Daddy had always told her what to think and who to be, and she knew that was right. it was only right that He tell her what opinions she should have, what values and morals, because he was always smarter, always better, always above her. He had made her after all, and that kind of made Him God, right? Her creator and teacher - her mentor and guide as to who and what she should be in this world that was so confusing and stressful sometimes. Daddy said it was wrong for her to think, because she wasn’t made for it. Her mind was pathetic and weak - like a sponge that was only good for soaking up what she was told. Her opinions were worse than useless - they were an insult to the fact that anything she could think of that didn’t come from Him would always be stupid and pathetic by comparison to the truth and perfection that came from His thoughts.
No, He was her God, and she worshiped Him. So she made her life about pleasing Him, about securing the most precious things imaginable - His approval, His attention, His Cock. She dressed for Him, thought for Him, edged for Him and fucked for Him. She worked day and night to be better, tighter, hotter and wetter for Him. Her thoughts began and ended with Him and her only desire in the work was for Him to want her. It was always Him, Him, Him, The reward was bliss and joy - bliss in the knowledge that she was owned and controlled by her God. Joy in being His, always His. No matter who used her, no matter who paid for her, no matter what filthy, depraved and humiliating uses she was put to - His ownership and love was her shield and her Balm. Everything was worth His slightest smile and touch, nothing was worth risking the slightest hint of disappointment.
She is empty, because He is everything. She is broken because He is perfect. She is weak because He is strong. Daddy is her God, and she worships Him.
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