(x-post from r/MaxineSapphire) maxine's journal - entry 1 [MF] [kink] [Daddy/little] | 2016

Entry #1

There's No Home For You Here - The White Stripes

I had originally imagined that I would be writing my first journal entry under happier circumstances, but I find myself writing today as a little girl without a Daddy.

He ended things with me this past Monday. We were communicating by text, and he asked me to do a small task. Admittedly, that morning I was feeling particularly bratty, so I asked Daddy how he could know whether or not I had done the task, and how he could know whether or not I'd lied. He said that he was relying on trust, so I tested the waters--I've wished hundreds of times that I could take this moment back--and lied, saying I'd done it. A minute or so later, I texted him that I actually hadn't, and waited with anticipation for his reply.

I was wet at the thought of disobeying him, because I thought I knew what the outcome would be: when he finally came to Seattle for the first time to see me, he would show me what disobedience leads to. My clit pulsating, my mind began racing with thoughts of all the possible punishments he could possibly inflict on me--tie me down, spank me, make me cry Daddy, fuck my whore throat Daddy, abuse me into submission until I'm a spit-and-cum-covered mess, so you can show me that I am nothing without you.

I thought of the first moment after we'd entered the hotel room, whether he'd push me against a wall, rendering me helpless against the strength of his body, and then fuck me mercilessly; or perhaps he'd make me get on my knees in front of a wall for 40 minutes as he ignored my cunt getting wetter and wetter until I'd be literally begging for his cock; maybe he'd tie my body in a way that was really uncomfortable, and he'd make me lick his ass until he felt like I'd made up for my transgression. I still can't believe how quickly thinking of Daddy makes my pussy ache from a primal want, like a slut in heat begging to be filled with cum.

So, you can imagine my devastation confusion when Daddy's text response was

Ok, this is actually pointless. My time is precious to me and this all of a sudden feels like a total fucking waste of time

I'm only reconstructing this from memory, but I'm almost sure that when I read those words, my heart stopped.

I didn't realize until speaking with Daddy on the phone after he terminated the relationship through text that I had not come across in the flirty, bratty way that I had intended to. To him, I had come off as arrogant, narcissistic, bitchy and not serious about wanting a Daddy/little relationship. I was truly stunned that the misunderstanding had such grave and immediate consequences. Trying to remain numb and stave off the pain for as long as possible, I got stoned and extremely drunk, to predictably terrible results.

On the day we broke up, Daddy and I had only been in an established D/l dynamic for 21 days, and with the distance, we had only spent a total of 5 days together in person. During this period, we did not have as much physical intimacy as I had expected (my second trip to Portland, we were meant to have 3 whole days of uninterrupted sex, but something came up on his end -- during the 3 days I was there, we were only able to sleep together twice).

I have a feeling this is why, after returning to Seattle, I found it hard to listen to his all of his instructions all of the time. Though Daddy said otherwise on the phone, I thought that I was completing a fair amount of tasks, though I was not yet completely submissive to his will. It just felt so new still, and I've had sexual partners promise the world, only to then be met with disappointment and pain when those same partners flippantly changed their minds. Daddy hadn't yet given me any indication of when he'd be making a trip to Seattle, so it was hard for me not to be a little skeptical about how serious he was about me, particularly due to bad past experiences.

I don't want to paint an inaccurate picture of Daddy; he was extremely patient with me, loving in the sorts of ways I've been craving to be loved for years. In the short time we'd been together, I had a number of episodes of mania followed by the sinking depression that bipolar and BPD sufferers are so familiar with. While I believe there were external factors that made these episodes worse and more frequent than they usually are, I can understand that these episodes would be too trying for someone who isn't familiar with how to handle them^note1.

But, as far as I know, Daddy had accepted my apologies for these particular episodes. And because I do not want to bother him or burden him any more than I already have, I'm not really able to gain clarity on what it was that happened.

I think, though I have fault in our break-up, it was not unreasonable for me to withhold my full subservience, if for no other reason that the mental/physical bond between Daddy and I was still in its infancy. I truly expected to be with Daddy for a long time, and I thought he'd understand my hesitation in fully giving myself to him as his little girl so early on in our dynamic, especially considering how little time we've actually spent together in person.

What makes our break-up especially difficult is knowing that the chemistry I had with Daddy was undeniable. I met him in Portland on a beautiful sunny day for the very first time on what was, he revealed to me later, his birthday. It was almost too perfect; Daddy loves brown hair, brown eyes, small tits and stoner girls with fierce intelligence and in me he found all of those, as well as an insatiable sex drive that matched his own.

And I wanted an older man with his life together; with incredible business acumen who could make me cum with the sound of his soothing but powerful voice as I was riding his cock, holding back my moans so as not to disturb anyone in the house (he never got to hear my moans, and that one's gonna haunt me for quite a bit); who'd hold me when I felt like the world was crumbling around me; who'd kiss my neck, gently, barely touching my skin with his lips, sensitizing the spot--oh, the spot--right behind my ear, to the point where even just a breath could make me squirm and moan from agonizing pleasure; who'd come up with a schedule for me to follow so I'd start seeing concrete positive improvements to my general well-being and health; who'd respect that I am a near-anal virgin and scared but willing to try it with the right person, that I want to keep my pussy especially tight and as a result don't like being fingered with more than one finger, that I want to get around to watersports when I'm eventually ready, that I want to be fucked like a whore in heat but also treated like a little girl with valuable ideas and dreams and hopes.

I had found all that in Daddy. And while I'm making the necessary preparations to move on, I'm not going to pretend like this doesn't hurt like fuck.

He has given me the passwords to the MaxinesDaddy Fetlife, Snapchat and Reddit accounts. I don't plan on doing much with them, other than separating BDSM/kink snaps from vanilla nudity with the MaxinesDaddy/MaxineSapphire separation on Snapchat.

But since our break-up, I've found myself sending snaps to MaxinesDaddy of me working out, eating, reading, singing--all the things that I'd told Daddy I wanted help with. I think I send them half out of the slowly diminishing hope that Daddy'll log in one day, see them, recognize my commitment and give me a second shot. But I also send the snaps for another reason entirely.

I keep circling back to a truth that I'm having trouble processing: I don't need Daddy. I never did, and I never will. I can, could and, for the next little while, probably will be my own Daddy. I have all the elements for success. My whole life, I've just been standing in my own way; I don't need a Daddy to solve my problems because, as I'm rapidly discovering, I can solve them myself.

But I want Daddy, because only his approval made it feel like it was worth doing things that are good for me.

I have to accept, though, the very real possibility that I've lost that chance, and I must make decisions on what to do next.

So here I am, with myself, holding the remnants of what was, for a brief moment in time, a perfect relationship: the empty and unoccupied MaxinesDaddy accounts, a few core rules and a schedule that had been introduced during the course of our short-lived dynamic.

He gave me these rules and the schedule so I could perfect myself to become an even better, hotter, smarter, sexier slut than I am now. And while Daddy isn't around, those are still my goals.

That's why I've decided that, with or without Daddy, I'm going to follow his rules and schedule, as best as I can, to become the perfect little girl.

Base rules

• no drinking

• no cigarettes

• no sex with anyone without first explicitly asking permission from the boyfriend [the boyfriend has taken on this responsibility since Daddy's departure]

• when you begin to spiral, sing; if you're in public, sing in your head

Schedule^note2

9:00AM: wake up, make bed, get situated and ready for the day

9:45AM: 5 minutes of exercise followed by 5 minutes of meditation

10:00AM: Breakfast + News

11:00AM: Offline work [verifying users/account maintenance, etc.]

12:15PM: Grab water + workout

1:15PM: Shower

2:00PM: Lunch

3:00PM: Live on Snapchat/Reddit postings [pictures, videos, journal entries]

4:30PM: Singing

5:30PM: Live on Snapchat

7:00PM: Dinner

8:00PM: Household chores/preparing meals for the next day/writing

10:00PM: Snack

12:00AM: In bed

I'm definitely not looking for a new Daddy. There was only one Daddy for me, and he was it. But I think that, by sharing the rules and schedule with the tremendously supportive online community that's been developing around my newfound career, I will hold myself to Daddy's standard, even in his absence.

In fact, perhaps the online community itself can reinforce the structure that Daddy built for me, and encourage me to stay with my schedule. The only issue I foresee is that, without Daddy, I thus become responsible for my own punishment. And it's no fun to abuse myself, to be quite frank.

Another slightly negative effect that our break-up has on my online audience is that it's going to take a while longer for me to produce videos to upload to PornHub. Hopefully they will bear with me as I find my footing again.

The truth is that I don't need a Daddy to aim to be the best little girl I can be. I just wish he'd stuck around, because I think he'd have been proud.

m <3

note1: I've begun the work of actively challenging my self-harming, self-destructive, antagonistic behaviors, or what I call spiraling. While my mental illness is real and I hope to find people sensitive to my patterns, I must be respectful in my actions towards others, no matter how much I want the world to burn that day. Hurting others does not help me feel better. I need to remember this.

I've found recently that when I'm spiraling, singing helps relieve pain much in the way that self-harm has in the recent past.

note2: this schedule is relatively flexible - I will follow it as best as possible, but if I decide to work out for 2 hours instead of 1, as long as I get everything done for the day and maintain consistent snapchat hours* I think minor adjustments are acceptable

*The one exception to consistent snapchat hours is if I decide to play with someone, but I don't expect to be playing with anyone other than the boyfriend (and possibly my fuckfriend, because let's be honest, who doesn't have at least one?)