Sir has been “whining” that all his partners lately have been admitting to him that they’re littles.
(Wowww, what a burden.)
Look who else is, babe.
little
I’m going to my first official legit play party without Sir tomorrow night. It’s the first time I’m ever going to one without him. He took me to my very first one and I’m a little anxious to not have him there to watch out for me and take care of me.
Instead, Pup and one of his partners (I WILL GET YOU CAUGHT UP I FREAKING PROMISE) and I are going there together, and I’m talking to Sir about all the blushy stuff I’m allowed to do there. Naturally, the conversation is dipping into kind of Daddy/little territory.
A highlight I’m squirming like crazy over is: “Fine, you can cum twice but only in public and if you suck that boy’s dick in front of everyone.”
Eep.
One of the fundamental differences between my kink and Sir’s kink used to be that Sir wasn’t into a Daddy/little dynamic and I was starting to realize that having that dynamic was central to my kink identity, if you will.
At first, we handled our differences with ethical non-monogamy. I wasn’t into extreme degradation? Fine, this partner of his was. He doesn’t want to be called Daddy? Totally okay, I had a fun Femme Daddy friend (Heart).
This totally served us well. The Femme Daddy in question and I have a pretty casual dynamic because of distance, but I liked that. It might me sad I couldn’t see her very often, but I was enjoying myself. Sir was seeing girls who would do more extreme stuff and sometimes I felt intimidated, but by mid-September I knew a girl who liked extreme beatings wasn’t going to ruin my relationship with Sir.
However, something was happening. After the last visit, Sir started letting me call him Daddy in certain contexts, and I started accidentally calling him it even when we hadn’t decided it. At first, I apologized and went back to Sir. But, eventually, it was clear he was starting to really like it.
“I don’t mind,” he said one day, “if you call me Daddy sometimes, if I’m still Sir sometimes, too.”
“You don’t mind like you’re okay with it or you don’t mind like you enjoy it?” I asked.
He got a little coy but eventually came out with it: “Yeah, I like it.”
A little while later, I opened my askbox to find he’d sent me the above image.
I bought my first garter belt off the Internet and it’s far too big. It slips down all the time. But, it was a no-return purchase and it was on sale for something negligible.
And besides, it makes me feel kinda like a little girl trying on something too grown up for her.
I like big hands. I like how inherently overpowering they feel, even when they’re just on my shoulders or resting on my hip.
I still haven’t given up on the idea of that road trip, baby.
I like feeling pretty and delicate and utterly corruptible.
Sweetheart’s the kind of girl whose Daddy ends up getting a call pretty early on in the playdate.
Omg omg omg just booked my flight to go spend Thanksgiving with Sir.
I’m so exciteddd.
Oops.
StandardAccidentally called my boyfriend “Daddy” in front of some of my friends last night.
Whatever.