I remember when I made the decision – I was a teen in my first serious relationship and he was talking about trying what he thought was super kinky activities and he said we should come up with a safe word. I was eating a Hawaiian pizza at the time, and almost like a fuck you to him and his pal who were bitching that I ordered a pizza with pineapple, I decided my safe word would be pineapples. Petty? Quite possibly, but I can also tell you I never once said that word in the context of a safe word in that relationship – thought he had to a few times.

It was a source of pride for me that I never once, in any relationship have had to use my safe word. I was the reigning undefeated champion till Daddy came in and screwed up my streak.

But I’ve been thinking about that and perhaps the way I have been thinking about it is all wrong. 

Were there times before when I should have used the safe word? Absolutely! I have been in situations with partners where I was in pain or felt uncomfortable but I didn’t say the word. I just pushed through and that is so wrong. If I found out my daughter was in that situation and didn’t feel comfortable enough to ask them to stop, then I would hit the roof. It’s not how a partnership should be and looking back. my not feeling confident enough with my boyfriends is actually quite sad. 

So why didn’t I stop them, but I have stopped Daddy three times now? 

Well if I think about it, age has a lot to say about having confidence. But I think more than that, it’s the word “comfortable”. I know that when I tell him to stop, he will right away and with no repercussions. I don’t think I had that security before on the past. I will say here I don’t mean that I didn’t think they wouldn’t stop. I’m almost 100% sure they would have but the grief I would have got or the mood they would have been in, just wasn’t worth it. Blood can be cleaned up, pain can be treated with paracetamol and hot water bottles - silent treatment or arguments, where things get thrown in your face is harder to deal with, at least for me. I don't do confrontation well.

Yes, Daddy is the one who broke my streak. He will forever be the one (and hopefully only) who fucked me so good I had to use my word. And damn him he’s me use it 3 times. 

• Once near the beginning of our relationship, where he had made me cum so much, I thought I was gonna pass out. This was before I discovered just what that sensation is like and how it can add to the experience but more on that another time. 
  
  
• Once when I was cumming so hard and was face down/ass up, so I started to feel dizzy and sick at the same time. I'm an actual fucker for holding my breathe when I play and occasionally when I have sex, I have no idea why I do it but its a pain in the ass cause having to remind yourself to breathe mid orgasm is really hard.
  
  
• Once in my kitchen where I was pretty sure my legs couldn’t handle anymore and I was gonna buckle. I was making us a coffee when he came up behind me and started playing then pushed my head down on the counter and fucked me stupid. Considering he had not 5 minutes earlier pounded me into a mess in the bedroom, I was struggling to remember my name let alone how to stay standing.
  
  

Hindsight, I could have pushed on with those times and kept my streak but that would mean lying to Daddy and I won’t do that. I felt at the time I needed to stop and I knew not only was it the right thing to do, but that he would give me the break, and possible help if needed. 

That streak though. Fuck!

I need to let it go though. Instead of thinking “god damn it he made me say pineapples”, I should be thinking “wow he stopped as soon as I said it every time, even though he was deep in the moment”. I have tried to justify it before, that the reason he was able to make me tap out is cause what we do is more intense, but that's almost like I’m trying to sooth my ego. 

While its true he can push my body to uncharted territory, it’s good to have that anchor. Its good to know that if I start to feel overwhelmed, then I can hit the pause button. And it’s comforting to know that he loves and cares for me enough to stop, even if he might not want to. That, in my opinion, is the difference between just fucking and having a connection. I know that no matter what, he will always take care of me and will never make me feel shitty for needing to stop – no matter how utterly fucked off my pride is.