On being a Daddy

It's interesting, the places we find ourselves.

Lady and myself have always enjoyed a fairly hardline power dynamic--I top and she bottoms, in the many and varied senses of the terminology.

And you know, this leads me to many questions regarding patriarchy and my place in it--It's tough being a conscious feminist and being a straight, white male owner of a female slave. Essentially, I figure that Lady is the one who initiated this aspect of our relationship. And I'm not a Gorean, I don't require her complete and total servitude 24/7.

As a matter of fact, she delights in bratting up for me in the bedroom. Which is what led to our most recent paradigm shift.

She was rimming me one evening, mainly because I was reclining in a Jockstrap--she's got a bit of a thing for those, especially just after I work out. On an impulse, after she had referred to me as "Sir", a lightbulb went off and I took a leap.

"Call me 'Daddy', little girl."

She paused. Truth be told, I was afraid I had offended her or stepped over a line. I was wrong. She resumed her tounging with increased fervor, peppering it with "Oh Daddy, I love your ass" and things of the like. It was hotter than a two dollar pistol, as the man would say. That night showed a marked increase in the intensity and enjoyment of our fucking.

That's our dynamic now. When it comes to fun in the bedroom, she calls me "Daddy" at all times. Initially this gave me pause: It's "wierd", right? But no stranger than "Master" or "Sir". And this Daddy Dynamic really is a better fit for us: I enjoy spoiling her, disciplining her, and she enjoys the surrender of treating me like an authority figure. Her brat moments take a decidedly hotter turn when it comes time for punishment, mainly due to the fact that she has to explain herself to Daddy, she has to suffer her reddened cheeks under Daddies hand. It's hot as hell.

I know it seems perverted. That's because it is. But 'perverted' aint such a bad thing.