Post three of four in the “Difficult with the D Words” series.

The other three can be found by clicking on each word below:





About three years ago, I wrote a post called “I want a Daddy….who’s not my ‘Daddy'” on another blog. It’s rife with a huge chunk of the past for me. Rereading it recently has been interesting. The desire to have a nurturing Dominant force in my life is one that’s been there for nearly as long as I’ve been in kink. In my very first D/s relationship twenty years ago, I was girl and my partner was Sir or Master, depending on when in the timeline of our relationship you were looking at. I sometimes wore frilly socks and mary janes, and I loved stuffies…but it never really came together to be a “Daddy/girl” thing. However one of the best feelings in the world was when he would call me “little girl” and kiss me on the forehead. I felt safe. Protected. Cherished.

With another more recent partner, I had talked about the possibility of exploring a Daddy/girl dynamic and they were amenable, but it never materialized. A few months after we talked about it, they also started dating someone that was one of the littlest littles that ever littled and I had no idea how to even begin to find my way with that kind of dynamic when they were just…perfect at it. I didn’t know how to take up any space in that role when it felt like all the space was already taken so I just didn’t bring it up again and neither did they.

This wasn’t the first time I’d felt this way. In a previous poly relationship, when another partner became known for really liking something, I wound up feeling overshadowed. Suddenly my interest in said thing didn’t matter. They had become “the one who likes ______.”

I wish in some ways that I hadn’t let my interest in that fall to the wayside because someone else was also interested. I also wish I would’ve had the ability to really open up about the way I was feeling to my metamour in the more recent relationship. But, for many reasons, I didn’t. There were also a few people coming into my life who were littles that I could’ve learned from, but I was basically terrified to let that part of myself out.

There were still common themes, though, threading through many of my relationships. I’ve gravitated towards D-type relationships that had an overarching sense of nurturing woven through them. The one partner who started dating the littlest little gave me assignments that had me writing every day, kneeling every day, creating art once a week. There was a punishment if I hid behind my hair. I was becoming a better, more confident, more creative person.

Until life and work started getting in the way. And they gradually stopped responding to my posts…to my texts…to me. I tried talking abut it; they tried being more aware; we tried fixing it. But it kept unraveling.

There was always something more important than me, it seemed. One time I remember texting, asking if hiding behind my hair was still not allowed. They responded with “that should never be allowed; you are better than that.”

(Side note: that message was sent on Independence Day which is just a painfully ironic thing to me in more than one way now.)

It was a double-edged sword. Hearing that I’m better than that, that I had value…but also a gutpunch realization: it’s hard to explain, but I felt that person pulling away… their involvement in punishing me if I hid like that was no longer there. And maybe I misunderstood. But it was never brought up again. So I’m guessing I didn’t misunderstand that that particular thing.

But with the Daddy dynamic, there’s more to it. The nurturing is at the forefront. The interest, the attention, the concern. It’s what drives the dynamic, for me. A feeling of protection. Someone who actively wants to care and make me feel good. And that I want to make feel good with all those good feelings.

Recently in therapy, I was talking about how I couldn’t even really fathom how to ask for Daddy stuff. Like, I can ask for any other kink stuff I’m into. I can also ask for non kink stuff: friend time, or music time, or talking, or whatever. Hell, I’m even better at asking about sex time than I am Daddy time. It was just a… blank pit for me. There’s terror. Like, legit terror.

My therapist theorized that perhaps it’s tied to what would happen when I was a child and asked for things from my father. She asked me what the results of asking were when I was a kid. Round about there, I started crying.

Let’s just say they weren’t good, usually. I would get yelled at for needing school supplies or clothes, anywhere I wanted to go was too far away, and the drinking and our death rides were verboten topics of conversation. If I disagreed with him, I was getting his blood pressure up and reminded that if he had a heart attack, it would be my fault. Overall, I was labeled a “good kid” but there was always something that wasn’t right about me. I was too heavy, too into musicals, read too much. In total, I was too much. And oddly, not enough.

There wasn’t a whole lot of nurturing.

Now, as my mom has told me, he loved me as much as he knew how. And I believe that. He provided a lot for me and still helps me from time to time. I also know that a lot of the bad shit fucked me up for intimacy in so many ways.

So, for years, I’ve been wanting this type of nurturing yet dirty D-type of connection. But was terrified and squicked by it. The closest I could come, conceptually, was a really doting Dom(me).

Until a friend put on a suit.

Until my brain scrambled a little when they sent me a pic of them getting ready to attend an event… in the suit.

Until they showed up outside a room wearing that suit at the event where I was setting up for a class and promptly lost all my words.

That was last year. I didn’t think a whole lot about it in the interim. I mean, maybe a little. But not connected to anything “Daddy” related. We played occasionally and were good friends. I wrote it off as a really nice thrill with no other meaning.

Until nearly a year later, when we started talking about going to another event and the suit came up. I think I said I’d love to see them in it again. They added it to their packing list.

Until they posted the pic that they sent me last year and used the word “Daddy” as part of the caption.

My brain might’ve short-circuited a little. I knew they weren’t MY Daddy getting ready. But the image and the word got linked in my brain in an entirely healthy, happy, and notgonnalie damn sexy way.

And when I told them this about this, (or rather, let’s be honest; when I embarassedly managed to get the words out all awkwardly) it intrigued them. We decided to explore it a little.

At first, it scared the hell out of me. I couldn’t make myself say the word “Daddy” out loud in person. I so wanted to. It was on the tip of my tongue but just would not come out.

Until I got home and was alone with my thoughts…and fingers. Then it flew out of my mouth. A lot. Rather loudly.

About a week later, I was able to say it in person. Which was exhilerating and mildly terrifying. And really, really HOT.

We started talking about exploring it a bit, as play partners. We went to a Daddy/girl social. Explored some. Texted some about it. It’s been…awesome. But really, really vulnerable.

For starters, somehow it’s made me… horny. Like, physically horny…a LOT. Randomly. Not just in scene.

This might not seem like that big deal. Thing is… I’m a gray ace. I’m not used to being physically horny. Especially randomly.

Now, granted, the gray part is an important modifier. I’m not 100% ace. But at any given time, there are only 1 – 3 people in the world that I’m sexually attracted to and it’s a fairly…innactive attraction. It’s not always present. Most times, there has to be a whole lot of flirting, energy build up, touching, kissing, and making out before the switch to “physically horny” flips on.

Usually, when I decide to have sex, I’ll literally mentally decide “oh, hey, sex sounds like a fun idea. Let’s give that a whirl.” If the other person is willing, and the flirting/touching/making out is all good, my body usually catches up at some point and sexy times can be had.

But this “hey, you’re at work… why not be really horny RIGHT NOW?! Open the floodgates!” is kinda new.

And I’m just standing there like a few weeks ago going, “where the FUCK did THAT come from?! It sure as hell wasn’t the newest promotional signs. Since when did 50% off make me think in terms of clothing?!”

Oh! Also, it infiltrated my dreams. I woke up horny more times in those initial few weeks than I had in the previous ten years. Like, I-need-to-do-something-about-this-right-now horny.

Seriously, what the fuck?!

It really sent me for a loop at the end of the summer when it all came rushing at me. And a bunch of experimenting happened, too, which was good, but also has left me unsure about how to proceed. Because that person, while they’ve helped unlock a part of me that’s been dormant a really long time, is not going to be my full-time Daddy. That’s something that we both agree on. Our lives are way too complicated right now and neither of us want to lose our strong foundation of friendship. We’ve talked about it on a play partner basis and at the time of those talks, were both interested in exploring in that way.

That being said, this dynamic feels incredibly vulnerable to be on the right side of the slash, and it feels even moreso on a play partner basis. So I’m not sure how to deal with that, but I think slowly and honestly are two good starts.

So I’m trying to balance that and still mildly terrified to ask for that time and type of interaction. And because life wasn’t chaotic enough, recently, I had a car accident. This has made it difficult for me to get to see this friend or anyone else I’m used to just getting in a car and driving to. It’s also brought up a real fucking strong desire to ask for Daddy time…but I still don’t quite know how. Nor did I know why until another therapy appointment and basically… it boils down to I’m having a hard time feeling safe since the accident.

We talked about it and she asked if I thought I could be a safe Daddy for myself. My brain melted a little and I think I said something like “I don’t even know what that fully means.” So we came up with a list:

A safe Daddy:

  • Is supportive
  • Lets me feel what I’m feeling
  • Is concerned with my well-being
  • Doesn’t put me at risk
  • Does self – care (as opposed to being selfish)
  • Validates my pain
  • Doesn’t make it all about him
  • Keeps promises (& doesn’t make ones he can’t keep)
  • Values & cherishes me
  • Let’s me know I’m important
  • Pays attention in healthy ways/amounts
  • Communicates

So. I’m working on being a safe Daddy for myself. And also working on asking for that kind of time/interaction. It’s also harder because I don’t ask for things unless I’m prepared to hear “no” as an answer. But right now, with this specific kink, and how I’ve been having a hard time feeling safe since the accident, hearing “no” feels even more vulnerable because it’s linked to such a fundamental feeling of safety and…worthiness? I’m not sure that’s the right word, but it’s close.

It’s just, even if the “no” is for a completely understandable reason (such as that person needing to take care of themself), it feels like it will hurt more. And I need to be in the proper headspace to deal with that and not react badly because this is not anyone else’s issue to fix. Anyone who enters into that space with me, I need to trust that they’re there willingly. They have every right to say “no” at any point. As do I. That’s what makes the “yes” so powerful, in this dynamic, when given freely. It’s two people consciously being vulnerable and safeguarding that vulnerability and making really amazing experiences happen. Experiences that have found a way like few other things can to heal parts of me that feel unworthy (okay, maybe it was the right word), unsafe, too much, or not enough.

In fact, one of the best moments during the limited exploring I’ve done with this dynamic came not from anything sexual or any physical play. It was a moment where they called me a “good girl” and then looked at me very earnestly and elaborated to make sure I knew that it wasn’t them that made me that way. “I’m just reminding you of what you already are.”

That’s the kind of Daddy/ies I want to explore with. Now if I could just get up the courage to seek it out/ask for it…

4 thoughts on “Daddy

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