I was naked--except for a leather collar around my neck--and alone in a hotel room with a man I just met in real life.
I had anticipated this moment for weeks now. When I slid into Daddy's DMs this all seemed like a far-fetched fantasy, one in which I shouldn't invest any expectations. But we kept chatting, moving to email, then texts and Facetime chats. As I got to know him a little I started to think I could feel safe with him, and in that feeling of safety I could untether my sexual hunger to be totally owned for a weekend. Daddy made every effort to make sure I felt good about this, talking through the scene and the aftercare. He even let me share his information with a close friend as extra security.
Even just an hour ago my whole world was far different, sending my last email from my desk at the drab law office where I work as an associate attorney. Then with my overnight bag in the passenger seat I crawled through Los Angeles traffic all the way to Westchester. Daddy wasn't rich--a good thing as far as I'm concerned!--but middle-class enough to fly down from Portland and pay for a mid-tier hotel room by the airport; details which made this feel more solid to me. I needed to be able to completely let go more than I needed high thread counts. I needed this.
Daddy was very handsome, more so than in his pictures. I loved his prominent jawline, salt-and-pepper hair, deep resonant voice, height (6'3"), and broad shoulders. His dark blue cashmere sweater, charcoal wool slacks, and casual wing-tip shoes make him all the more daddy-like to me.
He sat on the couch, confidently splaying one arm across the back, his legs crossed and his foot made tiny circles, like a cat lightly flicking the end of its tail in anticipation. I held a document in my hand he had written just for me. I felt so special.
"Read," he said.
I wanted to do a good job reading it, hoping this might be the first of many times this weekend when I could hear those magic words from Daddy's lips: "Good girl."
I began to read:
--
I, the undersigned, enter into this Agreement with Daddy as his submissive, under the following terms and conditions, hereto in effect upon signature, and shall remain in effect through 12pm Sunday, May 15, 2022.
For the duration of this Agreement, this body is the property of Daddy, and shall be entrusted to the care of Daddy for his use and pleasure. I, as a distinct autonomous entity, no longer exist, and all self-determined identities no longer apply. The use of pronouns such as I, me, my, mine or any other such identification are prohibited. This body is a mere amalgamation of parts--mouth, pussy, asshole, tits, ass, feet, etc. and shall be treated as such.
Names will be given, and will vary. At times this body may be referred to as "slave," "whore," "slut," "fuckhole," "babygirl," "princess," or even just a number. For the purposes of the rest of this document, this body will be referred to as "the fuckdoll."
--
"Stop," said Daddy. He stood up and slowly walked toward me, "Lower your arm." I lowered the contract to my side, and Daddy pulled a black sharpie out of his pocket, popped off the cap, and started making something on my upper chest just below the neck. He lightly held me in place by my right shoulder and used the sharpie with the attentive delicacy of a painter refining tiny details on a canvas. I could feel his breath on my forehead, and a single drop running from my pussy slowly down my inner right thigh. My desire to be thoroughly owned was now an ache.
Daddy finished with the sharpie, paused to look at it, then my face, then my face and my chest. He hooked his index finger in the ring of my collar and gently led me to the full length mirror. He stood behind me, his large, veiny hands on my shoulders, his chest pressing every so slightly against my back so I could feel the soft cashmere against me. I saw the word "fuckdoll" [backwards] written in all lower case across my upper chest. The first marks on my body left by Daddy. I was giddy. I knew there would be many, many more.
"What does that say, babygirl?" he said.
"Fuckdoll," I replied.
He kissed the back of my head, "Very good. So smart for a little fuckdoll."
"Yes Daddy."
He took a step back, placed the tips of his index and middle fingers at the bottom ridge of my skull, and slowly ran them down my spine. He paused at my tailbone for a moment and gave my left ass cheek a small slap. I felt the slight jiggle of my flesh.
