Letters to My Dom pt 4

This is the fourth part of ongoing letters and journal entries of a new besotted submissive.        
          
           
My precious Daddy, I want you to know I love being your Princess. ( As the song says, "You should see me in a crown." lol.) You make me special. And I don't mean just the feeling of it, I mean knowing it indisputably.            
           
I wish the world could understand what it is we have, knowing I'm not weak because I submit myself to you. I don't sacrifice my desires for yours. My desire is to please you. What the world will never understand is that you know me in some ways better than I know myself. You are so intuitive that you fulfill my desires before they're voiced - even down to your wardrobe.          
           
The way you say my name literally melts me. My pussy gets hot and my arousal starts to seep into my panties. My nipples stiffen and poke through the fabric of my top. Without even touching me you have my clit throbbing.          
           
Unintentionally, I find myself squeezing my thighs together as I bite my lower lip. My breath quickens, and before I know it, I'm panting. My small fists ball-up so tightly my knuckles turn white. I use every ounce of strength to keep from cramming my hand into my panties.          
           
You know exactly what you're doing to me. You tell me "Ungh-uh-uh, don't you dare touch yourself, Little One."          
           
Like the finest pianist or painter of fine arts, you are undoubtedly an artist yourself. You wield anticipation as a catalyst to bring me undiscovered pleasures, exponentially multiplying the sexual intensity.          
           
My refinement and self-control diminish from one moment to the next. Soon, I'm no longer trying to think in ordered rational thoughts. I'm stripped of civility, reverting to animalistic behavior as my mind focuses only on satiating my urges.          
           
I want you so bad it hurts. You lie me back and undress me slowly - too fucking slowly. You fold each garment neatly and store them in the closet meticulously. "You wont be needing these until you leave, so I'm putting them away."          
           
You are completely enthralled with my dressing down. You're not simply removing my clothes, you're removing any doubt of who is in control.          
           
With every movement you make, I'm hyper-focused. I'm willing myself through each torturous moment. If I can just endure each deliberately slothful movement you make as you peel off my panties, I'll finally have you.          
           
You, however, have other ideas. "OK Little One - (five seconds of silence) - you may - (five more damn seconds) hold onto the c-o-l-d, i-r-o-n, h-e-a-d-b-o-a-r-d behind you. (Fuck, can't he talk faster!) Do not remove your hands without my permission."          
           
My arms shoot up so quickly my tits bounce. "Yes sir...I mean, yes Daddy." I keep forgetting that you prefer Daddy over sir. As you furrow your brow, your authority is asserted with a sharpness that is undeniable, "you know better. You will be punished until you remember what Daddy's rules say... "Yes, Daddy!"