Timing is everything. I’ve been working on a new monthly series called “My First”. Sometimes muses and firsts come from the least expected places. This one took a week or so to get on paper but here it goes.
Bear with the opening it will make sense a little way in.
According to Dictionary.com a Pixie is a
1. a fairy or sprite, especially a mischievous one.
2. a small, pert, or mischievous person.
Likewise they define Daddy as
1. a diminutive of dad.
2. Slang – Sugar Daddy
In this case I’ll add a 3rd option which equates to yet one more Kinky Role Play Title I don’t normally go by. Including variations such as Leather Daddy, Daddy Dom, obviously since I have a biological and not manmade penis Dyke Daddy plus every other Daddy permeation you can think up.
So about 2 years ago a Twenty Something Brunette entered my life in the most innocuous of ways. I’d like to pretend that I was out and about looking studly and irresistible when she fell under my spell. However she happened to be at her job, met the Chesty Blonde and Diva, a friendship developed and eventually I was invited to dinner with all of them. Upon meeting her for the first time I remarked on the way home “she was a wild girl”. The Blonde accused me of over estimating how many wild women existed in the world yet again. Point of fact, I am rarely wrong on such matters and if finding wild women, gays, and kinky people was a profession I’d be the headline prognosticator of the pick your sexual partner version of Sports Center
Granted at the time it was just a hunch. After hanging out a few more times she started calling me Dad. It was playful and since my own biological daughter alternates between calling me Mal and Dad at first I thought nothing of it (Only People who don’t really know me and my parents use my first name). Later she would start referring to me as Daddy. After a few times I commented that in some cases that word carried a different meaning and young ladies should be careful throwing it around at men they barely know. Undaunted she sipped her whiskey, looked me in the eye and stated plainly “Oh I know what it can mean, I was just wondering if you did.” Before she steered the conversation back to some harmless topic as others approached again. It seems that the Pixie was a few steps ahead of me. If I had to bet she already damn well knew I was kinky. Life is like poker, I suppose we all have tells & she read mine.
Some basic rules I tend to follow are. Stay away from young brunettes (TCB instantly gets jealous of them), no one under 26 (too young, too many issues, I already have a wife and kids), no married or seriously involved nillas (my goal is to not get shot by a pissed off husband or boyfriend), don’t dip the pen in the company ink (or actually don’t even let the company ink even know I have a pen.) Rules of course are meant to be broken with the exception of the last one.
Friday Afternoon was a bit odd. I was working from home and the Blonde came into my office 5-6 times which in and of itself is a rarity. She kept going into the storage room behind the office “looking for stuff”. Sure you could find holiday decorations, painting supplies, out of season clothing and a myriad of other things besides office supplies in there. When I went in to turn out the lights at the end of the day and the one thing I didn’t expect to find was that the large plastic tub I keep a variety of my more vicious impact toys in was out with the lid dislodged.
At the time I thought nothing of it, she was looking for something, knows damn well what’s in that bin and its unlikely she’d want me see any of it with her ass around. To say she’s not at all a fan of large wood paddles is a massive understatement. From when I was selling lingerie there is some of the left over stock in there as well. I figured someone needed stockings, a strapless bra, or whatever. I closed the lid, put it back on the shelf and went about my Friday night.
Saturday morning came and went. It was near 2 before I even looked at twitter, it turns out two sexy women had @ replied me that morning. The afternoon flew by with violent contact sports, Diva’s prom arrangements and before I knew it I was laying on the giant orange orgy couch (or in actuality the couch that is large enough to let 5 adults sleep on it in relative comfort if need be. Hosting an orgy on it would be more useful however) in the family room watching (insert something cool and edgy if you like but it was actually hockey) while the Blonde fucked around on FB.
TCB “The Twenty Something is asking where you are”
Me: “yeah, tell here I’m right here playing with myself”
TCB “You’re not playing with yourself, besides if I tell her that she’ll want all the details and pictures.”
Me “ Sorry I don’t do cock shots, Everyone has limits!”
TCB “ You mean to tell me you’re claiming there has never been a picture of your dick taken”
Me “I didn’t say that. I said I don’t do cock shots which would just be a picture of my dick or my dick as the central theme of the picture. A picture of me fucking is a completely different issue”
TCB “You and your fucked up rules.” Long pause the Blonde Laughs “Twenty Something is possibly the most perverted person I know”
Me “ I love that she can’t have a conversation without saying, doing, or suggesting something really dirty”
TCB “ You liking that. What a fucking shock!” She pauses again “she’s dressed slutty and is killing time before heading out for the night. Are you going out?”
My intentions were clear, hang out, accomplish nothing, and after 10 more minutes of IM’s asking the Blonde random things and hinting about my plans or lack thereof I was asked “She wants to know what DADDY’S doing tonight”
Me “Tell her this Daddy type has no plans and no plans to change that”
This apparently led to a rapid fire series of questions about my proclivities. I could tell by the way my lovely wife was squirming as she typed that the questions were hitting home. Probably in part because she is far more reserved in discussing sexual things than I am, in part because she doesn’t like to think she’s kinky ( I don’t get it but hey whatever works for others is fine), and in part because she didn’t want me getting any ideas before she headed out.
I admit once again that I have no plans of leaving. There were two things going on that I would have like to go out to as part of boys night but bowed out this month. The Blonde I knew was heading out shortly. Eventually I kissed her good night and continued to accomplish absolutely nothing but staring mindlessly at a TV in an empty house. Until…
A knock at the door, a very naughty girl dressed provocatively in club style clothing standing there, holding a hand written note. She offered it to me. It was in TCB’s hand writing and simply said “I know she’s here, do whatever but don’t fuck her. Have fun.” I invited her in still a little in the dark and offered her a drink. “ No thank you Daddy.” she answered nervously. She was not the nervous type, then again she was also not the type who had ever been truly alone with me in private. It was always playful banter, typically quick not so quiet quips in public with her friends or my wife nearby. I sat down, she pranced around almost nervously for a few minutes.
It was interesting but I was still a little lost. It just goes to show you men, even those of us who think we are slick are often clueless morons. Finally I asked her “What’s up?”
“Mommy said I was a very bad girl and to come see you to have my bummy beat for it.”
If you look at my list of kinks age play is not one of them. Sure I like a woman dressed as a school girl, yes spanking the proverbial “Naughty Girl”, hell spanking any woman who is into it is right up my alley but this was a different flavor. As these thoughts danced through my head the TV lit the otherwise dark room. A second note this time scribbled in a hand writing I didn’t know was boldly set on my lap. Twenty Something spun around, turned on the lights, and a twinkle of her usual mischief peeked past her nervousness in the form of a grin as she handed me my glasses. The note was a confession of sorts. A short declaration of what she wanted, a list of her not at all innocent transgressions, most of which wouldn’t earn a spanking but would be well suited for a straight to video release with a three letter rating. The letter ended with my personal safe word of choice.
Again playing the perfectly nervous woman she stood in front of me “Should I get ready for my spanking Daddy?”
I went from expecting her to chat me up, make all kinds of graphic comments, and bounce from conversation to conversation up while drinking my beer and liquor until heading out with her friends to something much different. Sometimes topping is like flipping a switch and I go from peacenik bohemian (or think I do) to sadist in 2 seconds flat. Still I wrestled with the whole daddy thing, finally deciding that if it ended with the scene I could roll with it and kept my big mouth shut.
I agreed and she trotted off a few rooms away. When I entered I found the blinds closed, he waiting and a series of things laid out. Two of which had come from my nasty collection stored behind the office. It explained why someone kept “looking for things” the day before. 15 minutes later all was said and done. I had played my part fairly well, but in truth she ran the scene, position, posture etc all played without so much as a cue from me. I kept the action strictly business; me as stern disciplinary not wise cracking sadist is stretch but it worked. It certainly wasn’t her first rodeo. Shortly after we both resumed our plans for the evening as she kissed me on the cheek, and finally called me by my name again.
In the middle of the night the blonde arrived home, woke me, and somewhere between the barely lucid sleep filled conversations and me nibbling on her she denied setting up the scene to check something off my bucket list which she insists she’ll never read. “I just like the way you fuck me when we’ve been playing rough. I figured I could have the part of that I like best without the piece I’ve not been in the mood ” What a thoughtful girl she is even if it broke my no Brunettes, no one under 26 rule.
The next day I got a text that read “My ass still HURTS. I showed my boyfriend and he didn’t even ask” Maybe I broke rule number 3 without knowing it.