by S. L. Finlay
"You did not ask me to cum, baby girl." Daddy told me. "Am I to take it you did cum without my permission?"
Shaking my head at the first sentence then nodding it at the second sentence, I never took my eyes off his face for a second.
"You didn't think to ask my permission?" Daddy asked. I thought of how predictable this was, even though we had not discussed it. Cumming for Daddy, or cumming when daddy gave you permission was something that came right out of the books he had lent me, as well as every single BDSM advice column and BDSM website ever. A male dominant telling a female submissive when she can and can't come was like BDSM 101.
So many people got off on this sort of sexual control that it was something that was written about in every BDSM book ever. Of course, as it turned out, I was one of those people too. Just standing there, confessing that I had cum without permission, while become completely naked in front of my Daddy was enough to make my pussy clench.
"I did not ask your permission Daddy, no." I told him simply, trying not to focus on how how this conversation was for me. I wasn't sure what was going to happen next, but the slow build up was killing me, and exciting me at the same time. I swallowed.
"Why didn't you ask my permission?" Daddy asked.
I couldn't quite manage to look at him anymore. His face portrayed a disappointment I didn't want to deal with. I looked down at the ground as I answered, talking to my bare feet. "I didn't ask your permission because I didn't feel I had to." I told him, "I know from my reading that many submissive women ask their masters for permission to cum, but I didn't know if I should ask for permission. It only happened because when I was back in my room alone, I got to thinking about what we did before, and I got all excited at the thought of you coming in to find me, touching myself like a naughty girl..."
I had trailed off when I heard Daddy shift in his seat. When I looked up at him I could see from his face that he wasn't looking quite comfortable. I pushed on anyway, "I imagined you coming in to find me, and what you would do to punish me. Then I was imagining your spanks on my bare ass and your hands on my pussy. I imagined my hands were your hands, and then I just sort of, came." I told him honestly.
"Was it a good orgasm?" Daddy asked me. He sounded aroused, which turned me on, but also scared a little bit because I didn't know what he was thinking.
Slowly I nodded. "It was a good orgasm, Daddy."
There was silence for a moment as Daddy looked me over. I wondered if he would punish me of fuck me, his eyes were so hungry. I wanted both of those things, and nothing at the same time. I wanted him to want me, to take me. But then when I thought about it, I wasn't sure I wanted that either. I wasn't sure what I wanted, because I was a little scared of him, even as I was aroused by him. I did have a strong desire though to make Daddy happy. It was important to me that I made this man happy.
After what felt like a very long time but was likely just thirty seconds, my Daddy gave me a stiff smile. "Very well." He said, "we had not discussed orgasm control specifically, and although I own you, I don't expect it to sink in right away."
I felt a little relived, it didn't sound like I was going to get a harsh punishment. Yet, then as soon as I started to let go of the breath I hadn't been aware I was holding, Daddy said sharply, "however,"
That made me stop in my tracks. I was sure my eyes would be as wide as dish plates as I stood there naked before him.
"However, if you want to be a slave in earnest, you are going to have to surrender more than once. Once you think you have surrendered, you will need to keep surrendering." He told me in earnest.
I looked him in the eye then, searching for something I wasn't sure was there, but that I wanted to find in his eyes. I needed an explanation, one I wasn't going to find just by looking at him. What did he mean?
"Surrender doesn't just happen once, and it's over. No, surrender is something you have to do again and again. It is something I can support you in, or something I can force from you. The choice is yours, baby girl." He told me.
My throat felt dry all of a sudden, the look in his eye telling me he meant every word. Just how would he force me to surrender?
There was a tension in the air that could be cut with a knife as I stood before him, feeling the full force of my own nudity as he looked down at my body.
"I cannot permanently mark you, but I can punish you, and I will." He said more to me than to himself. He was so measured that it scared me. The idea of him punishing me for fun (a hot spanking for example) or punishing me from anger seemed normal, even as I was only new to this type of relationship. Right now though he was so measured that it scared me. What was I to do? What was he going to do to me?
Then it all happened suddenly, and I felt myself dropping into that subservient head space I had already been in before. The one where I will do whatever it takes to please my Daddy. Just like everything else, this head space was new to me, and I liked it.
"You will bend over that couch." He told me matter of factly, motioning towards a couch that sat in the corner. He had me bend myself over with my ass in the air and took his time moving over to me. His hands were on my skin, on my shoulders as he stood right behind me. This felt sexual, and I could feel myself getting wet as he stood there and I wondered if his punishment would be to fuck me. I didn't want it to be that way, our first time, but I was willing to do whatever my Daddy needed me to do in order to redeem myself.
Standing behind me with his hands on my shoulders, Daddy moved his hands down my body towards my ass. When he was there he seemed to be stroking my round ass with more attention than he had paid my back and that made me smile, but I wasn't smiling for long.
Daddy started spanking my soft round ass and after building up to it with the spanking (which wasn't as erotic as I had hoped it would be), Daddy bought out a cane which had surprisingly been in his desk this whole time and gave me twelve of his best.
There is nothing like being hit with a cane. The sting and the satisfaction of knowing you can take something that hurts so badly with little more than a stifled grunt and teary eyes is pretty amazing.
The first hit though was the toughest, followed closely by the second and third hit. After a few more hits I was managing to bear the pain without crying out. It was hard though, as the sting was so intense.
Daddy made me count off, which might seem sexy in BDSM porn (or at least I find it sexy when I watch BDSM porn) but in reality it's anything but. Counting means you can't escape the pain by simply zoning out and pretending that the pain simply isn't happening. You have to be present enough in that moment - and with your pain - to count off strokes of the cane. You can't count without paying attention. It's impossible when you're in so much pain too, to properly concentrate. But, if you don't want the punishment to start all over again, you grin and bare it, you count off the strokes of the cane with the level of attention you would give your most important exams in school.
After my twelve strokes were over, Daddy made me stand back up. My eyes were full of tears and I felt an odd mix of shame - because I had upset my Daddy enough that he had needed to punish me - and pride because I could take his punishment without losing track of cane strokes or doing anything throughout the punishment to mean he would need to punish me further.
Taking Daddy's punishment would go on to mean a lot to me in the future. For tonight though, I would stand tall and proud and listen as Daddy told me more of his thoughts on BDSM.
"This is not a game, it's a way of living. BDSM is a lifestyle choice. To be good at being a slave, you have to first understand what you're doing and why you're doing it. I punished you just now to remind you of whose body this is." He motioned down at my naked body and I forced a small smile of acknowledgment. "This is my body." He told me.
Giving a little nod I agreed I told him, "Yes Daddy."
"There is plenty for you to learn though," Daddy told me, "and I don't have time for every single lesson and every single question which you make have. But I can gu
ide you to answers to the most common questions." Daddy was motioning towards some BDSM books which sat in his study, some of which I was sure he had given me duplicate copies of to read in my own little girl room.
"Yes Daddy." I told my Daddy, "I have learned lots from these books. Thank you Daddy."
Daddy's returned smile was warm and true. He was happy that I was happy, and he was happy that we were both now on the same page after my punishment.
"What questions can you answer Daddy?" I asked Daddy. My question had good intentions, I had so much to ask and needed to know what I was expected to learn from a book and what Daddy would answer for me directly.
"I can answer your questions that relate to us, and our relationship." Daddy told me, "but I won't answer general BDSM questions, or questions about other people's relationships. If you want those answers, you must read books, read online, or speak to others."
"So I can speak to other kinky people?" I asked, feeling a rush of excitement at the time of finding my own people.
Daddy nodded, "of course. You can learn any way you choose, just so long as you remember that I own that body which you are in, and that I will not allow you to play with it yourself or have anyone else play with it. I do not share."
"Okay..." I started, thinking of how to ask my question, "so, I am not allowed to touch myself, but I am allowed to learn about BDSM on my own?" I asked. I wanted clarity, I didn't want to be a naughty girl again. Naughty girls do not please their Daddy, and pleasing my Daddy was incredibly important to me.
Daddy nodded, "yes, you are allowed to learn about BDSM on your own, through the channels I have approved: online and through books."
"But, what's so different between the two? Aren't you supposed to own me in body and in mind?" I asked. I knew I was presenting him with an intellectual challenge, but I couldn't help myself. I needed there to be no inconsistencies.
"The difference is, I gave you permission when I handed you the books." He told me.
"You did?" I asked, unsure if he had, not remembering if we'd spoken about my having permission to learn independently, and how much I was allowed to research on my own when he gave me the books, I couldn't remember. Why hadn't I paid more attention then so I didn't need to ask questions now?
"Yes, I did. That's why I gave you the books." He told me patiently, "next time, I will be clearer when I am setting you a task."
I swallowed, he had set me a task and I hadn't even known. I was really lagging behind in my attempts to be a good slave here. Tasks were a big deal in the BDSM community. Some people told other people to complete tasks online just so each party would get their jollies from the task setting. I wanted to please Daddy when he first set me a task for the first time, yet he had set me a task and I hadn't even noticed. I felt guilty.
Rather than say anything though, I nodded my head, "yes Daddy, that would be very helpful. Thank you."
With that, Daddy asked me to tell him how my first task had gone so far. I told him the books were good, that I was learning plenty from them already, and that I was grateful that he had been the one to guide me to the knowledge in the first place, I was grateful that he had allowed me the opportunity to still discover for myself the knowledge in the books he had given me, rather than just tell me how our relationship would be in a more totalitarian way, a way that I was sure many masters behaved inside their relationships. I told him how I was so new to all of this, but that I was so grateful that I found myself with a master and Daddy like him. I could see, even though we were only newly together, than this was something special.
Daddy smiled encouragingly as I told him everything I had been thinking. He smiled at me as I told him how truly grateful I was, then when it was time he told me that I was a good girl, and that I was doing a good job.
My reward for pleasing Daddy? Our very first kiss.
The kiss felt just like you'd expect any first kiss to feel: I was nervous as hell and he seemed to know exactly what he was doing. We kissed and it was warm and soft and lovely, then, unlike most first kisses I had had in my life, Daddy turned me around, spanked my bum and told me to get back to work.
And I did, because my work now was all about making Daddy happy, and that made me a very happy little girl.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Settling into Daddy's home took much less time than I imagined it would. Setting up the little girls room didn't take me long as everything I wanted, and anything I could possibly think of that would fit the brief for 'little girls room' was bought by the servants. I had changed the room from something that looked as if a unicorn had vomited it out into something more sedate and classy. Sure there was still plenty of pink but it was being watered down by other colors now too, and didn't look anywhere near as awful. The room was big and lush and comfortable with soft couches and a softer bed. Not that I ever slept here, being Daddy's bed warmer, keeping him warm and happy as he would doze off every evening. But, I could have my perfect 'little girl' room' to sleep in like a normal bedroom if I had of wanted to. Or at least that was what I told himself. Everything around here was easy when my Daddy wanted it to be, but I knew he could take away and privileges he had given me - like my own room - should he chose to.
Sleeping beside Daddy and being swept up into his arms quickly became the best part of my whole day, and the best part of being his slave baby girl. Something about BDSM slavery is that there are no chains to keep you here, but cuddles easily could. The smell of Daddy all around me, the feel of his strong arms holding me close. Daddy had said earlier that I wasn't to touch him in bed but he would touch me if he wanted to. Every single night without fail he reached out his arms and touched me. He pulled me into his hard body where I felt safe and heaved a sigh, as if this was the best thing in the whole wide world. As if touching me and holding me close was exactly what he needed, exactly what he wanted. As if I was the antidote to any stresses in his life. That just cuddling me made his day one hundred times better.
When he held me like this, I would smile to myself. Of course it made me feel desired in a way I couldn't explain. Because Daddy didn't owe me a cuddle, because he didn't have to do anything and I had to accept whatever happened, it meant that much more when he did hold me. When he did reach out and touch me, it meant the world to me.
The sexual play we had was something else, too. Normally Daddy wouldn't play with me like that every night, but it was a special occasions thing. When we did play sexually, it was almost always a blow job with his cum in my mouth. Him cumming into my mouth felt possessive, like he was marking his territory. As if he was saying to me that he owned me, with every single thrust. It went far deeper than just blowing your boyfriend because he was horny.
When I was horny, too, Daddy would have me put on a show for him. He was watch me as I touched myself or as I used sex toys on myself. Daddy had a bunch of different toys bought for me to use for his pleasure and he would order me to use specific ones in a specific way. It was as if he was the one doing these naughty things to me, but without actually touching me. He wouldn't have to touch, he had his orders and they were enough to keep me going. I did what I was told and it made him a very happy man.
Our play was hot, possessive, and made me feel like he had the control every single time. But it wasn't quite how I had expected it to be. There was a tenderness there sometimes too, usually after we would play when he would hold me to his body. Usually with the words he used when I had pleased him. He would tell me that I was a good girl, or more importantly, he would tell me that I was HIS good girl. Being Daddy's good girl meant the world to me and it meant the world to Daddy too. The ownership was pretty intense, sometimes when I would please him and he would tell me I was his good girl, I would want to cry from the pleasure of those words. As if Daddy had given be a reward in that verbal praise worth more than gold. I never would shed a tear, because I knew better than to carry on too much to Daddy, who was a very busy man. But I would want to cry, and that was enough.
After about
a month or so of settling in, or decorating a room for myself and learning to play in the way that best pleased my Daddy, I had read a number of books about BDSM. Daddy was pleased with my progress, however, all I had to do all day was read books and think of ideas to please my Daddy with. Whereas most people whose job was to stay at home while their partner worked outside of the home had responsibilities inside the home like cleaning and cooking and caring for children, I had none of that. Daddy had enough money that someone else looked after everything for us and all I had to do was learn and think about ways to make Daddy happy all day. A perfect arrangement for a new slave, even if incredibly uncommon.
Daddy was happy with this arrangement, because sometimes I would give him little treats like his favorite chocolate when he arrived home from a meeting. Of course, since we were in a Daddy dom master/slave baby girl relationship I would present him with small gifts while I was naked on my knees.
Daddy loved this the first few times, then one day after I had been living there about a month he arrived home and there I was, nude on my knees presenting him with a cane of the sort they used to use in schools on naughty children. My idea was that he could use this cane on me when I displeased him. Unfortunately for me, Daddy came home rather upset that day and my being there on my knees in his way when he walked in the door did displease him.
"What are you doing, girl?" He asked in dark tones, apparently affronted by this nude girl in his way as he walked in the front door.
I had asked the servants to not be here when I presented Daddy with his cane. They had reluctantly agreed, knowing that our relationship was important to Daddy, and that I did have the authority on days when I had gifts for Daddy to tell them to be elsewhere. The idea of kneeling like this in front of anyone but Daddy was not a turn on. The idea of having someone just being there, seeing it, then picking up Daddy's coat and bags like they did any other day was a little traumatizing if I'm honest.
