I had confessed to the Gentleman Sadist, weeks earlier, that I was turned on by the idea of calling a partner “daddy.” I did it in a sideways, almost passive way – I didn’t call him “daddy,” or ask if I could. I just let it slip that calling a generic man “daddy” is something I fantasize about sometimes.
He just laughed and marveled fondly at the extent to which I was a little slut (which is really pretty much a term of endearment for us) and didn’t mention it again for a few weeks. I assumed that he was just not that into it and didn’t bring it up again. I didn’t get embarrassed, though, as I might have in the past. One nice thing about our rapport is that there’s no shame.
But last week, we were chatting and he told me he’d jerked off that morning, thinking about me. Well, of course that got my attention.
“What were you thinking about?” I asked.
“The sounds you’ll make the first time I make you call me ‘daddy.’”
Oh damn. My heart went into my throat and my pussy was instantly throbbing. And then he did indeed “make” me call him daddy, and I was hooked.
“Master” does nothing for me and while “sir” has its uses, it’s always felt a little bit forced on my lips – it’s hard for me to say it without the teensiest bit of a smirk or an eye-roll. But “daddy” – there’s no smirk when I say “daddy.” It lays me bare – makes me feel both vulnerable and protected at the same time. It’s a … wild feeling. I want to cry and laugh and come all at the same time.
It’s funny, because this seemed like such a taboo, for such a long time, for all the obvious reasons. And I’ll admit that part of what I enjoy about it is the dirty wrongness. So the truly amazing thing to me is that calling your lover “daddy” is a pretty mainstream thing. I mean, pop culture is full of it:
Hey little girl, is your daddy home? …
I love it when you call me Big Poppa ….
And of course we can’t forget Who’s your daddy? And in many Spanish-speaking countries, lovers call each other mami and papi.
To me, it feels a bit scary in an exciting way, but really it’s not that out of the ordinary.
And it does makes sense that it would be popular – is there a better archetype for the strong, male figure than “daddy”? For me, it’s not about pretending he actually is my father or that I’m a little girl (and no dig if that is your thing, it just doesn’t happen to be mine), it’s about the archetype.
But it’s still emotionally so powerful, and so taboo in a way. And yet so commonplace, despite the feeling of taboo. What an odd contradiction.