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Today

December 29th, 2007 No comments

It’s colder than a witch’s tit in here! Ooo… and I should light more incense. Daddy bought me a little incense box a week or so ago. One of those boxes that you put your stick or cone incense in and it catches all the ashes… and underneath is a compartment to hold the sticks. I love it. A pretty little accessory to any disheveled office desk or beautifully finished coffee table. (Plus! Clean up’s a snap now that the ashes don’t fall all over the place.)

Today’s been a pretty awesome day, despite my stupid cramps. Daddy woke me by snuggling into my back, nuzzling into my throat and whispering in my ear “I want baby’s mouth on my cock.” I kissed Him then and He told me to turn to face Him. His hand cupped the top of my head and guided my mouth right to where He wanted it and I took care of Daddy’s cock before I even opened my eyes.

We spent the day just passing time together. We went to the photography store a little bit away and picked up a closeup set for the camera. He’s been playing with it most of the night. We went walking and Daddy made me unzip my coat and lift my bra and shirt. Outside. In the snow. So He could take pictures. I could feel my nipples getting hard. Not to mention the slow simmer in my pussy. He used to threaten to make me strip so He could take pictures outside but He never actually did it. I think I’d convinced myself that He never actually would.

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New Goal?

December 29th, 2007 No comments

Another week, another goal. Except not really. Master decided to stick with the response goal. The last couple of days He’s had to remind me more than once. I hope this week He doesn’t remind me… or if He does, He still beats me for it.

As much as I hate to admit it, I’m enjoying having something specific to focus on. It’s easier than saying “I need to work on this.” and “I need to work on that.” and having no sense of what’s a priority for Master. And I’m enjoying having repercussions when I screw up.

And oddly enough, Master was right (He usually is). My mouth has been running a lot less since He started beating me nightly. That’s not to say I’m perfect at it. But the threat of getting more than five with the cane has been enough to make it stop almost before it starts. That’s a positive thing, I think.

So, the moral of the story is, as much as I dread the way it feels to be beaten every night, as much as it hurts to know I really, at least currently, need to be beaten every night, it has definitely had a positive affect on my attitude, which can only lead to a positive effect on my growth as a slave.

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