Can you really live a 24/7 lifestyle  in a long-distance relationship?

Daddy & I are usually no closer than 700 miles away from each other.  And it will probably be a year or so before we are together on a regular basis.  Does this mean that I can’t be HIS 24/7?


My Submission is a state of  mind. There are places and times where I have to be dominant in my life right now. But I ALWAYS keep one thing in mind WWDS (What Would Daddy Say).

Whether I’m washing the dishes or talking to my parents, this sticks in my head.

One problem though is that while I have changed, I’m still in the same place. Dealing every day with people who say they like the changes I’ve made. But they expect me to act the same way I always have. And when I don’t, they get upset and try to force it.

But it’s not my job to make them happy. My job, as I see it, is to make Daddy happy. To do what HE tells me to do. To follow HIS directions and rules for me.

The rest of the world can like me or hate me. As long as Daddy’s happy, the world can wait.

Two Roads Diverged

When I agreed to completely submit to Him, I think Daddy was more than a little shocked. You see, the face I showed the world was that of a take-no-prisoners, my way or the highway, “New York BITCH” (I’m from a tiny dot on the map in the Midwest, but you get what I’m saying). The path from there to here is a little complicated but I promise, the journey is worth it.

The woman (girl really) that He fell in love with so many years ago was sweet, funny, (a little) snarky & sarcastic, and a strange mix of innocence and experience. 

The woman he came back to a year later was chaos incarnate. Loud, angry, up/down, never staying in one place (or one mood) for more than 5 minutes. I was, in a word, broken.

He spent years trying to save me from myself. And I spent years counting on Him to always be there to do it. No matter how hard (or how many times) I pushed Him away.

Until one day, I pushed too far. When I turned around He was gone.

Suddenly I found myself someplace I had never been before. Having to fend for myself was a completely new experience, and for a while I flailed around like I was drowning. And like the drowning man does, I latched on to the first person who came along.

Unfortunately for both of us, she was drowning too. 

But being needed gave me a purpose. A reason to pull myself out of the water. To get stronger. 

Over the years, He popped in (and out) of my life. Each time He did, all those old feelings came back to life. That spark reignited and nearly burned my relationship to the ground. For the sake of keeping the peace, I pushed Him back out of my life as quickly as I had let Him in.

Eventually I became someone even I didn’t recognize. And didn’t like very much. I was tired of ALWAYS having to be in charge. Of making ALL the decisions (even the little ones). I was constantly stressed out. And the stress was taking its toll. I was sick, and none of my doctors could figure out what was wrong.

The same relationship that had once saved my life was now slowly killing me. So I ended it. But still couldn’t quite let go all the way.

Middle age arrived. And with it, that old longing for someone to take care of ME. To make ME their priority. To take the weight of the world off MY shoulders (or at least to share it’s weight).

One night, out of the blue, she told me that He sent a message. Nothing special, or even very exciting. Just a “hey how are you?” It might have been sent to her, but it was meant for me. As soon as I read it,  I got that feeling, you know the one, it starts as butterflies in your stomach & spreads to…hey, I might be His dirty girl, but I’m a good girl at heart. 

Our conversations picked up right where they had left off. Moving quickly from a tame “hey how you been” to more intimate topics. 

Those conversations caused HUGE problems at home. Because while I considered us to be over and done, she still held a sliver of hope that things could go back to the way they were once upon a time.

As He and I grew closers, she and I grew further apart. Once again I had some hard decisions to make.

But this time things were different. This time I didn’t have to make them alone. He was there every step of the way. Not physically, at least not very often, but mentally, emotionally. He listen without judgement as I struggled to make the choice that was best for ME. And to stay the course once I had. He took the weight off my shoulders every time He opened His arms.

When the day came that she walked out that door for the last time, He moved Heaven and He’ll (and a few places in between) be there when I needed Him. To suspend my reality, give me a soft landing. No pressure,  no expectations. Just His arms around me, and His shoulder to cry on.

The time we had together was never long enough or often enough for either of us. But yet the relationship kept growing. Deeper and more intimate every day. Distance forced us to find other ways to be affectionate. 

I have always had really bad self-esteem. After spending much of my life as a “fat girl” (at one point hitting almost 400lbs) I had spent much of the last few years wearing single-digit sizes. Even getting down as low as 130-something. But I did it in really unhealthy ways. I’ve always tried my best to escape reality. If it was mood or mind-altering, it was for me. He hated that part of me.

Anyway, I’m getting off track. One of the things He asked me to do was send Him sexy pictures. The sight of myself naked (or half naked) embarrassed me. I HATED my body! But I sent the pictures. And every time I did, He told me how beautiful and sexy I was. How much I turned Him on.  Slowly I started to believe him (though I still blush & cover my face every time). Distance made us talk about our wants and needs.

I believed Him when He said He loved me, that he wanted to take care of me. I have ALWAYS  trusted Him. I had started doing some research on my own about D/s relationships and DD/lg in particular.  Thank goddess for the Internet, because I could do it from the relative anonymity of my own bedroom.

One blog led me to another, and another. In each one I saw pieces of myself that I had shoved so far down that I barely recognized them. 

When He finally asked the question, ‘could you give yourself to me and be completely submissive to me in all aspects?’. I had to stop myself from just saying “YES!!!” 

He wasn’t talking about just in the bedroom. Or when I felt like it. What He was asking is if I could do this 24/7 for the rest of our lives. Before I said yes, I needed more information about what this was going to look like. I needed Him to answer a few questions. 

Q: Just how much of my snarky, sarcastic sense of humor would I have to suppress? Was I going to end up biting off my tounge to stop my smart mouth?

A: None. He likes bratty, snarky me. But when bratty turns to bitchy then I’ve crossed the line.

Q: What about the decisions that need to get made when He’s not here to help? Especially the medical ones that could have an impact on our relationship? 

A: All He wants is for me to talk them over with him. To include Him in the decision-making process.

Being submissive isn’t about losing myself. It’s about finding myself. About knowing that no matter what the ‘Anxiety Monster ‘ in my head says to me, or how sick I get, He’s there, with open arms, making sure I don’t fall apart.


Behind the Mask

I am ALWAYS afraid. Afraid of making the wrong choices, of being alone/being left, of the future, of myself.

That strong willed/bitchy/angry/in-charge/always right woman that the world sees? You know, the one who has NO PROBLEM making decisions and then forcing them on everyone else? Yeah, HER. She’s an act. A mask. A character I play. The REAL me? She’s that vulnerable girl you met one summer many years ago.

She’s paralyzed by too many choices, by the fear that she’ll make the wrong one. She flinched when people yell at her. It embarrasses her, so she yells back, trying to cover the fear so you can’t use it against her.

She’s the one who both craves attention and shuns the spotlight be used you just MIGHT see behind the mask she’s worn for so long that even SHE doesn’t know what’s real anymore.

She’s a mess of contradiction and chaos. With her head in the clouds and her feet on a crumbling foundation of lies.

She always puts herself last. Not because she doesn’t think she’s important enough, but because she’s been told so many times to “stop being selfish”.

She’s afraid to ask for help. Not because she thinks you’ll say “No”, but because she doesn’t want to take your attention away from something she’s sure is much more important.