I very much get the Daddy/little girl dynamic up to the point where it turns to sex.  I can’t understand playing sexually with your “little girl”, even if it IS two consenting adults doing so.  It’s just enough south of what I find moral or something, I dunno.  And I figure these guys who get turned on by fucking little girls, even if they are adult women dressing in costume, I dunno… it’s not…. right.

But feeling you are a little girl with a nurturing Daddy taking care of you?  That feels wonderful.  Feeling safe and loved and protected, all very good in my book.  And when things get tough in my life, I’ve often craved that little girl spot on some Daddy’s lap.  Being perhaps bathed, groomed, dressed in jammies and tucked into bed after a particularly rough day seems to me to be the ultimate in nurturing.  (No baby play though; keep those diapers, cribs, and pacifiers out of here please)

Master isn’t into any of that.  But I was.  At one time.  Only in the reverse.  I was Mommy to a “little girl” who loved to act and be treated like a seven-year old.  She was, in reality, somewhere in her upper twenties.

I met her online in an age-play type chat room.  I was at a place in my life where I’d been hurt one too many times by ignorant dominant types.  I was through submitting to anyone, and decided to play the other side for awhile.  I took on a dominant persona and found I could be quite good at this age-play thing, though it wasn’t really my cup of tea.

Anyways, long story short, I met a young woman from the UK with whom I had a lot in common.  I was about fifteen years or so older than her, and she came from a troubled past.  Within a few years, she moved across the Big Pond to come live with me and my family.  She stayed about three years.  Long enough to take what she needed from me, meet another woman with whom she fell in love, and off she went; on to the next Girl/girl relationship.

The thing is, funny things happened in that relationship.

She was so very adoring of me, her Mommy.  She bought me endless little gifts and treats.  She strove to be obedient and pleasing, was generally a joy to have around.  She grew very very close to me and my family.  So close to me, in fact, that I think she realized her lesbian tendencies, for we played some together.  Not as Mommy/daughter, but just as an older woman helping a younger one explore her frozen sexuality in a healthy way.

She found her sexuality, and I found a love for women.  This woman in particular.  I wanted to have her.  Badly.  But she struggled with a moral issue of her own; namely, I was married.

So my lust went unsated.  And hers?  She turned elsewhere with her budding feelings.  She found the other woman.

But the thing about lesbian lovers is, they seem to be very committed to one special person at a time.  Gradually her love for me waned as she opened herself up to this other individual.  After she graduated college here and landed a job, off she went.  The other woman joined her within a month.

I supported this girl while she lived under our roof and attended school.  Supported her through the attainment of her goal of living and eventually working in America.  I showed her guidance, nurturing, and love.  And had it ended there, I would have been more than supportive of her decision to move on and make that new life for herself.  Only I didn’t see it coming.

I didn’t know how attracted to her I would become.  And the hurt I felt when she up and left just before Christmas was crushing.  I grieved so badly when she left.  And while there were any number of jobs for her in the Chicago area, she moved an hour away.  I took this to be particularly hurtful.  She wanted to get away from me.

She is happily living with that other woman now.  I gave her a car to use while she was here.  She helped me some with a little household money once she got a part time job during that last year of school, and also with caring for my older children at times.  But I think she was just doing what she needed to do to get what she wanted.  To attain her goal of living and working in America, and nevermind who you hurt and use in the process.

There were promises of getting together, staying close.  But things changed.  I was no longer her “One”.  I was not the one she turned to for support or even companionship.  In fact, the distance made that all but impossible.  And even with cell phones and email and chat in this day and age, there was precious little contact.  Her attentions towards me diminished to almost nil.  And I was hurting.  Badly.

Master was in the picture almost a year before she left.  And maybe that had something to do with it, for I no longer acted as her dominant figure.  I couldn’t.  I was all wrapped up in being his slave.  I had been looking for a Master type for some time, and every single one (outside of Master), once they heard I ‘had a girl’ of my own, wanted some control over her by extension; something my girl absolutely flat out refused.  So I think she was scared.  Scared of letting herself be used by some scary “Man.”.

I realize this is fairly rambling, but the topic of this woman has been off-limits on my blog almost since its inception.  I recently made a change in my life.  I decided, I am done grieving the loss of this relationship, and completely done with hanging on to the mere shred of what it once was.  For whose sake?   While my daughter adored this woman, I could not see that as reason to continue the ongoing pain of the disregard of everything I once was to her.  And so I told her I was done.

But she taught me to love women.  Something I never got very far in exploring with her, but still hope one day to be able to do.

I learned a lot about myself during this whole experience.  I learned more about my dominant abilities, as well as the limits to them.  I could not keep this girl.  And probably, that would not have been right or fair.  She did need a lover.  I helped to release the butterfly from her cocoon.  Who was I not to let her fly?

I learned that women love sweetly.  And are fiercely protective of what they view as their own.  Once I lost ownership, I never stood a chance.  But she was a sweetie.  And I do miss her.  And I grieve that she no longer wants to remain involved in the goings on of my life.

We all have choices.  She made hers.  Now I’ve made mine.  I wish you well L.  I won’t forget you.

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