When I was a little girl I use to sit up reading and waiting for my uncle (the man who raised me, my father figure) to get home from work every night. I still remember the excitement of hearing his car pull up and running to the door, watching him get out walk up the steps, bouncing with happiness at just seeing him. The joy in my heart when he saw me and his face light up in a smile.
He would always kiss my head, hug me tight and say “Miss Scarlett, you should be in bed, attending to your beauty sleep.” I would giggle at his nickname (Scarlett O’hara from gone with the wind) and tell him I had a nap before so he wouldn’t be mad or upset. I would get his dinner plate and sit to listen to his day while he ate…it was our special time and I loved it.
On weekends I would sit on the counter to watch him shave and beg to help. Sometimes he would let me lather, others I would hold the mirror until I was 18…at 18 I got to actually run the razor down his face and let me tell you, I was SO SCARED I would cut him I was shaking! But my uncle had faith, told me I wouldn’t hurt him, how to do it, and that he had faith in me. It felt so good to know he trusted me like that. When I was done and seen the nicks I started to cry but he held me, told me it was ok and bragged all day how his Princess shaved him.
But it wasn’t always roses, I remember once when I was told not to go downtown with friends but went anyways. We spent all our money and didn’t have enough to ride the train home. I was so scared to call home and got a ride with a friend and her boyfriend. I had them drop me off around the corner thinking I would be safe until I walked in the door and saw my uncle sitting at the table reading the paper. He looked up at me, told me to sit. He went back to reading and let me sit and think.
After a few minutes he put down the paper and began telling me why he was upset with me, why I was wrong and what I should have done differently and why I wouldn’t do it no more. When he was done, he took me in his arms, wiped my tears away and told me he loved me. He told me how precious I was to him and how scared he had been worried about me. I was his Princess and as the King of the castle it was his job to ensure my safety.
You know, I never did sneak off again when told not to always remembering the tone of his voice as he talked to me that night or how I felt knowing that I had disappointed him. I still remember the warmth that spread through me knowing he cared, and that I was important to him. As I grew up, I often sought this same feeling of security in my relationships with men and didn’t find it odd at all that I only dated older men, I just wanted to know that I had a place.
When I meet my first Dom and experienced that first thrill of exurberation at having him buried deep inside of me, pounding away and telling me that I belonged to him…I was drunk on it and couldn’t ‘t wait to have more. I was a good girl who had never dreamed that the naughty things I wanted could actually be had. He opened a world to me where kneeling before him, hands outspread and knee’s open were more fulfilling than anything I had ever experienced. However even in calling him Sir and Master and even in the aftercare he gave me something was missing. We parted as friend and I was thankful for what he had taught me.
When The MP and I got together, I didn’t know he was a Master or in the “lifestyle” so to speak. What I did know was he gave me that intense satisfaction I had at the hands of my Dom and I craved more. The first time I called him Daddy it was on accident but the thrill of it, the satisfaction…I could not go back and only wanted to go forward. We moved into a DD/bg dynamic only then I had no idea of what that was only that he was my protector, my rock, my everything, pleasing him, and his pride in me better than anything I could buy or dream of.
When he presented me with a collar soon after our engagement I got scared and ran…straight into a vanilla relationship to prove I was not one of those girls who would enjoy the sick things that people who wore collars did. I would prove that I was normal. What I proved to myself over that decade of marriage was that once you have had kink you can never go back.
I proved that I wanted that collar, that I missed that ownership, I missed the structure of “Daddy’s” rules and care. I missed having a Daddy. I was lucky because after my separation CSM was there to lift me up and help me pick up my pieces. Again, I didn’t know he was a Master, in the “life style” or that he was a Sadist…I just knew that he loved me, care for me, and NEEDED the control that a TPE gave him. We were together until work took him from me and I rebounded in a Poly relationship that….yeah that mistake is better left in the past forgotten.
After my divorce I tried dating regular guys but always found myself longing for, wanting more…craving it. Then I found Fet and I found that I wasn’t alone in my thoughts my desires or my cravings. I found others that wanted the life that I wanted and I found an outlet for all that had been holed into my heart.
I also found that after all the soul searching I had done that it was okay to admit that I am a Babygirl, I am a submissive, and I have a little slave in me as well. It is okay to be all these things, it is ok to crave ownership, it is ok to crave Daddy’s loving guidance and it is ok to crave and need his discipline as well. All that was shouting for release inside me had finally boiled over. After months of lurking on Fet I found the freedom to not only post and introduce myself to others but to enjoy that freedom.
I have found the courage to start this blog and share pass journals from time to time and reveal even more of myself for those who like myself had a Daddy and all that he brought but lost it. I also found the power to honestly admit that I have always been submissive even as a child. It brings me peace, it brings me order and it brings me joy. To serve my Daddy and make him proud of me, to kneel at his feet and see the joy and pride shining down from him…to have his hands upon me and hear him call me a “Good Girl” it makes my soul swore and sing with joy.
I have always been a Babygirl and to be anything else does not appeal to me. I am done hiding from myself, my desires, my wants, and my needs. I am going to stand strong in my search for a good Daddy and I will not settle for less than what I have already had in my life for anything else will bring back the longing and that is not something I am willing to live with anymore.