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The D Word
🕑 Added 2022-03-23 02:48:59 +0000 UTCI love it when she plays with me like this, I know it’s about to get intense, I know we’re about to go hard, but right now it’s still that foreplay, flirting.
I was under the covers and she was sitting on the edge of the bed. She was trying to grab my wrists, I was resisting, struggling free and wriggling away while she smoked her vape with one hand and lazily restrained me with the other. She’s playful, like I’m a kitten she’s toying with. Her kitten.
She made a bad joke, I rolled my eyes, “if you’re gonna make Dad-jokes, I’m gonna start calling you Daddy.” I’m mouthy when we wrestle, a scrappy little thing. She’s calm and collected, sure of her dominance. She’s caring and firm. I don’t call her Daddy. I call her Boss. But she’s a Daddy for sure.
People have feelings about titles, and Daddy can be touchy. I remember testing the waters on one of our first dates, I was being a brat and she said “That’s okay, I know how to handle a brat.” She was speaking my language, I grinned, “That Daddy energy huh?” and she recoiled at the word, almost confused, a little disgusted, “Huh?”
I quickly recovered, “You know, a brat-tamer, someone who’s in control.” And the word didn’t come up again until months later when Eden was talking about her Daddy. Max asked me later what I thought of it, I explained how there were lots of ways to be dominant, explained what a Daddy-type-dom was, explained how I liked that kind of energy. Being treasured and cared for, feeling small. I left it at that. It didn’t come up again for a year.
To me it’s not about the word, it’s about the approach, the dynamic. Regardless of Max’s hesitation with the word Daddy, she’s a Daddy through and through. She takes her job as my protector and caretaker seriously. She easily takes control. She’s tender in the way she loves, reassuring and stable. She spoils me and dotes on me, she always has my best interests at heart. She’s the greatest Daddy really. I don’t need to use the word to get those things from her.
But…
I like the word. And I like to play with fire and rough edges. And here we were in her bed toying with some big feelings. When she tried to pin my wrists down playfully I became a saucy little thing and said “You’d like it you know.” So matter of fact. She chuckled as I wriggled away and she brought my wrist back down to the mattress with ease. I love when she controls me like this, I love pushing back in these moments.
“You would!” I squealed, “If I said pleease daddy! in my most desperate voice you’d like it. And then what?” My smirk was insufferable as I moaned the D word for her. She held my wrists in place and took a hit off of her vape, she looked me over, raising an eyebrow.
“I went on a date with one of those once,” she said, “what do they call it? Big Daddy Little Girl?” She was so close it was terrifying and adorable. She loomed over me, threatening me with her strength and closeness. “I bet you’re into it, I bet you’ve been desperate to call me daddy.”
I can not breathe. My littlest instincts buck against her, “Naoooooooo! I have not been!”
We started wrestling in earnest now, I’d pulled my wrists free and she was trying to pin them again. “Suuuuure, you like it I bet,” she taunted me, “You wanna call me daddy don’t you?”
I fought back with all of my might, “No I DON’T!!! I don’t need a daddy. You already have a special name!!” I pout and act hurt, furrowing my brow. Anything to distract her from my pounding heart.
“Awww my poor thing,” she leans in to kiss me again but hesitates at the last moment, so close I can feel her warm breath. “I bet you’d like to be my little girl,” she says, watching my pupils for a response. My eyes light up, I don’t look away, I smile, “I already am your little girl.”
She kisses me, she knows it’s true.
“Did you let her call you Daddy?” I ask, trying to disguise the lump in my throat as the words whisper off of my lips. She’s confused for a moment, I remind her she’d mentioned a date who was into it. My brain fixates you know.
“Ah, naw, I didn’t fuck her,” she replies. I’m relieved. I know it’s ancient history but I want to say it to her first. I want it to be special. I want to be her only little girl. I want to be her everything. It’s hard to tell what she’s thinking as she watches my face, assessing.
“So if you call me daddy do I get to make unlimited Dad-jokes?” she asks pressing my wrists over my head. I try to resist but she’s stronger than me in all the ways it counts. I hold her gaze. “Nope, if you do that I’ll call you Dad. Which is a different vibe entirely. But don’t worry, I’m still super into it.” I laugh at her surprised face, eyebrows raised. “You bad little girl,” she says kissing me hard.
I’m stuck now, there’s no more wriggling. She’s got me pinned down and locked under her weight. “You’ve been angling for this for years,” she says. (It’s a threat and a revelation.)
