For the longest time, Michael has been openly calling me his baby girl, and referring to himself as my Daddy. He is able to say the words with an unabashed confidence that I cannot yet match. Most often I still call him “Daddy” only under my breath, barely audible. Oh, I call him Daddy in my mind continually, no problem, I write it here in this chronicle with ease. But I still feel silly when I say it out loud in the space between us. Well, unless in throes of sex, when the word bursts out of me, as if tired of being pent up.
I don’t know why this hesitance, this embarrassment. It seems to be a common enough longing in women. I look up “Daddy Dom” in Amazon, and come up with hundreds of books, erotic novels in which a stepfather (usually) is the romantic hero, and teaches his curious teenage stepdaughter about her body, about her sexuality. I wonder if this triggers some sort of universal archetype in our minds. It is definitely the mental framework we have built for our particular expression of dominance and submission. Michael is my stepfather figure, and I am the girl who needs him to sexually teach and care for me.
In so many ways, I feel that this is what he is literally doing for me. While I had a definite model for sex as good clean fun growing up (Thanks, Mom), I did not have a good model for sex as an expression for love. And for most of my life, sex and love have never been very well-connected. I was plenty sexually adventurous, but I also remained distant from the act, and from my own body’s participation in it. It seemed like a game I’d play on occasion, a grown-up game that made me laugh. But most of the time, I’d feel so disconnected from my body that I’d pretty much never let my lover see my body naked if I could help it.
In our first relatively vanilla year together, Michael helped my body learn to experience sex as the full expression of love. Through his loving care and acceptance of my body, he helped me shed inhibitions, open up to him, and trust him deeply. But that was only the first part in a much bigger journey. Now, in handing my body and sexual will over to him as my husband and looking at him as my dominant Daddy, I feel like he is literally teaching me how to inhabit my body, inhabit my sexuality.
In tying the rope around my breasts – especially when it is so tight I have to stay aware of them sticking out so bare and vulnerable at every minute – he alters my perception of them. In his constant pinching and sucking of my nipples, he is giving me no choice but to feel my own breasts in a sexual way for more than just brief moments. After hours in that harness, I am achingly aware of the sexual purpose of my breasts, my body. And for the first time in my life, I feel I am finally connecting to myself as a sexual creature, someone designed by nature for the purpose of sex and love.
In giving myself sexually to my husband, he is giving me my sexual self back to me. And now I understand why that first day I submitted to him, I was so rocked by the feeling of ‘this is who I really am.’ I’d assumed I was feeling that way about being submissive, but now I believe I felt that because submitting to him makes me feel so sexual, so alive and present in my body.
Paradoxically, in this dynamic that seems like such a game on the surface, I can finally stop looking at sex as a game. I don’t think this ever would have happened for me in a normal marriage of equal partners. My own strong-willed version of myself, my culturally induced hostility to my body, and my disconnected relationship to sex all got in the way.
Now, several months into D/s and power exchange, I am for the first time ever in my 51 years, walking around comfortable with my body, comfortable being without clothes, even preferring to be without clothes when Michael is home. It feels miraculous, this change, as if I have finally been granted permission by a loving generous father figure to own my sexual nature, inhabit my true self.
The question that has been lurking at the back of my mind is: Am I too caught up in this discovery to interpret it correctly? Is sexual submissiveness the only way for me to get there? Is that truly who I am underneath it all, what I need long term? Is it even possible to live it long term?
It takes true effort to keep the dynamic alive, the 50/50 relationship is so much a part of us and our default way of relating. We are pretty high on the D/s dynamic at the moment, but we are burning very hot, the intensity is overwhelming, and I can’t help but wonder: Will we burn each other out before we figure out how to keep it alive in a sustainable way?
Last night I got a little bit of an answer to my questions. After several days of being distracted by ordinary life and work and kids, the D/s dynamic sort of faded away, and by the weekend, we had drifted into our ordinary husband and wife way of being, doing not much on a Saturday, having dinner at the lake, watching a funny movie. It was 9 o’clock at night when he surprised me by saying it was time to lay across his lap. I laughed, a little uncomfortable. I was not in the submissive mindset at all, and it felt suddenly silly to pull off my pants and lie across his lap. That feeling of silliness gave me a moment of worry, oh shit, this isn’t really me, is it? I am a grown woman, an intelligent person, am I really going to go through with this absurd ritual every night?
But I didn’t say any of those things out loud, I just obeyed, lay across his lap. And then came his hands pulling my panties down… Then came that vulnerable feeling, and the building anticipation… And then came the hot smacks of his hand… And my mind went quiet and still and peaceful, as it always does. It did not feel absurd at all, but necessary to me. It felt essential. And when it was over, I thought yes, yes, yes, this is who I am, this is what I need, Daddy knows what I need, I am so lucky to have him.
I was elated to have my moment of doubt so decisively chased away, to have the grown woman who lives only in my head brought back to my body and put back in my proper place. I spent the rest of the evening tight against him, held in his arms, floating in the feeling of submissive serenity. And knowing I have given my trust to the right man. And feeling the most amazing relief that I don’t have to worry about how to sustain it long term, that is his job. My only job is to submit to what he asks, no matter my mood of the moment, and he will keep liberating my true self.
Daddy will take care of me.