7 Things About Me

Happy Black Friday! So I know this is going around Facebook, and to be honest I hate coming up with stuff about myself. But I love to read it about everybody else, so here it goes...

1. My dad worked for the airlines. I grew up flying all the time. Yet, I'm afraid to fly. Petrified. You can shove a xanax down my throat with three bottles of wine and you'll still have to drag me (probably screaming and crying) onto the plane.

2. I like to sew and I like vintage things. Daddy and I found a Singer Sewing Machine table from 1934 at goodwill for ten dollars. Daddy re-finished the table and fixed it up for me and the machine still works perfectly. I love it more than my more modern machine!

3. I also like to cook and bake and love my Kitchen Aid mixer. So much that I have two of them!! My oldest daughter asked if she could have one when she moves out. I told her she could as long as it stays in my kitchen.

4. I've written a few novels, but none of them are any form of erotica. I love love love to read it though. Just struggle with writing my own. I seem to have way better sex scenes than I write sex scenes. Which I guess isn't too bad of a thing...

5. According to the Briggs Myers test, I'm an INFP. Which I think explains why I overthink everything and my head is always in the clouds. According to the Harry Potter Characters Briggs Myers, I'm Luna Lovegood. Which is just about right.

6. I was born in August and am a Leo. So I'm an introverted Leo. I think that makes me an oxymoron.

7. I don't do Black Friday shopping. Ever. Although I do love to shop, crowds like that overwhelm me (it's the introverted thing). To those that do --- have fun and stay safe!

Thanks!

Happy Thanksgiving tomorrow to those who celebrate it! Daddy and I will be having a rather quiet one at home with just my dad and step-mom stopping by. I love thanksgiving -- the food, the family, the parade. Maybe not the scale the day after though.  I also love going around the table sharing what everyone is thankful for. My youngest always comes up with the cutest things.

For me, this is what I'm thankful for this year...

I'm thankful for my mom. Even though she lives a million miles away (well maybe not that far) and she can drive me crazy sometimes, she's still one of my closest friends. Sometimes I think she'd understand the relationship between me and Daddy, but I'm not sure I'm brave enough to risk it.

I'm thankful for my daughters. I love having girls. I guess I do feel bad Daddy never got a son (although he says it doesn't really bother him), but I'm secretly thrilled to have two girls who are so much like me. I will never have a better job than being their mother. And watching them with Daddy -- let's just say it melts my heart to see how much he loves his little girls! I love our family.

And I'm thankful for Daddy. For his love, patience, understanding. For never ever giving up on me. For having enough love for the both of us. For accepting me -- the good, the bad, and the deep dark twisted stuff. For loving the deep dark twisted stuff..

I'm also very thankful for TTWD. Last Thanksgiving Daddy and I were still pretty new at this...well we're still new at this. But we've grown so much deeper, so much closer since the last time we sat down for turkey and pumpkin pie. It hasn't been easy, but nothing worth having ever is.

And an even bigger thanks to all of you bloggers out there. I'm shy. I'm introverted. And I guess that doesn't change for me even when I'm not using my real name. But I'm a voracious reader. And I read all your words all the time even when I'm not brave enough to comment. So many of them have made me laugh, made me cry, made me see things in different ways, and some have gotten me through the toughest of days. So even if you don't celebrate thanksgiving, thank you!!!

On Being His Slave

When Daddy first proposed the whole Master/slave dynamic, I had visions of 24/7 nakedness while on my knees. Thank goodness it's nothing like that! We have kids after all and we live in a place that gets very cold in the winter. My knees are getting older and not really up to lots of kneeling.

Daddy's a pretty laid back guy. So even though I'm his slave, we don't do a lot of the high protocol stuff. He doesn't care if I sit on the furniture. I don't have to ask permission to use the bathroom. He doesn't tell me what to wear everyday.

That's not to say he doesn't control things. I do have to ask permission to eat certain foods or leave the house. I'm not allowed to spend money without asking. He tells me when bedtime is. And even though he doesn't choose my clothes, he has his input there--he likes me to dress like 'very girly' which to him means skirts and dresses everyday. 

And I do end up at his feet naked every night as part of our bedtime ritual. But it's not an all day thing and usually by then I'm in my very happy subby place.

As we go along, Daddy has added more and more. I do like his control -- everything he adds just makes me feel safer and more secure. Like he's put me in this little box that grows tighter and tighter with his control.

But sometimes I wonder if I'll someday end up being that 24/7 naked, kneeling slave who has to ask to pee.

And as much as I love his control, sometimes I kinda hope that's not where we're headed. Because I'm a freeze baby with the world's weakest bladder. Lol.

But I also know that ultimately, that's really not up to me.

Daddy's First Post

When Aurora came to me with the idea of creating this blog, I felt that it would be beneficial for her.  She is a writer (I am not, so forgive me for any errors) and a thinker.  It helps her to get all of her thoughts down on (electronic) paper.  I also felt that it wold be a great opportunity for her to meet people in the lifestyle.  So far, I have been right and I'm glad that she has this forum to express herself.

One other thing I envisioned, however, was for me to contribute some of my thoughts periodically to this blog.  I know that Aurora has really been looking forward to me sharing.  She has been patient though as I have transitioned to a different position at work that requires more of my brain than did my last position.  I am happy to say that things are settling down and I am able to find more time these days.

With the holidays approaching, we often reflect on the year that is nearly behind us.  We look back at the good and the bad, we remind ourselves of all that we are thankful for and we spend time with the people that mean the most to us.

As I look back on the last year, there is one theme. Change.  We have lost loved ones, young and old.  I was promoted and began working days for the first time in 13 years.  Many things have changed this year.  Some good and some bad. But so many moments this year have brought about change.

Most importantly though, Aurora and I have experienced a massive amount of change in our relationship.  We are so much closer and in love.  We understand each other way more than we ever did.  We have learned things about each other that we never knew, despite being together for 18 years.  This dynamic that we have found ourselves in this year has given us all of that.  It has allowed us to take on defined roles.  To communicate more than even our first year of dating.  We have hit some bumps along the way and even those bumps brought about change.  Bumps are good sometimes.  They make you work hard for what you want.

So as I look back on this year, I'm thankful.  I'm thankful for what we have found in each other and I'm incredibly thankful for Aurora and her submission.  Oh yeah...and I'm quite thankful for my spanking stick too!

Don't Deserve You

Today's an anniversary of sorts. Not really one people celebrate, but I'm sort of celebrating it anyways.

November 22, 1993 was the beginning of the only other significant relationship I've had in my life besides Daddy.

I'm not really sure I should be calling it significant. It was short-lived and began for all the wrong reasons. I went out with him to get back at a friend -- it was very juvenile and stupid and full of drama. It was doomed from the start.

He was out of my life within two years. And if you add up all the time I was together with this guy (there was a lot of on and off periods), we were together for barely a year. I'm closing in on 40 now -- one year is nothing. Nothing.

Our relationship was intense though. In some ways I feel like that I lived twenty years in just that one year. He filled up a lot of my 'firsts'. I turned my back on friends and family to be with him. And it ended badly. Very badly. Because of this, I think it took me years to fully let go of him. Years in which I was with Daddy...married to Daddy.

It wasn't just the fallout that hurt Daddy. Daddy walked into my life in the midst of that 'intense year'. He ended up being one of those 'friends' I turned my back on. I broke his heart, his trust, and played horrible games with the love he gave me.

I know I'm very lucky he game me a second chance (actually he'd probably say it was a third). Extremely lucky that he waited for me to get my head on straight. Blessed that he's stayed beside with me in the years since as my protector, my best friend, my everything.

This summer we had the opportunity to really talk about that time of our life. There were mistakes Daddy made as well and it was a chance for us to be completely honest, to forgive, to let go. I spent a lot of time regretting, but Daddy spent even more time pointing out that although it would be nice to change things, changing one thing could risk changing everything. There are so many ways that relationship not only brought me to Daddy, but helped me to realize how lucky I was. And maybe if we hadn't made the mistakes we made, we wouldn't be here together today.

So to Daddy -- I know how much pain this date and everything it means has brought you. But it's still important to me. Not for the obvious reasons, but because twenty years ago today I made a choice that would ultimately lead me to you. This song's for you....Don't Deserve You - Plumb

Harder Than It Ought To Be

This past month has been a busy one for us. Daddy got a new job. I had some unexpected things happen at mine. We had to go out of town to my grandma's funeral. Daddy and our oldest went away hunting for a weekend. There has been a lot going on and Daddy has been very tired.

I know Daddy puts a lot of work into us. It's tiring enough to run your own life, and to add somebody else's on top of that. Plus he's learning a new, very different, much busier job. Lots going on with him, and I know this is a time where he needs me to be patient. But when I get stressed and overwhelmed, that's when I need Daddy's dominance the most. 

 

Last Wednesday was one of those days. It was a stressful day, and I got some bad news that I wasn't dealing with so well. Plus it was that time of month where my emotions run away from me so I was not in a good place. 

Daddy's number one rule is honesty. He's not a fan of brattiness. I'm supposed to tell him how I'm feeling at all times. Sometimes I'm good at this. Other times...not so much. And last Wednesday was not one of those 'good times'. Daddy had a stressful day too and had some last minute stuff dumped on him that he needed to worry about getting done the next morning.

 

So I was feeling guilty for needing him so much. I could tell he was tired and distracted, and instead of telling him how I was feeling, I thought maybe I'd just sleep things off and feel better about everything the next morning.

 

Usually we have some kind of playtime and spanking every night. But because he was tired and I told him I was too, we skipped it that night and went to bed early. Daddy had to be in the office super early the next morning and although I usually get up and make him breakfast, this morning he let me sleep in.

I don't like waking up alone. And even worse, I woke up still stressed and anxious. Everything seemed a thousand times worse and I couldn't shut off my thoughts. It's hard for me to keep my feelings from Daddy long, and he tends to pick up on it anyways. So they did all eventually come out over Thursday and Friday -- in very messy, emotional, and somewhat explosive ways.

 

I read a blog post by lil at Submissive Sanctuary about feeling like work. Gosh I love it when I read a post that puts into words exactly what I've been feeling (and can't). I hate the idea that I could be more work for Daddy. That after his hard day, he has to fix mine too.

 

I told him this and he reminded me that things are a lot less work when we do them 'his way'. If I had just been honest in the first place, we'd have had a lot easier Thursday and Friday.

 

Oy. I do sometimes have a bad habit of making things harder than they ought to be.

Daddy

I wasn’t going to call him Daddy. 

Master, Sir, Boss, Lord, Duke, Earl, King, Grand Poobah …whatever he wanted, I would call him. Just not Daddy. 

Not that he was asking me too. When we first began, we had a few conversations about this, but he really never had any deep opinion on what he should be called. To him, names really didn’t matter. I could call him whatever I wanted as long as I remembered he was the one in charge…well maybe not whatever I wanted.

I really had no feelings on this either. I just knew I wasn’t calling him daddy. We have girls – he’s their daddy, not mine. My relationship with my own father isn’t the greatest. I have childhood sexual abuse in my history. Calling him daddy would make me a cliché or certainly warrant a trip to the nearest therapist. Wouldn’t it?

So I tried Sir for a while, but it never felt right. It was awkward. Without emotion. For me, it just didn’t carry the amount of feelings I had for him. I went round and round with this name thing. Sometimes, I would beg him to tell me what he wanted to be called to no avail.

Then last year, Daddy became part of my vocabulary. It sort of was already there – it was much easier when talking with the kids to refer to him as Daddy then his name anyways. And to ease my frustration with names, Daddy decided that should be what I refer to him outside of the bedroom.

The more I said it, the more it fit. The more it fit, the more I said it. He became Daddy to me all the time. Not just in speaking, but in my thoughts too. Soon, I was even saying it inside the bedroom too. Daddy started referring to himself this way too. It’s become very natural for us.

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about why that is. I’ve been to therapists several times over the last few decades regarding my issues. I’ve done the talking and the programs and the meds. I feel like the last several years of my life, I’ve been in a really good place. Is this really some deep buried ‘daddy issue’?

I don’t think so.

I think calling him Daddy has to do with the kind of boyfriend and husband he has been over our nineteen year relationship. We were very young when I got pregnant with my oldest. Barely out of high school. Having a baby meant getting our crap together and growing up fast. He never hesitated – he was just as much the leader back then as he is now. Finding a better job and health benefits. Finding a place for us to live. Taking care of the bills. Taking care of a very pregnant me. And throughout the years after, I seem cursed with health issues. Through several surgeries, a heartbreaking miscarriage, a rough pregnancy with our second child…Daddy is always taking care of me. He’s always guiding me too. Whether it’s a new diet or hobby or career change. Or chasing a lifelong dream. Daddy’s always been there to support me in every imaginable way.

Early in our marriage, I collected lighthouses. Somebody asked why once and I was surprised when I found myself telling her it was because they reminded me of Daddy. He was my ‘lighthouse’, always watching over me and guiding me in life.

Now that we’ve moved into this dynamic, this has become magnified. Where before he would support or encourage me in my endeavors, now he issues orders. Now taking care of me means taking a massive amount of control of my life.

He’s still that lighthouse though. Always guiding, always protecting, always knowing what I need. Sometimes I think he knows me better than myself. Proof of this came last weekend. My grandmother’s death was hard and I was still reeling from it when Daddy decided to implement a new rule. I haven’t been good about going to church lately, so he wants me at church every Sunday. Now this probably doesn’t seem like a huge thing, but for Daddy it is. See, Daddy’s not a Christian. And Daddy is not a fan of the church I usually go to.

I grew up super-involved with a huge church and developed a deep faith at a young age. Daddy knows this – has always known this. Daddy, however, has never really shared that faith. I wouldn’t call him an atheist or anything…he’s just really nothing. Maybe slightly agnostic, but not a fan of religion at all.

Daddy’s always been super respectful of my faith though. He’s never had any issues with the kids and I attending or becoming involved. He’s even gone with us on the occasional Christmas or Easter although he often says he doesn’t like the church and finds himself getting angry whenever he goes.

When we moved into this dynamic, I was so swept up in that beginning ‘frenzy’ feeling, that I never thought much what it might mean for the differences in our faith. Afterwards, when I started calming down, I started wondering if faith and church were something Daddy would take away from me. I mean he certainly could – it really wasn’t some kind of hard limit we ever agreed on or anything.

But the thing is the dynamic didn’t change Daddy. He was still the same accepting guy as he was before. He told me that he would never ask me to do something that went against my faith and that was an automatic hard limit. 

And now he’s making me go to church. Something he doesn’t believe in. Something he doesn’t care for. Yet, he recognizes what it means to me and that I need it.

So once again, he’s my lighthouse. Always shining that light…even in my darkest nights. And because he demonstrates this time after time, I’ve come to trust him more than I’ve ever trusted anybody in my entire life.

This is why I call him Daddy.