John Brownstone and I went through a bit of a dry spell for a few weeks. First my sinus infection, then his, then a few other health concerns for me (no worries, I’ve got myself sorted out now). To say that there was little happening on the kinky side of things would be an understatement, and I think I can safely say that neither of us felt very Dominant or submissive most of the time.
Oh, don’t get me wrong. We stayed on track, kept to our tasks and responsibilities. But the connection, the closeness, the intimacy of a Daddy and his babygirl that was in short supply.
Until finally we both had a night where we felt vaguely good, could stay awake past 8 p.m., and were both kinda, sorta, most definitely horny as hell. That was a night of hair-pulling, kinky sex, and pussies that get eaten out until a certain someone (this girl right here) whisper-screamed herself hoarse. The bed was wet, the bones had been melted out of our bodies, and we’d reconnected physically and emotionally. It was exactly what we needed. We fell asleep in each other’s arms. I’m pretty sure we were both grinning as we drifted off.
The next morning, I woke up and felt different. More normal, maybe? I don’t know, but I felt good, and I liked it.
When he asked, “Babygirl, can you…?” instead of arguing or worrying, I responded with “Yes, Daddy.”
When he said, “Babygirl, I need…,” he got whatever it was before he could finish his sentence.
My tone was softer and more yielding. Gone was the crankiness, the anxiety, the harried mom and partner who was trying to keep her head above water. I able to lean again, depend on him, let him take the lead.
His tone was a little more forceful – and yet gentler. It’s as if he knew compliance wasn’t a question. And frankly, after the few days we’d had with one another, I was surprised that he was so sure of my obedience.
It’s not that I’d been a bad submissive, but I’d probably been a difficult one. Whining because I felt bad, worried because I couldn’t get it all done, freaking out because nothing was going as planned. He didn’t have the mental bandwidth to keep me in line and deal with his own illnesses.
We had been going through the motions, and it sucked.
But in one night of reconnection, one moment where there was no question that he was in control, and I was his to be taken, we were back in our place, where we prefer to be.
And the evidence was in our tone of voice, long before it could be seen in our actions.
It’s not always what you say, but how you say it. Even in D/s and BDSM.
