Child Play

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Child Play

One September, a few years back, I came home from work to find a pretty pink-wrapped box sitting on my desk next to the computer. A little sticker with the name "Muffy" held each end of the wrapping paper tight against the mystery box.

"For me?" I squealed with delight as He pointed towards the box and nodded ever so slightly. His huge grin indicated He was just as delighted by my squeal as I was by the pretty pink surprise.

I shook it lightly, then again, but a little harder this time.

"Well, open it, silly girl!" He stepped closer and hugged me from behind as I picked very carefully at the little stickers on each end.

"I'd like to save these," I indicated quietly. "Can I?"

"Whatever you wish, k. Hurry up, now."

It wasn't the first "prize" I'd come home to. But, this one seemed different. It had an essence all it's own. Somehow, it made me feel even more special this time. I proceeded to pick the little stickers off both ends of the box, carefully placing them on a clean piece of white paper I'd quickly stolen from the printer. They would be keepsakes, I just knew it!

Cautiously, I pulled the pink wrapper away from the package and set it aside. I lifted the lid and peeked in. Another sticker! This one held together the crunchy pink tissue paper over my surprise. This time, impatience took over, and the little sticker was sacrificed by my excitement. There, perfectly placed, side by side, were the prettiest pair of saddle shoes I'd ever seen. They were mine -- little k's -- Daddy's girl.

At the age of seven the man I cherished with all my heart -- more than anything or anyone in my world, died. My light and hope and the little girl in me seemed to wither from my being. He was the one person in my whole life who loved me -- and I cherished him so. My Father had raised me alone from the time I was eighteen months old. Both of us abandoned suddenly by my mother, he'd taken care of me and loved me as a perfect Father should.

Love, security, and tenderness were supposed to be forever for Daddy's little girl. But, forever had ended way too suddenly...

Determined to make something of myself, I was strong, independent, and motivated -- always. I graduated, worked, raised the kids, went to classes, worked some more and went to school some more. I knew exactly what I wanted and needed, or so I thought. Most days I considered myself lucky that I didn't need therapy, and learned that after two bad marriages, I didn't need a man, either. I didn't need anyone's help. There were even times when I'd been emotionally and physically battered, but I refused to give up. This was a do-able journey -- being strong and motivated for me, caring and soft for the children, and I had been the perfect wife -- twice. It was a long time before I realized what a good job I was doing fooling myself. What was it that was always missing?

I found myself feeling surges of jealousy towards my friend's relationships with their parents and siblings. An only child who had one parent leave, and the other die -- it just wasn't fair! It felt as though nothing were fair anymore. I noticed myself pouting a lot. A grown woman pouting. How silly was that! It made me angry with myself for behaving childishly. Hmm... There were days when I caught myself whining -- actually whining! Could I be loosing it? I was out of control. Control -- I had to be in control of me. Somebody had to do it, right? Hmm... It was time to study ME.

My self-confidence dropped, not only noticed by me, but by my friends and co-workers. The need to be in control was fading fast. It was just too emotionally tiring. Psychological profiles would indicate a desire for a Father figure. No -- not a Father figure, but a Father. I didn't make it a mission to find a man who resembled my Father. I didn't search for someone who would baby me, or place me in dolly-style clothing -- but more over, someone who was supportive and encouraging. I needed a relationship where I didn't NEED to be in control, didn't require rescuing someone, and an individual who wasn't inadequate at taking care of themselves. Me, the children, and previous men in my life demanded all of those tasks.

Training in the human psyche, and careful reflection encouraged me to take a long, hard look at myself. There was a purpose in fulfilling the need to be strong and the need to take control of, or take care of, whatever was placed before me -- relationships, finances, day-to-day life. Hard to admit, but easy to see once laid upon the table. Okay -- so, why?

I had to go back to where it all began -- a triggering incident where my thought process was altered quite suddenly -- Daddy's death. Although I was just a child, I thought it necessary to be "a big girl." During this process I continued to deny my unfulfilled emotions. From the age of seven on, I was in charge of me. I was in charge of my behavior and that included stifling my emotion. There was no one to guide me or supply emotional support. So -- in short, I became my own parent at the tender age of seven.

Not until the tenth year of my third marriage, did I begin to recognize how desperate I was to be taken care of in a way that allowed me to express my deep-seeded needs. Had D/s not been elemental in O/our relationship, I honestly believe my repressed needfulness to become "the child," would not have surfaced -- or at least not in the manner in which it has now.

Because I've fallen in love with a Man who comprehends my child-like need for love and security, He is offered without hesitation, my heart and soul -- just as the only person who truly held my heart so long ago.

A Father figure. No -- not just figuratively. He is the embodiment of what my Daddy was to that little girl of yesteryears.

"You're such a good girl," He says, and I can't help but melt into His arms ... since that very first whisper of those special words, I've been safe, cherished, and loved as I've needed to be. I'm finally "home." The twinkle in His eyes, and the tenderness of His touch carry me back to a time when I giggled adoringly at my Father's cuddles and hugs.

I'm safe and secure again as I nuzzle into my Daddy's loving embrace. I can do that now, and feel just as I did when I was that little girl in Daddy's arms.

Age-play -- no... Just an age-less child in the perfect pair of saddle shoes.


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