Daddy's back

I was kneeling before him.
He was enthroned in his chair.
It really is his chair now.
I can't bring myself to sit in it any more.
Which is too bad, because it's frightfully comfortable.

I was kneeling before him doing to him those things I do when he's settled into his chair and I'm kneeling before him. I had come up for air, as he likes me to do, so he can see my face and enjoy my mouth and hear those words that get him ever so turned on.

He called me his little girl.

It took a few moment to sink in.
I looked up.
A questioning look.

Yes, he said.
Daddy's back.

Daddy's been away for a couple of months. Since our big conflagration back in April, when in the face of a demonstration of his affection I pulled back. Not deliberately. Something in me can't handle anyone being so taken with me. Thinking I'm so extraordinary. The look in his eyes...

I'm crying now.
Because it will be a very long time,
and maybe forever,
before he lets himself be with me in that way again.
Because it's not safe.

He says I hate weakness. I don't know if it's that. Perhaps it's that I think there must be something wrong with anyone who can feel that way about me. Because even as hard as he has worked to make me value myself, there is obviously a lot of work left for him to do. So at a few moments during that night he rented the motel room, and then a fair amount the following Tuesday when he visited, I pulled back. I slipped out and saw him... differently.

I felt power. The power that comes from knowing someone wants me that much. The power that comes from disinterest. From scorn.

He was giving me so much, and in return I did the equivalent of spitting in his face.

With his x-ray vision, he saw.
He knew.
He could tell.
And that is how I hurt him back in April.
That is is why he beat me that badly.
That is why he beat me more than he wanted to.

And that is why Daddy went away.

Well, that's basically why. I don't know exactly why he wasn't letting me be his little girl any more. I felt it as a punishment. I felt that he didn't think it was wise or safe to have that kind of very special intimacy any more.

It was awful. I found myself addressing him as Daddy in my head, calling out his name as I tested my new vibrators, having his name on the tip of my tongue when I was with him. Last week - I think it was last week - I said how much I missed him. My Daddy.

10 days ago.
I wrote:

I miss my Daddy... I so wanted to come bursting in to send you a proud message saying "Look, Daddy! I got my plants in!" But I understand, my Lord. I know you know what's best. Still, I keep having to sweep that name away from my lips...

But he said it was too early. That he had a plan for that. For now, he wanted me to think of myself only as his slave for a while.

Except I've been having trouble living in in my "slave skin", as he called it. Struggling. I was OK when we were together, and occasionally over e-mail, but there is something about the word itself that makes me uncomfortable. Add that to hormonal issues, low thyroid, unbearable heat, and things were not going well.

My Master - and he is my Master - is used to having to change his plan for me. Poor guy. So he did. He knew exactly what I needed.

First, he - well, this is hard to describe. How do I put this? He... he let me kiss him. Deeply. Needily. Desperately. Usually I present my mouth for him to enjoy. My mouth must be soft and my tongue extended just the right amount. You know how hard it is to keep your mouth soft with your tongue sticking out?

Anyway, on Tuesday he could feel how desperately I needed his warmth. His affection. His arms and his mouth as comfort and refuge because I was feeling such a failure and a bit like I was stranded on a dessert island. So he threw the doors wide open.

"Feed on me," he said.

And of course I cried.
I am such a cry baby.
I cried and he held me and he was sweet and gentle.

And later.
Later.
Daddy came back.

And he told me how much he had missed being with his little girl. How hard it had been for him. And I realized it was true, and how much he denies himself for me. For the good of the relationship. Because while he has a whole stable of other submissives, I give him things that he can't get from anybody else.

I am Daddy's little girl.

There are still sadnesses that linger. I'm still struggling with the slave thing, and I feel I've let him down. He tries to reassure me, saying that I learned plenty and did enhance my service to him. So that's something, I guess. And he was smart enough to realize that I needed a break now. And something to make me feel better.

Having Daddy back makes me feel really, really good.
And having his little girl back...
I could tell how good Daddy felt.
Oh, yes.

That still leaves one more big thing.

For the sadist to feel it's safe to be with me in that special, beautiful way as he was that night we threw common sense into the damp night air and ran off to share amazing hours in a seedy motel.