Dates in London

Don’t bark orders. Speak them low, steady, and certain. I’ll defy you. I’ll glare, I’ll pout, I’ll push — not to win, but to feel the edges of your control. Make them sharp. Make them real. Make me earn your approval with every gasp and every bruise.

Correct me because you care. Punish me not in anger, but in purpose. Turn my brat into obedience, one strike at a time, until I’m panting for your praise more than your belt. Until “yes, Sir” isn’t just an answer — it’s a need.

Make me remember the rules when your palm lands hard. Make me crave structure when the sting settles into heat. I’ll test you — because I need to feel that you won’t break. That no matter how far I push, you’ll be there, unshaken.

So teach me, Daddy. Show me where the line is — and be the one who holds it, every time I fall.