How I see him

“Wake up, my little love,” Daddy whispers in my ear so gently. I slowly peak one eye open and quickly shut it. It’s so bright. Daddy has all the curtains open to his room and the sun pierces my retinas making them hurt. Vampire eyes, I think to myself. I feel the light touch of my Daddy’s lips kissing my soft skin, down my legs, lifting my feet and kissing my toes, back up my legs, my sex, up my stomach, to my neck. I moan and arch my back in response to his touch. It does something to my soul and makes my pussy instantly wet aching for his cock to be inside me while he holds me close and kisses me so deep. I pull him in tighter, soaking up his love as much as I can. These moments are it for me. Some of the most meaningful connections happen right here, in his bed, when we first wake up. My messy hair tickles his nose and he quickly rubs his hand through my hair pushing it back. “You need to fix yourself, babydoll!” he says softly into my ear. I can’t right now, it’s too perfect to end this moment. I can feel him breathe me in, as I am doing the same. I feel those sparks of electric run through my nerve endings into him. It’s an indescribable feeling, one that I want to revel in all day long. We don’t need to fit some idea or image of perfect D/s to have our perfect moments. Yes, it would have been perfect if I woke up a little earlier and made Daddy’s coffee and brought him his vape as I usually do. But, Daddy saw how exhausted I was, and made a choice to give me a few more minutes of sleep while he made my coffee instead. Every once in a while we go off our norm to care for each other in different ways. It’s in those moments especially, I know I belong to him as he belongs to me. To me, this is us. This is when I’m floating and riding the waves of my Ocean. This is our reality, this is our D/s. Our little piece of solace.

Serendipitous

I can’t say that until a few months ago I understood littles. It seemed to me that the whole DD/lg dynamic enforced the idea that submissives are helpless women in need of knights in shining armor, or in this case Daddies, to come and save them. It struck me as a sort of helplessness that I found distasteful. I didn’t mind that others enjoyed it, but I just didn’t understand. It wasn’t for me. I wasn’t one of ‘those’ women.

Fast forward to now and I find myself in a relationship that allows me to be completely vulnerable. I am still at my core the same stable, self sufficient, intelligent woman that I was before we met. I haven’t lost my ability to care for myself, and I know at my core that life can, and would, go on without him. But I choose him. I choose to allow myself moments of nakedness and vulnerability in his arms. I trust him not to betray me, or hold that against me.

In those moments I can, like a child, say exactly how I feel without fear that I’m not handling things well, that I’m not censoring myself enough, or that I’m overwhelming him. I don’t worry that I’m existing too loudly, or weigh whether my words are appropriate. I stop worrying that I’m taking up too much space.

I don’t imagine I’ll ever be a woman who wants to wear a diaper, use a paci, or sleep with a stuffie. I’ll always love Disney movies, but I’ll be just as happy with an episode of Grey’s Anatomy. I’ll take a glass of wine over a sippy of juice even when I’m feeling small. Those things are not a litmus test for being little. They are accessories to the vulnerability that lies at the core of the dynamic.

I’ve come to find a new understanding about what it is to regress to a time of innocence and vulnerability. To an age of reliance on another person for your care. Now when I think of my dominant I think of a man who allows me to be completely exposed and defenseless, and who never takes advantage of that. I think of a man who cherishes the part of me that relies on him and depends on his care and affection. I think of Daddy, and I feel so blessed to be his little girl.