In the world of HIM vs her, being Daddy’s Kitten is frowned upon by some feminists and women’s rights activists. It’s the life I enjoy the most. I am a kept woman in many ways. Most of all, submissive by nature, and collared by choice.

I met him when I was 19, and he was the first Man I let have complete control of me. It started very subtle with us. Choosing my clothing. Not allowing me to buy something without his consent. It has gotten to a point that I don’t even use the facilities without asking his approval. These are the sessions he desires from me, and in all honesty, I am so excited each time he books. I know that I don’t have to do anything for myself.
Arriving at his home, something that is very rare for me. I dressed in the outfit he sent over. A pencil thin black skirt, white silk blouse, thigh high stockings, and a pair of 4 inch spiked heels. To my distaste, they were in black, but they were lovely. A spritz of his favorite perfume, light make up, and my hair tugged back into a braided bun. Each time we play it’s different. Sometimes I am his little girl and dressed in infant wear. Other times his prostitute and wearing clothing not appropriate at all. Those days I know I am going to have punishment. Shhh, I like those days most of all. No sexual release, just blissful pain intoxication.
The gentle clicks of my heels on the hard wood, his assistant led me down the long hall to his office. She stopped a few inches from the door, warned me he was in a mood, and silently removed herself. I am sure he is as hard on the staff as he is with me.  Hence, I would assume they see a lot more of his darkness.

“Is Daddy’s Kitten ready to play today?”

Asking, that was how he invited me in. The moment I entered his lair, my shoes slipped off, dropping me back down to my 5 ft frame. I would put them back on before he finished, but I knew what the first part of the session would be. I would be spanked. Not in a pleasant way. In the kind that he would have someone apply medication to my welts, and I would need the next week off. Leaning over his desk, pulling my skirt up to wrap tight around my waist, my cheek kissed the solid oak desk as I waited. I knew this all too well. I knew that when he was in this mood that I would leave in tears and unable to sit.

“Are you ready Bianca? Daddy needs to destroy that ass of yours today!”

Keeping my eyes closed while he prepared for the destruction. I was shaking inside, but made sure not to allow him to witness my fear. I knew his hate for cowards. For some reason, I don’t want him to hate me even though he is dead set on destroying me.
“You’ve been a fucking whore Bianca. I got the report on your activities. Therefore, must admit, I was a little shocked that my Kitten has taken so many cocks!”
His hand pulled back and the belt landed its first block across my bottom. Lurching my body forward, a cry escaped my lips, and the he had started his masterpiece. A marked body is a masterpiece. My body the canvas, and my Dominate the artist. He creates the most lavish pieces of works. Furthermore, some so detailed they should be hung on the wall with pride.

“Thank you Daddy, please, your greedy slut needs more.”

Strike two, three, seven, twenty. He didn’t stop till there were 25 lashes of disgust across my bare ass, pussy lips, and, mid back. I could smell the copper in the air. I was actually bleeding this time. My flesh had broken and I was showing my gratitude for him through my crimson nectar. Though he has no rights to me, when I walk from his door, I am his property in my mind.
Bathed, my wounds treated, and placed in his bed, he would make love to me all night. It seems odd that he would care, but this is all about my devotion to him. In conclusion, I will do anything to keep him satisfied and remain Daddy’s Kitten.