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Good Will

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I miss daddy.


He always leaves the heating on and many good books for me to read while he's away, but I miss him so much.


As I lie down on my cushion on the carpet, I wonder when he'll be back. I really want to be good when he comes back.




Sometimes being good is hard. Daddy is strict because he says my training is very important, and I must learn to be good for him. There were so many rules at first, and everything was so complicated. I got the paddle if I did something wrong, like speaking without permission or sitting on the couch. Daddy taught me how to kneel by his side and speak only when he addressed me. But there were many rewards as well. Pats, caresses, light pinches and kisses that got me hard in an instant.




I remember at first I was ashamed of being hard all the time. But daddy told me it was to be expected. He was proud, actually. He said it meant that I was healthy and responsive to the training.


I wanted to tell him that I couldn't help it, because he's so powerful and strong and I cannot control it. But he didn't ask my opinion, so I kept those thoughts to myself. Somehow, I know daddy already knows.




How could I ever wish clothes for myself? Clothes only look good on daddy. I know that now, but there was a time when I resented being naked all the time. I even covered my crotch for modesty. Dad didn't punish me then, only sighed and explained my body belonged to him. And it had to be available for him at all times. Also, he really loves it, and has spent many hours drawing me- while I am sleeping, or kneeling or simply reading. When he showed me the drawings I finally understood how truly beautiful and precious I am in daddy's eyes. And I never wished clothes again.




The collar is the only exception. So is the leash. They're with me always, and daddy only removes them when he bathes me. They're made of Italian leather (from a city he pronounced that I cannot remember) and he had them made especially for me. And I have two golden tags on the collar; one with a big W  engraved and the other with daddy's name and his address, in case I get lost.




The leash tells me so many things about daddy. One tug to call my attention, soft and gentle. Two tugs if he wants me walking behind him. A tight, short pull to warn me. And a strong, choking yank if I've done something wrong. Dad only did that once to me, when back at the beginning he found me rubbing myself against his freshly ironed trousers. I had opened his wardrobe and was humping his clothes, smelling and smearing them with my pre-cum. I intended it as a gift, and explained as much. Daddy understood, but still he punished me, because I had to learn my place. I got a spanking with the paddle, sure, but with a ring gag in my mouth and something terribly hot and itchy from the kitchen, a root that made me cry and scream and drool all over the sofa.


I learnt my lesson, though, and I never came close to daddy's wardrobe again.




That only happened once. Most of the time, daddy plays with me. At nights, and sometimes in the mornings too. I love it when he caresses my hair and calls me nice things. Good boy is what I love the most. I get it a lot when I'm obedient, so I try my very best to always do as daddy says.


Sometimes it's difficult. There are so many games daddy likes to play, and I'm not always good at all of them. He likes to bite me, everywhere, especially my nipples. And I have to remain very quiet and still. Then it's his cock, so thick and hard, gagging me deep inside my throat and making me sputter and gasp for air. I'm not very good at that yet. But daddy is a very patient man.




The permanent plug is gone now, after so many weeks daddy says I'm stretched enough for him. Daddy doesn't mind me cumming before him, but I always need to ask his permission. And I have to clean my own mess, of course, and daddy's. At first I didn't like the taste, but now I love it. Sometimes I get the feeling my food tastes like it. Daddy prepares the most exquisite food, and he hand feeds me the juiciest bits when I kneel by his chair at the dining table. I nip his fingers in gratitude, and he likes it, I know, because he hums in approval and gives me an extra cherry or grape.


I love him so much.


And I miss him so badly.


I hope he comes back soon.