The morning after I first call my husband Daddy, it is Saturday, he wakes me up in the dark again by climbing on top of me, and I think I will lie there in peaceful silence again. But I find out quickly that Michael is not in a peaceful mood, he is pure animal this morning. He is strong, muscled, heavy, and he is a force on top of me. I can barely catch my breath, caught in the storm of his lust, wave after wave of lust. He pounds me hard, holding me tight by my neck. Then he flips me over onto my hands and knees, and pounds his cock into me from behind, smacking my ass at the same time, hot jolts that ratcheted up the excitement in my body. And just like in those little domination gifs, he shoves my head down as he fucks me, holding it hard against the mattress.
I know that if someone happened to be watching us at that moment, it would look alarmingly wrong. I cannot believe how I like it, this thing that looks degrading from the outside, yet feels so kind. To have my head pushed hard against the mattress is somehow a grounding thing, an anchor that holds part of me still as I am caught up in the wave of animal lust. Then he grabs a hand full of my hair, pulls my head back. I am wide open accepting, I am only vaguely aware of the pain in my scalp. He is so excited by the pulling of my hair that he shudders to an orgasm. After he pulls his cock out, I am lying flat on my stomach, his fingers shove inside my pussy, and he keeps finger-banging me, with little growls, then slides two fingers in my ass, it hurts a little, but I relax, keep letting go, oh wonderful. It is all is raw pleasure, being held down, controlled, smacked. Let go, no thought, just feel, here now now now, yes.
He flips me over and again, spreads my legs open, slides his fingers into me again, stirring me, opening me, so hot blood engorged open yielding. He holds my head still, whispers in my ear, he tells me he wants all of me. Then his tongue plunges into my ear, stiff and warm, it feels like sexual penetration of another sort. I have never felt sexual excitement in my head, he is penetrating my mind almost, I am so hyper-excited that I come hard in an electric whoosh that I feel all the way into my feet.
After two hours, my nervous system is overwhelmed, I am completely conquered into submission, and I cannot stop looking into his eyes as he lies beside me, facing me. I feel hypnotized.
I try to say, Thank you Daddy. But it comes out as, “Thank you, Da……”
I can’t say the word. Although I had happily called him Daddy the night before, and made mental peace with the idea, I somehow cannot bring myself to say it in the light of morning. It makes me swell up with some unnameable emotion that will take me awhile to unravel.
The Inner Battle
As we get up and get dressed, we are both overwhelmed by the strength of the storm between us. We wander into the living room. But instead of heading to the coffee maker, we both end up sitting dazed on the couch.
He says, “I’ve never felt out of control like that. I was in a frenzy.”
“Yes,” I say. “Frenzy is a good word for it.”
We are both revealing our most basic animal selves to each other, and it is wonderful and terrifying all at once. I am thrown off balance. I do not recognize either him or myself.
We assure each other we are okay. But even though I keep opening my mouth to say the word, “Daddy,” it stalls in my throat. He, however, is saying it frequently, referring to himself in the third person as “Daddy,” and it gives me a little twist of annoyance each time. I want to tell him to stop, although I don’t know why, when the night before it was so clearly what I wanted, what I felt was right. Why can’t I say it?
As the day wears on, I fall into an uncomfortable funk. We decide to go the movies, and I ride along in the passenger seat wondering what is wrong with me, am I just tired from being overstimulated, from being off balance from all the emotion of the past week? I don’t want to admit it is because maybe I don’t like the Daddy Dom thing after all because he clearly likes it. Then we get out of the car and he grabs me by the wrist, pulls me along across the parking lot.
And there it is again, this sudden letting go inside myself, this surrender to power. And I realize this is also a submissive trigger, to be pulled along by the wrist, rather than walking side by side, hand in hand. It is also is a very Daddy specific trigger, it takes me back to being a little girl, being pulled along by an adult. Suddenly I am having no problem at all feeling like Daddy’s girl, and in the dark movie theater, I snuggle up against him, and I find myself taking his thumb into my mouth, sucking on it, and it feels soothing to me, like sucking on a pacifier. He moans and whispers to me that I am a good girl, and I am so warm and pleased. I would love to suck on his thumb the entire movie, but I am afraid other people will see.
I walk out to the car in momentary peace, but on the way home, the tension that has churned in my mind all day returns. I feel pulled by the deep desire for Michael to be the Daddy, my Daddy, and yet also feel myself pushing away from it. To call him “Daddy” feels like a pretense I don’t know how to make real. I don’t want any falseness in this relationship, any silliness. How can I think of myself – middle-aged me, so large and unwieldy – as his girl? It feels absurd. It feels impossible.
Later, as I make dinner, the inner tension and tiredness makes me feel brittle. He is practicing knots, so he can tie me up. I feel a struggle inside me, I don’t feel like being tied up, I want to say no, and if I do? This whole dynamic will fall apart. It all suddenly feels fragile, and the tension in me escalates. I am upset because I feel I need to make a choice whether to let him tie me up or not, and if I make the wrong choice, then this whole marvelous adventure is finished. I hate this static. I hate having this power.
This thought makes me laugh out loud. Oh right, I remember now. I have agreed to surrender power, I don’t have to make a choice, I don’t have to figure out this Daddy thing right now, I just have to do what Michael wants, that’s it. No choice, no resistance, no struggle. My mental tension falls away, I am instantly at peace. It is stunning, how instant that peace.
Surrender Is Sweet
I make us some drinks. And when I am good and buzzed, I stand in the living room, naked from the waist up as we follow along with our new “basic bondage” video. His arms go around me, again and again, drawing the soft rope around me, wrapping me up. I feel like a true object, still and peaceful as a statue, as he ties me in a beautiful rope breast harness, with my hands trapped behind me.
When he is done, I am amazed, it feels so good, the rope tight around my breasts, I feel held. I walk around with my bare breasts jutting out, and go into the bathroom to admire his handiwork in the mirror. Oh, I am beyond amazed by the waves of warm delicious feeling radiating from my bound breasts throughout my body, tranquilizing my mind.
I want to know if I can lie on his lap while I am wearing the harness, and he gives me permission. I lie my head on his leg with the TV on and he reaches out to idly play with my over-pronounced nipples. Dear God the sweet heat of it. He gets turned on, and fucks me there on the couch. And I still don’t say the word Daddy, but I think it, oh yes I think it, he is my daddy, giving it to me for my own good.