Yesterday was not the best of days for me. A new birth control (which thankfully I’m switching off of) has been giving me terrible symptoms around that time of month which I’ve previously never struggled with, and I was feeling awful. Cranky, hormonal, and with my PTSD and sensory issues aggravated, I wasn’t talking to myself kindly or compassionately, which is one of Daddy’s rules. He corrected me gently over the phone since he was at work but (wisely) focused on making sure I was maintaining my self-care, saying he would help me more when he got home. Per his instructions I made sure to eat, got some exercise outside, and took a long, hot bath, but I still felt frustrated and directionless for reasons I couldn’t pick apart.
He came home to find me furiously stress-cleaning the bathroom. After some hugging, talking, and whiny brattiness on my part, I finally whispered, “Daddy…I think I need a spanking.” He looked down at me, laughing.
“Oh, don’t worry sweetie, I’ve had one planned for you all day.”
Propped up on the bed, in between the sharp smacks of his hand against my bare ass, he told me how beautiful I am, how much he loves me, and how much it hurt him to hear me speak badly about his little girl. Every flash of pain brought my further out of my head, back into my body and every gentle caress of his hand in between forced me to remember how valuable and cherished I am. By the end I was trembling, even though it was hardly the hardest or most painful of our spankings.
After he was done he pulled me into his lap, my ass red and stinging, and as he held me I wrapped my arms around his neck and began to sob. I’m a total crybaby at the best of times and have (usually) accepted this part of my personality, but on this day I had just berated myself for the impulse, despite feeling overwhelmed. Now it all washed over me as Daddy hugged me tightly. “It’s okay, baby, go ahead and cry. Let it all out.”
The guidance, punishment, and therapeutic elements of BDSM can sometimes be impossible to keep neatly defined, just as it’s impossible to separate my Daddy Dom from my significant other and best friend. After I (mostly) finished crying, I was able to talk more clearly about my emotions and fears, and he was able to talk about the importance of me obeying his rules to the best of my ability. My role as his partner and lover is intertwined with my role as his little girl and submissive, and both are equally important and take equal commitment to honest communication.
I trust my Daddy to make the best decisions about the structure he gives me and the punishment or guidance used to enforce that because he knows me so well as a person. He knew that I needed to be reminded of my place but that physically I probably couldn’t handle as much as usual. He knew that I needed to be shown his love but that I should see that he wouldn’t tolerate disrespect of his possessions either.
He also knew that once I was back to center and all talked and cried out, I needed a good rough fucking, but that’s a story for another day~ 🙄😁
andulkaphoto
jbbartram-illu
gummygunk
baratheonpilled
