Happy Birthday, Daddy!

  

On this day. I find myself reflective. That should be the other way around, I imagine, and perhaps it is reflective for you, too. 

On this day. I give thanks, thanks to the God who perhaps knew that there was unmet need, or who knew that I needed a hero. I give thanks that he took so many good, pure, wholesome, loving, compassionate characteristics and placed them in your heart. 

I give thanks to the woman who loved a man so much that she expressed her love in the creation of a life. I give thanks that she nurtured and nourished you, heart, mind, body and soul from the moment that God breathed you into her body.

I give thanks that for the first time in my life I am seen, really seen; that I am loved richly without restraint or condition. I give thanks that I see things about myself that are good, because you see them, because you know me better than I know myself, because you care to give me the gift of clear sight. I give thanks, on my knees, with tears in my eyes for the greatest gift I have ever known... the gift of a man, tall, strong, gentle, firm, honorable, loving and compassionate.

Every time I look at you and with your every look; with your every touch; with your every smile; with every deep and melodic laugh; with every word that flows like deep, rich honey from your lips; with your breath soft upon my hair; every time I breath in the scent of you; with the strength of your arms enfolding me - I am grateful, humbled, surrendered, owned.....and so very happy.

You spoke and said "If I could be your hero...", silly man, you already are my hero. You are every shining, bright thing that is right with my world. I am blessed. I love you with my all. 

Happy Birthday, my darling love. 

The Spanking Game

Old-Fashioned Marriage made a post about distancing and made an interesting proposition. He proposed that the wife be spanked as a consequence for the husband distancing, under the understanding that he bears the responsibility for all that goes on in the relationship (true), and since he cannot be held accountable, punishing his wife for his transgression would act to correct his behavior.

Ward and I do something kind of like that, but the thought behind it is a little different. I do not assume punishment for him. But when I sense that he is stressed, perhaps a little distant, I will bring him the hairbrush (his weapon errrrrr implement of choice), say "Go ahead, Daddy, you'll feel better", and drape my panty-covered bottom over his lap. And he always does feel better. And I feel good that I can offer that to him.

One time, on a particularly evil, not good, very bad day, (after a duty day prior to the last deployment) I wanted to pull him back to his happier self, and remind him that life was not always going to be this hard. So I thought and thought and thought, and this is what I did.

I laid a cool drink on the table where he would sit, as well as some sliced fruit and cheese and crackers. When he came in, I kissed him and slid his coat off his arms, loosened and removed his tie, sat him in his chair. After removing his boots and socks I gave him a relaxing foot massage and listened to his sighs as I explained what he saw on the table and floor.



I had laid out some pillows on the floor in front of the table. On the table were 6 bowls with slips of paper. One was labeled Action. It contained slips of paper with the words, lick, suck, spank, etc.Another labeled Substance with words like honey, chocolate, whipped cream, etc. Another was labeled body part. Another labeled Implement, which needs no explanation, lol. One was labeled position. And the last labeled Duration. 



 
Also on the table were 2 trays:

The game went: you chose a slip from the action bowl. If you received an impact word, you chose additional slips from the implement, position and duration bowls. If you chose a lick/suck/kiss word, you chose a slip from the substance, body part and duration bowls. Obviously, if it was an impact word, my bottom was the bottom being impacted regardless of who drew the slip, lol. And if you chose a 'mouth' word or massage/caress word you performed the action on the other partner.

Needless to say, by the time we were done playing,  communication was flowing easily, there was no distancing and no holding back, and I had one very deliriously relaxed, totally de-stressed Daddy....and we put the dinner on 'warm'.


HIS POV:  June knows my heart so well.  She takes such expert care of me that it makes me want to compose poetry to her name and glory.  As the head of our home I have to recognize that I need to be accountable to our standard and being a stressed out mess does not help.  We are  very blessed to count ourselves good communicators and I am very very fortunate to have her as my lady. This game was a blast and it's a wonderful way to pass a fall day, even when everything is going great!

Distancing

Stormy wrote a wonderful, insightful post yesterday Go The Distance. She and I have talked about distancing before here on blogland. We both have rules against distancing. We both struggle with it.

Stormy wrote:
"He says Distancing is Dangerous. He says its Disobedient. He says its Defiant. He says its Deceptive.
Eeeeeek! Stop, you're freaking me out now, Dude."

 Dang, yes, please, stop - you're freaking me out too - that's every single basic rule we have.....but Ogre's right - sigh.

"What does distancing look like to a man? It looks like distrust. I was staggered a bit when this thought hit me suddenly. WOW. So I am telling him that I don't trust him?"

I was staggered, too. That's what it is. Oh my goodness. My response to Stormy was:

Wow, Stormy, I never thought of it from Ward's POV,and I don't think we've ever really talked about it specifically beyond the fact that distancing is damaging and has no place in our relationship.

I got warned about distancing last week, and still I thought it was about wanting to know what I am thinking so that he can help - which it is - but I don't think I ever realized that it meant I was withholding my trust. But that's exactly what it is, isn't it?

We all know the saying that our actions speak louder than words. I tell him all the time that I love him and I trust him - and I do, more than I ever have another person. But if I distance, when push comes to shove, I prove that I don't.

That's a powerful insight. I think Ward and I need to talk that out....and I think I owe him an apology. Thank you, Stormy. 

Daddy had called from work, and we spoke in the few brief moments about the post and I asked if we could discuss it last night. He said of course. 




When Daddy got home he took my hand and whispered in my ear that it was time for a spanking. It was firmer than usual and none of the lovely little breaks to rub, and I thought it was stress relief for Daddy. Then he finally did pause and he whispered "I won't let you drift away, little one." And at his words I pulled back into focus, "Was I drifting, Daddy?" He rubbed, "The last day you were, a little." And tears came because I didn't know I was. I should have felt it and I didn't. He soothed and said he didn't expect me to be perfect, but he wouldn't fail me. And then he said it was time to finish up and he did, and then took me in his arms. Some lovely things followed that come with reconnection (not correction, thankfully, he pulled me back before I got too far away - just discipline) and it was lovely and sweet. 

Then the evening chores presented themselves, laundry to fold, homework and dinner to make, baths for the boys, bedtime, and finally, our time. We cuddled up and talked about the things in Stormy's post that had struck me - hard. I said that I hadn't even felt that I was distancing, how in the world do I stop something of which I'm unaware? Daddy gave me a forehead kiss (those are yummy!) and said that's what he's there for. But I don't like feeling like I do things I don't understand. He said not to think so much (that should be HIS mantra - I know I think things to death). And he asked me how it felt.






Wow...how does it feel? Well I feel small and scared....maybe despairing....insignificant.... and totally irrational. I didn't think to ask, but Daddy probably knows - the times I have distanced seem to coincide with absence - he went back to work - it's not 9-5. They can call at any time, any day he could come home and have a 4 or 5 day mission - blech. And let's not even talk about deployment. When we were talking on the phone, when he felt more distance, he had just sent me an email that he had to work late...on the first day back. It's not anything over which he has control. It's distressing nonetheless, and irrational because we're both at the mercy of the forces that be there.




All of that sounds whiny, and weak, and because of that I resist  it. I'm his little girl, but I'm his woman, too, I'm supposed to be his partner, his helpmate. How bloody annoying is it to have a whiny helpmate? So I stuff it down instead of sharing how very much I miss him, how very much I need him, how essential he is to my existence. And in rebelling against that weak and whiny voice - am I also rebelling against him? You know, guys, this is just getting worse and worse and worse. Sometimes I hate blogging... because I have to write it out and ruminate, and think, and figure it out, and see it and - oh please no - accept it so I can fix it...I don't know if I can fix it - it happens outside of my conscious mind - it's an undercurrent - probably because that is how I've coped most of my life.....okay, yes - my life before Ward - sigh.....


For Daddy's part, my sweet Daddy-love said I am a priority, this family is a priority, as well as his duties as it's head.  I am very lucky, and sometimes I don't feel that I serve him as well as I wish to. So I guess it's a good thing that we do TTWD, so that I don't have to feel that way for long. Daddy's lap is a magic place, and his love is my miracle. 

HIS POV: 
June is my life, my strength, my inspiration, our family is a priority, not an option and it is my honor and privilege as well as my   greatest accomplishment.  Sometimes life gets to her, to us and it is my work to ensure that our home as well as all in it are well cared for.  It is a pleasure to listen and to help, it is an honor to give guidance and clarity and it is a true labor of love to build a loving home for such a lovely, genuine person.  I am humbled to share a life with this lady, and even though our thoughts aren't always soft, quiet, easy ones I am glad I can be her strength and comfort.

When she begins to put distance between us, I feel disquieted and it alerts me to her needs, and the needs of our relationship. I don't allow distancing for a lot of reasons, the biggest of which is the health of our relationship. I think through vigilance and constant positive reinforcement we can both provide the stability and comfort that we both need and crave.

When I was a young boy, my imagination took me to....

When I was a young boy my imagination took me to heights unknown and I dreamed the grandest dreams.
Children have the right to dream, and dreams, they look to the future with an exuberance and anticipation and appetite that they may never see again, Once a boy becomes a man, he learns what he could become and he can no longer go back to being a boy...  Yes, children have the right to dream.



  Who I am is a question that haunted me for many years, throughout my teen years and my twenties, who I am was a question that often brought fear, uncertainty and unconfidence. Like so many others, my life has not always been kind and truth be told, I haven't always made the best decisions. This wonderful lady that I call mine has been my greatest blessing and I thank the Lord everyday for her. She is my source of comfort, my lover, my greatest friend, and my helper and my mate.  The beautiful gift of her submission gives me a confidence that I never knew and it inspires me to be my best.  Her love makes me a better partner, a better father and a better leader for our family unit.  

That question that haunts me?  I look back at the soft spoken, studious gentleman and I think I can answer

I am:

- A proud father      

- A teacher

- A provider

- A friend

- A lover

   

I think this life, this lifestyle, TTWD has given me many things I may have never discovered what was waiting inside, Our love blossoms and with every second of every day I pause to appreciate our considerable blessings.  We may not be on top of the financial heap, but I think what June and I share makes us one of the richest couples of all!

Her POV:
I have never been a woman who valued material things. Things just don't matter, I would be hard-pressed to name something that was purchased new - new to us, but not new. I'm a crafty dresser-upper. I have known people with measurable wealth, and the finest of possessions, and a pervasive sadness, loneliness and sometimes a coldness that is palpable. Ward and I are incredibly rich, it is luxuriant, and immeasurable. It is something that emanates from our family and shines like a beacon. It creates a warmth that other people see and feel and gravitate towards.

Our children were not born of our great love, I brought them with me into our relationship. Ward embraced them as his own, and they have a mutual admiration society going on. They were missing a positive, strong, principled man to emulate. Then Ward came into our lives and everything changed. I was no longer alone and our children... they have the finest example to pattern themselves on. I have always been proud of them, I am so incredibly proud of my man, and of the men we will give to this world.

And my Ward? He is most definitely my greatest blessing. He has a gentleness, a sweetness, a compassion that draws me out of the tightly walled fortress behind which I had hidden myself. With him, I feel myself blossoming - every single day. And when I walk into our home of repurposed things, painted and covered and pre-loved, I feel the richness of the air. Then I lay eyes on my Daddy, sitting like a king on our sofa, our children doing stunts then climbing into his lap, or clambering for him to 'carry me!' or 'roll me up!', and I hear the elegant music of their laughter mixing and dancing around me and I know that I am wealthy beyond belief. I would not trade my life for anything in this universe.

A woman owned

I am a woman, born in 1960, three years before Betty Friedman penned The Feminine Mystique. This was the dawn of a movement of women away from traditional roles, inspired by the civil rights movement, and further fueled by Ms. Friedman and her contemporaries formation of NOW in 1968.





I am a woman born of a woman who seduced, used and abused the people around her. One who had a chain of men all of whom served her and were debased by her, who came away from her less than when they came to her.

I am a woman with the heart of a little girl. I am a woman who emerged from my past with a delicate grace and fragile wings. I am a woman who through some random act of cosmic kindness found a man who fills me, who loves me for who I am, exactly as I am and supports me on the breath of his love, letting me soar for the first time in my life. I am a woman who treasures her family above all else. I am a woman who finds my happiness in being shelter, peace and comfort for the ones I love. 

I am a woman who needs a strong man, one who can lead, and on whom I can depend. I am a woman who enjoys the feeling of his control. I am a woman who thrives expressing my submission in my response to his, "This is what I want you to do..." I am a woman who loves the feel of his hand in my hair, pulling my face to his, that look, that voice, low and sweet, "Who do you belong to, little girl?" I am a woman who enjoys the 'good girl' when I yield to him.

I am a woman who enjoys feeling my place, across his lap, his hands on my body, warm caressing strokes, squeezes, stinging spanks and exquisite pleasure that send me to lovely, floaty places that only he can bring me to, and hearing his voice, "Do you feel owned, little one?" And the sigh that floats in my head, like dandelion puffs, and I wonder if the words ever get formed, "Yes, Daddy, I'm yours." But somehow he knows, and he smiles, and the warmth radiates from his 'good girl, mine' through his hands and wraps me like a blanket as I'm pulled into his arms.

I am a woman out of time.

I am a woman deliriously happy.

I am a woman in love.

I am a woman owned.

(the photos in this post are reblogged from Dominant.tumblr.com, blushredtail.tumblr.com and breathingwhispers.tumblr.com)


HIS POV:  The lovely Ms. June strikes at the heart of what is real and vibrant. The gift of your unquestioning devotion.  From the way the light catches your form in the middle of the day to the way your body moves in time to the cadence of our love, I am a blessed man to know you, to share a life with you, that is gift beyond anything I have received and I wear the mantle of "Daddy" as a crown with you beside me as my queen. I love you deep and I speak to the beauty in that woman that I call mine.

So you feel a little bratty?

I've been thinking a lot lately, not always safe, just ask Daddy - I sometimes think way too much. But this thinking has not been bad thinking....this thinking as been pondering/figuring stuff out thinking.

What am I pondering about? Why I'm not bratty. You've seen my Daddy say a number of times that I'm a good girl. That makes me proud because I like making him proud. Don't get me wrong, I am absolutely no Mary Sunshine here. I feel plenty strident sometimes. So I started paying attention to my thought process.


This is no secret to him, when I'm aware, or become aware, I tell him....I tell him everything, we are totally transparent with each other. Sometimes something will upset me, something that happened, or something that was said, maybe I'm unsure or reticent about something he requests. Most of the time I ask him if we can talk about it.

When I don't he always asks what's wrong. He hears it, smells it, sees it, feels it. There are times I say "Umm, don't wanna say it." And he says, "No, I'm listening, lovey, I need to hear it." I'll say, "Nope, it's not very submissive." He coaxes, "Go on." And I tell him, "That made me feel...," and he says "That wasn't so bad, was it?" Well sometimes it seems that way to me.

It's sometimes hard to reveal those things I may be thinking. That means putting myself out there, doesn't it? But I have honestly never had a partner who was so concerned with my fulfillment, with my happiness, my enjoyment, my safety - my over-all well-being. He listens to everything. He coaxes out the things I may be reluctant to say because I think it's frivolous, or unsubmissive or unseemly. He thinks it's all important. He takes it all into consideration, and he does make the decisions that serves our family best.

There are times when I don't feel especially happy about something. And I might feel pouty or feel something....unsubmissive, that wants to come out of my mouth. But I have this little internal dialogue that runs.

Well I don't want to...
But he's Daddy...
But I'd rather.....
It's what he/we/you need, he's not arbitrary....
No he's not, but I'll be sad....
You'll be sad for a little while, but in the end he will work it out for the best resolution, he always does. He's the big picture man. What is the real issue here? Why do you want to resist him?
pout.....sigh
 
"Yes, Daddy" and sometimes I DO say, "Yes, Daddy, I don't want to, but I'll be a good girl." And guess what? The smile that has a million rays of the sun, and the kiss on the pout and the voice that thaws me out in an instant, whispering "Good girl." make it all worth it till the good things happen.

So what I figured out from my thinking is that we all have the potential to be bratty, it's whether we just let it all fly or we let it run through our filters first. Why bother? Because I love him, because I respect him. Even if we were a straight up 'nilla couple I would think that would be the foundation of any relationship. In our relationship? Well he is my HoH, he is my Dominant, he is my Daddy. He has this right - the duty - to make the decisions for us as a couple and as a family. It's my duty to follow with grace. For this good man, that is the path I choose.

HIS POV:

To truly love someone is to understand them, to guide them, to nurture them, discipline them and give them the freedom to let go of the fear of uncertainty. I try my best to be there for my June,  we share a communication and understanding that allows me to know and share the kind of deep connection that we both need and desire.  Even when the tough decisions come, I know I have her support even if she doesn't like the direction we need to go in for the good of our family and relationship... I'm a lucky lucky man, my June is a very good girl and I won't ever take that for granted.

Being Daddy's little girl

So we know how Ward became Daddy. He said when he came back he wanted post about his experience of being Daddy, and we in fact talked about that the other evening. This is about what it feels like being little, what it feels like being his little girl.

He is my everything. He is every prayer I ever uttered answered, and every dream I never dared. He is my best friend. He is my leader. He is my man. He is my hero. He is my lover. He is my guide. He is my heart. He is m'anumchara. He is my King. He is every good thing that ever is or will be in one word - Daddy.

I've spoken briefly here and there about us having a D/lg dynamic in our mix. And we've established that we are not age-play. When we are intimate, I am not a little girl. I am all woman (just ask Ward, lol). I don't dress in frilly clothes, there are no hair bows, pacifiers, diapers. When Daddy spanks, he spanks his partner, not an errant child, though my childlike side often reacts if I feel I have wronged him, or been less than I want to be for him. It is not something we step into and step out of for play or for short periods of time.

Those are a bunch of things it's not. So what is it? It is who we are every moment of every day. It's loving sparkly, shiny, jingly things, and having Daddy indulge that, admiring the things that catch my eye. It's his being tickled when I am distractable. It's enjoying blowing bubbles and water gun fights and tickle fights. It's about never hearing "Oh, grow up!"





It's about sharing the joy of those simple things. It's giggling with abandon, and his chuckle further fueling my giggle. It's eating with your fingers and feeding Daddy with your fingers, and him licking you clean. It's being scared or sad and having arms wrapped around you and never hearing, "You're being ridiculous", but hearing, "It's all right, darling, Daddy's here." It's about Daddy listening to your broken heart and fixing the things that are wrong.



It's about being me, perfectly imperfect just me, and being loved unconditionally. It's about Daddy looking into my heart and showing me how beautiful I am, over and over again, even when I resist that idea. It's about him showing me that even when I make a mistake, I am loved, and I am good, just my actions are sometimes in error.






It is the freedom to be exactly who I am, never holding back any small part of myself, completely laid bare, completely vulnerable and unvarnished before him, and being protected and treasured and safe.

The Power of Words

My last post was about power exchange. And it was kind of funny that the comments were a bit reticent. That brought me back to a thought that I think quite a bit...the power of words.




When I first started exploring I was loathe to use the word submissive. It was scary, the connotation of the word, to someone raised in the kind of environment I was. I was subjugated regularly, by people who were supposed to care about me. I came from a time and in a society where Gloria Steinem talked about dissolving sex-roles stereotypes, and Helen Reddy sang about not being kept down on the floor.




Well, I'm not the fist raised kind of girl. I was very content to use my easy-bake oven and a Betty Crocker cookbook I got for my 8th birthday. It's not that I don't believe in equality for all people - I do - regardless of sex, color, sexual orientation or lifestyle kink. But don't tell me that I'm wrong because I'm comfortable cooking and cleaning and nesting. When you give someone a freedom, it should really include a judgement-free freedom of choice.





But I digress...I grew with a head-full of images and some kind of perverse aversion to the idea of submission. When I started exploring my core, what I wanted needed and desired, I struggled with the idea of submission. That word...but the reality, and the feeling are very much different. And the word became not something to fear, and not a label, but a way to express a very deep dimension of my soul.

Then I was confronted with the word slave. Oh good Lord are we serious? What a negative connotation does that have? But ask me now, I am Ward's little girl, but there is nothing that I would deny him. There is nothing I would not do for him. There is no limit to what I would do for him, out of trust and love and because he would never diminish me. He lifts me up. He honors me. I honor him.

One I still struggle with is masochist....Hello, my name is June and I am a spanko. Ward and I enjoy spanking as play, as an assertion of his dominance, and an acknowledgement of my submission, what some might call maintenance. We also use it for discipline. I dislike labels - we are a lovely mix of different dynamics. I feel like Donny and Marie - we're a little bit DD. a little bit D/s, a little bit spanko. We are us. I like us quite a lot.

I am a spanko, I do indeed crave pain sometimes. I know that when I feel I have done something that is detrimental to us, I need his absolution. I need the purging. When I am stressed, the pain takes the unbearable emotional pain, transfers it to flesh and poof...does that make me a masochist? That word still holds power over me.

When I heard about Daddies and babygirls, I thought, especially in light of the sexually abusive childhood I had that that was just not me, that was sick. I had the impression that many have, it's about age-play, incest-play. And that's not it at all, not for us. Certainly there is an age-play fetish, that is scene-dependant. It's something you put on and take off. We are who we are to the depths of our souls, it is 24/7, it is fluid. Sometimes I am little me, sometimes I am big me - but that's a chat for another post. Having a Daddy and being his little girl doesn't frighten me anymore.

There are some in the DD world that would deny that they are in a D/s relationship. But when one party takes a leadership role and another follows, it is a Dominant/submissive relationship. And Daddy and I, being who and what we are think most must like/want/need/desire spanking even if they don't want to admit it.Which brings us back to power exchange. Another scary concept. Wikipedia defines a power exchange relationship as "refers to a relationship or activity in which the submissive gives to the dominant partner power and authority over the submissive's body in exchange for the submissive's happiness and health".

Well, that's kinda of what we all do, whether we're DD, D/s, D/lg, M/s, isn't it? So I'm kind of curious as to what image the term evoked for the commenters on the Power exchange post. Is that a term or a concept that you found jarring or scary? Are there words or terms that you have trouble embracing, but keep coming back to you?