"Here. You're wearing these tonight."
I jump, not expecting to hear your voice, push the shower curtain aside slightly, and see the outfit you're holding up, stockings & panties included.
"But Daddy...I already had an outfit..."
"Shhh. Daddy has a special night planned and he wants his beautiful princess to dress the part. Let Daddy know when you're ready, Princess."
I let out a small exasperated sigh as you shut the bathroom door, leaving me to finish my shower in peace. This was by no means the first time you selected an outfit for me, but this wasn't a huge momentous occasion, either. We were going out for dinner, like a normal couple, nothing exciting, or so I thought.
I put my head back under the showerhead, letting the water rinse out the rest of the shampoo, then bring my breasts under the water as well, caressing them, letting the gushing stream flow around them, around all of me, feeling the water's therapeutic effects. I make sure I'm rinsed off thoroughly, not wanting the water to miss any suds, as if somehow I could wash away the stress from my body, my mind.
It wasn't what you'd call a Tragically Bad week, as far as weeks go, just...long and somewhat trying. Everything I touched went wrong. I had the "anti-Midas" touch, you might say. As a result, I had a ton of pent up energy and every little thing was setting me off. I snapped at everyone, even Daddy, the last person in the world I wanted to hurt. I felt like the proverbial rubberband stretched to its limits.
Feeling somewhat more human from showering, I towel off gently, but quickly. I was looking forward to dinner and drinks, and the sooner I got ready, the sooner my mood would improve, and the sooner I could put this dreadful week behind me. Maybe drown this mess of a week in a bottle of wine or three.
After putting my contact lenses back in and walking into the bedroom, I see the outfit you laid out on the bed. No, my eyes hadn't deceived me. It was that teeny-tiny number you got me some months back. A black, lacy confection, skintight, with exposed back and long sleeves. I say "teeny-tiny" because I have to tug on the skirt every time I stood or sat, for fear of showing my world, to the entire world.
Along with it was laid out my black lacy bra, matching panties-no, scratch that-my thong, and satiny stockings. My heels with the straps were on the floor next to the bed.
Twenty minutes later, hair, makeup, everything done, I look at my reflection, hoping I hadn't gained weight since you originally gifted me this outfit. I sigh once again, "Goodness it's only din...ohhhhhhhhhhh," I close my eyes; I know you too well, "Daddy's got something up his sleeve.."
"That's right, love", you answer, startling me as you enter our bedroom. You come up behind me, and put your arms around me, hugging me from behind, looking at our image in the mirror. "You've been so jumpy lately. And I've been a bit of a mess this week, too. We need something to soothe our nerves, before we do anything else, or else we'll be biting each other's heads off this entire evening."
"Oh, I suppose you're right, and we can't have that, darling. What did you have in mind, Daddy?"
"I can't tell you, Princess. Well, dinner's a part of the evening, but that's later on. For now, I need you to trust Daddy. Do you trust me?"
"Always, Daddy. You know that", I nod, watching you start to kiss my neck in the mirror. As your warm breath and lips pepper my skin, I close my eyes and begin to grind my ass against you, warm, eager, needing, yearning. I let out a huge gasp and move my hands to your hips so I could press mine against you further...to feel your growing need, wanting you to undo 20 minutes of work, throw me on the bed, and have your way with me.
As I become lost in my own fantasy, my eyes still closed, I don't see the blindfold you bring up over my eyes and tie behind my head. I freeze...
"Daddy...!"
"You just said..."
"But, but what are you...?"
"Don't worry about a thing, just trust Daddy."
I obey. I feel you take my hands, lead me out of the bedroom, down the stairs carefully, and put me in your car. I hear you walk around the other side, get in, and turn the ignition.
Amazing how the other senses are amplified when one of them is compromised.
Obviously, I had no idea where we were going. All I knew was that the sun had barely started to set when we left the house, and it was full dark by the time we reached our destination. I could tell it by the scent of the air, the feel of it on my skin, the way the air changes from day to night. It turned chilly, and could feel goosebumps on my arms, my neck, my nipples begin to poke through my dress
You park, I hear your door open, then my door open, and I feel you help me out. I expect you to turn me around and whip the blindfold off with a "ta-daa!" but you didn't do that. Instead, you lead me by the hands again inside a building.
By the scent of the cigarette smoke, the sound of the pulsing music, I guessed we came to a night club. "Okay," I think, "we're going dancing, I can live with that, but why the blindfold...??
"Oh, silly me, this is not THAT kind of nightclub...and the dancing is more of the exotic variety."
I'm no prude, we've been to "gentlemen's clubs" before. Whether for bachelor/ette parties, convenient entertainment (read: somewhere to go when the power at home goes out), or because we liked the drink specials, or maybe just because Daddy likes the eye candy. Most of these establishments are the same, save some slight differences in management and hospitality. (Yes, the food is actually Quite Good!) Regardless of the industry, it's always a shame when "New Management" comes in and tries to fix something that ain't broke. All too often we'd seen a "classy, upscale" lounge turned into a "shitty titty".
From what I could tell, still blindfolded, we were at a location somewhere in between, not terribly high-end, but no dive, either. I expect to feel you slide me into one of those circular booths, and I expect to smell the perfume of some scantily-clad waitress coming by to take our drink order.
Neither of these happened. Instead, you pull me close to you and begin to untie my blindfold, while whispering, "Darling, I want you to dance.."
I start with a jolt again, "Now listen", you continue, holding me ever tighter, "It's an amateur night. No one's expecting you to be.."
"Daddy, Daddy, I know what amateur nights are," I interrupt", "Remember Amelia's birthday party? We gave each other lap dances? That was an amat..."
"All right, you know what they are," you continue whispering as you remove the blindfold, "my point is, I want you, I NEED YOU, to dance for me, for US, princess. WE NEED THIS."
I start to open my mouth, to protest, and then I look in your eyes, the expression on your face. All arguing, all disagreeing, all reasons why this is A Bad Idea, vaporize and never take form.
