He calls me “little girl” sometimes. Not in a sexual way. No, no – sexually, I’m cunt, bitch, whore, slut, and afterwards, pet and Good girl. God, just thinking about those names makes me wet.
“Little girl” refers to those moments when I stop the strong, ball-busting persona I created long ago and blush because He called me beautiful. Or when I grin like a cheeseball because He said, “I love you.” That side of me comes out when I giggle or pout a little.
It’s a side of me that feels natural and yet, I’m self-conscious because it’s not a side I’ve let out before. When I feel like a little girl, I want to nuzzle against Him, I want to capture His full attention, I want to submit more than ever before, I want to be His completely.
Neither of us feels compelled to follow the D/lg dynamic. I don’t want to be “little girl” while He’s paddling my ass or fisting me. But in those softer moments, I tingle when He calls me a little girl.
I won’t even pretend to understand the Daddy/little girl element of D/s. More power to you if that’s your thing, it’s just not mine. But those moments when He compares me to a little girl do something to me I don’t fully understand.
And then I have those moments that I can’t figure out if it’s the woman in me or the little girl in me taking control:
When I sent Him this today, I only wanted to make Him smile. It worked.
The question I ask myself: did the little girl in me do that or what?