment to her slapped breasts while she cooed up softly at me. “You did incredibly well, and I’m very proud. I promise, from now on I’ll stop underestimating you.”

“And you’ll give me the bad parts of you too, like you promised?” she asked, looking up at me hopefully.

“Daddy never breaks a promise to his Babydoll.”

“Good. Cuz…” she paused, then sat up abruptly and bit at my shoulder. “All of Daddy is mine.

“Always, little girl…” I said with a chuckle, poking her nose. “Always and forevers. Since you seem to be feeling better now, I could always get you started on your homework…”

She flopped back down and made a show of playing sick, and I laughed and put on the next episode with my Netflix. “Alright, alright… you earned the night off,” I said. “No homework. So stop playing around.”

She made the most miraculous recovery after that.

HairCare – a Black BDSM Love Story

“Sit down, Babydoll. Daddy’s doing your hair today.”

Now there’s a sentence I never thought I’d say out loud and in English. Maybe one or the other but not both. But the thing is, Babydoll sometimes has a thing about rocking her natural hair. She like a certain look and if it’s not just so she prefers to go with a different look like a wig, sew-ins, braids, or something else. And do not get me misconstrued here; she looks beautiful in them. She can rock those wigs better than most professional actresses I’ve seen.

But I wanted her natural hair this particular day, and said as much. When I asked, she made the pouty face and looked down at her shoes while chewing her plush little bottom lip.

“It doesn’t look good enough for Daddy to see,” she said.

It actually hurt me when she said that. I can’t lie: in the deep little pit where my heart allegedly hides out, I felt a distinct and sharp sort of stabbing pain. And I honestly became angry for a  moment – not at her, no. Not at anything she’d done because she’d done nothing wrong. I was angry at anyone who’d dare say my baby girl’s natural hair didn’t look pretty. And if she didn’t like it, I was willing to rectify the situation.

And so I told her to sit down and let Daddy do her hair. I’d never expected those words out of my mouth until I had a child of my own, but the way she’d looked had gotten to me. And so I spoke not a word at first: I merely grabbed a couch cushion and tossed it on the floor and blurted out those two simple sentences.

She looked a bit surprised at first, then glanced from the cushion to my eyes. I never know when I’m making the face or giving what my Babydoll likes to call ‘that look’. She glanced at my face and the way she hopped into place on that cushion let me know I was indeed giving her that look’ the look that said, in no uncertain terms, that what I said was no suggestion but a demand. I let her sit there, then patted her head and told her to have the wig off when I got back.

When I returned,  had a bag full of hair supplies that I’d acquired over the years; shampoo and conditioner, oils for the scalp, tut combs, regular combs, brushes, hair clips I used on my own head sometimes. In my other hand, I held a simple beige towel, something that wouldn’t change color. I sat down with my baby girl’s head between my legs and grumbled slightly to myself, looking over her hair and testing the texture to the best of my ability. I was no professional, but I had a younger sister and a mother who showed me how to care for hair quite painfully over the years. It didn’t take me long to figure out a plan of attack and how to progress.

“This is probably gonna hurt, Babydoll,” I said, shrugging my shoulders. “Try to be a big girl for me, will you?”

“I’ll try, Daddy,” she said, nodding her head.

 

It was one of those – what my parents would call an all-day sucker – when it came to working on her hair. I took her to the sink with me to wash out her hair and scrub her scalp roughly, giving her head a nice and therapeutic deep clean. I tried to be both as thorough and yet as gentle as possible, attempting to make as much casual conversation as I could while focusing on her head and keeping her still so none of the soap or conditioner got into her pretty Smokey Quartz eyes as I worked on her hair getting as clean as possible first.

I gave her the towel and brought her back to the couch, hair still a bit wet, and began parting her hair and working on her scalp a bit more. Again, it was one of those moments where I attempted to be both as gentle as possible but just as thorough. She’d been quite still when I worked on her hair at the sink, for the most part – it only took a bit of direction to keep her from squirming all about like the fidgety little thing she is. Before I was even 1/8th done with her hair I paused to turn the Netflix on, letting her catch a bit of some anime she’d been begging me to check out while I went to work. She still flinched every so often, and made those plaintive whimpers and whines as I continued to separate and oil her hair and scalp. She winced and hissed through her teeth some, but was otherwise very quiet and intent on the TV.

“Is this gonna take a long time, Daddy?” she asked,  hissing through her teeth as I tugged on her hair to move her head back into place.

“It looks like it, sugar-lump…” I said, taking out a rubber band to hold part of her hair out of the way. “You got a lot of hair here, and it’s just like you.”

“Like me?” she asked.

“Yup,” I said. “This hair is tough, strong, pretty, healthy… and stubborn as a mule, just like my little princess.”

She giggled a bit at that and it seemed to ease things for us, at least for a while. It was relatively smooth sailing for the next 30 minutes or so, though with the occasional wince or hiss from her. She actually yelped when I yanked a bit of hair into place to get her to stay in place while I worked.

“Owwie!” she yelped, pausing to look up crossly at me. “Daddy!”

“Little girl, I pull your hair much harder than this on an almost nightly basis…” I teased at her. “Are you telling me this hurts now?”

“Yes!” she said, huffing and crossing her arms. “It did hurt, Daddy, it did.”

“Alright, alright… I’ll try to be more gentle.”

“… Well.. maybe you don’t need to…” she muttered, arms still folded. “I mean… I just said it hurt, not that I didn’t like it.”

I froze for a moment, then chuckled and got back to work on her hair. “As you command, my princess…”

To be fair, I must admit that I’m far from a professional when it comes to doing hair. Part of what I know to do is self-taught from research on my own hair, part of it is gleaned from watching my mother, aunts, and sister working on their hair or other people’s hair, and the rest… I just wing it based on what looks right. I got a bit better as I went along with it, if I do say so myself: partially because Babydoll got more used to me working on her hair, and stopped fighting me at every turn; and partially because I was working on her hair enough to get into a rhythm and a pattern.

By the time Netflix asked me if I was still watching the anime, she’d dozed off and drifted into dream land, looking so gentle and serene it was absolutely adorable. I couldn’t help but smile warmly at her as I used my thighs to keep her head in place while I finished up the rest of her hair. I kissed her forehead, then continued to separate and moisturize her hair and scalp while humming to myself.

She slept on and I kept going, soon enough finishing up with one last rubber band and a bit more oil and conditioner o her hair and scalp to come through her hair. By the time I was ready to take her rubber bands off and finish styling her hair on up, she was just starting to wake up, and as she yawned and stirred  I put the finishing touches on the styling as well.

“Hop on up, Sugar-lump,” I encouraged, smiling warmly at her. “I want you to see what Daddy was able to do while you fell asleep.”

She got to her feet and stretched a bit, walking with me to the bathroom to check herself out in the mirror. I was actually a bit nervous as I checked out her reactions to the mini-fro poof I’d given her. After a bit of mugging and posing, examining her reflection at all possible angles, I  finally managed up my courage to ask her the simple question:
“What do you think?”
She spun around and hugged me, pressing a kiss to my lips so vigorously that slammed me to the back of the bathroom wall with an audible thud. I felt the air leaving my body leaving my chest as she held on until I was light-headedly able to outright force her to let me breathe.

“I take it you like it, lil’ one?” I asked, panting and smiling broadly.

“Oh Daddy, I love it!” she said, bouncing excitedly. “Not only does it look pretty, pretty, pretty… but my Daddy did it, just for me! You made me look so perfect!”

“Ah, ah… I didn’t make you look perfect, Babydoll…” I corrected, placing a little kiss on her forehead. “You’re already perfect, you’re always perfect. Daddy’s perfect little sweet thing. And you will never forget that, will you?”

She shook her head, then smirked and licked her plush, full lips. The shimmer of her piercings made kissing her look even more appetizing, and I was just about to do so… but then, she placed a hand on my chest gently.

“Can I thank you, Daddy?” she asked, putting on the full on little one charm as she locked her hands behind her back and swayed side to side almost demurely. “I want to give Daddy a very special thank you – I wanna thank you like a big girl.”

I was still inwardly guessing at what she meant by that before she started taking my belt and pants loose. I loved the way she could act throughout, I noted – her face and tone kept the sweet, demure, almost nervous energy of the precious little angel.. but her hands yanked me around and threw the belt on the floor screamed of the grown woman, the Dominatrix, the Her Highness energy that was always just inside her.

“Are you gonna let me thank you like a big girl, Daddy?” she asked, already snatching my pants and boxers down to greedily grab and tug at my cock. “Please? I really, really need to thank my Daddy…”

I barely got a chance to nod my head and mumble out a ‘yes’ before she was on me. She was still talking and speaking like she was just Daddy’s hapless little Babydoll… but the actions, in a jarring reversal, were 100% Her Highness. It was delicious in a way… After all, very few things are quite as wild as a beautiful young woman throwing you against the wall, pinning one pretty manicured hand around your neck, and choking the hell out of you while she drops to her knees enough to ravenously slobber and lick all over your cock.

Now normally, I’m not a big fan of getting my dick sucked. But Babydoll does not suck dick… No, Babydoll is a dick-sucker. Now some of you reading this may be wondering what the difference is, and I can sum that difference up in a single word:

Enthusiasm.

I do give Babydoll orders about sucking my dick, as a good Dominant should. But the main reason I give her these orders is to keep her from, in an overly excited haze of desire and lust, sucking the very soul out of my testicles. When left to her own to her own devices that big-eyed baby-faced fuckdoll will literally gag herself silly on my dick at any time: even with me giving her orders I’ve still woken up to her lapping hungrily at my shaft and whimpering about how badly she “needs” to play with “Daddy’s big special toy”.

The enthusiasm she has gives her a certain level of skill that can never be taught and only comes from loving what one does and doing what one loves. She doesn’t just suck me to make me cum, she sucks me because she loves it, because to her it’s more fun than most things anyone could come up with. She makes love to my dick with her skille, warm, and eager little mouth, even though she can’t always fit all of it into her throat, and as she was doing this I felt myself slamming back against the back of the bathroom door and groaning out in pleasure, hissing through my teeth as she worked my cock with gusto.

“You’re making noisy noises, Daddy…” she commented, popping my cock out of her mouth audibly before grinning up at me. “Does it feel that good? Does Daddy love how his little princess’ mouth feels?”

I nodded, panting heavily and trying to regain my composure. I’d been restraining her from doing as she pleased with my dick for so long I’d almost forgotten how good she was.

“Naughty Daddy… getting this hard from getting his dick fucked by my mouth? Naughty, naughty…” she ginned up at me, taking my balls into her mouth and caressing them with her tongue while pumping my dick like she wanted to drain it dry. I let my head loll back and she squeezed my neck, releasing my nuts and glaring up at me.

“Bad Daddy. You know your Babydoll wants to put on a show for you.” She kept pumping my cock, then kissed the head, still staring up at me. “So look at me. Look at what a dirty little whore you’ve turned me into. And don’t look away from me until you cum, okay?”

“Fuuuuuuuck…” was all I could say, placing my hands on her head and doing my best to maintain eye contact.

“Good Daddy.”

She was a messy eater, sloppy and noisy as she slurped and bobbed her head back and forth on my dick. It wasn’t long before I was bucking my hips and gritting my teeth as I poured my first load straight down her throat, letting her drink every last drop. She didn’t go of my dick until I literally yanked her off of my dick, panting and shivering as I tried not to let her see me collapse onto the floor.

“That was yummy, Daddy…” she mused, , licking what little cum she couldn’t swallow off her lips. “I thought this was supposed to be a treat for you doing my hair, but it seems like it was more of a treat for me. I guess the princess always wins, huh?”

When I got my bearings back, I growled at her and grabbed her pretty little throat, yanking her back up to her feet.

“Now, Daddy’s going to get what he wants as a treat now,” I snarled, ripping off her shirt. “Now, get on the floor and crawl on all fours to my room. I’ll be dealing with that little burst of insubordination in a moment.”

Not that I wasn’t going to anyway, but sure enough I went into that room to deal with her… but since this story is running a bit long, I’ll sum it up simply by saying that she ended up a very sore and apologetic little princess with marks around her neck, wrists and ankles with a very sore pussy, ass, and tits marked up with prints from my belt and hands.

The only regret after that one was that, in the end…  I had to redo her hair after I was done using and punishing her. But with the title of ‘Daddy’ comes grand responsibilities… including, but not limited to, giving your little one orgasms and cuddles, talking to her stuffies, disciplining her so she doesn’t act up in public… and yes, sometimes, doing her hair after you’ve spent a long night pulling on it during rough kinky sex.

I’d be lying though if I said it wasn’t worth it.

“Sit down, Babydoll. Daddy’s doing your hair today.”

Now there’s a sentence I never thought I’d say out loud and in English. Maybe one or the other but not both. But the thing is, Babydoll  sometimes has a thing about rocking her natural hair. She like a certain look and if it’s not just so she prefers to go with a different look like a wig, sew-ins, braids, or something else. And do not get me misconstrued here; she looks beautiful in them. She can rock those wigs better than most professional actresses I’ve seen.

But I wanted her natural hair this particular day, and said as much. When I asked, she made the pouty face and looked down at her shoes while chewing her plush little bottom lip.

“It doesn’t look good enough for Daddy to see,” she said.

It actually hurt me when she said that. I can’t lie: in the deep little pit where my heart allegedly hides out, I felt a distinct and sharp sort of stabbing pain. And I honestly became angry for a  moment – not at her, no. Not at anything she’d done, because she’d done nothing wrong. I was angry at anyone who’d dare say my baby girl’s natural hair didn’t look pretty. And if she didn’t like it, I was willing to rectify the situation.

And so I told her to sit down and let Daddy do her hair. I’d never expected those words out of my mouth until I had a child of my own, but the way she’d looked had gotten to me. And so I spoke not a word at first: I merely grabbed a couch cushion and tossed it on the floor and blurted out those two simple sentences.

She looked a bit surprised at first, then glanced from the cushion to my eyes. I never know when I’m making the face or giving what my Babydoll likes to call ‘that look’. She glanced at my face and the way she hopped into place o that cushion let me know I was indeed giving her that look’ the look that said, in no uncertain terms, that what I said was no suggestion but a demand. I let her sit there, then patted her head and told her to have the wig off when I got back.

When I returned,  had a bag full of hair supplies that I’d acquired over the years; shampoo and conditioner, oils for the scalp, tut combs, regular combs, brushes, hair clips I used on my own head sometimes. In my other hand I held a simple beige towel, something that wouldn’t change color. I sat down with my baby girl’s head between my legs and grumbled slightly to myself, looking over her hair and testing the teture to the best of my ability. I was no professional, but I had a younger sister and a mother who showed me how to care for hair quite painfully over the years. It didn’t take me long to figure out a plan of attack and how to progress.

“This is probably gonna hurt, Babydoll,” I said, shrugging my shoulders. “Try to be a big girl for me, will you?”

“I’ll try, Daddy,” she said, nodding her head.

 

It was one of those – what my parents would call an all-day sucker – when it came to working on her hair. I took her to the sink with me to wash out her hair and scrub her scalp roughly, giving her head a nice and therapeutic deep clean. I tried to be both as thorough and yet as gentle as possible, attempting to make as much casual conversation as I could while focusing on her head and keeping her still so none of the soap or conditioner got into her pretty Smokey Quartz eyes as I worked on her hair getting as clean as possible first.

I gave her the towel and brought her back to the couch, hair still a bit wet, and began parting her hair and working on her scalp a bit more. Again, it was one of those moments where I attempted to be both as gentle as possible but just as thorough. She’d been quite still when I worked on her hair at the sink, for the most part – it only took a bit of direction to keep her from squirming all about like the fidgety little thing she is. Before I was even 1/8th done with her hair I paused to turn the Netflix on, letting her catch a bit of some anime she’d been begging me to check out while I went to work. She still flinched every so often, and made those plaintive whimpers and whines as I continued to separate and oil her hair and scalp. She winced and hissed through her teeth some, but was otherwise very quiet and intent on the TV.

“Is this gonna take a long time, Daddy?” she asked,  hissing through her teeth as I tugged on her hair to move her head back into place.

“It looks like it, sugar-lump…” I said, taking out a rubber band to hold part of her hair out of the way. “You got a lot of hair here, and it’s just like you.”

“Like me?” she asked.

“Yup,” I said. “This hair is tough, strong, pretty, healthy… and stubborn as a mule, just like my little princess.”

She giggled a bit at that and it seemed to ease things for us, at least for a while. It was relatively smooth sailing for the next 30 minutes or so, though with the occasional wince or hiss from her. She actually yelped when I yanked a bit of hair into place to get her to stay in place while I worked.

“Owwie!” she yelped, pausing to look up crossly at me. “Daddy!”

“Little girl, I pull your hair much harder than this on an almost nightly basis…” I teased at her. “Are you telling me this hurts now?”

“Yes!” she said, huffing and crossing her arms. “It did hurt, Daddy, it did.”

“Alright, alright… I’ll try to be more gentle.”

“… Well.. maybe you don’t need to…” she muttered, arms still folded. “I mean… I just said it hurt, not that I didn’t like it.”

I froze for a moment, then chuckled and got back to work on her hair. “As you command, my princess…”

To be fair, I must admit that I’m far from a professional when it comes to doing hair. Part of what I know to do is self-taught from research on my own hair, part of it is gleaned from watching my mother, aunts, and sister working on their hair or other people’s hair, and the rest… I just wing it based on what looks right. I got a bit better as I went along with it, if I do say so myself: partially because Babydoll got more used to me working on her hair, and stopped fighting me at every turn; and partially because I was working on her hair enough to get into a rhythm and a pattern.

By the time Netflix asked me if I was still watching the anime, she’d dozed off and drifted into dream land, looking so gentle and serene it was absolutely adorable. I couldn’t help but smile warmly at her as I used my thighs to keep her head in place while I finished up the rest of her hair. I kissed her forehead, then continued to separate and moisturize her hair and scalp while humming to myself.

She slept on and I kept going, soon enough finishing up with one last rubber band and a bit more oil and conditioner o her hair and scalp to come through her hair. By the time I was ready to take her rubber bands off and finish styling her hair on up, she was just starting to wake up, and as she yawned and stirred  I put the finishing touches on the styling as well.

“Hop on up, Sugar-lump,” I encouraged, smiling warmly at her. “I want you to see what Daddy was able to do while you fell asleep.”

She got to her feet and stretched a bit, walking with me to the bathroom to check herself out in the mirror. I was actually a bit nervous as I checked out her reactions to the mini-fro poof I’d given her. After a bit of mugging and posing, examining her reflection at all possible angles, I  finally managed up my courage to ask her the simple question:
“What do you think?”
She spun around and hugged me, pressing a kiss to my lips so vigorously that slammed me to the back of the bathroom wall with an audible thud. I felt the air leaving my body leaving my chest as she held on until I was light-headedly able to outright force her to let me breathe.

“I take it you like it, lil’ one?” I asked, panting and smiling broadly.

“Oh Daddy, I love it!” she said, bouncing excitedly. “Not only does it look pretty, pretty, pretty… but my Daddy did it, just for me! You made me look so perfect!”

“Ah, ah… I didn’t make you look perfect, Babydoll…” I corrected, placing a little kiss on her forehead. “You’re already perfect, you’re always perfect. Daddy’s perfect little sweet thing. And you will never forget that, will you?”

She shook her head, then smirked and licked her plush, full lips. The shimmer of her piercings made kissing her look even more appetizing, and I was just about to do so… but then, she placed a hand on my chest gently.

“Can I thank you, Daddy?” she asked, putting on the full on little one charm as she locked her hands behind her back and swayed side to side almost demurely. “I want to give Daddy a very special thank you – I wanna thank you like a big girl.”

I was still inwardly guessing at what she meant by that before she started taking my belt and pants loose. I loved the way she could act throughout, I noted – her face and tone kept the sweet, demure, almost nervous energy of the precious little angel.. but her hands yanked me around and threw the belt on the floor screamed of the grown woman, the Dominatrix, the Her Highness energy that was always just inside her.

“Are you gonna let me thank you like a big girl, Daddy?” she asked, already snatching my pants and boxers down to greedily grab and tug at my cock. “Please? I really, really need to thank my Daddy…”

I barely got a chance to nod my head and mumble out a ‘yes’ before she was on me. She was still talking and speaking like she was just Daddy’s hapless little Babydoll… but the actions, in a jarring reversal, were 100% Her Highness. It was delicious in a way… After all, very few things are quite as wild as a beautiful young woman throwing you against the wall, pinning one pretty manicured hand around your neck, and choking the hell out of you while she drops to her knees enough to ravenously slobber and lick all over your cock.

Now normally, I’m not a big fan of getting my dick sucked. But Babydoll does not suck dick… No, Babydoll is a dick-sucker. Now some of you reading this may be wondering what the difference is, and I can sum that difference up in a single word:

Enthusiasm.

I do give Babydoll orders about sucking my dick, as a good Dominant should. But the main reason I give her these orders is to keep her from, in an overly excited haze of desire and lust, sucking the very soul out of my testicles. When left to her own to her own devices that big-eyed baby-faced fuckdoll will literally gag herself silly on my dick at any time: even with me giving her orders I’ve still woken up to her lapping hungrily at my shaft and whimpering about how badly she “needs” to play with “Daddy’s big special toy”.

The enthusiasm she has gives her a certain level of skill that can never be taught and only comes from loving what one does and doing what one loves. She doesn’t just suck me to make me cum, she sucks me because she loves it, because to her it’s more fun than most things anyone could come up with. She makes love to my dick with her skille, warm, and eager little mouth, even though she can’t always fit all of it into her throat, and as she was doing this I felt myself slamming back against the back of the bathroom door and groaning out in pleasure, hissing through my teeth as she worked my cock with gusto.

“You’re making noisy noises, Daddy…” she commented, popping my cock out of her mouth audibly before grinning up at me. “Does it feel that good? Does Daddy love how his little princess’ mouth feels?”

I nodded, panting heavily and trying to regain my composure. I’d been restraining her from doing as she pleased with my dick for so long I’d almost forgotten how good she was.

“Naughty Daddy… getting this hard from getting his dick fucked by my mouth? Naughty, naughty…” she ginned up at me, taking my balls into her mouth and caressing them with her tongue while pumping my dick like she wanted to drain it dry. I let my head loll back and she squeezed my neck, releasing my nuts and glaring up at me.

“Bad Daddy. You know your Babydoll wants to put on a show for you.” She kept pumping my cock, then kissed the head, still staring up at me. “So look at me. Look at what a dirty little whore you’ve turned me into. And don’t look away from me until you cum, okay?”

“Fuuuuuuuck…” was all I could say, placing my hands on her head and doing my best to maintain eye contact.

“Good Daddy.”

She was a messy eater, sloppy and noisy as she slurped and bobbed her head back and forth on my dick. It wasn’t long before I was bucking my hips and gritting my teeth as I poured my first load straight down her throat, letting her drink every last drop. She didn’t go of my dick until I literally yanked her off of my dick, panting and shivering as I tried not to let her see me collapse onto the floor.

“That was yummy, Daddy…” she mused, , licking what little cum she couldn’t swallow off her lips. “I thought this was supposed to be a treat for you doing my hair, but it seems like it was more of a treat for me. I guess the princess always wins, huh?”

When I got my bearings back, I growled at her and grabbed her pretty little throat, yanking her back up to her feet.

“Now, Daddy’s going to get what he wants as a treat now,” I snarled, ripping off her shirt. “Now, get on the floor and crawl on all fours to my room. I’ll be dealing with that little burst of insubordination in a moment.”

Not that I wasn’t going to anyway, but sure enough I went into that room to deal with her… but since this story is running a bit long, I’ll sum it up simply by saying that she ended up a very sore and apologetic little princess with marks around her neck, wrists and ankles with a very sore pussy, ass, and tits marked up with prints from my belt and hands.

The only regret after that one was that, in the end…  I had to redo her hair after I was done using and punishing her. But with the title of ‘Daddy’ comes grand responsibilities… including, but not limited to, giving your little one orgasms and cuddles, talking to her stuffies, disciplining her so she doesn’t act up in public… and yes, sometimes, doing her hair after you’ve spent a long night pulling on it during rough kinky sex.

I’d be lying though if I said it wasn’t worth it.

Introduction

WARNING: the contents of this blog will not be safe for work, nor for minors. If you are under the age of majority in your country, turn back now.

 

Alright, with all that out the way… welcome to my little book corner. My name is Victor, and I am a writer of what can best be described as word porn. I write short stories and long stories about romance, BDSM, rough sex, and whatever else comes to my mind. In between all the erotic parts of the prose, I try to add in humor and lessons and the occasional insight into the man behind the stories. So if you’re reading this… I hope you enjoy what you find here. If you do enjoy it, please consider supporting me on Patreon: there you’ll find unique goodies and special rewards… plus, you’ll help me not starve so I can keep creating. Which is a plus!

 

A bit about me: I was published for the first time in 2008, for a little short story I wrote back in college. I’ve been writing well before then and ever since then but didn’t start seriously writing or about sex until 2011, when I had an unexpected health issue that left me mostly unable to do more than sit and think and write for about a year. About 3 years ago, I started up my first blog – iwritesinfultravesties.tumblr.com – to share my erotic short stories with the world. And despite some hang ups in real life and me having to take some time off writing due to depression, the blog there is still going strong. So, I’m bringing my work to WordPress, to share more of it with more people. I’ve finished my first full-length novel, and soon I will be sharing that with all of you and the world.

 

Anyway, I hope you find a good story to read while you’re here. If you like any, feel free to contact me! I do commissions and would be happy to make a new special story just for you. I also take requests for special followers and Patreon subscribers! Last but not least: I’m a pretty talkative and open book type of guy, so feel free to contact me with anything you feel you need to say.

 

Best Regards,

 

-Victor Alexander

Heavy Weighs the Crown

(Pictures found ramdomly on the internet an not mine. Put together using layout app for Android.)

It’s true what they say: heavy sits the crown. But everybody seems to want it both ways: everybody wants to be a king but they want a crown made of tinfoil to be as respected as a true crown. True crowns are earned, through blood and sweat at tears (sometimes the blood, sweat and tears of others, but you still gotta go get ‘em from the aforementioned others). And that struggle adds to the crown a certain weight, a weight you can only bare if you put the work in beforehand to deserve the title and the headwear that comes with it.

 

To put it another way, seems to me like everybody wanna be a king till it’s time to do some king shit. And that ain’t how the game is played.

 

It’s so odd when I see men, especially some black men (mostly Hoteps), complaining about how black women aren’t submissive. This fucks with my mind for two reasons: one, I speak to female submissives who are black fairly regularly, and I’ve had more than one myself who was black and submissive, so I know they’re full of shit… and two, and this is important… because I feel that, to quote a famous movie “you keep using that word… I don’t think you know what it means.”

 

As a Dominant of moderate experience as far as years go, I don’t deign to say I speak for “the congregation” as it were. But in my experience, having a submissive is like having a full-time job… specifically, the type of job where you are 24/7 on-call. You keep your phone within reach and on at all times, and you can never ignore that call or text that might be coming to summon you into action. You’re always potentially on the clock, regardless of what else may be going on with your life, and you need to be sharp and on point every time a call to do your job comes in.

 

The nature of a submissive is to need their Dominant, and to need them quite a bit. It goes further than permission to do things like masturbate and cum – y’know, the fun stuff. When you become a Dominant to a submissive, they give you a part of themselves: their strength, their resolve, their will. A Dominant has the job of providing security and stability in a world that is dangerous and never sits still. You become a bedtime story dispenser, a teddy bear, and a nightlight if they need to sleep well at night; you become a gun, a knife, a bat, or a brick if they need defending; and if they need to be protected you become a wall, a shield, or the highest tower in the fucking land. And you know why you become all this?

 

Because they gave all those abilities to you when they became your submissive. In exchange, you get them as your compassion, your softness, your humility. They enable your strength by being your weakness.

 

Plus they let you do all the fun stuff like in the second picture (or less, or more, depending on their leanings). And that’s just… wonderful.

 

Every guy I know (who is interested in women, anyway), from the most vanilla on up to those even kinkier than I, wants that bottom picture to some extent. Who wouldn’t want to be adored, worshiped, and respected by a beautiful woman who hangs in your every word? And from experience I can safely say… the juice is very much worth the squeeze.

 

But it’s that top picture that many struggle with – the requirement to receive such praise. You must lead if you wish to be followed. You must protect if you want her to be soft. You must enable submission – it cannot be stolen, demanded, or otherwise coerced away. It can only be given freely and willingly, or it means nothing. And creating the atmosphere where she feels comfortable giving that submission? That’s on you, if you want a submissive.

 

Heavy indeed sits the crown… but if you wanna be treated like a king, you gotta wear it. So strengthen up those neck muscles.

Filming my Fuckdoll – an erotic short story

I’ll be completely honest: I’m not much of a fan of DIY porn, at least when it comes to video. I can see the appeal of creating it: I’ve had more than one partner and more than one sexual experience that was so hot I’d love to commemorate it, or relive it at a later date… or even just watch to prove to myself that some of the wilder ones actually happened and weren’t just fantasies. But on the other hand… I hate watching the vast majority of homemade fuck flicks; mostly because they tend to be identical in length and angles and shots. Call it artistic snobbery if you want – hell, I won’t even deny it. But between the shaking of the camera, jumpy editing if any, and the often asinine background noises… and honestly, I usually only watch amateur sex vids I’m not in under one of the following conditions;

1, it’s done by sex workers – but then again, I don’t consider that homemade, even if it is made in the actor or actress’ home. A lot of work and effort goes into those, plus they’re done for profit, so it’s not exactly ‘amature’ at that point just because a major studio didn’t get involved.

2, if something hilarious happens like someone accepts a phone call during the sex, a closet door falling over on someone, or someone getting a cramp while attempting an unnecessarily complex sex move. 

With Babydoll, however, things were a bit different I must admit. Not only is she a very beautiful little fuckdoll, but she’s incredibly photogenic as well. She’s done some incredibly hot modeling and photo sets, with all sorts of outfits and costumes… to the point where I felt like I was wasting a prime gift by not having us do a private shoot of our own at the least if not record a full on video. Add to that the fact I tend to encourage her vanity for my own purposes and… yeah… it was bound to happen sooner or later.

Once I mentioned the idea to Babydoll, and she seemed not only okay with it but excited, I decided to go ahead and move on to phase 2: finding ways to get around the things I hated about some other homemade adult videos. The first was the problem of camera, which was easy enough to fix with a bit of online shopping and the purchase of some video editing software. All in all I procured 4 cameras: A small but high-quality 20 megapixel camera, which was attached to the ceiling for some wonderful overhead shots I had in mind; a 40 megapixel web-cam set up on the desk, for recording those shots of someone who might be right in the room watching us; and last but certainly not least, two pairs of glasses with small HD cameras built into the bridge of the nose for POV shots from my perspective and Babydoll’s without either of us needing to use a hand to do so. After all, in her case those hands would most likely be bound up more than they would be free… and in mine, I’d be using my hands for important things than holding a camera… like choking her, spanking her, slapping her ass or pulling her hair.

I showed Babydoll the full scope of the setup I had planned, and she was more than a bit blown away by it all.

“Wow… you really went all out on this one huh Daddy?” she asked, glancing at the cameras and the video editing software, all arranged neatly on my bedroom desk.

“Of course, silly,” I teased, giving her cheek a bit of a pinch. “I’m going to be capturing the prettiest fucktoy in the history of all fucktoys on camera being used by yours truly. It’d be a waste of time and energy not to do it properly.”

“I gotta admit… I wasn’t expecting all of this,” she said, standing up straight and rubbing her face lightly from the pinch. “I mean at most I was expecting you to hold up your phone while doing one or two things to me and recording that. I mean… Not that I underestimate Daddy, I know better.”

“As well you should,” I interjected.

“Still… one of the biggest things with you, from what I’ve seen, is that you like for things to be a bit more ‘organic’ and spur-of-the-moment.” She paused, looking from the cameras to me for a moment. “I never really see you going at something with this much planning.”

I stood up at this moment and she froze like a Popsicle, stiff and straight with the fear she’d said the wrong thing somewhere along the line. But instead I poked her nose and smiled at her.

“A magician never shows off all their tricks, little one,” I told her, kissing her forehead. “Just because you don’t often see me planning doesn’t mean I’m not up to something. Rest assured; I am always up to something where you’re concerned.”

“Daddy…” she said, breathing a little shallow, “When you say things like that I gets the tingles in my princess places…”

“I know sweetie,” I responded with an encouraging slap on her perfect ass. “I’ll be attending to that very soon. Go in your room and watch some cartoons, okay? Daddy has work to do.”

She visibly shuddered at that last sentence, but then nodded and obediently headed out to do as she was told. I’d let her know as much as I had because I knew it would excite her, make her curious, make her lower lips drool with anticipation… and the wetter she got, the more fun the next steps were going to be.

That thought alone sustained me through the monotony of setting up the cameras, of installing the software, of measuring visual angles and formatting SD cards. And lord, did I need it… all in all, it took me about 2 hour to get everything properly synced up, placed correctly, and properly lit. 
By the time I went to bed, Babydoll was dying to see the whole setup but I had to remind her it was getting late. After a bit of pouting (which resulted in a before-bed spanking), she agreed we needed to wait for better lighting for our independent film. She also proposed she would need special clothes for the occasion, but I already had that particular element covered… 
I mentioned before that I’d purchased some new toys, but I never quite got around to all of them. One new item I’d purchased for just these special occasions was a sleek black pair of panties, with a built in back opening, leaving her pretty little ass just exposed enough to not only make for visible spanking but to make it possible to slip in a very, very special toy – the bunny tail plug I’d gotten for her ages ago. It was one of those things that I’d purchased on a bit of a sporadic sex toy grabbing spree before I’d even looked at its exact specs, and as a result the business end was a bit large for my poor girl (her exact response upon seeing it was an emphatic “who the FUCK you plan to use that on?!”). As such, it had sat around in my  nifty bag of tricks unused since I purchased it… but now, I had an ace up my sleeve.
If you’ve read my stories before, you know my girl Babydoll is more than a bit egotistic. She has pride in herself in spades, and loves the following: making Daddy proud, looking great in photos I take of her, and seeing the limits of my ability to push her limits. One of these things alone wouldn’t be enough to prompt her to take a toy that large in her sweet little ass… but the three together definitely would. And sure enough, it was shockingly simple to convince my little princess to take the largest toy yet up her tight little backdoor. From there, it was all simple: a black lacy bra to go with the panties and the poof on her bunny tail; a black lacy pair of bunny ears with a matching black lace mask, to complete the theme and keep her adorable face obscured for the time being; and last but not least, a pair of cuffs that fit snugly behind her back and attached to a simple black collar, for both restraining her mischievous little hands and keeping her posture perfect. From there, I turned the overhead camera and the desk camera first, and last but not least I turned the eyeglass camera on.
Showtime.
I indulged in a few cliches, like having Babydoll introduce herself in a short shoot interview while we talked about the scene… but from there, the rest was business. I grabbed her soft natural hair and held it tightly, then pulled her forward so the tail plug could be seen, along with her adorable ripe brown ass. I then had her say what was going on with the panties, and toyed with her a bit to demonstrate… and from there, I decided to let our actions speak for themselves. I stopped her mid-sentence with a hand around her neck  and a light slap to the face. I then reached just out of range of the camera and pulled out the dildo ball-gag I’d used on babydoll once before, and shoved it down her throat. 
“That’s enough talking, little fuckdoll,” I said gently, smiling. “We’re gonna put that mouth to better use… so get that throat relaxed for my dick, understand?”
She nodded, the beginning of a tear forming in her eyes, and I rubbed her cheek gently. She looked so pretty when I hurt her… and now, it was time to put on a show.
I put the vibe in her panties to work from across the room, watching her buck and squirm when it cut off before she could cum, humping air in a vain hope for relief. First one edge, then two, then a third… and after time 3, I stood over her, stroking my dick for her to have something to stare at and pine after. She instinctively bolted up and pressed her head against it, trying to get it in her mouth… because as I explained to our unseen audience at home, Babydoll is almost always allowed to cum if she does so with Daddy’s dick in her mouth. She put on an acceptably pathetic display, before I pushed her head away and turned her towards the mirror. At that point, I put the camera glasses on her as well, and let her be the one to record her own ass-beating and edging combo. She begged to cum as I spanked her, to which I merely laughed and said no while I grabbed a handful of her hair to make her stare in the mirror. By edge #5 she was beginning to cry, little tears rolling down her cheeks as my paddle warmed her posh posterior. It was lovely watching her makeup run, and a good warm-up… but I wanted more, and was sure she did as well. I got her up to 6, then 7, and finally 8… and at that point, pulled her up by her hair and took the ball gag out of her throat.
“You were about to cum while Daddy was beating your ass, weren’t you my little slut?” I asked, to which she could only nod while drooling all over herself. “Good girl, good girl. You like how I hurt you?” Another nod. “Good girl. Good girl… Now… I’ll bet you’re ready to do anything it takes to cum, aren’t you?”
Her pretty brown eyes got comically huge, and I swear she nodded so hard I was half scared she’d hurt herself before I got a chance to. I couldn’t help but laugh a bit, even as I shoved as much dick as possible down her throat.
“Now be a good girl and cum with my dick down your throat,” I ordered, turning the vibrations up as high as possible. I made sure she was in the perfect angle for my camera glasses and the overhead cam to get a perfect view of her lovely tourmaline irises as they rolled back in her head and she finally came in spectacular fashion, while gagging for air on my fucking dick.
God, she’s amazing…
From there, I kept things fairly simple, and forced her to keep cumming as I kept fucking her face. This was followed with a brief reprieve from cumming herself stupid to get spanked again… followed by a brief soliloquy from Babydoll into the camera. I hadn’t planned on it at first… but she’d demanded it when we wet up the cameras.
“Ghhhk… D-d-Daddy…” she groan-whispered still catching her breath as saliva trails drained from her face, “please… don’t cum in my mouth yet. Not yet… pretty please?”
“And why is that, Babydoll?” I asked, gripping her throat. “Give me one reason not to.”
“Nnngh… because, Daddy,” she hissed, coughing and wheezing as her hips bucked a bit instinctively. “You put my tail in… the only toy we have that stretches my other hole… as wide as your big, fat, fucking dick…”
I paused a bit, my grip on her slipping as I realized where she was going. And before I could say more, she continued;
“And besides, Daddy… we have an audience now… and I’m sure they’d love to see you use more than one of my holes…”
She paused, then turned to the webcam, licking her lips thirstly and grinning wildly. Something inside her was flipped on, and she was more ravenous than I’d seen her in a long time as she waddled over to the desktop camera and showed her sloppy, mascara-smeared, destroyed little beautiful face to the imaginary audience.
“How’s about it, you filthy fuckers… you wanna watch Daddy Dearest fuck his pretty little slut in the ass till she sobs and begs for mercy? Do you?” She chuckled, then licked her lips. “Then beg us… and maybe we’ll show you part 2. For a price. Maybe money, maybe your dignity… all up to us. and be wrned… we’re sadistic fucks.”
Part of me watched her enterprising, brilliant little send-off/pause for our film, without my imput, and was ligitimately concerned and surprised how much she’d already thought about this… and worried I may have created a monster I couldn’t manage.
The other part of me grabbed her hair, yanked her back, and told her how much I loved her… then laughed at the overhead camera with my middle finger raised while she nuzzled my leg.
And what happened next? Well, dear reader… that’s a longer story than I have time for.