1 week ago
10 July 2010
As a disclaimer, for some reason, I thought that I had posted this entry months ago...but I can't seem to find it in our archive! If, by chance, this is a repeat, I sincerely apologize and promise to follow up with a new post very soon! :) Thanks for reading...
In a world plagued by Dr. Phil-istines, there is quite an abundance of advocacy in favor of “open, honest communication”. Yes, I think there is something to be said for solid communication, but “communication” has now become a trite, annoying buzzword for solving any and all relationship troubles. What strikes me most is that a majority of couples who follow a vanilla lifestyle don’t seem to be able to broach sensitive topics and yes, communicate, with the ease that D/s couples do. This holds even truer for any discussions about sex. For example, I have never been able to talk about sex as freely as I would have liked…up until now, that is. In my relatively vanilla past, partners have come and gone (yes, I hope you caught the double entendre…), but none were willing to discuss our sexual exploits in any sort of detail. It’s as if, once the act was completed (and even if said act constituted previously unexplored territory for us), it was over, buried, and never to be spoken of again. This always struck me as odd. Granted, I had no desire to get into the minutiae (ins-and-outs? blow-by-blow? Nah, too easy…) of our sex, but rather wished to know how our sex, love-making, fucking, or any of the shades in between made them react. Did they want more of that particular act? Were they revolted by it? Would they like to try it again, but with our respective roles reversed? How did that sex fit into their sex echelon (sexchelon?)? Somewhere between a quickie and a finger up the butt? How was I to know? Needless to say, this sex secrecy pact did not bode well for any of my former partners and I was left questioning and unfulfilled.
Now, knowing what I know now as I bask in the first budding of my submission to Daddy, I should have seen that what I really wanted was a sort of feedback system with which I could tailor-make sex to fit my partners. I wasn’t aware of how deep my submission ran back then and it never occurred to me that my desire to talk about sex sessions had nothing to do with any insecurity on my part but rather a thirst for personalized sex education. Of course, as anyone even remotely interested in D/s can tell you, submitting to someone who is unable or unwilling to dom, or vice versa, is an exercise in futility and frustration. If he is not interested in crafting her to fit his deepest desires, no matter how submissive she is or how much she wishes it to be, there can be no true domination, no mastery, no ownership. And, for people like me, no fulfillment.
Which brings me back to Daddy… From the very beginning, even before we met, Daddy has been very generous with his detailed descriptions of what he enjoys, what he would like to do to me, and how I can improve sexually in order to better serve him. Nirvana. Valhalla. Bingo. While he’s fucking me, after fucking me, while my mouth is wrapped around his thick cock, during the morning and afternoon as we go about our day-to-day work and tasks, before curling up in bed and falling asleep together – he never fails to let me know how much he cherishes and adores me as his slave or to remind me of why I exist. I exist to give him pleasure. And what’s more, he encourages, no, commands me to tell him how it feels to be fucked, to be used, to be enslaved, to be his property for the rest of my life, to be loved, to be adored, to be denied orgasm, to be allowed to suck his cock, and to be the little one that, deep down, I’ve always longed to be.
I tell Daddy everything. I tell him how wonderful it feels when he uses me and hurts me with his big cock as he rams it into my pussy. How much I love…need…our daily cock-sucking sessions. How I look forward to the day when I can feel his cum dripping out of my mouth, my pussy, and my ass after a long day of being used like the slut I can be. How the thought of being gagged, blindfolded, and tied down while my nipples are clamped and a plug is pushed into my tight little ass makes me so wet I can hardly stand it. How hard it is, and yet how necessary, for Daddy to control my orgasms. How much I want to endure his beatings and whippings because I know how much it pleases him to have a good little obedient girl…
I could go on, but the point is this: Despite those who may view the act of talking about scenes such as those that I’ve described as a way of committing that seemingly unforgiveable sin of topping from the bottom, I beg to differ. In no way am I telling Daddy how to dominate me, how to control me, how to make me submit. He is extremely adept in all of these fields and thankfully does not need or require any assistance from me. By voicing my desires and verbalizing my submission to him, I am allowing Daddy to penetrate ever deeper into my psyche in order to further dominate me and push my limits. We navigate the strong and powerful, yet delicate balance of D/s, the crux of which is, in its essence, communication.
So yes, I now find myself trafficking in the clichéd parlance of our times, yet I hope that as you read these lines you’ll find that I’ve entered a sort of meta-rhetorical gray area that helps to further explain the nature and fulfillment found in D/s relationships. Or maybe you just like reading about sex… Either way, I hope you’ve enjoyed!