The gift

 

Wheel-barrowed on Daddy's lap, tears filling my eyes, my breath in deep, shuddery gulps as Daddy had just set the paddle to the side and was rubbing and speaking softly in the pause. "I know it hurts, baby. I'm so proud of how well you take your spankings, even the ones that are very owie. You please me. Thank you for your gift of submission."

And the damn burst

And the tears fell

and the words I could not speak

Thank you for the gift of your dominance

Thank you for the gift of your arms

Thank you for your love

Thank you for being a safe place for the first time ever in my long life

Thank you for lifting burdens from my shoulders that I have long borne

Thank you for leading our family

Thank you for loving my children - our children

Thank you for home

Thank you for the gift of discovery

Thank you for the freedom to be who I am at my core

Thank you for the gift of acceptance

Thank you for the gift unconditionality

Thank you for the gift of being small

Thank you for the loving me - against all odds

Thank God for the gift of you. 

I love you, my Daddy.

HER GUARDIAN:

So many words escape me, thank you, my heart, my soul, my best friend  for the deepest, most sublime gift of your love, thank you for  your soft, sweet, unconditional heart and the words that  bring me back to us each and every time. You bring me so many blessings and I thank you for all of them. You are my everything!

Into the deep

  

I read stories on others' blogs, about kneeling before Sirs/Masters/Daddies. I have admired them for that level of service.  But it always struck something in me, something visceral and tinged with the negative, something like humiliation, which for many reasons is not something that we do. Daddy has always said it was something that he would not ask of me. We have had conversations recently about wanting/needing more, and progressing. He said he had things in mind, and we would talk later about them. 

When Daddy came home Friday I still had 15 minutes left on my shift, and he said he would sit with me till then, and then I could hep him get ready for his shower. When I was finished, he took my hand and led me upstairs and into our room and pulled the door behind us. I stood waiting for him. He embraced me, kissed me, then held his arms out from his side and said, "Undress me." I unbuttoned and removed his shirt, then undershirt, his belt and zipper, he sat on the bed and I knelt to unlace his boots.

Something strange happened. Despite the trepidation that I might have felt, when I settled to my knees before him, this felt like the most natural place in the world to be. I felt a gratitude at being able to serve him in this way. It was a deeper welcome home, it was shutting the door on kids and bills and problems and meals and work and worry. It was Daddy and me in our own little universe. 

Daddy helped me to my feet, and he said, "I know your knees are bad, so I will not ask you to do that often." But this weekend was more open, softer, more connected, he pushed limits and I surrendered to them. And I find myself desiring that act as the way we open the gate to the time that belongs to just us and our family. I found that everything was amplified. His touch brought tears, the fact that I could give him pleasure...in general and intimately brought tears.

Was it because of this? I think it had something to do with it. I think it evoked some profound, visceral response in both of us. It symbolized his gentle dominance and quiet command, and my desire to serve. It was a quiet, simple and defining moment. It filled me to overflowing, and I want to do it again, and again, and again.


HER GUARDIAN:   Her submission is a beautiful jewel burnished in the fire and light of our love.  Every moment that we share is a valuable opportunity to grow stronger together.  I do push her limits gently in small ways that are designed to help us both flourish.  Her devotion to us touches me and I sit here now typing with the glint of a  tear in my eye. I love her and I love the impact that her submission has on us.