by S. L. Finlay
The pang of rejection was strong though, when Daddy shook his head and told me, "girl, you are my slave baby girl. You are not my girlfriend. I am sorry."
There was a sadness, a tenderness, in how Daddy said those words. They made the blow of rejection that much harder to bear.
I wanted to run away, to let my legs take me away from him. I wanted to run, to hide. I couldn't deal with what I had just heard. My Daddy didn't want me, and that stung.
"May I please be excused, Daddy?" I asked, fully expecting him to say no and to have to run out of the study and later be punished, but that's not what happened. Daddy simply nodded and told me I could go, so I did. There was mercy in letting me leave. I turned to leave and before I was even out of the study, tears welled inside my eyes. I couldn't get enough air into my lungs as I choked down the air and my body was gripped by sobs. I let a few escape - I couldn't stop them - before I was out into the hall.
Down the hallway I ran, and I ran, and I ran. I ran all the way back to the little room. All the way back to my room where I threw myself on my bed and cried.
I could not tell you how long I cried for, but by the time I was done feeling sorry for myself, and went to take a shower to wash all the snot and tears from my time spent ugly-crying away, it was dark outside. As the warm water ran down my cool skin, I reflected on how long it must have been. But that didn't help me one little bit, so I let it go.
Spending hours crying didn't seem shameful when it came to that level of rejection. I had been literally living for this guy - with nothing in my life besides the things that pleased him - for what felt like years, even if it had only been months. After making him the center of my being, he had turned around and told me that it didn't matter, that he would never make me fully his in the way that I desired to be fully his.
The feelings of resentment grew inside of me, to replace the feelings of rejection, sadness and shock that had gripped me at first. I resented this man for everything. I resented him for having taken me in the first place. I resented him for this role of baby girl slave that even though I had consented to it had made me feel vulnerable to him. I resented him for being so attractive to me that I had hung around for so long hoping for a change in the form of the relationship. Worst of all was that I resented myself, too, and that I resented myself for getting involved in this in the first place more than I would ever allow myself to resent him.
I resented myself for ever signing up for this crazy idea, I resented myself for ever developing feelings for anyone, I resented myself for not doing what a normal person would have done and just eat chocolate and ice cream when their family member passed away, before getting a boring job just because it gave them some structure in their day and some semblance of a social life.
I could have been a woman with a hobby, rather than a woman who was kept as a sort of pet. But then, I reminded myself, I did kind of love this most of the time. There was a reason I had wanted it in the first place. I loved it. The dynamic really only sucked for me when I was pining over my Daddy or getting upset that he wouldn't love me in the way I had wanted to be loved - a way I had never even communicated to him in the first place.
Perhaps I was crazy, or perhaps I was just lonely. Loneliness is the biggest killer, or so they say. If I was suffering from deep, desperate loneliness, then it would explain a lot.
I was laying on my bed, having dried my soft skin with the towel before placing the towel under my head to capture the wetness from the hair that I couldn't be bothered drying when there was a knock at the door.
Sitting up straight, I ran my finders through my hair in an attempt to make it look good. If that was my Daddy, I was going to look good for him, even as he had hurt me and I resented him for that, I wouldn't have him see me in any way that I didn't decide he would see me.
I stood beside the bed and called, "coming!" To the door, allowing myself a small smile at the innuendo in that comment before reaching for the cool door knob and opening the door.
Standing there, of course, was not my Daddy but was a butler, all turned out in coat and tails as usual. He was smiling at me and had a tray of food ready for me. It must be dinner time, I mused as I looked down at the tray.
Nodding once, I moved out of the way and allowed Al to wheel the tray into my room where he would set the table for one and allow me to eat my dinner, as happened when I was being punished.
But was I being punished? I had done nothing wrong. I had done exactly what my Daddy had told me to do. In fact, when I thought about it, when he set a task for me to do and I completed it. That was what good slave girls did for their Daddies. So what was the problem? Even if the answers Daddy sought were different to the ones which he received, Daddy had to know that I had feelings for him. He had to know that all along.
Being a woman who can never fully hide her feelings was something that came at a great disadvantage. Before I had live here, I was frequently in a position where I couldn't hide my feelings of resentment from a boss who made me work on a weekend, or couldn't hide my upset feelings from family members. Now, I was the slave of a man who either didn't know, or likely denied, the feelings I had for him.
Al finished setting my table and placed a letter beside the place setting he had set for me. "This is for you." He told me with a little knowing smile.
Nodding, I sat down at the place where he had indicated and took the letter in hand. With that, Al was gone and I was left wondering, just what is wrong with my Daddy and am I ready to open this letter?
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
I finished my dinner before I opened it. I couldn't bring myself to pry open the letter and read those words. I couldn't bring myself to expose my already bleeding heart to the pain of more rejection that I knew must be surely coming.
When I had finally finished my dinner - or at least, when I had had my fill of tiny portions of everything - I opened up the letter slowly and withdrew the paper.
Although the paper was light, it felt heavy in my hands, like the weight of all my heartbreak before it had happened.
Al had smiled, but it was the kind of knowing smile one gives you when they think they know what's going on, but perhaps don't. Perhaps, too, Al didn't like me I thought as I slowly unfolded the letter, a sense of dread in my chest. This letter could say anything, anything at all, and I didn't really want to deal with it, whatever it was. I didn't feel ready for what was to come.
But then I had opened the letter and was staring down at Daddy's words.
Dear girl,
I am sorry for what happened before. I did not mean to upset you. You must know in your heart that I do care about you and want what is best for you, however, I am nobody's boyfriend. I am your Master, I am your Sir, and I am your Daddy. There is no room for me to also be your boyfriend.
Please appreciate that these words are not being said to hurt you, but are sincere. I do want to care for you, girl, but not in the way that you crave so badly.
You will come to my bed this evening, as you do every evening, and be a good little slave bed warmer. You will keep my bed warm and you will let go of any notion of me as your partner.
For this is the way of things.
With love,
Daddy
I was angry. I could not believe what I was reading. Here was this man whose words provoked a sort of tenderness in my heart, but also ripped my heart from my chest at the same time. Angrily, I scrunched up Daddy's letter into a ball and started making a plan of escape. I wasn't going to be anyone's bed warmer, I was going to be someone's girlfriend, someones partner, or nothing at all.
My rebellious spirit was what drove me on to gather my things - or at least to gather some things to aid my escape from this mansion - and to go.
I had gathered some clothes into a pink fairy bag that that been left here from the previous occupant and that I had loved so much that I kept. I also gathered up a few extra things I thought I would need like some cash I had found hidden in my room.
I was
wearing overalls and carrying a fairy bag. I knew I must look cute and girly as hell, but I meant business. As cute as I looked, I had several thousand dollars set aside in the bag to get me where I needed to go, some spare clothes and a few toiletries like my tooth brush, and I was ready to go. I was ready to leave my Daddy's home and to strike out on my own.
Without anything that could resemble a real plan, I walked out into the hallway and downstairs. I left through a side door then began running across the mansion lawns, fairy backpack on my back. I felt like I was flying, but was sure I couldn't be moving too fast in these childish pink sneakers.
Feeling just like a little girl running away from a big scary monster of my own emotions, I climbed the fence - badly, awkwardly, slowly - and wound up half-falling onto the sidewalk that ran under the fence. I skinned both knees and landed with a thud, but I was free.
Now where would I go? I thought to myself as I looked up and down the deserted street. I had never hitch hiked anywhere before, and even if I wanted to, there were no cars driving here.
When I realized that I really had no idea where I was, I tried to retrace the roads we had used on the few occasions where I had left Daddy's mansion. I walked left up the street, and began what was to be a very long walk home to my mothers old home.
No man was going to tell me not to love him. No man was going to tell me what sort of relationship I was going to have with him, and force me into a box that I had grown out of.
This girl was her own person, and she was going to make her own way in life.
Now, if only I could work out where I was.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
I was walking for what felt like a long time before I started to get tired. My shoes, being little pink high-tops that had never been worn in, were beginning to wear on my feet and I could feel blisters forming on my feet, feet made soft from the lack of walking and shoes while being Daddy's live-in slave. I could feel fatigue too. I was tired, and I was sore, and I didn't want to keep doing this.
As much as running away from Daddy's mansion was a little silly, I didn't feel like I wanted to return still.
Without a phone, I couldn't call a cab, or anyone I knew from my old life - not that they'd care - to ask for help. I wound up finding a tree to fall asleep underneath and laying my head there.
Until I lay my head down, I didn't realize how tired I was. Emotionally, I was exhausted. Physically I wasn't far behind after spending far too much time crying and feeling sorry for myself. I didn't have time to reflect on that though before I fell into a deep sleep, one which was so deep that I couldn't rise from it, even if I'd wanted to.
The next morning I awoke to the sound of bird song. The feeling of waking completely free was both liberating and frustrating. Now I was awake, I had to find my own path. This was hard.
It took me longer to move that morning than it usually would, but I forced my legs to move regardless. I had places to be, and besides, I was hungry.
My legs carried me in the same direction I had been walking last night until I came across a major road. This road was larger, and I guessed would have more cars than other roads I had passed. Having never hitched a lift anywhere before, I stuck my thumb out when I saw a car and got someone to stop right away. Beginners luck. Climbing in the car, I told the driver, a woman around my age, that I was just going to the nearest town.
She took one look at me in my infantile clothes, with my fairy bag and the dirt that must be on my face from sleeping rough. When I thought about it too, my hair that I'd slept on had to be pretty messy too. I hadn't thought much about my appearance until I was in this womans gaze. Feeling self conscious, I turned back to face the road, "okay lady." She said in a voice that told me she really didn't want to know why I looked the way I did.
As she drove, I looked over at her, with her dark hair and apple-shaped body, I felt that this matronly lady was familiar. I wanted to talk to her, in the way small children find women that remind them of their own mothers want to talk to them, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. I couldn't bring myself to reach out, even to this stranger.
I was dropped off in an American town which looked much the same as every other American town. It had a diner where I went to have something to eat. I was starving, and couldn't think straight as a result.
Sitting down, I ordered a big breakfast which came with bottomless coffee. I really, really needed that coffee!
The waitress poured me some coffee and disappeared to take some other customers' order. Looking around, I wondered what people would think of me. This was the first time in what felt like a lifetime - but was only back until Daddy's mother's funeral - that I had worn clothes. It was the first time since then, too, that I had been out of the house, and the first time I had ordered my own food as Daddy had me on a special diet that was supposed to be good for my health.
I knew by looking at me, no-one could tell that I was a now homeless ex baby girl slave. That would be, they wouldn't be able to tell that about me if they knew what a baby girl slave was in the first place. I assumed from the look of these people that they didn't know much about consensual slavery. The diner was made up of respectable families and middle-class people. I knew if the term 'consensual slavery' was floated to them, they'd likely furrow their brows and think me a strange character who wore funny clothes and uttered oxymorons.
My breakfast arrived, and I wolfed it down. About half way through demolishing my breakfast, it occurred to me that I should just go home. I had signed a contract giving Daddy my assets, but he hadn't known where I lived in the first place. Daddy had enough money that he didn't need my assets in the first place, it was just one of those things people put in a contract but never act on. I still felt that even though the contact couldn't be legally binding, that it was. It just felt too real somehow.
After I paid for my meal, I thought, I would go hire a car with a GPS system and go home. I had enough money for that.
Finishing my breakfast in what felt like record time I went up to the counter to pay. Asking the waitress for advice on where to go to rent a car, I was told that there was a hire car place a few towns over. Smiling at the woman, I gave her a handsome tip which she was very grateful for and made my way back to the main road. Knowing the name of the next town would make it easier to get a lift. This time though, I was lucky enough that there was a cab and I wouldn't have to hitchhike. I waved the cab down and told him that I wanted to go to the car rental place in the town that I had been told about previously. With a curt nod, the driver, a middle-aged Indian man, drove me there in silence.
Out of the cab and into the car office. It was a quick process that got me into a car, but by the time I left the lot in my new car, it was already past lunch time and I had some driving to do. I would be lucky to arrive home before dark.
But, I would be going home, I urged myself on as I drove. I had some place to be, and I had had this whole adventure with a Daddy that I could hold close to myself whenever I got curious again. This whole lifestyle BDSM thing wasn't for me, and I knew that now. But the time away from my life had given me perspective. Daddy's little task had given me perspective too.
I knew that I wanted a relationship, I knew that I wanted to have those friends, and that financial independence. Sometimes you have to do things in an unconventional way to realize that what you want is exactly what everyone else around you wants. It's exactly what others wanted for you when you were young.
And here I was, ready to have all those things. It had just taken me a long time to get to this place. Now I was here though, I would gain the tools to fix the problem.
The whole drive home, I didn't listen to the radio. I just thought and drove. I had plenty to think about, and driving was my antidote for all the thoughts and feelings that were bubbling to the surface.
I would find a job, I would go out more, I would make a concerted effort to meet someone nice. I knew what I wanted in a partner now, and I knew what I wanted from my friends.
&n
bsp; By the time I arrived home, I had a head full of plans. I had rented the car with the agreement that I would return it to a rental car place owned by the same company, a franchise that was in my town too. I had paid a higher rate for this, but didn't much care as it meant that I would be home sooner, and being home was what was important to me. Plus, the money was money I had found in my bedroom at Daddy's mansion anyway.
In the darkness, I fumbled for the spare key that hid under a rock in the front yard and let myself in. Locking the door behind me, I walked through the familiar dark house and found my room. Everything, of course, was just how I left it as I crawled into bed. For the second night in a row, I was so tired that I fell asleep with no problems.
Being home felt amazing, but I would have to think about how wonderful it was later, I thought to myself as sleep dragged me under. Now was the time for rest.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The next day I awoke not to twittering birds as I had awoken the day before, but to the sound of loud banging. The banging ripped me from my warm and light dreams into a reality which was heavy and dark. It made me sad when I realized I was back home, that yet another relationship had failed, and that I now had to get a job. Oh, how difficult that was and how I didn't want to do it!
But for right now, I would need to see who was at that door.
Sitting up in my bed, I realized that I was still wearing the clothes from the night before. Shaking my head, I decided to ignore that. The banging was more insistent and just as loud as it came again, I needed to see who that was.