7 tiny teases: femme daddy lineage

bite-sized paragraphs from "i didn't mean me: a femme daddy lineage"

You know…there are femme daddies. Daddies who wear leather and lingerie and hairbows bigger than your face, with dicks bigger than your forearm. Daddies who will crush you beneath their fists and stiletto boots then cover you with lipstick kisses. Daddies who don’t need any superiority but your surrender. 

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We were all ecstatic & laughing & at the end of the afternoon, she sent us home from her dungeon with some of our inheritance: full boxes of needles at all the most usual gauges, found by AIDS Community Care Montréal in the home of an elder who’d recently died, passed into community instead of thrown away, as is our tradition.

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…it was pre-SESTA/FOSTA, so we could still cruise on facebook. A few weeks after the fateful dinner, I posted on the wall for that night’s mixed play party looking for needles, trampling, stomping, and fists, all hard/high femme fuckery. I thought I might bottom for the first time in awhile, but mostly imagined not much would happen & ended up shocked to be approached about almost everything I’d cruised for, including by a straight woman who didn’t understand that when I said I didn’t bottom to mascs anymore so femmes only, I definitely did not mean her. (I suppose it can get confusing in a bilingual city like ours.) 

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When we got together, I quickly became his dominant in a hard femme style that was sometimes a little too mean for him, which embarrassed me (perpetually too blunt & hard a girl) & taught me a lot about the balance of care with cruelty, the styles of control a woman can wear.

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From the first instance with her, I wanted to give her everything even if everything couldn’t be me.

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I knew enough to know I shouldn’t be Daddy then & there on the spot, but I hadn’t yet caught how Sir slides that way almost always for me. Or is simply that Sir is the borderlands? A specific terrain between a single scene & an in-depth entanglement, a dance with less risky reach than into everyone’s true bad dad shit?

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I wanted to trust that when I moved into a dynamic like that, it would be with consent & choice, not an accident like my last’s near-total power exchange with zero negotiation or intention, so I set out to develop the skills I would need to do that.

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reminder/disclaimer: everything is teases for yr personal eyes only, from an in-creation collection of essays about leather as culture & folklore. give praise where you are moved & critique where you are curious <3