Little Domme

I posted this on my other blog but I feel it belongs here as well. The edits are minor, just so it makes more sense here. 

I am a Domme – and a good one – who has a little space. Others have tried convincing me I don’t. They say it’s only my need to feel cared for, to feel nurtured, a need that everybody has. That I don’t have to “act like a child” to get this need met.

I tried to believe them. Honest I did. I tried to suppress it. To ignore the pull to fall into little space. To deny that the pull even existed.

However by doing so I was denying a part of myself. Lying to myself. I felt like a fraud. I started to question everything. To question maybe I was somehow making this up for some reason and maybe these feelings weren’t real? I thought, if I’m a fraud in regards to this, then maybe I’m a fraud about being a Domme too.

The feelings and the pull did not go away, so I decided to simply accept that it feels good to slip into little mode once in awhile, that it meets a genuine need for me.

Why do I need this -a daddy to affirm that I am a good girl and deserving of being cared for? I came to a realization yesterday with the help of a friend that finally seems to answer this for me. It made me feel so much better, and less embarrassed, about little me. I can accept her now and give her the attention she needs without guilt.

The age I go to when little is about three years old. I didn’t realize this until recently,  The fact that she is three is significant.

Why I didn’t see this before, I don’t know. We can be so clueless about our own selves sometimes. It can take an outsider, asking the right questions, to create that epiphany. (Thank you M -never leave me! lol)

I was three, almost four, when my father left. Up until then, for the first three years of my life, I was the epitome of daddy’s girl. I was his world. I was spoiled and showered with his attention and affection. And then my parents separated and he moved away and I was 16 before I ever heard from him again.

This must have been devastating to me. It must have shattered my little world. To make things worse, shortly after he left, some very bad things began to happen to little girl me at the hands of a very bad man. A man who tried to force me to call him my daddy. I knew he wasn’t. I knew my daddy would never have done those things to me. My daddy kept me safe. When I refused to call the bad man daddy, he would punish me quite severely for it.

What M did yesterday was help me realize that the last time I truly felt safe was when I was three years old, before daddy left. When I was still his little girl and meant the world to him. It was a time when I did not even question whether I was safe or not. I just knew my daddy would protect me against the monsters under my bed, because back then that’s the only thing I thought there was to fear.

Little did I know that monsters exist in other forms, and do not live under my bed. Little did I know that one would be entering my life very soon and it would be a very long time before I would feel safe again.

Is it no wonder that when life gets stressful, or when I feel the need to recharge so I can be the Domme I need to be, that I want to regress back to a time when I felt the safest? Is it no wonder I want to feel like daddy’s good little girl again? To believe again, just for a moment, that daddy will keep me safe, that I am the most important thing in his world, that I am deserving of this?

That’s what being little is for me. I do not enjoy the typical little things that others do -I don’t like My Little Pony. I don’t need sippy cups (ok, there was this one time… hehe). I don’t need to put my hair in ponytails and jump up and down on the bed. I don’t need or want any of those things. I simply want to cuddle with Mr. Bear, suck my paci, and hear daddy say All The Things to make me feel better.

I don’t think that’s so wrong anymore.