Actually, I love it when you call me “Daddy.”
Sends shivers down my spine. Tells me so much about what I want to know in one single word. Gives me a nice and warm feeling. It would make my dick’s pussy wet if that were a thing.
Sir? I recognize the sexiness in you saying it, but I’m not a big fan. I can’t fault you for not knowing my preferences though. The way I see it, it gets an A for effort.
But some of these names are just dumb. Master, or Mister, just seems so fabricated. You might as well just call me the fucking Count Dick of Darkness, slap a black cape on me, and have me run around the house with my hard-on out making sounds like a ghost.
Nope. Call me Daddy. Because if you do, I’m gonna be yanking your hair like I’m starting a lawnmower. I’m gonna eat that pussy until you collapse. I’m going to finger a couple orgasms out of you like they’re bad for you and I’m trying to save your life. You will have my motor fully revved up.
Call me Daddy, Babygirl. Call me Daddy, Kitten.
Save the Sith Lord of Flogging for someone who won’t laugh.