When I originally started drafting this post, it was over a year ago. Since then, the “someone relatively new” has become a cherished and beloved part of my life. My thoughts and feelings haven’t much changed, and so I have chosen to post them as a part 1 of 2 on the subject. Sort of a “then and now” as it were.

Daddy pageAnyone who reads my blog, follows me on twitter/tumblr, or otherwise interacts with me with any frequency, will know that I am a kinkster and am in a Daddy-girl dynamic. I suppose this is where I’m supposed to preface that I’m over 18, that when I use terms like girl/babygirl that I am not referring to actual children, and that I am not referring to my actual father. Apparently people can’t figure this stuff out, and the legal censors get their panties all up in a twist if they think these things. Silly dimwitted censors.

As I said on The Big Little Podcast– I actually approached this dynamic with quite a bit of hesitation. It wasn’t something I’d really thought about much in the past. It certainly wasn’t something I’d explored ever, in fact I knew so many people who recoiled at the thought of someone calling their partner “Daddy” that I’d come to have this sort of reaction myself. So when someone relatively new in my life put it on the table, I was hesitant. I can’t say why exactly I was hesitant. My best guess, in hindsight, is a lot of social conditioning from those friends who looked at the idea with such disdain. I’d never known anyone who was in a Daddy dynamic, at least that I knew, and anytime it had come up it was in hushed tones and whispers of what someone might have overheard whilst their roommates were fucking.

Girl pageRarely one to not give something an honest go, I decided what the heck let’s try this. Things started off with the stereotypical ribbon-tied pigtails and bubble-gum lipgloss. This was fun, but that wasn’t what really clicked. The energy changed. The switch from calling someone Sir to Daddy was huge for me. The play style moved with the energy too. I began to feel a sense of pride, not within myself but his pride in me as I gave myself over to whatever evil plans he had laid for me. Undercurrents of nurturing and cherishing made me want to explore more, push myself, and give of myself more. Did these things really change? I don’t know, but that’s how it felt to me. It was immensely freeing in a way that I cannot put into words.

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