When my husband and I first discovered BDSM, it was a challenge for me as the submissive to come up with the right honorific for him as my dominant. Sir didn’t seem right, too formal for the loving bond we felt. Master certainly wasn’t right. We quickly came across the word Daddy, which I liked, and which fit our discovery of BDSM through a stepfather spanking roleplay. But that term seemed specific to the Daddy/Little configuration, and I didn’t see myself as Little Girl. Still, my husband really took to being called Daddy, and began referring to himself as that with an unabashed confidence that took me quite some time to match. In the first month or so, I’d only call him “Daddy” only under my breath, barely audible. Well, unless in throes of sex, when the word would burst out of me, as if tired of being pent up.
For most of my life, sex and love were not well-connected for me. I was sexually adventurous, but I also remained distant from the act, and from my own body’s participation in it, rarely letting my lover see me naked if I could help it. Sex seemed like a game I’d play on occasion, a grown-up game that often made me laugh in embarrassment.
I didn’t understand my hesitance to embrace the term when it seemed to be a common enough fantasy for women. I looked up “Daddy Dom” in Amazon, and came up with hundreds of books, erotic novels in which a stepfather (usually) was the romantic hero, generously teaching his curious teenaged stepdaughter about her body, her sexuality. I wondered if that idea triggered some sort of universal archetype in our minds. But whether it was the influence of an archetype or not, I responded with huge sexual excitement to look at my husband as my stepfather figure, and me the girl who needed him to sexually instruct and care for me.
In many ways, I felt that was what he was doing that for me not just in roleplay, but in a literal sense. While I had a definite model for sex as good clean fun growing up (thanks, Ma!), I didn’t have a good model for sex as an expression for love. For most of my life, sex and love were not well-connected for me. I was sexually adventurous, but I also remained distant from the act, and from my own body’s participation in it, rarely letting my lover see me naked if I could help it. Sex seemed like a game I’d play on occasion, a grown-up game that often made me laugh in embarrassment.
In our first relatively vanilla year together, my husband helped me learn to experience sex as the full expression of love. Through his loving care and acceptance of me, he helped me shed inhibitions, open to him, and trust him completely. But that was just the first part in a much bigger journey. It was only in handing my body and sexual will over to him as my Dominant Daddy, that I finally learned how to inhabit my body, inhabit my sexuality.
In tying the rope around my breasts—especially when it was so tight I’d stay aware of them sticking out completely bare and vulnerable at every minute—he alters my perception of them. In his constant pinching and sucking of my nipples, he is giving me no choice but to feel my own breasts in a sexual way for more than just brief moments. After hours in that harness, I am achingly aware of the sexual purpose of my breasts, of my body. For the first time in my life, I feel I am finally connecting to myself as a sexual creature, someone designed by nature for the purpose of sex and love.
In giving myself sexually to my husband, he is giving me my sexual self back to me. Now I understand why, that first day I submitted to him, I was so rocked by the feeling of ‘this is who I really am.’ I’d assumed I was feeling that way about being submissive, but today I believe I was feeling ‘this is who I am’ because submitting to him makes me feel so sexual, so alive and so present in my body.
Paradoxically, in this dynamic that seems like such a game on the surface, I can finally stop looking at sex as a game. I don’t think this ever would have happened for me in a normal marriage of equal partners. My own strong-willed version of myself, my culturally induced hostility to my body, and my disconnected relationship to sex all got in the way.
Now, several months into D/s and power exchange, I am for the first time in my 51 years walking around comfortable with my body. I am comfortable being nude, without clothes, even preferring to be without clothes when Daddy is home. It feels miraculous, this change, as if I have finally been granted permission by a loving generous father figure to own my sexual nature, and inhabit my true self.
Excerpted from the book, Ravish Me: A BDSM Memoir of Submission, by Terra Bloom.