I have noticed I write in the third person when I tackle something personal and emotional..Its easier to pretend its somebody else or some fiction.. maybe one day I should write a book in the third person...a memoire of she...
The first steps with Daddy..he brought her back to him at her invitation. Weeks before he had set her free, adrift. Logically she saw it was the right thing to do. She didn't argue she was passive in his decision, but she screamed inside. She wanted them both. One shouldn't interfere with the other, but it was hard to balance.
The arrangement was good for them both. They lived a great distance away from one another and they were both committed to another. She had her vanilla life to continue, but the ache in her had been building for some time. Part of her had wished she had been aware if this life, this need in her before she had readily committed to her vanilla existence. Now, having made the discovery, she felt that living it online was only half an existence. A shadow of what she really needed. It was the best she could manage though.
She felt the invisible string connecting her to her husband, her vanilla husband and their life. She barely understood why she maintained this commitment. He had not proven worthy. He had disrespected her and abused her trust. But as she grew older the idealism of her youth gave way to a more mature and realistic vision of the world around her.
She spent long hours wondering why she didn't have an affair, why she didn't follow her heart, her desire, her need to bend and bow to another's will, to give herself completely but remain uncrushed by it. But she knew that what she needed was not just about sex. She happily engaged in all manner of sexual appetite. She bent to her partners will, they visited her kink together, they played, they discovered the excitement of his domination over her sexually, she submitted in that way. But it was more than just sex she needed and that's where Daddy came in.
Daddy and she had built their arrangement only briefly, and she needed to move incrementally. It was all so new. Her vanilla self had the heart of a lioness. She had faced many things and survived. She survived despite her husband, not because of him, but she continued to love him and stand with him..she never knew why, but she did. Her other self though had the heart of a church mouse! The other she was not so brave and many times her courage wavered. Daddy had let her go, released her. She was never really sure why, perhaps a range of reasons, but she missed him, even though he had challenged her to the point of anger and then tears.
Now Daddy was back and she resolved to be brave. She trembled inside though. He had promised he'd try to move more slowly, to gauge her better. But he asked that she help him, to tell him when she needed more. Over time she guessed this would change, when she knew him better, when her submission deepened to the point she hoped it would. She thought about the nature of this otherness with Daddy and hoped she could be brave this time, brave enough not to let Daddy down. Then she crawled gently back to her vanilla life and into bed with her husband, so as not to wake him, she knew he would fuck her in the morning, but not now, not when she wanted to just think about Daddy.