"The Ritual" - Daddy & Princess

[Deleted Member]

Princess:
The collar didn’t just change our dynamic — it changed me.
From the moment Daddy fastened it around my neck, I felt it.
The shift.
I wasn’t just submitting for a month anymore.
I was living in devotion.
His Princess. Fully, entirely, endlessly his.

Daddy:
She wore it beautifully.
Not like a girl pretending to serve.
Like a woman who knew exactly where she belonged.
She didn’t need to ask for permission anymore.
She breathed for me.
And I gave her everything in return — structure, ownership, purpose.
But most importantly... ritual.

Princess:
Daddy introduced The Ritual on the first morning.
He woke me with a whisper and a tug on my leash.
No words. Just silence and intention.
I followed on hands and knees to the foot of his chair, my pulse thudding in my ears.
I knelt, forehead to floor, and waited.
And when he finally touched my head…
Everything inside me stilled.
I had never felt more grounded.
More seen.

Daddy:
There’s power in repetition.
In devotion offered freely, again and again.
Every morning, she kneels. Every evening, she kisses my palm before bed.
No matter how filthy the day has been, how many times I’ve taken her, made her moan, beg, break —
She still finds her place at my feet.
And I reward her for it.
Always.

Princess:
The rituals were never for his ego.
They were for us.
They created space to remember why I submit.
Why I ache to hear him call me his.
Why I glow when he says, “Good girl,”
Or cups my face and whispers,
“Mine.”

Daddy:
She started writing a journal.
Not because I told her to — but because she needed to reflect.
Each page was filled with thoughts, triggers, lessons, little notes she left for me.
Sometimes I’d find hearts next to lines like:
“I cried today. Daddy held me.”
Or,
“He made me wait three hours. I came harder than I ever have.”
She bloomed under ritual.
Not just sexually, but emotionally.
And I made sure her petals were never crushed.
Only kissed open, one by one.

Princess:
Daddy gave me tasks every day.
Not always dirty.
Sometimes, I had to prepare his favourite drink and serve it with both hands.
Other times, I was told to write out ten reasons I was proud to be his.
Then there were the nights he made me kneel in silence while he read.
I would ache. Throb. Tremble.
But I loved every second of the ache.
Because it was all part of becoming something more than just his submissive.
I was becoming his legacy.

Daddy:
I knew she was ready for the final part when she looked up at me one morning and whispered:
“Daddy… I don’t want to belong anywhere else.”
That’s when I took her hand and brought her into the ritual room.
A space I’d prepared long before she ever came back to me.
Candlelight. Cushions. Warmth. Intimacy.
At the center — a pillow with her name embroidered in soft grey thread.
Her place.
Forever.

Princess:
He led me to the pillow, eyes soft but stern.
He guided me to kneel, stripped me bare, and whispered the final vow in my ear:
“You are not on loan.
You are not under trial.
You are not temporary.
You are mine. Fully. Always.”
And then he kissed my collar.
Not my lips.
Not my thighs.
My collar.
Because that’s where I live now.
In his hands.
At his feet.
In his world.

Daddy:
There’s no contract on the desk now.
No end date. No review.
Just a girl who became a Princess.
And a Princess who became a legacy.
Every breath she takes now is mine.
And every moment we share is built on the quiet truth that she craved all along:
This isn’t a game.
It’s a life.
Our life.
Forever.

[Deleted Member]

Beautiful!!! Absolutely brillant!!!

[Se****]

🥰