Halloween. All Hallows Eve. Samhain. Daddy and me. We were going out, together, on one of my favorite nights of the year. He was taking me to meet his friends, the first time I would meet them in person. I had been excited all afternoon, planning the perfect outfit in my head while he napped next to me. I wanted him to feel proud to be my Daddy, proud to call me his babygirl. We got ready together, he packed his toy bag and I fussed over my lingerie. “Just wear some pretty panties,” he said. “Yes Daddy,” I replied of course, I always wear pretty panties for you Daddy! I chose my prettiest, sexiest pair of black lace panties, just for him.
On the way out we chatted, as we do, about how the evening might transpire. Perhaps there would be play involved, perhaps with his friends. An exciting and somewhat intimidating prospect. In the parking lot he grabbed my hands and thumbcuffed me without warning. I was simultaneously shocked, horrified and intoxicated by his sudden display of dominance. I quickly slipped out of them and scurried away until he sternly roared for me to get back to him right now and to not make him ask me again. Mind screaming DADDY NO, body betraying mind. Panties becoming wet with anticipation. Swoon. Yes Daddy. He cuffed me again. Sigh. We walked toward the restaurant together, he was triumphant and I was defeated, head hanging in submission. I begged him to release me as this situation was awkward enough without me being thumbcuffed in public. My sweet and reasonable Daddy conceded, always the gentleman, first and foremost.
Over dinner the four of us settled into an ease and comfort and the air around us hummed with a subtle excitement. His right hand on my thigh, in my crotch. His left hand on the clicker; clicking for every infraction, no matter how minor. Of mine, of hers. I took her clicks as my own, panties getting wetter with each one.
We went to their house. The Daddies got their toys, we girls got ready. First the violet wand, then the rattan cane, the single tail, the dowel rods, the floggers, the paddles. Her squeals, my squeals, both of us squirming under their dominance and impact, intoxicated by the play. Daddy had me across his lap…spanking me, biting me, touching me. His eyes having shifted into the glowing amber that they do when he is intoxicated by my submission. In the midst of it all he agreed to let his friend flog me, something neither of us expected. I took my place against the wall and as the well-placed flogger found its place on my flesh I looked over at my Daddy. His eyes! Gleaming with lust, shining with excitement, radiating pride. I could not get enough. Of the flogger, of my own sounds, of his eyes. We were drunk on each other and wanted more, more, more. He took over and was like a man possessed, two cracks of his belt on my skin and we were spent.
Afterward as he held me in his lap he told me that I drive him crazy, his good girl. In this intoxicating way we connect. And we fuck. And we connect…ad infinitum. His crazy is my crazy and we feed each other delicious drunken buffets of passion and kink.
A hallowed evening indeed.