“It feels good,” I told him, biting my lips. “You’re really big, Papa so it’s a tight fit but…I like it. I want more.”
“All right, but go slowly,” Salt said sternly. “Don’t hurt yourself, mishka. Come down carefully and let a few more inches slide into your tight little Babygirl cunt.”
Moaning again, I did as he said. I could feel his thickness stretching my inner walls but I loved the sensation—welcomed the feeling of my partner—my Papa—sliding so deeply into me.
Salt stopped me again when he was halfway inside.
“How does it feel?” he asked, searching my face. “You are very tight around me. Am I hurting you, mishka?”
“No, Papa.” I wiggled a little, twitching my hips to get him a little deeper into me. “No, I like it—I want more.”
“You can have more, Babygirl,” he murmured, his eyes blazing. “You can have as much as you want—as much as you can take. Come down all the way now but do it slowly.”
I did as he said, lowering myself onto him as inch after thick inch of his long shaft slid into me. At last I felt the broad head of his cock kiss the mouth of my womb and I knew he was as deep inside me as he could possibly go.
“Oh, Papa,” I moaned as I settled fully into his lap. “Oh God, you’re all the way in me now—so deep inside me!”
“Mmm, so I am.” Salt reached between us and spread my pussy lips, showing the place where we were joined. I bit my lip at the erotic sight of his thick shaft spreading me so wide and penetrating me to the hilt.
“Oh,” I whispered.
“Look at what a good girl you are, mishka,” Salt told me, looking up and stroking my cheek. “Look at how you took all of your Papa’s big cock deep in your tight little cunt.”
“God, Papa,” I whispered, putting my arms around his neck. “It feels so good to have you so deep inside me. Are…are you going to fuck me now?”
“No.” Salt kissed me tenderly. “Now I will make love to you—we will make love together,” he murmured. “Look into my eyes, mishka. Look at your Papa while you ride his cock.”
“Papa,” I whispered and then he began to move in a slow, hip-rolling rhythm that made me moan every time his cock thrust home inside me.
Keeping my eyes locked with his, I braced myself against his broad shoulders and tried to meet him thrust for thrust. Tried to be open enough for his thickness as he fucked me—as he claimed me completely.
The pleasure went on and on, building as Salt thrust inside me. We worked in silence for a time, finding each other’s rhythm, learning each other’s bodies in a way that was completely new and utterly amazing. Salt watched me the whole time, his eyes trained on my face as he filled me. I loved feeling all of his attention centered on me—knowing that we were finally giving ourselves to each other in the way both of us had longed to do for so long.
“That’s right, my darling,” Salt murmured as he thrust slowly into me. “Open all the way for me. Open your sweet little pussy wide to take all of your Papa’s cock.”
“I…I’m trying,” I whispered, spreading my legs a little wider. “Get into me deep, Papa—I want to feel you all the way inside me.”
“And that is where I want to be when I come. Tell me, mishka,” he murmured. “Do you want your Papa to come deep in your pussy?”
“Yes, Papa,” I moaned, gripping his shoulders tighter. “Yes, please—I want that so bad.”
“I can almost feel your tight little pussy sucking the cream right out of me,” he groaned, still thrusting inside me. “You are so very tight, my darling. And such a good girl to let your Papa come inside you.”
His constant stream of dirty talk and the feeling of his thickness filling me over and over was pushing me towards the edge all over again. Then Salt upped the game by finding my throbbing clit with his thumb.
“Oh!” I gasped as I felt him start to slip the broad pad of his thumb over and around my swollen bud. “Oh, Papa!”
“Are you close, mishka?” he asked, his deep voice hoarse with desire. “Are you close to coming all over your Papa’s cock?”
“Yes,” I whispered and as I spoke, I felt the orgasm spilling over me, drenching me in pleasure like warm honey. “Oh God, yes—Papa, yes, I’m coming.”
“I can feel you, Babygirl,” he groaned, his hand tightening on my hip. “Can feel you coming with my cock buried so deep inside you.”
“You come too,” I begged him. “Come with me, Salt.”
“Andi,” he groaned and crushed me to him. I moaned in his ear as I felt him throb inside me.
And then he was coming too, coming hard and spurting deep in my pussy—claiming me forever as his. His Babygirl, his partner, his lover, his friend…his mishka and his Andi. I was his—his completely and there was no one else I would rather belong to than my partner who was also my Papa.
Epilogue
“I still don’t understand why you wanted me to dress like this.” I looked down at the frilly blue party dress my partner had brought home for me to wear to wherever our Valentine’s Day date was being held.
The dress wasn’t quite as obviously a little girl outfit as the dresses I had worn at the Institute but it wasn’t far from it. It had a short skirt with a bow in the back and Salt had requested that I wear the sandals he’d gotten me at the Institute with it. I felt conspicuous in it and not just because I don’t normally wear dresses.
“You look beautiful.” Salt smiled at me approvingly as he steered the car. He had picked me up at my house at exactly seven o’clock and I still didn’t know where we were going. No place too public, I hoped. Valentine’s Day or not, I didn’t want anyone I knew seeing me dressed like this. Not that they would probably guess at our hidden relationship of “Papa and mishka,” but I would know and that would make me uncomfortable.
Salt himself was dressed in an immaculate black suit—what I now thought of as his “Papa outfit” since he rarely dressed that way unless we were “playing.” He seemed much more at ease in our new roles than I was, although I was trying to let go and relax—trying to trust him more as time went by. It had been nearly three months since our time at the Institute and I was still getting used to having Salt as more than just a partner—at home, anyway.
At work, we absolutely never played—there we were just two good partners as we had been for the last three and a half years. But on our off hours…well, that was a different story.
We weren’t always Papa and mishka but I had learned that Salt was willing and able to slip into the role anytime I needed him to. At first I felt nervous and shy about asking for what I wanted. Part of me still saw it as a weakness—a sickness that I shouldn’t be indulging.
Salt, however, had absolutely no shame about it. If I wanted him to be my partner and talk shop about whatever case we were working, he was willing. If I needed him to be my Papa and cuddle me in his lap, he was more than happy to do that too. And during sex, he fell into the role naturally, keeping up a stream of dirty talk in his low, guttural voice that made me helplessly hot, even when I wasn’t quite sure I should be.
I couldn’t complain about our new and expanded relationship—deep down I seemed to need it and Salt always made it so good for me. He made me come over and over and lately he had reintroduced the plug, adding a whole new dimension to our play.
He hadn’t spanked me again though—that was one place he drew the line. I understood why. The way he had spanked me at the Institute had nearly ended our relationship. So I didn’t blame him but still, I couldn’t help feeling like there was a tiny piece missing from our Daddy/Babygirl dynamic because of the lack of discipline.
Don’t get me wrong—I wasn’t complaining. Quite the opposite, in fact. After all, it’s not like I enjoyed being spanked—at least, I didn’t think I did. And I adored the time I spent with Salt and the new relationship that was blossoming between us. Everything was just so wonderful I guess I was wondering when it would all end. If I was honest with myself, I still had my father’s desertion in the back of my mind. Everything had been wonderful with him too…until it suddenly wasn’t anymore and he’d left, never to return.
I think part of me was waiting for that to happen with Salt. After all, he’d already tried to end our partnership once and though that had been cleared up as a misunderstanding, it had left a gaping hole in the already flimsy fabric of my trust. I was trying to have faith that everything would be okay, but it was hard—so damn hard.
What it boiled down to is that things were too good and I was waiting for them to go bad. Waiting to see if Salt would get tired of this little game I needed so desperately it made me feel sick inside—and leave me for someone who didn’t have so many issues.
After all, we had never clearly stated that we were exclusive or a couple, although I was certain we were, at least in Salt’s mind. And though my partner often told me how much he cared for me and needed me, both of us were carefully skirting around the “L” word like it was a bomb that might go off in our faces if we invoked it too soon. Part of me was scared to death because what I had with Salt was both the longest romantic relationship and the best friendship I’d ever had in my life—I didn’t want to do anything to ruin it.
And above all, I didn’t want to get hurt.
These were my rather morbid thoughts as my partner drove me through the darkened Tampa streets, headed for an unknown destination.
“Salt,” I said, trying to put the depressing thoughts from my mind. “About that Pearson’s case—”
“No.” He held up a hand and shook his head. “No talk of work tonight, please. And you will call me ‘Papa’—Da?”
“What?” I looked at him uneasily. “Come on, Salt—you know we don’t do that outside—don’t call each other those names where anyone can hear us.”
“Because no one else would understand. I know.” He nodded. “But we are alone tonight and I would like you to call me Papa—is that clear, mishka?”
I felt the familiar twist of pleasure in my belly at his low commanding tone. It was time to put all the doubts and worries out of my head—it was clear that at least for now, Salt wasn’t tiring of our little game—not a bit.
“All right, Papa,” I said contritely. “So can you tell me where we’re going?”
“No, I cannot. You must find out for yourself.” He gave me one of his rare smiles and then turned the car into a darker street.
“Where are we heading?” I couldn’t help asking again. I hoped he wasn’t taking me to an Age Play convention or something like that. I had seen such things on the Internet but I had no wish to “play” with anyone else in any kind of public setting. I’d had enough of that at the Institute to last me a lifetime, thank you very much. Just being “mishka” to Salt’s “Papa” was enough to satisfy my cravings without involving anyone else.
“You’ll see soon enough,” Salt told me. “In fact—we are here.”
He turned the car towards a darkened building—well, mostly dark—one area of it seemed to be lit up and that was the part he headed for.
“What is this?” I asked, frowning. Then I caught a glance at the sign out front. Parker Davis High School for Gifted Youth, it said. “Hey, why are you taking me to a school?” I asked, looking at Salt, completely mystified.
He gave me a mysterious smile.
“You will see. Is private school and they rent out their auditorium for events sometimes.”
“Events?” I looked around the deserted parking lot as he pulled in. “What event? We’re the only ones here.”
“Which is the way we like it, Da?” He raised an eyebrow at me. “We have agreed that others would probably not understand the way we like to be together so this is a private event—only the two of us.”
“But what—?”
He got out of the car and came around to open my door. This being February it was a little chilly—about as cold as Tampa ever gets. I shivered at the blast if cool air as it gusted into the car, lifting my short, frilly skirt.
“Come inside where it’s warm, my darling,” Salt said gently. He offered me his arm in a gentlemanly fashion. I took it, still completely mystified, and let him lead me towards the auditorium.
My little girl sandals crunched over the gravel in the parking lot and I saw that the lights leaking out of the building were dim and multi-colored. It was the same kind of lighting I remembered from the school dances I’d been to back in high school.
We got to the door and Salt drew a key out of his pocket and opened it with a flourish.
“Come, mishka,” he murmured. “Come inside.”
I stepped in, completely bemused by his strange behavior. The auditorium was a small one but it seemed large because it was just the two of us inside.
After Salt closed the door and my eyes got adjusted to the dim light, I looked around and saw that all the chairs had been arranged around the edges of the floor, leaving a large, open space in the middle. There was soft music playing and the colored lights were coming from above, slowly blinking and changing as they illuminated the makeshift dance floor. Heart-shaped balloons and silver and red streamers decorated the walls and in one corner a small round table was set up with a punch bowl filled with pale pink punch. From the ceiling, a banner was hanging.
I looked up, trying to make out the words in the dim lighting.
“Father…daughter…banquet,” I read aloud and looked at Salt with wide eyes. “How did you…what did you…?” I couldn’t get the words out.
“I am sorry.” He shrugged apologetically. “I could not find banner that read ‘dance’ instead of banquet. Was the closest I could get.”
Suddenly it all made sense. In a startled rush, I felt myself whizzing backwards in time—back to a sad little girl who was sitting on the curb outside her house wearing her prettiest party dress and waiting for her Daddy to take her to the Valentine’s Day dance. That little girl waited until her heart broke and her Daddy never came. But Salt—my Papa—had come for me. He had dressed me up in a beautiful blue dress and taken me to the dance—the one I had never gotten to go to back when I was only nine.
“Salt,” I whispered. “Papa…”
“Dance with me, my little sweetheart,” he murmured.
I thought my heart would burst. My little sweetheart—it was what I had told Salt my father used to call me. Back when he was still in my life and everything was good.
“I…I…” I was frozen in place. Memories of the past were still swamping me. Waiting and waiting for a Daddy who never came. Wishing so hard to go to the dance and be held in his arms. And now Salt had made my dream a reality—he had righted a wrong so old it had nearly eaten a hole in my soul.
I just couldn’t believe it.
Salt came to me and put an arm around my waist. Numbly, I put my hand in his and we began to dance, just the two of us in the empty auditorium decorated with balloons and streamers and big red valentines.
“Do you like?” Salt murmured in a low voice after we’d been swaying to the music for a few minutes. “I hope it is not too much.”
“It’s…I can’t believe you went to all this trouble,” I said, looking around the dim auditorium. I still felt stunned, blindsided by the effort he’
d put into this evening.
He shrugged, smiling a little.
“I wanted my Babygirl to go to the dance. The dance she missed so many years ago.”
“Thank you,” I whispered, looking up at him earnestly. “This is beyond anything I ever imagined. Thank you, so much…Papa.”
Salt cupped my cheek in his big hand.
“I must confess, I had ulterior motive for doing all this.”
“You did?” I looked at him uncertainly. What reason could he have to recreate this scene from my past?
“I did. Is this.” Salt let go of me and suddenly went down on one knee, right there on the dance floor. Reaching into his breast pocket, he pulled out a small black velvet box.
I felt like my heart had stopped beating.
“Salt?” I whispered in a shaky voice. “You’re not going to…”
“My darling,” he murmured, opening the box and holding it out to me. “Will you marry me?”
“You…you’re serious?” I took the box from him with trembling fingers. There was a gorgeous square cut diamond ring inside—I didn’t know how many carats but it looked big.
“Da—of course I am serious.” He nodded. “I want you—I have since we first met and the Captain put us together.”
“But…but what about the way we ‘play’ together?” I asked. “What about that?”
“I want that too,” Salt said softly. “I want you as Andi, my tough partner who I can trust when we are out on the streets. And I want you as mishka, my sweet Babygirl who likes to cuddle in her Papa’s lap. I want all of you—because I love you.” His voice went low and hoarse as he spoke. “I love you so much, my darling.”
“Oh…Oh, Salt…Papa…” I didn’t know what to call him. I only knew my eyes were welling up with tears and I could barely breathe I was so filled with emotion.
I sank down on the floor beside him and Salt pulled me into his lap. We sat there on the dance floor together with no one to judge us or say the way we loved each other was strange or wrong because we were alone.
Daddy Issues Page 27