Dinner With Daddy

"Excuse me?"

I hear it in the tone of your voice that I've absentmindedly done something that has gotten your attention and not in a good way. Your eyebrow is raised in such a way that it is not merely a warning. I know that look, and it's the one that says I've 'really' stepped into it. I immediately try to think of what I just said or did, but nothing comes to mind, and I feel that deer in the headlights sensation as the color drains from my face.

"I must have heard that incorrectly."

"Uh," I start to say, trying to backpedal because I honestly don't remember what came out of my mouth while sitting at the dinner table. The restaurant is just loud enough that I'm relying more on your visual cues, screaming everything to me, you're in big trouble, little girl.

I slowly wipe my mouth and look down at my plate; I've eaten the required vegetables, most of the salad, and at least a bite of everything on the plate. I'm unsure of what to say while I'm looking at my feet. The waiter seems to come by at the perfect time as I'm peering up at you and hear you clear your throat loudly enough that I'm ready to hide under the tablecloth so no one can see me. Mainly I want to hide from your gaze that is making my stomach squick.

"Would you like a box for that miss?"

I hear you answer with a slight smile,

"She'll eat it at home."

I reach for the glass of wine and almost chug it down while I nod in agreement as the waiter walks off with the check in his hand.

"Come sit next to me, sweetheart."

I nod, acknowledging that I've understood you, and move toward you slowly, trying to remember what I just said or did.

"Can you tell me what I might be thinking about right now?"

"No," I answer a little too quickly.

Your expression softens a little as I feel your hand on the small of my back, finding its place.

"No, Daddy," I whisper.

"Do you think I missed that?"

"I don't know," I answered honestly. "I really don't know."

You're smiling; I see the mischief in your eyes as I begin to panic,

"What have I told you about rolling your eyes at me?"

"That you'll purple my ass with the paddle."

"And, are you ever in charge?"

"No, Daddy," I whisper. "You're in charge."

"That's right, baby," your lips are so close to my ear that your beard is tickling, sending goosebumps down my body. I'm sure we must appear cute like this to everyone else around us, but they have no idea how much I'm quivering inside. "Daddy is in charge."

The waiter comes back, and I'm smiling, pretending nothing is going on at the table while you sign for the bill. You stand me up with just a nudge of your hand on the small of my back. Your arm is around me, caressing lightly on my shoulder while you pick up my sweater to put it on for me. Even when you're disappointed, your manners are impeccable. You open the door outside and the car door too. You reach over and kiss my forehead sweetly while you make sure my seatbelt is on correctly. The whole time I'm trembling because I'm anticipating the paddle on my ass when we get home, but I'm more upset that I disappointed you.

"Do you feel bad, baby?"

"Yes, Daddy. Sorry, Daddy."

I can't even look at you. I'm so upset that you cover my hand with yours, patting it to reassure me that it isn't the end of the world. I feel awful and try not to start biting my nails.

"Did you have a bad day, sweetheart?"

I nod, afraid to speak because I'm trying not to start bawling like a little child, but the truth was, I had a bad day. Despite not wanting to do anything after working all day, I pulled myself together the wrong way. I knew I had blown it, and there you were, making it better after calling me out on it.

"Uh-huh," I start to sob.

You don't say anything at; first, your hand is still on top of mine, dwarfing it. I see you pulling off the highway onto one of the back roads that I'm not familiar with at all. We sit in silence until I can no longer see signs of civilization. You turn the radio off, and now all I can hear is the Jeep engine, road noise, and my not so quiet sobs. You pull over as I start to undo the seat belt. There are no cars around; there's nothing for miles.

"Baby, put your head on my lap."

I lay my head down, I try to stop sniffling, but it just feels worse this way.

"What happened?"

"Hormones," I blurt out. "I'm tired."

You start to laugh,

"Ah. I see. Do I need to put you down for a nap when we get home, baby?"

Your hand brushes away the stray strands of hair from my face, and you tuck them behind my ear. I sigh, trying just to calm myself.

"I'm such a damn spaz."

"You have to give yourself a break, baby. Don't be so hard on yourself."

"I didn't mean to roll my eyes at you."

"I know."

"And I hate that I disappointed you."

"Shhhh."

"I'm sorry."

"I believe you, but I think you should write lines tomorrow. I will not roll my eyes at Daddy."

"Ok."

"You're going to go settle yourself in the corner when we get home."

I nod, placing my hand on your knee, and begin to fidget with the seam. You turn off the Jeep, and I hold my breath, listening to crickets and frogs chirping. I slowly sit up; I can see your expression is curious as I reach down to your belt. I pull my pants off and slowly work my shirt up over my head. I need to do this for you as I pull my bra off and drop it to the floor.

I wait to see what you'll do because I've never done this before. I know I'm not in charge, and you know that I understand this as well. Your hand moves to my chin, and I quietly sigh. You push my hand down, and I touch you lightly at first until you pull me onto your lap. I slide up enough to straddle your lap and slowly lower myself onto your cock. Your head tilts back with a smile that gradually broadens. My hands are behind my back, holding the steering wheel so that I can wiggle back and forth.

"That's a lovely tight wet little hole, baby."

"Thank you, Daddy."

I know how to work you up like this, and you're smiling because you know what I'm going to do, and I'll happily make a mess to clean it up. You growl into my ear, and I'm feeling the slow build-up of energy inside, and I tighten up to maintain the sensation. Your hands are on my breasts, fondling and pinching while I continue to grind my hips against you. You smack my ass and squeeze harder, pulling my hips down.

"This is mine," you tell me. "Mine."

I smile,

"I'm yours."