Worst Day, Best Night

This is Chapter 1 of a story I am calling "Worst Day, Best Night". This story is about two consenting adults who participate in the DaddyDom/babygirl dynamic. I hope you all enjoy the writing.

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It had been the worst day ever. I work as a victim advocate, providing support for surviving family members of homicide victims. I had sat through an entire day of trial during which I had to hold the hands of the family while the defense basically blamed their daughter for her own murder. After doing this for a while, you get a feeling for how a jury is leaning, and looking at them, I just knew that after closing statements on Monday, they would go out, deliberate, and return as a hung jury, almost evenly split, because there just wasn't enough forensic evidence. Everyone wants "CSI" endings with fingerprints and DNA, and that's just not the real world. When the mother asked me how I thought it was going, I just wanted to cry.

I didn't want to leave her without any hope, but I also didn't want to lead her on with a more than rosy outlook when I just didn't believe it to be true. I had done this tightrope walk before, but this one was particularly difficult. This mother had previously lost her only other child to leukemia, and now her beautiful and talented daughter had been taken from her. While she had never blamed anyone for her son's death from the cancer, she had someone upon whom she felt she could place responsibility for her daughter's death, but she needed those 12 people in the jury box to validate her belief, and I just didn't think it was going to happen. I told her that we'd know more after the closing statements, and to prepare for the worst and hope for the best. I told her to call me if she needed to talk over the weekend, then placed her hand in her husband's and watched them slowly walk out of the courthouse. As I watched them walk away, I knew the sorrow hung deeply on him as well, but that he always tried to remain strong for his wife.

I went back to my office to pack up a few things and decided to check my e-mail. Before I could get to my inbox, I saw the daily news flash about the trial; it was getting a lot of publicity. The defense attorneys looked particularly pleased with themselves as they answered as many questions as they could without violating the judge's "gag" order. I was just glad the murder victim's parents had decided, upon my advice, not to watch any television coverage of the trial.

Checking my e-mail, I found that the next Tuesday I had a parole hearing for a murderer who had served a total of five years on a 25 year sentence for killing his best friend. That was going to be a rough one. The wife of the murder victim still called me at least once a week to "check in." She was going to be freaking out the following week. I made a note to call her over the weekend and packed my things up to leave.

By the time I walked out of the building, the skies which had threatened rain all day had finally opened up. Of course, I didn't have my umbrella. I was soaked before I got to my car, which, thankfully was in the parking garage. I threw my briefcase in the back seat, and as I looked down, I couldn't help but curse out loud as I noticed the flat tire. "What else?" I cried. I wanted to just sit there and sob, but the storm was raging, and the tornado sirens had started going crying out their warning into the darkness. I decided to fix the tire and try to make it home as quickly as possible. Not the brightest idea, but the thought of going back into the courthouse was just beyond comprehension, and staying on the sixth floor of the parking garage didn't seem too bright.

Finally, after fixing the tire, battling the weather and horrid traffic due to the storm, I arrived home an hour later. I pressed the button for the garage, just wanting to slink into the house, get out of my now damp cold clothes and slip into a warm shower. Nothing happened when I pressed the button. I tried again. Nope, nothing. And then I realized that the porch light wasn't on. Nor were there any lights on. "Great, just perfect," I thought. "No power." I threw the car into park and turned off the engine, grabbed my briefcase, and sprinted for the front door. As I turned the key in the lock I groaned, "This has been the worst day ever."

Suddenly, my briefcase was taken out of my hands, my wet blazer removed from my shoulders, and my body pulled into strong, welcoming, warm arms. "Babygirl," Daddy whispered into my ear. "I've been so worried about you. Why didn't you answer your cell phone? Why has it been the worst day ever?" Suddenly, I realized I hadn't turned my phone back on after leaving the courtroom. I began to sob uncontrollably in Daddy's arms. He led me over to the cuddle chair and began to remove the rest of my wet clothing, but I threw my arms around his neck and sobbed. I finally noticed the candles lighting the room and the warm fire blazing in the fireplace. I glanced briefly at the pot in the fire, but quickly shifted my attention back to Daddy.

I blurted out the whole story to him, and I apologized over and over again for forgetting to turn my phone back on. "I didn't...even...think...about...calling...you because you said you...were...working...late...tonight," I choked out between sobs. I did my best to regain my composure. "You said you'd be unreachable until after 9, and it was not quite 7 when I left the office."

"Oh, babygirl," he sighed into my neck. "I'm sorry. I only told you that because I wanted to surprise you. This wasn't exactly the romantic evening I had planned, but it will be even better. I will change this worst day ever for you."

"Oh, Daddy," I cried. "You're so good to me. What is all this for?" I asked as I noticed the fresh roses on the mantle and the rose petals on the floor.

"Babygirl," he said, in that way that just made me melt. "I know how hard this trial has been for you, and I've been following the news reports. Also, it seems you've forgotten something."

I stared at him blankly. Our wedding anniversary? Nope, that wasn't for three more months. The anniversary of the day he first collared me? Nope, that was next month. His birthday? No. My birthday? No. "I give up, Daddy," I sighed in frustration. "I'm sorry."

"No need to be sorry, babygirl," he said. "I'm sorry that you've been so busy you haven't had time to realize that it was 5 years ago today that you finally agreed to give me your phone number, after deciding I wasn't an Internet predator, and probably running me through the FBI's criminal database."

I giggled at that, and he smiled back at me. "Now there's my gigi," He said. "There's my giddy gigglebox."

"A lot of people at the office did offer to run you through the system," I giggled, as I looked into his ever-changing eyes. Today they were a deep green, just like the forest-colored button down he wore. "I am sorry I didn't remember, Daddy. But I'm so glad you did."

"I'm sorry this was the worst day ever for you, babygirl," was his reply. "But I'm going to make it the best night ever."

With that, he whisked me up and into the bathroom, which was lit by candles. The tub was filled with water. I shuddered, thinking how cold it must be, but, putting my pinky in, I was surprised to find it was warm.

"I'll warm it up while you finish getting undressed," he said. As I removed my blouse, skirt, and hose (the shoes had fallen off in the living room), Daddy went to the fire and retrieved the pot. He had heated water over the fire to keep the tub water warm, and as he poured the water in, I smelled the lavender, chamomile, and vanilla scents rise from the Roman-shaped jacuzzi tub. Slowly I slipped into the bath he had so lovingly prepared for me. The temperature was perfect...not too hot, and not too cold. Daddy put on the wash gloves and began soaping me with the most amazing smelling soap. I felt the day's tension begin to drain from my body and for the first time since I got home, my tears stopped.

As Daddy ran his hands over my whole body, I moaned. He seemed to spend a great deal of time washing my nipples, and the slight roughness of the gloves caused them to stand out like little pebbles. I moaned again, more loudly, and then Daddy began running his hands down my belly. I giggled as he cleaned my bellybutton and groaned as he skipped over my private areas to wash my thighs and calves. When he got to my feet, I kicked in the water...just a little bit...because it tickled so much. I was laughing now, and I could see the smile on Daddy's face, the pride that he had gotten me to laugh out loud. "You're such a good girl," he said. "I love you, and no matter how bad your day might be, your nights with me should always be wonderful." When He leaned over and kissed me, I thought I would cry from happiness and joy that I had such a wonderful Daddy to whom I came home every night.

Still ignoring my privates, Daddy took off the gloves and began to wash and then condition my hair. "Mmmmm, Daddy, that feels soooooooo good," I moaned as he ran his firm fingers through my long cinnamon-coloured hair. He playfully put some suds on my nose and I giggled again. After he had rinsed my hair, I began to notice the water was getting a little cool. I might have asked for a towel, but Daddy finally decided it was time to clean my private parts. His strong hands touched my special places and suddenly I forgot the water temperature because my entire body seemed to be on fire. He kissed me, gently at first, then with more and more Daddy passion, always keeping his fingers moving on my clitty.

"Whenever you're ready," He said to me, an indication that I didn't need to ask for permission to cum. Within seconds, I felt the first wave begin to hit me, and my moans turned to screams of pleasure. Wave after wave flowed through my body like a million champagne bubbles, and I slumped down. I might have gone under the water if it wasn't for His strong arms lifting me up. Once he was certain I wasn't going to drown myself in after my orgasmic bliss, he left the bathroom, promising to return quickly. I was still floating with pleasure a few seconds later when He returned with a towel, a warm towel He had retrieved from in front of the fire place.

He took me from the bathtub and dried my hair and body with the warm, thick, fuzzy sheet-towel. It felt like being touched by clouds as he ran the towel all over my body. "Oh, Daddy," I sighed. "Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. I'm sooooooo glad I gave you my phone number. I am. I am. I am. This just may be the best night ever." He just laughed that deep Daddy laugh at my repetitions. As he finished toweling me dry, he wrapped me in my fluffy pink bathrobe, grabbed my wooden hairbrush from on the vanity, and led me, still giggling with happiness, back into the living room.

"Babygirl," he said. "The night has just begun."

To be continued...