A BDSM Letter to my daughter upon reaching the age of Leatherly Consent
First – this letter is going nowhere, until my daughter (and probably an edit for my son) reaches the age of leatherly consent. Ie, when she’s an adult and I’m no longer freaking out about every boy she looks at. (Thank God that only entails Justin Bieber, Thor and Superman right now. Although she’s eyeing up Rainbow Dash, so maybe it’s a bi thing. I would be okay with a human Rainbow Dash. Just please God, not Rarity.) This is a letter that’s going to take me at least a decade to edit and get right. So first draft, no? -------------------------------------------------- My dearest girlie, Daddy was a rebel kinkster too. Daddy dyed his hair, Daddy wore chaps, and Daddy pierced things. Daddy even rebelled against “the man”, raged against “the machine”, and protested to “take back the night”. All of the things that your current mother and I roll our eyes over now - we did when we were your age. Your new friends didn't invent them. They inhe