So Daddy goes off to work this morning and I send him my thoughts about our little D/s moment of crisis from last night, and my epiphany on how I want to be more forcefully dominated. More forcefully forced. And this is what he writes me back:
Well, my suddenly rebellious teenager, you have been a bad girl haven’t you? .. So, I ask myself: Can I be the very strong Daddy you need me to be? Can I run roughshod over my baby girl when she gets wobbly? .. No, that’s the wrong question, .. Of course I can, .. the better question is do I want to? A few weeks ago, I would have said, ‘no’, that’s not me, but our D/s dynamic continuously evolves and reveals and awakens, and as we peel back the layers, I am often surprised and occasionally shocked by the severity of my masculine essence, .. I thrill at turning you over my knee and smacking your ass and cramming your face into our mattress while fucking you, .. Still, the question remains, do I want to run roughshod when you’re rebellious, when you’re reluctant? Do I need to show you who your Daddy is in those moments? Is that me? As you point out, societal indoctrination to respect others is strong, .. ‘no’ means ‘no’ and all that, .. but if my cock is any indication (currently stiff), it’s definitely in my nature to impose and subdue, even when you’re unwilling, so the want is there, .. time will tell if I’m capable, I suppose.
Of course then I ask myself the next obvious question: What if I’m not the very strong Daddy my baby girl needs? Where does that leave us?
When I read this, which I basically interpret as, “ I guess we’ll see,” I feel very unsettled. It’s not what I expected him to say. I thought it would be something like, oh yeah baby, gonna use whatever dominant force necessary to keep this D/s ship sailing on smooth seas. Or words to that effect. Instead, I hear him saying he is not sure how dominant he really is. I don’t like it. And so I write him back:
Oh Daddy, what a big self-deceiver I have been, and maybe you have been one too. What in the world are we DOING? Do we really have any idea of what dominance and submission even means? I have been so busy focusing on the finer points of submission, and the sexual love juice of it, I never much thought about the domination side of things, only that I knew it was the more difficult side of it, the greater responsibility. But I take that back –
I have the more difficult side, because it is really me running this show. You have said you don’t know if you are capable or not of being in true and literal control of me. If I am not in the mood, or can’t find the submissive impulse, well you might not be able to insist. So if there is no dominant on the other side, then by default, it is up to me and my will and my moods and my consent whether it works or not, and that makes ME the fucking dominant, jesus Christ, fucking AGAIN. And I am PISSED, probably not at you, I think you are amazing brave wonderful to take on this crazy experiment with me at all.
But I am back where I was when I tried to play the dominant role with previous husband, and it slowly occurred to me that the whole thing was happening per his desires, the supposed submissive. I knew then it was all an elaborate play-acting game, and now it seems that no matter which way I turn, I cannot escape elaborate play-acting. Seriously, how can we call it domination if it is at my pleasure not yours? As I was pouting and shutting down last night over a stupid fucking butt plug, oh I felt I’d become so absurd, unable to manage my evermore intense desires. I feel so lost and I don’t know where safety is. It’s supposed to be with you, in your solid sense of what is right for me, but the few times I have pushed it, I have felt your hesitance, you hold back, for what reasons I am not sure. It could be that it just takes time to be confident in a new way of relating. But it also could be that it is an impossible task, in the real world anyway –
When I read D/s erotica stories, there is no negotiation for “safe, sane and consensual” scenes, there is always some set up in which the woman is given no choice at all, she is forced to submit, sold into marriage, or given to some man for some reason, or some other set up in which he literally owns her or has legal right to her body. That is the female fantasy of submission, no choice, being owned, forced, that is where the peace lies. But that is fiction.
I had assumed that submission and being dominated were the same experience, but they’re not. Submitting by choice is wonderful and sexy, but if it is only by choice, then here comes all the noisy static of choice. Do I want this, do I like this, am I in the mood for this, and so on. There is no peace in choice for me. Being dominated is a much different feel, a more wild and raw thing, and I am discovering I need that as much or even more than simple submission …
It can’t be only my responsibility to make this work, I can’t be the only one who is willing to cross the boundary of acceptability, the only one willing to take all the psychological risk – and oh there is risk. I have been trying to turn my mind over to you in the most real way, and on some days it has been almost scary effective. But what is the risk for you? You smashing my face against the mattress when you know I like and want it? What is the risk in that?
I don’t know if that is the right question, I don’t what I’m saying, or asking exactly. I write you all my thoughts, but yours feel hidden to me. I don’t know what was going through your mind last night. You seemed upset at the idea of giving up being my Daddy. You said you NEED to be my Daddy, but why do you need it? We have agreed that a Daddy is protective and loving and all that. But what about the domination part of it? The ownership part of it? What is domination to you? What is it that makes you identify as a dominant? What do you mean when you say you want me to belong to you? What does that require of me? What does it require of me if I do not feel like doing what you say, if I am having some mental shut down moment like last night? Does it require I just go along anyway? Then that means I become a pretender, a play actor. That means all the responsibility is on me to make it work.
Tell me, Daddy Husband, what are we DOING? Your phrase “time will tell” is probably the right one, it has to be allowed to unfold as it will, as we discover it. We need time and experience to grow into it. But still, that phrase made me want to weep. If you don’t know one way or the other, then how can you be the dominant? Isn’t what happens supposed to be by your choice? I know that’s not fair, I can’t allow myself the luxury of being wobbly in submission, and give you no wobble room at all. I just know I can’t keep this up if it is essentially only a play-acting charade. At some point we will have to face that defining moment – do you have it in you truly own me, and to be the strong Daddy I need?
Oh, I am sad you sounded so unsure. But then, how can you not be unsure? This is a dark and strange foreign land we have entered, nothing is as it looks on the surface …
I hit send, and then sit in turmoil for the next few hours, wondering if I am dragging us toward the edge of the D/s cliff. I have the feeling when standing atop a hill and I can see the destination I want to get to, but I can’t see the path to get there. Or maybe that’s not the right analogy. Maybe it’s more like I know how to get there, but I can’t drive. I need Daddy to drive us there. It takes awhile, but here is what I hear back:
Well, sweet girl, what an odd twist, .. happier than ever two short days ago to full-on crisis tonight. I’ve been a very bad Daddy, baby girl, .. “time will tell”, Jesus fuck, did I really type that phrase? What a candy-assed thing to say. It seemed benign enough in context, .. the D/s way of being does continue to evolve for me, but fuck, you have every right to be pissed, .. at me, not yourself. I’ll try again in crystal clear terms: I have an extremely masculine bent. I prefer the ‘loving dominant’ dynamic, but I get stiff when I think about subduing you, willing or not, and I am very capable of imposing my will. It isn’t a game or role play; it’s me being my true self, of that I’m certain. I am the strong Daddy you need.
I close the computer, and I actually cry. Oh, thank God. It is only later that I realize he still hasn’t answered the most important question of all: What exactly are we DOING?