To Be Pleasing

Sometimes I read some of the blogs in this diverse D/s community, from the DD side to the M/s side. I despair of some of them. Others so inspire me that my heart rushes to bring the fire that they kindle to my Daddy in some form of service. I see people assert that they wish to submit, and then fight against doing so. I see people who do not step up to take their submissives in hand. I see disparaging remarks that make my heart hurt, and leave me stunned. And I see devotion so beautiful, so complete and so inspiring that I think I could never possibly achieve that much grace and light in my service to him. On both sides there is inspiration for that which I choose not to be, and that to which I aspire to achieve.
  

We are us. We are a mix of so many things. We are Daddy and little girl. We are HoH and Tih. We are Dominant and submissive. We live a domestic discipline dynamic.When we started, I had limits.Three years later, I have seen them melt and I know that there is nothing I would deny him. I have come to him and surrendered my fears, and my limits with regularity. I can think of none that remain. And with pride I realize that I am completely surrendered to him. I am his slave, and with the greatest of joy and pleasure, I know him as my Master.

  



I love my Daddy. That should come as no surprise. This is like no other relationship that I have ever had, aside from the obvious, simply in the living of the day-to-day. The love and help and consideration that exists in this house is what I have always dreamed of, and thought would always be just that - a dream. He helps with the shopping, so that I can cook or clean and we divide and conquer. One of us does homework while the other folds laundry or some other chore so that we have more time as a family. Sometimes, little bits of who we are creeps into the mundane, when I sit, late night, with a final basket of laundry and he comes and takes the clothes from my hands, and pulls me to him - "It will still be there tomorrow. I'll help."

He gives me so much. Do I get aggravated sometimes? Sure. When he pulls that laundry from me, I want to sigh, I just want to be done. But then I remember who we are, who I am, and who he is, and I stop. And I see that the exercise is as much for me as it is for him. It is not just to exert authority. It is, "Come rest in me, little one. I see that you are weary and I hunger for you." And when I meet his eyes, the sense of duty is swept aside with the chore because I remember my own hunger, and I remember my greater duty is to him.
 





My purpose is to belong to him. I have lamented my whole life long that I belonged to no one and I have prayed for ownership. I have exactly what I want. I can let the noise of the everyday interfere, and gossip that he troubles me, or I can give up the control and see that he is everything that I have ever wanted. That creates a need, a hunger in me, deep and strong to fall at his feet, to serve him and realize that I am fulfilled for the first time ever. It makes me want to serve him with all of the grace that he deserves. It makes me want to to give him all that he has ever dreamed of, and all that he could never have imagined.

I wish to be a magnet that draws him, as he draws me to his essence. I wish to be his harbor against all the difficult things that this life throws at us. I want him to come to the door of this place, weary from the world, but with the anticipation that when he crosses the threshold he is king of all that surrounds him. I would be his servant, but he makes me feel like his queen. For him and for him alone, I wish to be pleasing always, and in all ways.


HER GUARDIAN:  As much as she belongs to me I belong to her.... she knows my deepest desires, my greatest aspirations, my strengths, my weaknesses, my heart.  She is my heartbeat, the softness in the dark, my source of power and my eternal muse.  When we began our relationship, I did not dare dream that it would develop into what we have now. It is my fondest labor of truest love that inspires my service to her. In truth I am as much hers as she is mine and I am so blessed to call her mine. 

The language of Daddy's thumb

I don't remember what started it. I don't remember the circumstances. I just remember the feelings. I remember feeling 'ruched', totally ruffled, offended, frightened with a growing edge of anger because I don't like to be afraid. I remember his eyes, calm trying to anchor me. I remember trying to catch onto him, trying to anchor onto his calm, and not being able to.

Then his thumb pushed against my lips. And I, being the sweet, always perfect submissive that I am, pressed my lips tighter and glared at him. He said in that calm, firm, no-nonsense voice that brooked no argument, "Open." I did and he slid his thumb in, pad resting on my tongue. I, being his sweet little girl promptly bit...hard. He said, in the same tone, "Suck." And I did...I'm not crazy, there was a whole lotta "you're right on the edge of a lot of trouble," in his voice. And because I know who I am, and I know who he is, and even when I feel that way, I do desire to please him. As I sucked, the fire started to founder, the electricity pulsing through my veins calmed. Soon I was me again, and with his thumb still in my mouth, I turned into his body, his arm wrapped around me, and dozed.

Not long after, Daddy was giving me a very firm, very owie stress-relief spanking. He was sitting beside me, his face towards my feet. He took pause and lay beside me talking soothingly, rubbing. I pushed my arm out from beneath my chest, wound my fingers with his and pulled his hand under my chest again. My mouth rested above his fingers, and I drew his thumb into my mouth and began to suck. That broke the damn of the emotion, and he kissed me a final time, and resumed spanking, because I needed more, his thumb providing that extra measure of comfort, my tears washing his hand.

Since then, that is something else which connects us, with out the need for words. When I am distancing, his thumb presses my lips, "soften." When I am struggling with emotion, "Daddy's here." When he is spanking me, "always with love." When I need to feel him, or he simply wishes to express his ownership, "mine."

That simple act, speaks so much, so many things, and expresses that connection in a tangible way. It was something that seemed silly and uncomfortable in the beginning. It is now something that I crave. And I guess that's the point.


HER GUARDIAN:  Indeed it is the point. Many times, the simplest acts convey the greatest amount of meaning. Sometimes when we are scared, excited, or uncomfortable in our own skin or mind, it takes a act of love to bring us to a place of love, comfort and rest.  Her comfort and safety in and out of her comfort zone is one of my biggest priorities. I love my little one and even when the answer is a stingy, owie spanking, it is given with love and softness in mind.

Reciprocity and Symbiotic Mutualism

We have long believed that reciprocity was a key component of any kind of relationship - vanilla, or any incarnation of D/s.

 

 But the more I thought about this concept in it's simplest form, in the context of D/s relationships...the submissive gets much more.... more time, more attentions, physical and emotional. I need to feel Daddy, he gives me tasks, or he takes me in hand, he makes me feel well loved. I am sad, he holds me, lets me cry it out, supports me. I am out of sorts, he does what he can to strip that turmoil from my heart. And when all is well and I am settled, he gets service, just for himself, with him as the focus. Wow....it sucks to be Daddy!


Then the other day, as I was presented for Daddy, as he laid his belt across my bottom, to alleviate my stress, and the thoughts jumbled and fought in my head, as they often do at the beginning of a session, another thought occurred to me.

I have a problem with thoughts....they threaten to eat me alive sometimes. They swirl thick and heavy in my head. Daddy's voice says, "Present for Daddy, little one." And I do, and the first lick of the belt cuts in, sears a line across my flesh and the thoughts swirl like leaves on a pond. Each subsequent stroke blows them further away. Sometimes when I can't connect to the moment, I count to 100, over and over, until my brain is quiet, and I float with him, and there is nothing but the whoosh of the belt, the impact, and Daddy's satisfied grunt.

 Sometimes a solution to a problem, or an important thought floats by, and I grab it before it is swept away. Yesterday was such a day. I have been so needy, because we are apart. And we are both exhausted, and my need is a yawning gap that needs to be bridged so that our short time together each week is not spent drifting. My thoughts, thick, with the added, he is tired, he gives more, where is the reciprocity? And the belt fell, and the thoughts made their swirling exit, and one stuck against the edge of my consciousness.I give him reciprocity, the dance is not as obvious as one thinks it should be.


Reciprocity is not tit for tat. I rub your back, you rub mine - I fix one meal, you fix the next. Reciprocity is important, it is the a large part of the foundation on which we build our relationship, along with love and trust. But how do we express it? Do we tally and return only in kind? No. This thing we do is more of a symbiotic mutualism. The tribute we pay to each other is not equal, it is complimentary.

When I need him so deeply, so profoundly, and he feeds that with his arms, his kiss, his belt,  he feeds me. When I come to him with the need, when I allow him to lead me from the dark place, when I obey his words and submit myself for whatever pleasure or pain he decides, I feed his Dominance. My feeling small and vulnerable and placing myself in his hands, lets him protect me, guide me, love me, lead me...allows him the expression of his Dominant self. What I give him is not equal, it is complimentary, and it completes us...reciprocity in a beautifully complex dance.

                                                                                         


 

 HER GUARDIAN:  

Mutualism is indeed becoming our watch word. If I see my babygirl in need, how can I not go to her? If I know her heart and the pangs of her mind, how could I not offer sweet relief without question or without hesitation?  No it's not about equality or even what's easy or fair. It's about growth, it's about harmony, it's about  what my dominance, her submission and our mutual service to each other.  It's a beautiful thing to hold her in my arms and kiss the tears from her eyes and know that we are closer for it all.