I am young, in that middle ground between little girl and growing. There are new feelings and curiosities and explorations…but still yet so very innocent, tender, naive. My whole life I have lived on praise and making daddy proud. That is why I tryso hard in school, getting good grades every time. My room is always spotless, picked up daily. I help with the dishes, the laundry…all to hear the magic words..“Good Girl.” Just hearing them makes my whole body sparkle, mytummy tingle and flip, knowing that daddy is proud of me. It is everything to me. I never really get it trouble, it hurts my heart too much to know that I disappointed daddy.
Maybe it is a birthday, or maybe as a reward for good grades or something…whatever it is it is a special occasion. So Daddy decides to take me out on a date, a real daddy-daughter one. It is a whole day occasion. We start early in the morning and go shopping for a dress, shoes, maybe even some jewelry, possibly even some new panties - something very classy, elegant, beautiful. We laugh, smile, joke, hold hands - all the wonderful things that daddies and daughters do before they get all grown up.
After that we do a small lunch and then daddy takes me to the salon. I get my hair done, fingernails, toenails, a body scrub…maybe…maybe even her first waxing (not that there is really anything to remove) - all to make her beautiful for daddy.
After all that daddy takes me out to dinner. Maybe he drives, maybe a black-car service. Not a limo, but towncar or something. He takes me to the fanciest place in town, the french place. I am so out of my element. A new dress that is just a hint too short, just the ever so slightest bit revealing, nothing lewd of course, classy and elegantly sexual. I hold daddy’s hand so tightly as we walk in, nervous. It is dark inside, rich and sensual, the low murmur of the patrons. I bite the corner of my lip, I do that when Im nervous…I still do and squeeze his hand. He squeezes back soothingly as we walk to our table, dimly lit near the fire. We sit, across from each other.
Eventually I settle a bit, daddy ordering, because I cant read the menu…its in French. Soon I am a normal little girl again…
So, we are eating and laughing. I am telling daddy all about school and my friends and everything, just like always. Daddy even lets me have just the tiniest sneaky sips of wine. He is NOT getting me drunk though, not even close.
At some point after dinner, before dessert, daddy looks at me and tells me….he is not stern or forceful or anything, but in his fatherly way, tells me to go to the ladies room…take…take off my panties and…and to bring them back to him. I just stare at him, stunned, shocked. He doesnt tell me again, just gives me a slight nod after about a minute. Nothing changes in his face or demeanor. He just goes on finishing his meal. I swallow, slowly stand up and walk to the ladies room. I dont know why…why Im doing it, but I do, know that I should, know that I…have to.
I get to the bathroom, use the potty and…and do it. I take them off and ball them up tightly in my hand. I wash my hands quickly and hold them tight. I take a deep breath as I open the door. Instantly in my mind I see the entire restaurant turn, silence falling over as I walk out. I know that they know. They know what I have done. They know I am not wearing any panties, that my daddy told me to take them off. They cant and dont know…but…but I am convinced they do. I tremble as I walk back, feeling their prying eyes, knowing they can see…see every bit of me.
I finally make it back to the table and sit, shaking. Daddy just calmly smiles at me, acting as if nothing strange is going on. My knuckles are white from clenching them so tightly, hiding them. As dessert comes and the server leaves, he simply holds out his hand. I know…I know what he means. My little arm lifts up, placing my tiny hand in his and carefully, worriedly let go. My blush is evident on my face, bright red, the freckles on my nose and cheeks appearing brighter, I cant look at his eyes. He simply says “Good Girl” and takes them. My tummy flips, clenching deep inside me.
He takes them from me, gives me a tender, soft smile and places them in his pocket. I am still stunned, shy, embarrassed…but something else too, I dont know what, a warm tingling, sparkling…deep in my core. Right before the waitress brings the check, he lays them neatly on the table, folded up so it looks like his napkin. As he places his credit card in the little black book, he tells the girl “La chatte va apprendre a se soumettre et a ronronner ce soir. S'il vous plait, joignez-vous à nous pour participer à son initiation au plaisir. He places my panties on top and closes the book. I let out a little squeak as I stiffen up again, my eyes widening, letting out a whispering "Daddyyy”. I dont know what he says, but I see the girl smile tenderly, and then nod. he sweetly, reassuringly smiles back, “everything is fine angel. Just a tip for her service tonight, for making this a very special evening for you.”
We get up to leave and I take daddy’s hand, sort of hiding behind him, still knowing that everyone can see and knows what is happening, very shyly. He doesn’t say anything, just holds my hand tenderly, calming my fears, protecting me. We get out to the car and climb in. After a few minutes he says again, not loudly, not whispering, just normal…perhaps the driver hears…“Don’t wrinkle your dress by sitting on it, sweetheart. Bare Bottom on the seat, please.” I can only say “y..yes daddy” softly. I sit up, brush my dress up and place my bottom on the leather, a small gasp as the cool leather touches my skin. I can hear his smile beaming.
So, after dinner, Daddy takes me out to a show…the ballet, opera, theatre, something like that. He keeps holding my hands, caressing my neck and shoulders, tickling my neck and ears, making me shiver and giggle. We are in a private box high up front on the sides. He tells me not to wrinkle my dress before I sit. I fan it out a little and start to sit. He tsks and simply says “higher”. I swallow and inch it up, exposing the backs of my thighs to him. My front is completely hidden by the rail and wall of the box. I start to sit again, only to hear him once again say “higher princess.” I whimper, slipping it up higher, to just under the swell of my bottom, keeping it hidden. Before i can start, he says “higher babygirl”. I take a deep breath, my face red, catching the glances of a few people in the pit below as they scan the room. I lift my dress all the way over my bottom, up to my hips. “Perfect” I hear him say. “You may sit now”. “th…thank you Daddy” I say respectfully, it coming out automatically, naturally. This time it is not the cool leather of the car, but the scratchy felt of the seat as I sit.
We watch the whole show like that, my dress over my legs, my bottom on the seat, somehow knowing deep inside me that this will become the norm for me.
After the entertainment, we walk out to the waiting car. “Wrinkles” before we climb in, the door opened before me. I blush, standing in the open, but with daddy behind me, hiding, protecting me. I lift, scooting in, and sit. The car drives downtown, to the hotel - daddy checked in the night before, the bags already there. All this such a surprise.
As we walk in the large suite, on one of the uppermost floors, it is mostly dark. There are a few candles lit…the shades drawn open, the skyline and lights of the city twinkling through the massive picture window…someone has been here, prepared the room. Flames flicker in the bath, already full with a mountain of bubbles and oils already waiting, the mirror still steamed over. “lets get you in the bath, precious.” I can only nod, agreeing. I gasp and jump, his fingers grazing my neck, sending shivers down my spine, once again settling in my bottom, deep inside me, grasping the zipper and slowly tugging it down. I can feel every tooth of the zipper let free as he unzips all the way down to my lower back, gently sliding it off my shoulders, collecting it before it touches the floor, he helps me step out of it…clothed only in my shoes and the necklace around my throat. I step out of my heels and into the tub, nearly scalding me it is still so hot. I step in, sink down and watch as you leave the room, letting me to my privacy. I leave my hair up, just letting the water, soap and oil soak into my skin, somehow knowing that is what I am supposed to do.
Sometime later, I dont know how long, 2 minutes, 10, 30, an hour?? Daddy comes back in without knocking, steps to the edge of the tub and holds his hand out. I look up, chewing on my bottom lip, a soft whimper from my lips. He simply smiles reassuringly, a gentle, loving nod - then my hand lifts up. He pulls me up, the cooling soapy water dripping off, I begin to shiver. It has been a while. He just smiles as he looks, glancing at me, not staring or making me uncomfortable, but loving and adoring as a daddy. he carefully pats my skin dry with the soft, warm, fluffy towel, not rubbing, being so gentle with me. Finally he slips the warm robe over me, tying the belt closed.
Daddy leads me back into the suite, and I see our waitress sitting in a chair in the corner. I jump and squeak, daddy calmly shushing me, his hand on my shoulder, fingertip stroking my earlobe, making me shiver just a bit. He walks me to the window, high above the city streets, the cars so tiny down below. I can feel the cool air from the window. Standing with my toes nearly touching the window, he reaches around me and unties the robe. As with my dress, he slips it from my shoulders, oh so slowly exposing me to the eyes of the city in front, and our serving girl behind.
I stand there for an eternity, hearing soft, garbled discussion behind me, unable to make anything out. I am shaking, trembling visibly until there is a knock at the door. I jump, startled. Another calming hand to my shoulder. I settle and his hands take mine, slowly pulling them behind me, resting them on the curve of my bottom. “No words tonight, princess, only sounds” he says, dangling what I learn to be a ballgag in front of me. A small one, a training one, pink, gently strapping it on me. I simply whimper my consent, feeling his hand gently pressure me, sending me to my knees in the window. I stiffen again, hearing the door open, the squeaky wheels of the food cart wheeling in.
The room falls silent again. Daddy stands me, walks me to the master room in the suite, where on the bed before me (the girl now in the chair in the bedroom, watching) are the instruments. I dont know what any of them are. Some look soft, some scary…In time, I learn them all. The oils, lotions, creams, waxy candles, the spiky wheel, silky bonds, the paddle, the crop and cane, clamps for all my tender places, the toys that will enter me, even my most private of areas…to stretch me, prepare me, make me howl and wail and cry out…in such exquisite torture. Pain, pleasure, luscious agony as daddy drives my body, guiding me and molding me to his pleasure and desire. I cannot ask for respite or release, only sound out my shrieks and moans, mixing into one. Not for my pleasure, but for daddys. All for him. I will do anything, everything he asks. He wont have to demand, just ask or simply tell.
My training has begun. Daddy molding me, drawing out what has been hidden so deep inside =for so long. I have no idea, but daddy has of course seen it since I was just a little girl, a child. How I thrived on his praise, his direction, his guidance. Now…it will be his eyes, his touch…that drive me….anything
I am his, forever.
That….
that is my fantasy
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