He Is My Daddy, But Then He Isn’t

Good afternoon, readers!

Goodness, it seems like almost all of a sudden, my blog has exploded! Every morning I wake up and check my phone and discover that I’ve acquired at least one new follow over night. Every time I put my phone down, it seems like someone else is reading me and is inspired by my posts or story. It really is wonderful and I thank you from the bottom of my heart for taking the time to read me!

I had no intentions to write today, I have to be honest with you. It’s a glorious day here in the UK and I thought “hey, I really, really need to do some gardening today.” I know, the horror, right? A kinkster, gardening, abandoning her BDSM blog and doing something so… vanilla. String her up!

Anyway, it’s a scorching day here and I decided that, before I go and utilise my wireless tools (the hedge trimmer and the strimmer, you perverts) I really wanted to find something to pass time until the midday sun passes over. It’sexpected to reach about 31 degrees Celsius here in the south and I don’t want to use something with a lithium-ion battery in that heat, heaven forbid it explodes and I lose my arm, or something!

What to do? Well Elena, you could do the dishes, but, well, dishes are boring, so let’s write.

Today I wanted to talk about something really personal to me. It’s something that I’m having a huge struggle with at the moment (for a myriad of reasons) and I hoped that, by sharing my story, I can also reach out to people who are maybe feeling like I do and who are, perhaps, feeling in a similar way to what I do, so here I am.

You see, one of my biggest challenges lately has been that my Sir feels like my Daddy, but I have a tough ol’ time calling him my Daddy.

Let me explain part one of that story.

A few years ago, we started toying around with the name “Daddy”. He’d been my Master for a while and one day my mind just decided that it liked “Daddy”, so, being the good little submissive that I can be, I told him. Of course, I hid under a cushion, fearing a monumental backlash and disgust, but actually, he too really liked it, so Daddy Wolfie he became!

Much of the time, he was just “Daddy” to me. Anytime we were alone, he was Daddy. In sex or play, he was Daddy, if I wanted something, Daddy. The only time he was ever just Wolfie was when we had company, because we we were all too aware of the social stigmas of calling your partner “Daddy”- and we definitely didn’t want that discussion with the family!

Give myself a pat on the back here, for all of about 4 years of using it, I never once called my husband “Daddy” in front of family. If it was just the two of us alone in a room together, then we’d play a silly game of saying “Daddy” or “kitten” as many times as we could before company returned, but besides that, it’d never happen. Sometimes I’d also tease him, but asides that, I never once slipped.

Around October last year, we went on vacation with my family. It was a tradition that meant we got a fortnight away from it all, and even in spite of their now-somewhat-forgiven transgressions, we were still all able to go on vacation together and have a nice time. We’d stay in separate accommodation, so although we were together as a group, we also had enough privacy not to be on each other’s toes, and not impede on each other’s relationships.

While we were on vacation, my husband noticed one day that I was visibly “off”. Pulling me to one side, he asked me what was wrong.

“I don’t want to do it anymore”, I explained.

“Do what?” he asked.

I looked at him. Really?

“Daddy?” he mouthed. He knew this had been a problem for a while.

I nodded, hugged him and cried.

Each time “I uttered “Daddy”, thoughts of my father appeared in my mind. It wasn’t that I had any kind of sexual involvement with my Dad, but we had an incredibly strong, untarnished relationship that I almost felt as though I was tainting it. “Dad” had never involved anything sex for me, and I wanted it kept that way.

For a while, it crept back. Confused as ever, I would call him Daddy, feel bad and then I would cry.

“Just let it happen if it wants to happen, love”, he said. So I did.

In March this year, my dear Dad, my dear, sweet beloved Dad, passed away at the age of 60 from plasma cell leukemia. At that point, everything that I know to be true went on hold. My life was upended and kink and BDSM were the last thing I wanted to know. I existed, I functioned. But I was hardly alive.

Very slowly, things started to reappear like spring flowers after a long, dark winter. I’d want sex, I’d want to play rough, I’d flirt. Very, very slowly, the old me would re-emerge.

But there was one caveat – I was absolutely not prepared to use Daddy, ever again. That would have to go now. It felt disrespectful to my late Dad, almost as though I was replacing him. Yet, in a way, I almost was.

You see, my Dad can never be replaced. Yet, in having my husband now, my father can know that it’s okay. It’s okay to go, to be wherever he needs to be in the spiritual world. I am loved, I am cared for, I am safe – and that was all he ever wanted. In an odd way, I believe that I was meant to find my husband (and my Dad was supposed to love him, which he did) so that when this time did come, I had someone who could love me, would protect me and would understand me, someone to fill that extremely large and very deep void in my heart and love me like my Dad did. Not to be my Dad, but to be pretty darn close. To love, me, protect me and make me laugh like he would.

Since my Dad’s passing, “Daddy” has never been used, not once. The only two times it has come up is when our beloved Jack Russell has been staring at us, snuggled up on the couch.

“He’s my Daddy!” I’d exclaim, then correct myself”.

“I mean, he’s not my Daddy, he’s your Daddy and my husband and I paid to marry him”. There. Kinda.

Disclaimer: The next part of this post contains some controversial views and opinions of DDLG (Daddy Dom Little Girl) dynamics. Please understand that these are my experiences and thoughts and are absolute not a reflection of my feelings to my viewers or DDLG relationships on the whole.

One of the other things that really put me off of “Daddy” and DDLG is a lot of the stereotypical behaviours that are sort of expected of Little girls. For example:

  • Loves Disney (and has probably watched The Lion King at least once)
  • Loves pink
  • Loves fluffy animals
  • Loves Kawaii
  • Loves cute, girly clothes
  • Loves candy/cute snacks
  • May or may not have a “paci”
  • Loves cartoons
  • Loves colouring/glitter/stickers
  • May or may not baby talk
  • May engage in age play/diapers
  • Dotes on her Daddy

Now meet me:-

  • Definitely not a “Disnerd” – Prefers Pixar movies and has never even watched The Lion King
  • Hates pink, prefers (dark) purple
  • Loves bats, platypuses and dogs
  • Hates kawaii, prefers Gothic art (Anne Stokes ❤ )
  • Total Tomboy, wears jeans and a black t-shirt nearly everyday (though I do wear pigtails if it will tease my Sir)
  • Has an affinity chicken nuggets (ahem.. “nugs”) and quality chocolates
  • Has a water bottle (that may or may not be referred to my “juicie”)
  • Hates cartoons, prefers watching bad guys get busted in cop programmes with a big bowl of ice cream on her lap
  • Hates colouring, thinks glitter is an environmental disaster and would probably end up putting stickers on Sir and Sir’s belongings (*suddenly realises she really, really needs to buy stickers at this point*). Absolutely loves playing with water, bubbles and generally being a science nerd
  • Cannot stand baby talk

Is 30 years old, period

  • Always, always in trouble for something or other. Sassy, independent, and won’t do what she’s told without good reason. Definitely in some way responsible for about 90% of Sir’s out-of-work headaches

So as you can see, I sort of fail to fit the mould.

In my opinion, DDLG has sort of come away from what I know to be “true” DDLG. I call it, because it is in many ways, the “Tumblr generation”. From these posts, I have seen a narrative of what is and what is not supposed to be DDLG, and if, as Little girl, you don’t love all thinks pink and fluffy, then you sort of don’t fit the mould.

The sad truth is that we seem to risk losing sight of what DDLG really is. DDLG is a subset of BDSM, first and foremost, and it’s as much about being in Daddy’s arms as it is about Daddy’s rules. Being a Little is not always mean getting treats, gifts and attention from Daddy. A little girl is his submissive first and needs to learn to remember that, always. I have seen posts advocating using tear drops in place of real tears for seeking out Daddy’s attention or throwing child-like tantrums for candy and treats. That’s not DDLG, that’s manipulation and I won’t be part of that. It’s different if a Daddy Dom wants to buy his little girl gifts, but manipulating anyone for any reason (unless they are about to cause harm to themselves or someone else, of course) is wrong.

For me, DDLG does absolutely not need to involve kawaii or fluffy things or pink or baby animals to count. Each dynamic different and each little girl is individual. DDLG is, stripped back to basics, a caring, nurturing and fun-filled BDSM dynamic between a Dominant and his submissive with rules that care for and protect her. While my Sir is, in every way, a Daddy Dom and I am, in many ways, his little girl, for long as I am being told what “most” Littles are into or how to manipulate him with eye drops, I won’t be having any part in that.

What are your thoughts? Let me know in the comments

15 thoughts on “He Is My Daddy, But Then He Isn’t

Add yours

  1. Good Morning Elena,

    My dear friend, if I could give you a big hug right now I absolutely would, because you hit the nail on the head in so much of this post. There is no right or wrong way to do DDLG. Be the Little that YOU are supposed to be. Like you, I am also a tomboy. (I can barely walk in heels lol). My hair is a wild mess, and I don’t like having a pacifier in my mouth. It annoys me. Never let the greater stereotype of DDLG dictate how you carry yourself as a submissive. As “seasoned littles” as I so affectionately call us, 30+ people, our version of DDLG is bound to be different than, say, a 20 year old. However, every submissive or little is valid. 😉

    That said, I would encourage you to be gentle with yourself in using the word Daddy. Let the name that you want to call your dom flow from your lips as it comes. The advice he gave to you was sound. If using Daddy feels uncomfortable or disrespectful to your late father, don’t use it. In your heart, he is still your caregiver, husband, and dearest love. 🙂 That is what is important. ❤ The names you use isn't as important as the feeling you two share as D/s. Focus on that feeling and the rest will come in time how it's meant to be.

    Sending you BIG hugs from across the Atlantic, my friend! Have a beautiful weekend!

    Love,
    Penny/Kitten/Punkin lol (I have a lot of names 🙂 )

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Penny, you beautiful soul. I’ve never thought of myself as a “seasoned Little”, I guess because then you’re playing into the “them” and “us” mentality? 😉 I generally think, quite simply, in terms of Dominants, submissives and switches. How you kink is very personal, but in s roundabout way and however you do it, you still do.

      Sometimes the little in me comes back.. ahem.. a Little bit more 😉 earlier, my husband criticised my brother for more attention-seeking behaviour and instinctively I said “Daddy, play nice!” Of course he smiled, but I felt instinctively sad and confused. Like I say- I am a Little, and then I’m not.

      I won’t miss pink anymore then, and I shall embrace being “seasoned” 😉 I’ve just mutilated the privet bushes with a pole hedge trimmer so I’m definitely seasoned.. in leaves and twigs 😂

      Have a lovely Saturday, my Trans-!Atlantic friend!

      Elena/Kitten/Little Shit 😁 xx

      Liked by 2 people

  2. I do love your blog. 🙂

    I’m definitely a little, through and through, it’s who I am as person. In my relationship, I am a sub first!!! You’re right that DDlg is a subset of BDSM and how each of us does it is different. Being a little does not make it acceptable to be a bratty bitch. I take offense 100% to being compared with that stereotype of little.

    Being a little girl in BDSM does not change your personality. Not all biologically little girls are frilly and into pink and stickers. Frankly, the vast majority aren’t. Why is there an anticipation that every little love pink and be frilly? I fall somewhere in between. Sometimes I’m my full grown biological age of 47. Others I’m little, well, most of the time I’m at least somewhat little. I love dresses and pink and dolls and coloring. I also love going to car shows with Daddy, working in the yard, building things and wearing cut off jeans and one of Daddy’s Harley Davison t-shirts with tennies. I wear tennies with most of my dresses. I like science, and am a history geek. Every little girl is adorable in her own way… conformity sucks! Hell, part of the draw to being Daddy’s little girl is coloring outside the lines with whatever color I want to!!!

    I’m sorry for the loss your father. 😦 I can understand completely the Daddy thing with your husband. Here’s a perspective on the name. Your husband will still be your “Daddy Dom” type whether you all him Daddy or Wolfie or Master Muffin Top. lol What you call him doesn’t change the dynamic. He understands this. Find a name.. or a whole slew of them… that work for you.

    What to call “Daddy” is one of the most discussed topics I’ve come across in DD/lg forums online.

    Like

    1. I largely agree, however, I am 100% a brat and I take delight in it because I make my Sir smile. I answered an interview for Punkin’ Pie a few days ago in which she asked me about being a good brat vs a bad brat. To me, a good brat is about making your partner smile, a bad brat is manipulative. Even though I can be very naughty sometimes, I would never do anything to upset my Sir, big no no 🙂 I am largely a domestic servant to him but I wouldn’t be me without my sass and he loves that about me 🙂

      I’ve never thought about having more than one name for Sir. He is always Sir when we play, Wolf or Wolfie in casual, Butt, Butthead, Penis Breath (I have no idea where that one came from but it happens lol) or Mr Tickles if we’re playfighting. Mr Meanie happens sometimes too, I think that’s everything!

      Thankyou for your thoughts 🙂 xx

      Liked by 1 person

      1. I agree with you also. 🙂 Manipulative bratting is unacceptable in any form… whether it be a little or a brat.

        I am both a little and a brat. I brat to be playful and make Daddy smile. When I said about being catagorized as a bratty bitch, I was referring to the manipulative kind who are demanding of treats and use tears and any means possible to get what they want whether it’s treats or punishment. They aren’t subs in my opinion…. in any way shape or form.

        I’m a happy playful brat who will stick my nose in Daddy’s belly button and give Him zerberts while He sleeps because it’s playful and makes Him happy. He wouldn’t want me not to be that way. It’s my playful teasing which lets Him know just how much i love Him. i also am His domestic servant. It’s my greatest pride to make sure home is comfortable and taken care of when He comes home. He works hard so i might have the opportunity to be His house-kitten.

        I think we are saying essentially the same thing just using different verbage. ♥

        Like

      2. Gotcha, yes, I agree. Okay, so today I’m not doing so well on the housework, but I decided to try and get a photo of me (the horror!)for my blog and I’m making a few edits that Sir has picked up on. Now that I’ve given up on my old, pretty dead, vanilla blog and copied my mental health work over, I can focus my efforts here. However, as of next week I am only blogging on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Mondays I make ASMR videos,

        I think what you call a “bratty bitch”, I call a “bad brat”, or even quite simply a spoilt brat, so yes, I think you’re right, different words, same meaning. They aren’t, as you quite rightly say, coming from a place of submission, they are coming from a place of personal gain. They are manipulative (and sometimes abusive) and that’s the very last thing a true submissive is! XX

        Liked by 1 person

      1. It will be three years this Jan. I would like to say it gets easier, but I find that the loss just becomes a part of your daily life. There are good and bad days. More good than bad as you go on. You will feel better as time passes.
        I can say Daddy intimately, but I struggle. It comes out in whispers.

        Like

  3. It’s just gone 7 months for me. We released Dad’s ashes into the ocean two weeks ago, so unfortunately that has brought it all back again. My big fear is getting through winter without him. I suffer with SAD and he was always my rock during the dark and lonely days. I find trying to do him proud helps. That, and I have his old garden shed. I go down there and talk to him. It’s strange how grief can change you, for better or for worse.
    I find it comes out “Dally”, I don’t know why, it almost sounds American and yet I’m completely British. “Sir” happens for me with ease, but Daddy is purely a bedroom thing.

    Like

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