Baby's selfdoubt

My Daddy always tell me I'm the best. Still, I have problems with thinking of myself as a good subbie. Or not subbie, a slave. Why do I have these stabs of selfdoubts? I'll let you in on my secret: Because I can feel myself slipping sometimes....

I know...it's nothing that I'm proud of. It's like being fat and binging on candy just to make yourself throw up after when the guilt sets in. It's like - if Daddy's not here, or like lately when he's had a lot on his mind I end up getting myself into situations that compromises my submission and my dedication. And i know I don't want that. I have craved for so long for someone to see me as I really am, and now when I do I don't want to mess up. And yet still I do. So = crap slave.

This is why when Daddy's not around I tend to linger around the house waiting for him. Thinking about him. Masturbating while i think of him. Then I can't get into too much trouble.

But then when I have masturbated myself raw - I get bored. That's when trouble starts.

I love thinking it's other people putting ideas into my head so that i cannot be responsible, but I have to be honest - it's all my doing.



I get ideas from books. This is why Daddy has forbid me to read the books in our library. Here you see what happens when little girls reads books - they get spanked. This happens to all little girls everywhere doesn't it? No?? Wow, that's just sooo wrong! Girls are NOT supposed to read their Daddy's books. Not even touch them. Girls are for pleasure - everyone knows THAT.



So most of the time i just sit and well...get really filthy in front of the bookshelf. I know that would please my Daddy.

Playing with myself in Daddy's library makes me feel I'm in touch with what I am supposed to be: a toy who leaves the thinking to Daddy and the displaying of my pussy to me.
I like playing with my nipples and my pussy. It makes me cum hard. For Daddy. Noone else. Just Daddy. My Owner.

But sometimes - i sneak a look in Daddy's books. I know I'm not allowed so = bad slave. It get's me into trouble every time. Daddy told me only last week he was tightening the ropes. Adding some new rules to our house. And that he was taking all my privilges away, that I no longer have any will of my own, no say in anything. That's scary.
Daddy explained that I am no longer a person - just a creature who I excists for his pleasure only. And a zero can't read can it?

Daddy told me I will no longer be allowed out of bed in the morning before I've pleasured him. And i will not be allowed to close my eyes at night before i have pleasured him. That Iwould ache to please him in every way. That I would want nothing more than to put a smile on his handsome face every day. And if i ever loose my temper he will beat me to an inch of my life. I need to think about that. because i have a bad temper = crap slave.

I'm not docile enough. Maybe because I'm not beaten down but Daddy says a slave must not be beaten down. If I was too docile I would bore him. I don't know how to be. But sitting in my cell thinking about it helps.

Living with fear

Life with Daddy has made me realize something: I actually enjoy living in fear. Ok, so even saying it makes me feel kind of freaky - I mean what girl would want to feel adrenaline race through her body, and have her heart jump up in her throat and thump wildly at the sound of an opening of a door or footsteps in the hall? You know what? I have NO idea. The only thing in know is - I do. Love it I mean. Or need it. Take a pick.

When Daddy comes home and he is very quiet, I panic. Even when I'm sure I've done nothing wrong I feel guilty. He is totally unpredictable and I never know what it's going to be. All I know is - when fear grips me, my heart beats fast and I taste blood or cold metal in my mouth, I get aroused. And I'm not talking silly-romance-novel arousal - I'm talking throw-me-down-and-fuck-me-stupid kinda horny.
Sometimes or convos goes like this:
– Hey Daddy!!! ( I kiss his feet and kneels spreading my thighs)
– Change your fucking title.
– Yes, Daddy.
– Don't you ever fucking learn?
– I'll better myself Daddy.
– Yes you will.
– Sorry daddy.
– How hard can it be? Spread your legs and do as you're fucking told.

Or:
– You took you collar off. And jumped several sims before putting it back on. Interesting.
– Im sorry Daddy, I was taking pictures.
– Sorry. Not good enough. I have questions for you.

And, sometimes he won't talk at all. He will just IM me at work and say:
– I want you to come home. Now.

I get that bad feeling in my tummy like I have been caught doing something bad. Like playing with boys. Messing up the house. Giving lip. Not addressing Him right. Flirting and not getting paid. Dancing with a man and not getting paid. Not letting Daddy know everything I do, everywhere I go at every hour of the day and night. Accepting gifts I should not accept. My collar is a constant reminder of what I am, who owns me, who calls the shots. So are the beautiful silver embellished cuffs I wear around wrists, arms, thighs and ankles, which are attached to chains so Daddy can arrange my body any way he wants it displayed to him. Daddy also has nipple clamps - in our home just refered to as "The Clamps". Ouch! A girl never forgets her priorities wearing those. I don't have to wear them any other place than at home, because they are so big and chunky people would notice. Daddy says he's going to get me every-day clamps, smaller ones I can wear to work under my clothes. Part of me hopes he'll never find them, part of me feels excited about having to wear something sexual all day. Anyways - all of the above are Daddy's toys for discipline. Failing to keep my collar on makes him irritated, sometimes a little more than irritated. I know it in his voice. When he's calm, collected and cold it usually means trouble. Daddy is a Dominant, most times he only needs look at me a certain way to make me behave. In extreme cases he yells. Extreme cases. That means not very often. But I know he snaps from time to time. Goes mental. I'm afraid of that. And still it makes me wet. Rules, rigid strict rules makes it hard for me to keep in line. It's impossible to not break them on occation. Nobody's perfect, and certainly not I. The worst ever beating I ever got was punishment for screwing a stranger. It was before Daddy decided I could no longer play with boys. So I did. Guess I was bored. Boredom makes me do the silliest things sometimes. The sex was bland, but then after all, I am spoiled that way. But Daddy's punishment and rape was glorious. Noone can fuck me like my Daddy. A severe beating and a lot of screaming and throwing of furniture was part of it. It is the only time I have seen Daddy loose control. Did I enjoy it? Well, I was too scared. For real. But did I cum? Yes I did. And hard too. So I guess that means I enjoyed it. Or got my kick both literally and emotionally. A high, a rush or whatever you may call it. It made me cum, hard, the way a little Daddy's whore should cum. Scenes like that leaves a memory. So when I hear Daddy come home not greeting me in his normally sweet loving voice, I know there's trouble. And I get wet, scared and an iron fist clawing my tummy. I am in love with fear. And it is a painful love affair.

Daddy: Training Baby

The sound of the slamming door echoes like a gunshot in her ears. A peel of thunder seems to respond in the distance. She lifts her tear-streaked face from the dirt and looks behind her in the direction from which the thunder came. The angry black clouds bear down on her. Lightning jumps from the clouds in web-like tendrils extending over her head. She looks at the door to the cabin hoping to see it open and then down at her ankle, to the thick metal chain running from it to the stake in the ground to which it is firmly locked. The stake itself is screwed into the ground. She smiles to herself as she reaches for the stake to try and unscrew it. Straining with all her strength to twist the stake out of the ground but it doesn’t move. The links of the chain are an inch long and a ¼ of an inch thick. Way to thick to even think about breaking. She would have to cut her foot off to be free of it. Briefly the area is illuminated by a lightning strike. Her eyes catch sight of a mottled snake crawling past the stake in the ground before everything goes dark again. A small scream escapes her lips as she tries to scramble as far away from the snake as her chain will let her. The thunder, louder now, rolls over the surrounding hills.

Studying the clouds she thinks to herself that he can’t leave her out here like this, staked to the ground. Her clothes dirty and bloody from her escape attempt. Home is all she can think of since she woke up in the bed and the man with the hard face looking down on her. It hasn’t fully dawned on her that she has no idea where home is, only that she wants to be away from the hard faced man.

The door to the cabin opens. Her heart leaps. He is going to bring me back inside, safe from the storm and snakes she thinks. He stands in the doorway; warm comforting light spills out into the night behind him leaving his face in shadows. Her heart drops into her belly as her mouth opens in terror but a scream is frozen in her throat. She sees in his right hand a long knife. Thoughts race through her mind. Oh my god he is going to actually kill me.

He closes the door behind him and strides quickly towards her. Lightning flashes followed very quickly by a loud crash of thunder illuminating his unfeeling face. She shivers as her blood runs cold. The rain, in fat drops, begins falling in loud thuds around her

She falls to her knees, tears welling up in her eyes, as she reaches out her hands to try to grab his knife hand. “Please don’t kill me. I am begging you. I will never run away again. Just please don’t kill me.”

The hard faced man walks towards her. The lightning flashes to reveal he is completely nude. He grabs a fistful of her long auburn hair in his left hand and pulls her to her feet. Her hands immediately wrap around his wrist as she is forced to her feet, her face twisted in agony. This is it, she thinks. It’s him or me now.

He pulls her level to his face. The continuous flashes of lightning create a strobing effect with the trees swaying in the increasing wind. His eyes never blink, nor does he flinch as the storm’s fury begins. The cold rain crashes against them as it were hurled at a target rather then just let fall from the clouds.

“I know you wont.” He says in a calm voice, the sound of which sends shivers down her spine.

Standing now on her feet she lets go of the wrist holding her hair and begins to pound her tiny fists into his chest trying to get him to let go of her hair. He calmly lifts his right hand and presses the tip of the knife under her chin. Her eyes widen as her hands fall immediately to her side. He smiles

“Baby did a bad thing.” He says. His long hair plastered to his face in the rain.

Sensing her coming submission he releases her hair. He slides the knife down her blouse, the blade slicing easily though the thread holding the buttons of her flowered blouse in place. It’s him, she thinks, her terror rooting her to the spot she will likely be killed. Resigned to her fate she stands, her head down, sobbing uncontrollably.

“Baby done a bad bad thing.” He repeats in a firm voice as he presses the flat of the blade against her wet skin.

“Pease,” she whispers in a quiet voice over and over again. “Please god don’t kill me. I will do anything you ask.” Her voice broken, her body wracked from sobbing. The wind and rain plasters her hair to her face. She no longer even notices the storm’s fury. She is counting her last moments.

“Pleasegodpleasegodpleasegod”

He steps around behind her and grabs the back of her matted, wet hair and yanks down forcing her face to the sky. The rain pelts her face, washing away her tears. Suddenly she feels the thin, cold blade of the knife against her throat. She takes her last deep breath and closes her eyes tight now just wishing it were over.

“Baby did a bad bad thing” he whispers in her ear as he deftly slides the knife blade down between her breasts slicing her bra in half. Her breath explodes from her body as her eyes open wide. He releases her hair.

She just stands waiting, waiting for the end to come. After a few moments of just the storm she timidly turns around behind her to face her tormentor. Gone. She looks to the right then to the left. Nothing. She lets out a relaxed sigh and turns around to look at the cabin. As she turns back around, his hard face startles her. His right hand grabs her around the throat and grips tightly as her terror rises.

“Baby did a bad bad thing.” He angrily spits the words in her face.

“You ever love someone so much you thought your little heart was gonna break in two?” He softly asks.

Angrily answering for her. “I didn’t think so.” His hand tightens around her throat.

“You ever tried with all your heart and soul to get you lover back to you?” Lessening his grip on her throat.

“I wanna hope so.” He sighs.

“You ever pray with all your heart and soul just to watch her walk away?”

“Baby did a bad bad thing” He releases his grip on her throat. She looks down at the ground as she rubs her neck.

Stars jump around her head amid the lightning and thunder. She shakes her head to come to her senses and find she is knocked to the ground, the left side of her face stinging from the slap she never saw coming. She looks up in time to see his foot kicking her over on her back.

He stands over her and puts his muddy foot on her neck and begins to apply pressure. She closes her eyes again. He leans down.

In an angry voice he says. “Do I have your attention?”

She nods as she sobs.

“You owe me your very existence. You would be dead if not for me. Every breath you take from this day forward is a gift from me. Do you understand?” He steps a little harder on her neck.

“Yes sir” she cries.

“I own you and you will not EVER try to escape me again. When you try to escape you are telling your father that you do not want his gift. If you ever try and escape your father again I will take back my gift! Do you understand? Tell me now!”

“Yes Sir!” she yells.

He removes his foot from her neck only to kick her over face first into the mud. He reaches down and grabs the back of her dirty flowered blouse and pulls it with her bra off her back. He lifts her by the hair to her feet and stands before her. Her face and breasts are covered in mud.

“Look at you,’ He says disdainfully. “What a filthy whore. Your father will take better care of you Baby then you seem to be able.”

He kneels down in the mud and undoes her pants removing them as well as her panties and throws them into the trees. She stands, naked to the storm’s fury. On the plus side the drenching rain has washed all the mud from her body leaving it glistening.

“Clothes are a privilege, Cunt. You no longer have a say in what you will wear. Your father will pick out your clothes if you to be allowed to wear any.

The hard faced man looks at his newly cleaned prize and smiles.

“Baby,” he breathes, “Your father is pleased.”

His fingers find her erect nipples. He twists hard watching her wince at the pain. He laughs softly to himself. His manhood hard slaps against her thigh sending a thrill through her body but she isn’t sure why. His hands move over her body inspecting every crack and crevasse. He forces her to bend over at the waist. Kneeling behind her he spreads her asscheeks wide. He can smell her excitement as he licks her between her legs. She moans and pushes her hips back into his face. He abruptly stands and starts walking away from her, back to the cabin.

Confused, but also happy that she seems to have survived she watches him go back into the house. She thinks for a second about calling after him. Surely he can’t leave her out here naked in the rain.

Shortly he returns. In the light of the cabin her terror returns. In his hand as he walks toward her is Colt .45. Oh no, she thinks. Her body begins convulsing as she falls to her knees. Not now she thinks.

He stands over her with the gun. With the other hand he places a clip in the gun carefully and in full view of her. Her eyes widen as she watches him. He looks at her with a cold hard face as he chambers a round into the weapon. Tears begin to fall down her face as she shakes her head.

He grabs her by the hair and drags her a small ways before pushing her face into the mud. He reaches between her legs and pulls her hips up in the air. With a knee placed in her back so she can’t move he runs the side of the gun barrel between her legs. Her body shudders at the touch of the cold steel. Slowly he pushes the barrel of the gun into her pussy. Her body tenses not knowing what to expect. As the cold steel penetrates her she squirms trying to get out the way. He slaps her hard on the ass.

“There is a loaded gun in your cunt Whore. I wouldn’t be moving around all that much were I you.” She instantly freezes. Smiling to himself he slowly retracts the barrel of the gun, not quite pulling it out before he shoves it back into her.

“Oh my god he is fucking me with a loaded gun.” She thinks to herself., the idea oddly appealing. She pushes her hips back to get more of the gun barrel inside her.

“You are a filthy little pervert aren’t you? Your father is fucking you with a loaded gun and you are enjoying it.” He bites her on the ass.

She moans at his words. “Yes sir.” Her right hand moves between her legs to rub her clit and the gun barrel slides easier and faster between her legs.

Having her completely in his power he climbs off her. He removes the gun barrel from her cunt. Spreading her ass wide he spits on her asshole then shoves a finger into her asshole. She gasps for breath at the intrusion.

“Relax Baby. Your father isn’t going to hurt you.” He says softly. He removes his finger and replaces it with the barrel of his gun. Slowly he pushes the barrel into her tight ass. She squirms but not to get out of the way but rather to get the barrel deeper.

“That’s a good girl” he says kindly as the barrel slides into her ass. Her fingers start rubbing her clit hard as he fucks her ass faster and faster with the barrel of the gun. Her body trembles with passion she can’t believe she feels. Her passion rises in her emotionally wracked body. Her fingers rub her clit hard. The gun barrel slides easily in and out of her. Her legs begin to tremble as her orgasm begins to peak. Seeing this he pulls the gun out of her ass and fires two rounds into the woods. The noise so startling with her orgasm leaves her twitching in the mud like a car with bad gas. Her heart nearly burst in her chest. She rolls over on her back and looks at the hard face man standing in the nude above her. He looks down at her with the cold hard face, gun in his right hand, hammer still cocked.

Her breath slowly comes back to normal after her powerful orgasm. She looks at his face and smiles.

“Thank you Father.”

He looks down on her then back up as he walks back towards the cabin and closes the door.

She looks back to the door waiting for him to come back

“FATHER!!!!! Please don’t leave me out here! Please Dadddy let me come inside. I will be good I promise! Please come unlock Baby and take her inside!”

The door opens and a box is hurled out of the cabin and land in the mud at her feet. Cereal.

“You will sleep out in the rain tonight Baby so you will have a reminder of what life without your Daddy would be like.”

Daddy: Obsession

'A persistent disturbing preoccupation with an often unreasonable idea or feeling. ' Yea that's it. A persistent disturbing preoccupation. One could add painfully delicious. Obsession is the edge of a two sided blade that cuts both the target and wielder with a single slash. Obsession is the seed from which passion flowers. If you wish your passion to blossom you must water your obsessions. Obsession, passion and pain. These are the unholy trinity that form Baby's and my relationship. Passion and pain cannot exist without obsession. Obsession creates passion and pain.

Like the lyrics of the song:
And the way she looked was way beyond compare.
So how could I dance with another
When I saw her standin' there.

Well she looked at me, and I, I could see
That before too long I'd fall in love with her.
She wouldn't dance with another
When I saw her standin' there.

It starts so innocently, obsession. A glance, the nonchalant blink of an eye in return, can be all it takes. Like the proverbial beat of a butterfly's wings initiating a hurricane so to it is with obsession. What starts with a smile and a nod can end with two people, your hands wrapped around her throat, her hands wrapped around your wrists, lips pressed together, tongue's engaged in their own death struggle. Your cock is hard as a rock and about to explode. You have never felt more alive then you do at this moment. This is the gift of obsession.

Obsession can never let go. It is possessive. It's purpose to is to dominate and own the obsessed. For as long as it is allowed to flourish it has a death grip on both the originator and object of the obsession. Forever it haunts often with painful results, especially when obsession is lost or refused. When obsession is returned is, perhaps, the sweetest. Neither side can let go of the other and you both continually fall deeper and deeper into sweet darkness.

Most, I think, do not understand the power and beauty of obsession. Most have been programmed to believe that obsession is unhealthy and can go horribly wrong. I defy anyone who says that anything that makes you feel so alive can be unhealthy. People who think so are cowards and waste their lives seeking the illusions of safety and security, avoiding anything that causes upset, or in the parlance of the day, drama. Fuck you and die cowards!

Can obsession go horribly wrong? Well of course it can. Getting into your car and driving to the store to get milk can go horribly wrong. Better you should just climb in bed, cover your head and stay out of our way.

Unless you are completely thick you have figured out that Baby is my obsession. She is my only concern, the first thought when I open my eyes and my last when I close them. I willingly wrap myself in my obsession. She is everything to me and I am everything to her. We are oblivious to everything but each other as the world spins on around us. I will break the fingers of anyone who dares to touch her. There is nothing I do not know that goes on in her life. I make it my business to know. This is the result of obsession and neither of us would have it any other way.

BabyGirl: Living in fear

Life with Daddy has made me realize something: I actually enjoy living in fear.
Ok, so even saying it makes me feel kind of freaky - I mean what girl would want to feel adrenaline race through her body, and have her heart jump up in her throat and thump wildly at the sound of an opening of a door or footsteps in the hall? You know what? I have NO idea. The only thing in know is - I do. Love it I mean. Or need it. Take a pick.

When Daddy comes home and he is very quiet, I panic. Even when I'm sure I've done nothing wrong I feel guilty. He is totally unpredictable and I never know what it's going to be. All I know is - when fear grips me, my heart beats fast and I taste blood or cold metal in my mouth, I get aroused. And I'm not talking silly-romance-novel arousal - I'm talking throw-me-down-and-fuck-me-stupid kinda horny.

Sometimes or convos goes like this:
– Hey Daddy!!!
( I kiss his feet and kneels spreading my thighs)
– Change your fucking title.
– Yes, Daddy.
– Don't you ever fucking learn?
– I'll better myself Daddy.
– Yes you will.
– Sorry daddy.
– How hard can it be? Spread your legs and do as you're fucking told.

Or:
– You took you collar off. And jumped several sims before putting it back on. Interesting.
– Im sorry Daddy, I was taking pictures.
– Sorry. Not good enough. I have questions for you.

And, sometimes he won't talk at all. He will just IM me at work and say:
– I want you to come home. Now.

I get that bad feeling in my tummy like I have been caught doing something bad. Like playing with boys. Messing up the house. Giving lip. Not addressing Him right. Flirting and not getting paid. Dancing with a man and not getting paid. Not letting Daddy know everything I do, everywhere I go at every hour of the day and night. Accepting gifts I should not accept.

My collar is a constant reminder of what I am, who owns me, who calls the shots. So are the beautiful silver embellished cuffs I wear around wrists, arms, thighs and ankles, which are attached to chains so Daddy can arrange my body any way he wants it displayed to him.
Daddy also has nipple clamps - in our home just refered to as "The Clamps". Ouch! A girl never forgets her priorities wearing those. I don't have to wear them any other place than at home, because they are so big and chunky people would notice. Daddy says he's going to get me every-day clamps, smaller ones I can wear to work under my clothes. Part of me hopes he'll never find them, part of me feels excited about having to wear something sexual all day.
Anyways - all of the above are Daddy's toys for discipline. Failing to keep my collar on makes him irritated, sometimes a little more than irritated. I know it in his voice. When he's calm, collected and cold it usually means trouble. Daddy is a Dominant, most times he only needs look at me a certain way to make me behave. In extreme cases he yells. Extreme cases. That means not very often. But I know he snaps from time to time. Goes mental. I'm afraid of that. And still it makes me wet.

Rules, rigid strict rules makes it hard for me to keep in line. It's impossible to not break them on occation. Nobody's perfect, and certainly not I. The worst ever beating I ever got was punishment for screwing a stranger. It was before Daddy decided I could no longer play with boys. So I did. Guess I was bored. Boredom makes me do the silliest things sometimes. The sex was bland, but then after all, I am spoiled that way. But Daddy's punishment and rape was glorious. Noone can fuck me like my Daddy. A severe beating and a lot of screaming and throwing of furniture was part of it. It is the only time I have seen Daddy loose control. Did I enjoy it? Well, I was too scared. For real. But did I cum? Yes I did. And hard too. So I guess that means I enjoyed it. Or got my kick both literally and emotionally. A high, a rush or whatever you may call it. It made me cum, hard, the way a little Daddy's whore should cum.

Scenes like that leaves a memory. So when I hear Daddy come home not greeting me in his normally sweet loving voice, I know there's trouble. And I get wet, scared and an iron fist clawing my tummy. I am in love with fear. And it is a painful love affair.

Daddy: Need

Why is it we do what we do? What drives us to extremes? Why does one person enjoy debasing and humiliating another for a sexual thrill? Why does another cum harder then ever when being bound and belittled? How do two people so perfectly matched find each other in a world with billions? Don’t ask me. I don’t know. That’s why I ask the questions. Is it nature? Perhaps it is fun? And ultimately does it matter why? I think we can all agree that merely climbing on or under your respective mate and grunting to climax is just boring. That’s why it’s called vanilla. Vanilla is just boring, unimaginative and unworthy of human passion. This is why I so love my Fuck Toy Baby. There is nothing boring or unimaginative about her and as such is certainly worthy of my passion.

But these questions have haunted me almost my entire life. I have been pulling women’s hair long before seeing representations of cavemen dragging a club in one hand and a woman by the hair in the other. I also note with more then a little amusement that when seeing these representations the woman is never kicking and screaming. That is almost never the case. Submission is earned and can only be earned through dominance.

The closest answer I can come to is no more satisfying then the questions themselves. Need. We, those of us who I believe are brave enough to face these feelings, need to act in this manner. It is our nature to dominate. I will also submit the unpopular idea that it is exclusive to males. Males need to conquer. We need to force our will on the environment. That’s what domination means. It is force. It is not strength.

This seems to be of great confusion. Especially when one refers to a woman as being strong when she is actually acting like a man. This is foolish. Strength is the ability to withstand force. Domination is force. Submission is strength, the strength to withstand force without breaking. The more force you withstand the stronger you become. Baby is hands down stronger then any foolish woman pretending to male. She is quite simply the strongest woman I have ever met.

Everything I do, everyplace I lead she goes head high and chin first. She never blinks, bulks or backs away. I am so proud of her. There is not an ounce of force in her. She takes everything and bares it with extraordinary grace and dignity. Well until she cums anyway. Not much dignity in guttural screams and muscle spasms but they are still fun. But because of that strength she gets confused for being dominant all the time. Nothing could be further from the truth. There is not a dominant bone in her body. There are no such things are switches. There are no such things as dommes. You are either dominant, submissive or boring.

Daddy: Finding Perfection

This is the first picture I ever took of my Baby girl. I took it on the very day I met her. I had recently moved into the neighborhood and it had a club. I was very much into clubbing in those days. In second life there are but four basic things to do. One shops, fucks, parties or builds. I noted very early on that, like real life, these activities all revolve around the same thing. Sex. Needless to say pussy was on my mind when I went into Horizons that day. I had been collecting my own harem. All men do this. It is our nature.

I will never forget it. My thoughts still burned into my memory. There she was dancing on a table. Her hair was the first thing I noticed. It was huge. A man could get lost and starve to death before he escaped from that hair. I had never seen a stripper who looked like her. One of the things that I look for in a prospective toy are the choices they make. Interesting choices almost most always mean interesting people. I checked her profile. She was a very rough and tumble girl in those days. The kind of girl that would punch a man in the nose just to hear the crunch. This was very interesting to me. If I am being very honest I was in love with her before we ever spoke.

That first day I learned a lot. The most amazing thing I learned was I had to see her again. Most strippers are just that, strippers. Working girls. There is nothing wrong with that. I love strippers. But this one was different. Our conversation was effortless, a dance, if you will. For me there is nothing like wit, charm and personality to get my interest. Sex is wonderful. But there is more to life then just playing with your toys. I firmly believe most men fail this section. You have to be able to talk. The thing I cherish most about my Baby is the interesting things we talk about between the screaming and the rapes.

The second time we met seemed to me to take forever. The feeling was new to me. No woman had captured my fancy like Honey. It may sound harsh but strippers are a dime a dozen. Now I am not saying there are not treasures to be found. That’s far from the truth. But I was not so much interested in mining at this point. If you have spent any time at all in Second Life and you have any kind of personality more advanced then the “Wanna Fuck” personality then finding receptive females is not difficult. Second Life, like real life, is a man’s world.

With Honey I knew right away I had literally stumbled across a beautiful diamond. As I said it felt like forever for the second meeting. In actually it was probably no more then a week. The thing to know about the above pic is that Baby was a whore. A damned good one from all accounts. I personally see no need for the services of a whore. Read the above paragraph. If a man feels the need to pay a woman for sex that man is a fool and that woman is a genius. He should be laughed at and she given a medal.

By the third meeting I was done for, out of the game. I decided to spend all my energy making this one mine. I knew and still feel that any other woman is less then what my eyes beheld and I had to make her mine. So I set out to do just that. The courtship was painfully slow. She, like most women, had experience with males undeserving of being called Men. My goal was to fuel the fires of passion as hot as possible without dousing them. The process is called tempering. The result was building a foundation upon which the sea itself would shatter. Warm milk has a longer shelf life then most relationships in second life. I wanted this one to last for all time. So far so good.

Baby: Strength and the meaning of being strong

I have promised myself to write something here every day. Well, i don't have anything to say every day so I'm going to re-phrase that promise: I will write something here every day I feel that I have something to say that's important. Today is one such day.

I have started my morning - Daddy's evening - with the most glorious time between Daddy's thighs. I guess that takes no further explanations *grins*. It is how we love to start and end our days, me giving Daddy pleasure. After this we watched some music clips on You Tube - i showed him Brian Setzer and he showed me Stevie Ray Vaughn. After that Daddy strapped me to the bed in the dungeon and raped me. And i told him what he wants to hear: how he makes me feel more submissive than I have ever felt before and how his maleness makes me feel more feminine than I have ever felt. He told me it was because he is the strongest man I have met. And you know what? I think he's right. Well, of course he is always right. But his strenght is important because - as he pointed out - I was the strongest girl he had ever met as well. And it took a special kind of force to get me on my knees. But not only has he got me on my knees - he makes me want to throw myself at his feet and beg for more. I know Daddy has spolied me for any other men. And that no-one can love me like he does.

Every day he loves me I just want to fall down on my knees and thank higher powers for sending me into his arms.

Baby: The One

I'm not good for keeping things in context, that's for Daddy's sharp mind. I do things on a whim. And today, I just needed to post this:

I love you Coeur. It's that simple - and that complicated. You are the man who dared come forward and tame what has not been tamed before. You are the man who dared crack a shell that noone thought could be cracked, who had the nerve to break a will that everyone said could not be broken. You have gone where no other man has ever been. So here I am....giving myself to you completely. I love you, and worship you. It's that simple - and that complicated. You are The One.

BabyGirl: i love you Daddy!

Daddy: I love you too Baby...

Daddy: My perverted little Barbie Doll.

Daddy: By way of introduction

Hello there. My name is Coeur. You can call me C. Everyone does. My pet you have met. She is an extraordinary woman and my greatest challenge. I am her Daddy, mostly, because all she is I have created. She is mine forever and she will never escape me. These entries between us are meant to entertain and enlighten those of you who stumble across our musings.

The entertainment shall become evident with the posts. This is a love story. A dark, obsessive, twisted love story but undeniably a love story. Baby and Daddy love one another unconditionally and eternally. She is my Immortal Beloved and my muse. She drives me to new and unknown places as much as I drive her. I hold the key to her cuffs which bind her in wonderfully painful positions. The key to her collar was destroyed the moment she placed it around her neck. This is why she can never escape me. But she also holds the key to my heart. We are both self imprisoned, bound forever to each other. This is the enlightenment part, the part where we explore what it means to live and love within the Dominant/submissive lifestyle.

So, please, come with us as we share slices of our life together. If you are very good, children, we will share a picture of my real life collar that my Baby wears.

This is our house. Auer Manor. The neighbors call it the house on the hill.I like it because no one can hear you scream. Especially from the prison cells in the dungeon. I have caught several of the neighbors trying to peer into the windows, usually bringing food as a housewarming gift. I am not fooled by these gestures. But I am polite and invite them inside. I always arrange for them to catch a glimpse of Baby walking around and they always stammer excuses why they must leave for another appointment. For you see Baby is not allowed to wear anything but her cuffs, chains and collar when we are in residence

But I get ahead of myself. How did we arrive here? How did Baby come into being? That's a very good question. Like all things questions will be answered in the fullness of time. In other words you will just have to keep checking back.

Daddy.

Baby: Giving up my humanity

This photo i want to share because it is so very special to us. It is special because it was taken on a day when something important happened to me, something that i have a hard time explaining because it was as much a spiritual happening and not a steamy sex session (believe it or not lol)
What am I doing in this photo? I am kneeling in a dark, musty cellar in a strange SIM far far away from home. I'm licking Daddy's boots, while some german people hang around and watch (you cannot see them in the picture). It is just a slow, lazy and very public licking session where not a word was said and all you could hear was the meditative sound of my licking the leather of Daddy's boots and him just sat there in the dark looking drop dead gorgeous as usual.

The only way I can describe what happens here is that I entered a new place where I had never been before. Daddy said I entered Sub Space. I think he means that it was on this particular day my slavery became absolute. Now, Daddy has collared me both in Second Life and in real life. He has married me in a bigass cathedral and made me his property in front of god and everyone. So i was well and truly owned a long time before this picture was taken. Still, here he takes me further.

Saturday, February 16th. Exactly 7 days after our wedding. I keep comming back to this day in my mind. What you see is actually me giving up my humanity.

And - i couldn't resist posting this pic here:- a public spanking that made the day complete.

Baby: Into the bubble

My name is Baby, and no it is not my real name but it is the name my Daddy gave me when he claimed me as his. And ok, first things first - no, I am NOT pretending to be his biological daughter. And no - he is NOT roleplaying my biological father. This is NOT an age play relationship. I call him my Daddy simply because it is the best description of his personality: his dark, deep, obsessive loving and his extremely protective nature. Daddy is warmer, more caring than Master, but a Master is what he is to me. He is also my sugardaddy - he buys me pretty things, showers me with love and attention and makes me feel like I'm the prettiest girl that ever lived.
He calls me Baby because that best describes what I am to him: small, innocent, wicked, bratty, needy - and very loving. I am lost without him. Nobody loves me like he does.

In Second Life we live in a beautiful mansion set on an old english country SIM. The Auer Manor reflects so perfectly who we are. It is complete with a rustic kitchen where I can prepare all Daddy's meals, a place on the floor for me to eat, a library where Daddy can do his work and I can play on the floor, a huge ballroom slash dining room, and upstairs bedroom complete with our four poster bed where Daddy can chain me up any way he desires, a cuddle corner by the fire and a cage for me to stay in when he is away, plus luxurious bathroom - I mockingly call the decore in there for a mix of Elvis and Dracula - Graceland goes Transylvania kinda sorta lol. An theres an outdoor pool where Daddy fucked me blind the other day in front of our new next door neighbour.

There is also a dungeon in our basement. I shall get back to that later - the feel of the dungeon, and what it does to me is a chapter in itself.

In the picture at the top you can see me sleeping in my cage here, waiting for Daddy to come home.

The time I've spent with Daddy has taken me on such a journey. The collaring in November last year, moving in together and getting married in February - and then to top it all off, his real collaring this March - has changed my life. I have always been a submissive but never met anybody who could take me on like he does. The Doms I've met before have come in 2 categories: not real - mening RP Doms who pretends do be dominants but who is as vanilla as anything. Or just guys who uses their roles as Doms to mainly be emotionally or physically abusive.
Before Daddy there was no man who could ever dominate me. I was in fact taken for being a Domme myself. I can see why, but it would hurt me no end. But i could not help myself - every man i met i seeked his weakness: was he physically strong I dommed him intellectually. Was he intellectually superior I dommed him physically. And then - there came Daddy. And that is what this diary is going to be all about. Because Daddy keeps pushing me further, and I keep urging him on. I know many people find us sick and pervy. But I can only sum up our relationship in four little words: this - is true love.