Ashley/Kitten
Valentine's Day
"You will be late for your own funeral," Daddy called out from the bedroom.
"Why would I want to be on time for that?" I replied from the ensuite bathroom. "Sounds like a bad thing to be on time for."
I swear I could hear the exasperated sigh from inside the bathroom, even with my phone playing music while I put the final touches on my ensemble for this evening.
"The dinner reservation is in 20 minutes. It is a 15 minute drive to get there. You understand my concern," he said.
"And I only need another three or four minutes. We will arrive perfectly on time. You want me to look pretty, don't you?" I said sweetly. That was mean, because there was no come back to it.
Another sigh. "I'll be waiting out in the kitchen to give you your space, Kitten"
I hate saying I had him trained because, really, who was training who? But it's nice that he is learning the lesson all men have to figure out; you don't rush a woman when she's getting ready for a night out. Especially when she's going to be on your arm for the evening.
I didn't think I was particularly high maintenance, but I gather Beth must have been...lower maintenance. Not that I would know as he still rarely talks about her.
I shook my head to clear out the thought and looked in the mirror, putting my final touches on my make-up. Normally when I wear it I like making myself look younger. It helps me feel little. The clothes, the make-up, the right mindset, and I slip easily into my favourite fuzzy little place.
But this was the big 2-0. No more dating a teenager. Given my previous disastrous experiences of celebrating my birthday and Valentine's Day, I would have been perfectly happy with a candlelit dinner at home, a nice soak in the jacuzzi, and then some mindblowing fucking. But Daddy got it into his head that I should have at least one nice evening out on my birthday. And really, it's hard to say no to him when he asks nicely for something.
Unless he was requesting I be punctual. I can't have him thinking I'm perfect, after all.
So I decided if this was an adult night out, then I should try my best to fake looking like a grown-up. I passed on my usual ponytail or pigtails and used a fancy looking hair band to hold my hair back. Plain silver earrings. Around my neck was Daddy's favourite "socializing" collar, which was three silver chains. The first tight around my neck, the second dipped lower and met with a heart in the centre. The third dipped into my cleavage and was a lock.
Since it was Valentine's Day, I figured why not wear a red dress. It also had polka dots on it, which I thought still made things a bit young and playful. Between the cut of the dress and the lingerie I was wearing, I was also showing off as much cleavage as I could muster.
The skirt was short, coming up several inches above my knee. I had on a pair of the expensive black silk stockings Rachelle convinced me to buy last year. A nice pair of black, 3-inch heels, so that I was a little closer to Daddy's height. I stood before the full-length mirror and did a little twirl. The skirt was the perfect weight; it wouldn't flap around in any light breeze, but was light enough that if I spun around it would fly up to show off the stockings and garter, but didn't go so high as to show the thong I was wearing. Perfect.
If I had to go out for the evening, at least I could tease him with what he could have had if we'd just stayed home. I decided I'd made him wait long enough. He had made reservations, after all. I left the bathroom and made a very slow, deliberate strut down the hall, my heels clicking to let him know I was on the way.
Despite my procrastination, he smiled when he finally saw me.
"You always find new ways to be beautiful, Kitten," he said.
I smiled. "Good answer, Daddy."
"Shall we?" he said, offering his arm. We headed off to his car.
I shouldn't complain about being 'dragged' out of the house. Ever since we came back from Christmas we'd become as close to inseparable as two people can be who live in separate cities. I'd abandoned any pretence of waiting two weeks to see him. I was here every weekend and I deliberately arranged my classes so I could hop on the train to Kingston right after lunch on Friday so I could be here by 4 pm.
He worried about it affecting my studies, but when I showed him my grades from the first semester he eased up. He also made me bring my old sewing machine to his house so I could work during the weekend if needed. It belonged to my grandmother and I thought it was ready for the trash. Daddy, of course, found a guy who repairs them and I now have a working sewing machine at his house.
The last six weeks were amazing. I'd arrive at his house. Sex, then supper, or vice versa. Most of the rest of the weekend was spent with me doing some school work, reading his graphic novels, watching videos, soaking in the jacuzzi, and lots of sex. And lots of talking. I couldn't get enough of him, and he couldn't get enough of me. After the first few weeks he gave up on the idea of going out and doing things. I wanted him, and to be with him. That's it.
But my birthday and Valentine's Day...yeah, ok, that's an occasion to dress up. And that he wanted to take me out and show me off...well, who am I to say no to that?
"So is this place going to be packed with couples trying to be romantic and sweet? Maybe a proposal or two?" I said, being a little bratty.
"I splurged on a violinist to play during dinner. I know how much you'll like that," he said. He kept his eyes on the road, but I could tell, even in the dark of the car, that he was smirking.
"If anyone serenades me you are sleeping on the couch tonight," I said. I was kidding. Mostly.
"Kicked out of my own bed. My kitten is a harsh little girl," he said.
"Damn right," I said, and giggled. Yes, scary little girl that I am.
We pulled into the parking lot of a small restaurant. I was glad we weren't going into Kingston and hitting some huge place. It looked like it might comfortably sit a couple of dozen people. I remember driving past it before, but we had never eaten here before. Apparently it specialized in serving ingredients that were grown or raised in the area. Daddy pulled the car into a spot and then, before I could finish unbuckling my seatbelt, was around to the other side of the car to open the door for me and help me out.
I smiled and flashed plenty of my stockings and a hint of garter belt getting out of the car. "Thanks Daddy. Such a gentleman."
"Of course," he said. "But watching you get out of the car is its own reward." Before I could say anything he reached into the backseat and took out a bag I hadn't seen before. He then offered his arm and we headed towards the restaurant entrance, only five minutes late. Practically on time.
"You buy me too many things, Daddy," I said, as we stepped inside.
"It's your birthday. I am the worst Daddy in the world if I don't buy you something for your birthday."
I was about to respond when I heard "Ashley!" being yelled out and turned to see over six feet of Amazon redhead striding towards me.
"Michelle!" I managed to get out before being swept into a spinning hug.
In my heels I was, at best, 5'4" tall. Michelle, before she wore heels, was close to six feet tall. On this evening she was wearing some kind of dominatrix above-the-knee boots that jacked up her height so that she was a solid foot taller than me. That meant when she was hugging and spinning me, my face was firmly buried into her tits, which were pushed up by a corset.
