Cutesypah's Corner

As you know, I have many blog friends. One in particular is Gray Lily over at Journey Into Submission. Recently, she posted about her Daddy Michael. Her heart-felt post inspired me to discuss my relationship with Daddy, and what a Daddy/girl relationship means to me. As I began drafting my post, I realized I would need to break it down into several posts. History of the girl, Part 1 is here. Part 2 is here.

When this girl became a mother, she vowed never to deny her children love and affection. She remembered her loneliness all too well, and promised her children they would never want for such things. Hugs were given out as freely as air, "I love you" spoken nearly as often as she drew breath. But, at her core, the little girl remained lonely, wondering if she would ever be loved, would ever be worthy of a daddy's love, and attention, or if she would ever see a man look at her, his eyes filled with pride, love, and admiration.

Her marriage was good for a while, but had its rough spots. As she began working on her bachelor's degree, her marriage began to flounder, and she had her first affair. It was with this lover the girl found out first about BDSM, and then D/s relationships. After a while, the affair died off, and the girl began to wander the Internet, in search of another connection. She began to learn more of D/s relationships, and desperately wanted her husband to become her Dominant.

As she read more and more about D/s, something inside of the girl blossomed. She felt ecstatic that there were others out there who felt and thought like her. She wanted someone to consider her worthy, and to whom she could look for guidance, acceptance and love. Her husband, love him though she did, was not dominant material. She was too head strong, and too intelligent for him. He thought being a Dominant was too much work. Plus, his mother continued to dominate him. The girl was forced to look elsewhere.

She met many Dominants, and wanna-bes. She only met a few, trying new things out, here and there. She eventually left her husband, as he would not, and could not provide that guidance, love and acceptance that she required. She was again, alone and lonely, searching for the one to make her feel lovable.

She began to hear about Daddy Doms, but turned away from the idea, as she had no interest in age play. After a time, she began learning of Daddy Doms not involved in age play, but who saw their D/s partners as girls. Then she met S. She truly believed S was a Daddy Dom, as he was, at first, so loving and supportive. He told her he was a Daddy Dom, and because she had not met other Daddy Doms, and stopped her online D/s interactions, she knew no differently.

After four very long, tumultuous years of losing jobs, losing money, losing her father, losing her good credit, losing her health, and even losing her home, she sent S away. She realized that S did not want her balanced, and happy, as he claimed. She realized S was not loving and supportive, but only appeared that way for a while to allow her to become addicted to him. After a while, S could no longer hide his true nature as an egotistical selfish addict, who had turned his addiction of drugs over to an addiction of cigarettes, and drama.

S intentionally pushed the girl out of balance, because it was then, and only then, that she truly believed she needed him. Once away from S, and his drama, the girl began to understand this fully. She knew she constantly questioned who she was, in S's presence, but believed, as S told her, that her imbalance and confusion was because she fought her submission. After a short time alone, she finally acknowledged that S was controlling and sadistic, not dominant, and that her well-being took second place to his comfort and happiness. S was a codependent, and she enabled him.

So, the girl took a year to find herself again. Once again, focused on her recovery, she began looking around the vanilla world for a man with whom to spend time. But the vanilla world just didn't satisfy the girl, and finally, with fear and distrust in her heart, the girl began her journey back into the D/s forest to see if she could locate the Big Bad Wolf, i.e., a Dominant. But, just like many other girls in fairy tales, and stories of old, she met lions, tigers, monkeys, dragons, pigs, bulls, and even a few odd ducks. All were too big, too old, too scary, too rough, too cold, or too hot. She was having no luck find the One that was "just right."

Until one day, online, while home with a very bad stomach flu, she met E. Now, she didn't think E was the one for whom she was looking. She had set age and distance limits, both of which he violated. He was also taller than anyone she had dated seriously, and bald, something which she never considered. But, his profile spoke to her of romance, seduction, culture, education, wisdom, and experience. And, interestingly enough, of being a Daddy Dom. She was intrigued but cautious.

His emails, only two or three in number, were succinct, charming, and well-written. They began chatting by instant messenger, and after a short time, he asked if she would be willing to talk by phone. She said, "yes," and never looked back. The first day they met online, they spoke by phone nearly seven hours. She doesn't remember, now, the first time she called him "Daddy." It was per his request, and she's certain he knows exactly when it was, but she doesn't recall.

What she does remember is the thought going through her mind while on the phone with E that first week that she would marry him. She knew in her heart she had found her soul mate, her forever lover, and the man of her dreams. By the end of that week, she was was hooked, addicted, head over heels crazy for the man she called, "Daddy."

As you know, I have many blog friends. One in particular is Gray Lily over at Journey Into Submission. Recently, she posted about her Daddy Michael. Her heart-felt post inspired me to discuss my relationship with Daddy, and what a Daddy/girl relationship means to me. As I began drafting my post, I realized I would need to break it down into several posts. The first part is here.

Then, her father got another job, just as her mother's parents died. When they moved, the girl, now 13, realized that she didn't have to be the best or the smartest anymore. She could be a new person, someone who had friends, and fun. So, she tried to leave her loneliness behind her. And, she did pretty well. She had friends, and fun, and found other girls who liked to read, and be smart too. And she met guys who liked her because she was cute and curvy, and sassy. But, her parents, particularly her father, hated the "new" girl.

Her father was now a boss of over 300 people, mostly men. He was still a workaholic, but now was also an alcoholic. He smoked 3 packs of cigarettes a day, and worked 12-14 hour days, six days a week. He was recognized as the country's best printer, but his children never knew this. His children were never allowed to learn of his accomplishments, and feel pride in having such a talented father. Her father wouldn't talk of such things because that was bragging. He didn't brag because that was wrong, and arrogant. Thus, his children didn't know this until his death.

Yet, he was an arrogant man. He believed that if you committed yourself to a job, you deserved recognition. He believed that if someone had money, it was because they found a way to "cheat" and be rich. He taught the girl that you can only be rich if you're greedy, and evil, and if you cheat. He learned that from his father, who worked hard every day, and died broken and poor. Her father often went to bed without supper as a boy, and didn't have but one shirt, one pair of pants, and a pair of hand-me-down shoes. It was only when he began working at age 12 that he had enough money to buy himself a new pair of shoes, and his own shirts and pants. He was a great man, a depressed genius, a lonely shell of a man, who never really figured out how to be happy until he reached 62 and was diagnosed with lung cancer.

The girl's mother didn't like the "new" girl either. She was dealing with the loss of her parents, and homesick for her hometown. She made few friends, and began drinking heavily with those friends, who were also had miserable lives and marriages. Her mom became even more withdrawn, more emotionally absent (if that were possible). when the girl got off the bus each day after school, she never knew what to expect when she walked in the door. Would her mother be nursing a hangover, or already drunk? Would her mother be pouting in silence, or raging, seething with anger, from being left to raise two children alone in a town she hated, while her workaholic husband partied and traveled with the salesmen from New York, Washington D.C., Florida, and California?

Now the girl was no longer praised, but hated for her desire to be loved, and liked by those in the community. The girl no longer cared about playing the saxophone, and played the piano only because she got attention at parties for doing so. She had well-developed curves, and had many men from her father's work stare and wolf-whistle at her. At 16, she looked 25, and could walk into any bar without a second glance, order a drink, and dance the night away. She had 30 year old men vying for her attention, and the boys her age were just that, boys, in whom she had no interest. More than one of the boys' fathers told her, in secret, that if only she were 10 years older, she would be wined and dined, and pampered as his wife.

Her parents called her "slut," and "whore," because she was constantly in the presence of boys, as few girls had any use for her, because they were afraid she would steal their boyfriends. The other boys in town started rumors that she was having sex with all of her male friends. Her friends all knew the truth, and fought valiantly to repair her tarnished reputation. But, she didn't care, as she getting the male attention for which she had craved many a year. It didn't matter how she got the male attention, as long as she got it.

She began dating a man 8 years her senior. They lost their virginity together, in the back seat of his 442. It was awful, painful, and she hated it. She loved the foreplay, but the sex scared her to death. It was almost a year later before she met a man she was willing to suffer that pain for again. This guy was a cop, and she was 17. She became friends with all of the police department. Her parents hated him, and she knew it. But, she didn't care. Little did she know that she was dating a man just like her father, workaholic, always absent, with a mean streak that included running around with women just to torment her with thoughts that he was always cheating. The drama and emotional abuse lasted about 3 years, until she moved away for a few months, taking a job in the city. While gone, alone and depressed, she realized how miserable she was with him in her life. She quit the job, moved back home, and started looking for a new man.

The next one was much worse. She lived with M nearly a year, her first live-in relationship. the benefit of this relationship was that M gave her orgasms. But, M was jealous, and overbearing. The emotional and verbal abuse destroyed what little self-esteem she had. She became a victim for a while, hiding out, living in fear of what he might do if he lost his temper. M never hit her, but it would have been easier to leave if he had. Verbal abuse leaves no visible marks, but the scars are horrific. It was as if she was beaten within an inch of her life each day. The stress was unbearable.

Her health began to fail, as she started experiencing migraines, and cysts, first in her breasts, then her ovaries. The ovarian cysts were so bad, she would literally pass out from the pain. Once, after she and M split up, she went to his house to talk with him. The ovarian pain flared, and she passed out on his bed. When she came to, M forced her out of his house, telling her he had other things to do, and it bothered him too much to see her in pain. So, he put her in her car, and she drove home, praying she didn't pass out from the pain. Although it was less than a 10 minute drive, she prayed she would make it safely home. Once home, she called her parents, called an ambulance, and promptly passed out again. She came to in the hospital.

Once out of the hospital, she began dating, and met her first husband, T. He lived a few hours away, and would come to visit her every weekend. M was unable to let go, and began stalking both her and T. He would call at 4 am, asking if he interrupted anything. He would circle her house in his car for hours, and try to get close to the two of them if they went out in public. Once, M showed up at her door drunk, demanding that T come out and fight him for the girl. The girl told M to get the f**k out of her house, and her life, and threatened to call the cops, as she still knew them all.

After this, she and T decided to marry, and she moved to his apartment in the city, a few hours from her hometown. She was 22, and had given up on the idea that she would ever go to college. But, it didn't matter, she thought she had found her Prince Charming. Little did she know, she married another workaholic, just like her father, emotionally absent because he gave all his love and attention to his momma.

As you know, I love my blog friends. One in particular is Gray Lily over at Journey Into Submission. Recently, she posted about her Daddy Michael. Her heart-felt post inspired me to discuss my relationship with Daddy, and what a Daddy/girl relationship means to me. As I began drafting my post, I realized I would need to break it down into several posts. This is the first - History of the girl, Part 1.

Once upon a time, there was a little girl who was very smart, and very lonely. Her Dad was never home, as he was always working 2nd and 3rd shifts, while her mom was always worried about her mom and dad, and always very sad because her husband was always at work. The little girl lived out in the country, so she had no friends to play with. Plus, she wasn't allowed to go into anyone's house anyway, because her mom said a kid going in one's house caused a mess, and was just too much trouble.

So, the little girl spent all her time wandering around outside, making up stories about where her real parents were, how she had been kidnapped by these people who claimed they were her parents, and what an amazing lady she would be when she grew up. She fantasized that Cher was her mother, and Tony Orlando was her father. When she began school, she was outcast as the freak, and weirdo because she was so smart. She had never been around kids, and didn't know how to play well with others. She was called "bossy" and "Miss Smartypants," and she cried a lot at home in her room.

Her books became her escape, and she even read encyclopedias to learn about the world because she knew she'd be trapped in this little town until she finished high school. In fourth grade, she checked out all the books she could find from the library on social skills. She taught herself how to make "small talk," memorized the fundamentals of table manners and fine dining, as well as other etiquette when dealing with adults and members of the opposite sex.

All the while, her parents lived their lives apart from the little girl. She didn't get good night kisses, or hugs, or even the occasional, "I love you." The only time she was recognized or loved was when it was her birthday, or she won an award from school. Then, she was told, "Of course you got A's. You always get A's. You always win the awards. Anyone can do anything if they work hard enough. We expect the best from you, and nothing less."

And, she was the best at everything her parents wanted for her: school and playing the piano and the saxophone. But, anything she wanted: gymnastics or singing, or acting, were called "silly" and a waste of time. And, she would never go away to school because that was too scary, and bad people would hurt girls who went away from their parents.

It was also during this time that her brother was born when she was five. She doesn't remember much about him as a baby except he cried constantly. She recalls him at age 2-5, as she was given much responsibility to watch out for him. She hated that responsibility, and as many little girls do, hated him because of her responsibility. Now, she realizes that it was not his fault, and that her parents were wrong to give her such responsibility, but that was many, many years later.

She remembers getting in trouble when he went outside, and ate strawberries straight out off the bushes, and got red juice on his white t-shirt. Her mother would yell at the girl, telling her she needed to watch him closer. If he got hurt, her mother would yell at the girl, asking why the girl didn't watch her brother more closely. Anything he did wrong, the girl got blamed. Anytime he acted like a child, as small children often do, crying and messing up things, getting dirty, and occasionally taking a tumble, the little girl was blamed, and often punished with a quick smack across the legs with a switch or a metal flyswatter. She actually preferred being grounded to her room where she could play quietly with her dolls, or read a book.

The girl's ultimate fantasy, for which she felt guilt for many years, was that the brother would die. She often thought of tickling him to death, making him laugh until he began choking, unable to catch his breath. She even tried this many times, but the brother liked to be tickled, and wouldn't stop breathing. Often, the brother would laugh so loudly, that the grownups would come into the room, yelling at the girl to stop tickling him, as they were making too much noise. Looking back, the grown woman is thankful for the grownups' intrusion, and her inability to make good on her death wish for her brother.

In review, it now is quiet clear to the grown woman she hated to be tickled. It also now is clear to her why she would never, ever, consider, until Daddy came along, allowing another to tickle her, or to try breath play.

I'm catching up on previous Matchmaker episodes. Like I said, I'm a geek and a freak, but I'm cute so you have to love me anyway! *curtsy* *giggle*

Another comment on Matchmaker came from Dr. Pat Allen a therapist for celebrities in Hollywood. She was talking to Kevin who is a celebrity photographer and has never dated anyone more than 2 weeks. He's 26. She told him that vaginas are fun to play with, but you don't marry vaginas. She also said that Kevin was getting bored after two weeks because he was playing with vaginas and there was no one to talk to because vaginas don't talk.

I LOVE that line!!

Ok, can you tell that I'm alone in the house all weekend? My daughter's gone to visit her dad, and Daddy's on a roadtrip with his son. So, it's just me, my DVR, and my laptop. You've been warned..... *laughs*

alright, I have to admit I'm a "Millionaire Matchmaker" fan. Yeah, yeah, I know, but I'm a freak, what can I say? So, I'm watching Patti, and her client brings her chocolate. She says chocolate warms a woman's heart and chocolate warms a man's bed. She follows that up with, "If you give a woman chocolate, I bet you'll get a blowjob!"

Hmmmm......I wonder that must be why Daddy brought me chocolate for our first meeting. It does work. But, truth be told, I'd have given him that blowjob anyway!

Love you Daddy!! (made you laugh) ...grins...

This came from Anne Schroeder's blog called
Shenanigans: The lighter side of politics.
Categories: Antics
For fun: Pooh, piglet and swine flu
By Anne Schroeder Mullins April 30, 2009 05:00 PM


April 30, 2009

I thought it was hilarious, and couldn't pass up the chance to share it with you. The text is rather small, so here's what is says:

As the two friends wandered through the snow on their way home, Piglet grinned to himself, thinking how lucky he was to have a best friend like Pooh.

Pooh thought to himself, "If the pig sneezes, he's **** dead."