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Mustardseed -> RE: Daddys little girl (6/21/2006 8:12:28 AM)
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The book that made me realize that I wanted a Daddy was Carol Queen's novel The Leather Daddy and the Femme. Daddy Darkheart already had a copy of Pat (now Patrick) Califia's short story collection, Doing It For Daddy.
Some of the reasons that I originally hotlisted him in b.com were his feelings on aftercare and his statement about being called "Daddy":
I love the words "Yes Daddy" being whispered in my ear. If it's moaned in my ear, :) I just go pleasantly insane. I love the trust implied, the level of commitment, and the slight dirty thrill of illicet naughtyness that all gets tangled up in those two words.
- also posted on his blog
Once I read that, I knew that I had to meet him. Once he noticed that I hotlisted him during my "okay, what faces are behind these names" frenzy (I'd just gotten on the Wet Spot membership bulletin board, going through a topic on profile links), he made certain to come up and introduce himself the next time he saw me at a party.
Our conversations about Daddy/daughter play happened a few months later. At first I thought I'd broached it to him and that he'd commented that he felt I was too old for it: chronologically, I'm six years his senior. However, later I commented on some funny looks he'd given me when I was acting particularly impish and he had no memory of commenting on my age. Indeed, he assumed that I'd look down on him for even mentioning it. Once we dug ourselves out of that little wreck, we began playing in private and fell into Daddy/girl play (I prefer saying "D/g" but he likes "D/d" -- alas) so easily that it's become our default interraction.
We're starting to take it more public now that he's returning to the club, and I'm a little shy of saying it in front of other people at least in part because it's been a "just us" thing for so long. However, part of Valetine's Day weekend was spent at the mall, using gift cards while failing to act the part of a respectable couple. Indeed, we discovered that Lane Bryant has perfect, overstuffed Daddy-chairs for him to situate himself in while I come out and twirl and show off various outfits. He was thrilled that I let his opinions guide my purchases. hee.
As to my own father, dead and buried since 1989 -- I don't think of him at all when my Daddy and I play. I think that part of it is that I can't remember a time when I called my Dad "Daddy." I've had years to work through any issues I had with him. The only assocation I've ever made between my father and my Daddy is when I really stopped and thought about it, I realized that when my Daddy's eyes twinkle because I've pleased him in some way, it reminds me of the rare looks of approval I got from my own father. But that's only when I really stop and think hard on the connection. Otherwise, I just play and enjoy and feel like the luckiest girl in the world.
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