Daddy: Nine Stories of First Time Gay Dominant Daddies

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My therapist gives a name to what I witnessed and experienced with my dad growing up: abuse. Physical and mental abuse. He recommends never leaving my son alone with my dad again. But, especially when I was a child, physical attention from Dad meant pain. What does that do to a boy? But this was no punishment. This was a cessation. This was my death. I tried to make him see reason, to convince him that we were to be forever. I told him of our joys, our laughs and how love couldn’t be any better. I begged him not to kill his beloved and only child.

My father’s lap – My taboo diary My father’s lap – My taboo diary

I had hoped he didn’t mean it, that this was just another punishment, but the way he said it convinced me it was final. I knew my father; I knew the look on his face. It was the same look he had when he shot Dragon our Alsatian. This was not like before when he would refuse to touch me because I misbehaved. My father had never hit me or scolded me; his punishments were usually more severe and silent. He would simply refuse to touch me for days on end. Such days were hell for me. I could barely survive without him. When he was pleased with me, he really would take his time and give me much pleasure that I never knew was possible. Jesus Christ!” Diego rubbed the side of his temples, talking to Klaus was even more exhausting than going on missions. “What I was trying to say,” He put as much emphasis on ‘trying’ as he possibly could, “Is that I also found a pacifier.” Diego stared at Klaus, completely dumbfounded. How dense did he think he was? “I know that, Klaus.” The Scissors! Lying on his side with me between his thighs, he squeezed downward, crushing me in the middle. I was sure my insides were going to come out of my mouth or into my pants. My mom, dishes done, passing us on her way up the stairs, would chastise him. “You’re going to give them hernias!”I blushed, he must’ve thought I was upset for how close he had placed his hand. “It’s okay.” I said. “It was a suggestion.”

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My toddler son’s behavior had become so extreme we’d decided to pull him out of his preschool program. When I told Dad about this and asked him to stop modeling aggression, he scoffed. “Pulled him out of preschool? But he’s a normal boy,” he said. The implication being that the abnormal one was me. Because what a normal boy needs from his dad is to learn respect. He suggested I try spanking; it’s the only thing some kids respond to, he insisted. “They’re like dogs,” he said. “They need to know you’re an alpha.” When I was a child, it seemed my dad only touched to hurt. Hugs were scarce, and cuddles not an option for “big boys.” I hugged him too, when he did something for me, when I’d done something that made him proud or just because.I would forever be grateful for my looks; it was my ultimate shield. It helped me survive and helped my resolve. I set off on a mission, to hurt as I had been hurt. I soon became very successful. I brought both boys and men to their knees. I killed them and still left them alive. I remember the families that fought themselves over me, the brothers that would never forgive each other, the scandalized churches and governments, the suicides, the bankruptcies. There is a lot a body can do when it is rightly motivated. Obviously, I knew that to take this to the next level I had to do something that would get everyone talking,” the UK resident said. “I put a picture of my dad up, just us topless after a workout, and it just went mental.” Feeling bolder than usual one night, I took his hand and placed it on the mound above my pussy. Just the fabric of my panties separating us. Only once do I remember snuggling next to him as he read Treasure Island to me in bed. I didn’t like the story, preferring the contemporary fantasy books, full of dragons and magic, that I read with my mom. Dismissing my preference and angry I couldn’t appreciate a classic he’d loved so much as a child, he decided to never read to me again. As I entered adolescence, I don’t recall any touch between us at all. We returned to hugging at some point after college. A tight grip around the shoulders, followed almost without fail, to this day, by a “You look good.”

Shower with my Dad (REVISED) - TLnet Childhood Memories: Shower with my Dad (REVISED) - TLnet

My shame at this terrible decision is magnified by the fact that, at almost 9, my son still remembers these formative experiences, just as I do with my own dad. He’s sitting next to me as I write now, and when I ask about it, he says, “Spanking hurt a lot, and I didn’t want you to do it, and you still did it anyway. I didn’t like it, not at all.” While I still have a long way to go in my recovery from abuse, I have found great help and made progress mostly through opening up to others and joining support groups, both online and in person. Through connecting with others who have experienced the same thing. We use to cuddle all the time and you never kiss or hug me any more.” I explained, trying to make it sound more innocent. “Even when I was naughty, at least you’d still spank me.”A father and son are making a fortune on OnlyFans sharing naked photos of themselves hanging out together. Are you sure you understood? It’s just that you didn’t laugh at all when I said it. I mean, I was practically admitting to being a drug mule!” I felt his muscles tense up and realized my question might’ve sounded a bit naughtier than I had intended.

‘Just be a good boy and relax,’ he said. He was my teacher

Once, he threw me onto the couch and held me under a pillow for so long I saw fireworks. I flailed at his arm, trying to communicate I can’t breathe under here! But even if I’d been able to speak, I don’t think he’d have heard me over his laughter. In my experience, this dysfunction defines how dads relate to their sons, not just as children, but as adults too. Through small jabs and takedowns, my dad has ensured the scars from his abuse have stayed open, oozing and infected, making healing impossible. He remains the dominant one; it’s essential, it seems, to how he views family. Even when it comes to my relating to my own child, he believes he knows best, or better than me anyway.Being able to know and feel that you are not alone was, and still is, a huge help to me. I would recommend taking that big step to anyone who is struggling with abuse issues. It is very scary the first time (and the second and third time too), but it gets easier each time and the rewards are so worth it. A family legacy of pain, passed down from father to son. A tradition enforced by shame, because what — are you not man enough to take it? Or to deal it out? This is how the rules of the patriarchy propagate themselves. I was near tears, but my father’s tone made clear he had no sympathy. Come on, already, he seemed to say. You’re the kid’s dad. Lay down the law. This is what I decided to change. I kissed my father again, just like I used to when I was little. I kissed him before I went to bed, when I was about to leave or when he said something nice about me.