Head down… let Daddy take the lead.
My Daddy’s silence is deafening and reflective.
His whispers, to my senses, are all-encompassing.
For a minute, I lifted my head and I was alone.
“And that’s what happens when you try to do things on your own, Little Girl.
What you see in me, and what you’re meant to be, is the same.
With doubt you lifted your head, but what did I say?”
Head down… let Daddy take the lead.
We met in a chatroom on a very popular erotic literature site. I signed up to be a voyeur in the chatrooms, reading the general conversations and dirty talk to get inspiration for a series of stories that I want to start writing in September. We’ve been getting to know one another for about a month now. He’s the one that actually called himself a Svengali.
The mere fact that he used that term to describe himself, such a fleeting word, was already mesmerizing for me on an intellectual level, and tingled my creative sector.
He’s already motivated me in multiple levels, and I can’t really describe why. I feel like I need to impress him. I want to show him how fantastic I can be, and somehow through that, the world will see my grace.
He lives in the North-East and I live in the South, so realistically we will probably never meet. We also are both in long term committed relationships, so we established early on that neither of us are looking to save for a plane ticket or hurting anyone — we simply crave the companionship and detailed attention that neither of us are getting on our daily lives or relationships.
At the welcome-mat of complete anonymity, I am an admitted brat. A snarky, snappy, self-proclaimed cunt. I see it happening in real-time, and sometimes there’s nothing I can do about it… My Cuntiness is truly an out of body experience. I never want to loose it, but I need to find a balance between being an intuitive cunt, and being considerate in giving others the benefit of a doubt.
I’m a freelance editor so I pretty much work from home unless I have to meet a client somewhere; but even then that’s only about once a week, and only an hour at a time…2 hours if we have lunch together. So I spend a lot of time at home either reading documents, masterbating, or listening to podcasts to drown out my repetitive head-noise in an attempt to avoid an anxiety attack, or become too overwhelmed with the 13,746 lists that I make for myself daily. This can easily slip me into a “fuck it” mode where I self destruct, shutdown emotionally, or both.
I’m a 30 year old woman who’s turning 31 in twenty-four days, and this is the trait that I find the most unattractive and pathetic in myself.
Having never desired to call another man Daddy in my entire fucking life, there is a cosmic evolution that my Svengali sees in me and I can only feel it. Somehow I am compelled to trust him as my eyes, to not think, to not censor… simply to be.
And from simply being, I will be transformed.
For giving up on myself, I will be reprimanded.
For trusting, I will be loved.
For not behaving, I will be disciplined.
For being a Good Girl, I will finally be adored.
Charlotte V. Manson 