by S. L. Finlay
I was impressed, but I didn't want him to know that. I didn't want him to know that my eyes were bulging out of my head and jaw felt like it was about to drop. Of course it was obvious, but I didn't want it to be too obvious. Oh, how I thought I could hide the most obvious thing in the world!
"Sit with me." He told me, motioning at the couch and I sat on the soft cushion. "Tell me about your week."
I smiled a little and without thinking, jumped into telling him about my own apartment search. I told him how I had been looking but had no luck. French real estate was expensive, and I hadn't found quite what I was looking for yet.
Daddy smiled and nodded, "Of course. But you have been trying, which is important."
I nodded right back at him, "Yes. It is difficult to find what I want, but it's worth it, all the hard work of looking, to know I will love where I live."
Daddy nodded, "yes, it is important to love where you live."
I fought the urge to tell Daddy that of course he loves where he lives - just look at this place! But I bit my tongue. I sensed that it wouldn't look good, me behaving like that. Also, I think Daddy was from what my ma would call 'old money', and likely didn't want me to point it out.
These Europeans really were just like the movies.
Then, just like the movies, our food arrived.
The butler smiled as he bought the tray in and lay it down on the table in front of us.
On the tray - a silver platter no less - there was fruits of assorted kinds and then came the cheese board, cheese being a big deal in France of course it all stunk in that way that only a lover of cheese could love. Then there was the champaign. Real French champaign.
I know there was no reason for Daddy to want to impress me, but I still felt like he was trying to and that made me smile. Or perhaps I was just too easily impressed, I don't know.
Daddy dismissed the uniformed butler and maid who had bought the food in and they made their way swiftly to the door.
Together, we ate some fruit and cheese and drunk some wine and talked. Daddy had a whole lot of interesting things to say actually. He was an interesting man. Very worldly and well read, I was impressed.
Daddy worked for a bank - although, it would be easy to believe he owned the bank - and also invested widely. He talked about some of the businesses he invested money in, and the real estate. He loved the real estate.
There was homes all over the place for him but then apartment blocks and what sounded like whole suburbs in other European countries that he owned and rented out the homes for a while before selling them on when their value increased - that was if he decided to sell them at all, he didn't have to - it was easy to see why Daddy was loaded, and incredibly busy when he had so many business interests.
My problems finding a place to live were bought up again, "I could offer you one of my Parisian apartments to live in." He offered before telling me, "it's no problem. You don't even need to pay rent."
Something told me this wasn't right - giving him power over the home I lived in, what if he changed the locks one day when he'd decided he'd had enough of me? - so I took a step back from it (figuratively) and shook my head, "no, Daddy. I couldn't accept that from you."
"Are you sure? You could be very comfortable." He told me, "there is a nice one I own not far from where you live at the moment, it's a two bedroom apartment I bought last year. Was renovated and you can move in next week if you like, no rent to pay, as I said."
The temptation was strong, a two bedroom apartment in the middle of Paris rent free? Who could say no to that? But I had to. This wasn't right. I couldn't give up that much power. Money was power, I was beginning to see that and I knew I couldn't give away too much, even if this guy was essentially paying my way right now, at least I had a little money saved and could get away if I changed my mind. I wouldn't be able to do so if I was in his apartment instead.
"No, no. It's okay. I will find my own place." I told him.
"Very well, I will leave it empty for when you change your mind." Daddy told me before putting his glass down and clapping his hands together, "so, we shall begin?"
I nodded slightly, feeling a bit apprehensive about this whole modeling clothes for him thing - would he see me naked? Was I okay with a man who was paying me seeing me naked? - but I stood up anyway. I was surprised by how much I was okay with, actually.
"Okay Daddy." I said in my sweetest tones.
Then he was off, pulling racks of clothes out from the wardrobe and a screen from somewhere that I didn't see because my back was turned on him while I was looking at the clothes.
At least he wouldn't be seeing me naked, I thought as I saw the screen. But then, I'd realized that I didn't really mind him seeing me naked only moments before.
I chose a few outfits and went behind the screen to change my clothes. Stripping down to my uniform white cotton panties and white cotton bra - I didn't seem to own any other kind, I thought to myself as I looked down for a moment to look at my body, wishing I had more pretty underwear to show off and secretly happy he didn't have to see me in this - I thought I could wear anything over those and not have to worry about them betraying me like a thong would (with panty lines) or a lacy bra would (with showing through the fabric of a tight top or dress).
I chose to wear what can only be described as an adult onesie (not leotard!) with over-alls on the top first. As I slipped it onto my skin, something remarkable happened: I started to actually feel like a little kid.
The first time is always the strangest, and I could dismiss it almost out of hand as just one of those things.
Checking my appearance as best I could without a mirror I revealed myself to Daddy in my cute little outfit. When he saw me, he gave me a huge smile that was full of warmth. I wanted to make him happy like that more often.
When he saw me, he came a little closer to look at me. I sensed that Daddy wanted to reach out and touch me, but he held back. Part of me was relieved that this man who I didn't know very well held back and part of me was sad that he held back. I wanted my Daddy to touch me, I wanted my Daddy to be proud of his baby girl.
Sighing inwardly, I went to try the next outfit on.
It was a black polka-dotted dress that had a petticoat that made it fluff out at the bottom. The dress had a big white ribbon at my waist and because I was so flat in the chest and my arms were so small, it looked especially 'little girl' like. Even more so than most of the clothes Daddy had here for me.
I could see why he liked girls of my body type, he could dress us up however he liked.
When I went to show him this outfit, Daddy's face was a happy one, but not quite as happy as it had been with the previous outfit.
"Do you like this Daddy?" I prompted over my outfit.
Daddy smiled before telling me, "I do. Just not as much as I liked the other one."
"Why is that?" I prompted again, knowing that if I learned his preferences I could be a better fit for him. I told myself I wanted to be a better fit because I wanted to keep this lifestyle in Paris without having to work 100 hours a week (because who could learn a new language when they were busy working!) But I knew that wasn't the truth.
I wanted to make Daddy happy. I wanted Daddy to have a reason for keeping me around. As weird as the arrangement would sound to an outsider, and as much as I didn't quite understand why he wanted to be called Daddy, or to play dress-ups, I knew I wanted to keep this going.
Daddy had been considering me for a moment before he told me why he didn't like this outfit as much as the other one, "I guess because I like you as a tom boy, not as a little girl princess."
I nodded at that. "I am a bit of a tom boy." I told Daddy, "At home in the states, I was the only girl. All brothers."
Daddy smiled a very genuine smile at my words before saying, "See, age play isn't so far from the real thing, is it?"
Chuckling, I got back to trying new clothes on. I hadn't picked up any other dresses from the rack to start with. I had picked
up little shorts and cute tops. The tops were child-like without being too obvious. As I wore them for Daddy, he would ask me where I would wear them. For every one I told him I wouldn't mind where I wore it, no-one would know what I was wearing anyway.
Daddy nodded at that, "No." He told me sincerely, "They would not know."
With his sexy French accent, it was difficult for me to concentrate much on getting dressed and undressed, but I managed it.
I was back in my bra and panties when Daddy told me, "I want to see you in something different now. It will go under that onesie you showed me before."
"Okay." I agreed tentatively.
Daddy turned and picked up a box that I hadn't noticed sitting beside the couch we had just been siting on. The box was small and looking at the way Daddy handled it, it looked light.
I bit my lip, feeling apprehensive about what was about to happen. What was in that box that he wanted me to wear? I imagined lacey panties, or French lingerie. Weren't the French known for their lingerie? Perhaps that was just what I wished it was, in my boring basic cotton panties.
As Daddy drew closer, I could see the box a little better. It was a brown box, like the ones they use to move items to the grocery store before taking them out and putting them on the shelves. I cocked my head to the side, wondering what kind of lingerie could be in that when Daddy opened the box roughly. I could hear the top flap ripping away from the box as it had been fastened there with duct tape, then, as he held the box under one arm, he pulled something out with the other hand.
"Have you seen these before?" He asked me, drawing close enough for me to see what was in his hand. But I hadn't seen that before. I didn't really know what he was holding. I shook my head.
Daddy didn't look surprised. He gave me a little smile before telling me, "It's a diaper."
"A diaper?" I asked, "But aren't I a little big for diapers?"
Daddy shook his head, "This is an adult sized diaper. It's not very big, and won't really show through your clothes, but I would like you to wear it."
Unsure of what to do, I offered my hand to him, as if to tell him it was cool, I could put that on. No big deal. I didn't know how else to behave when it came to Daddy's fetishes. It was perhaps a little odd, but it was harmless, and if it would make him happy, then sure, I'd do it to make Daddy happy.
Daddy shook his head at me, "no, baby girl. You won't put it on you, I will put it on you." He told me.
"But didn't you-" I began, but was cut off.
"I did say I wanted you to wear it, yes. But I want to be the one to put it on your body." Daddy told me, this time his voice was demanding, and I didn't like it one bit.
The butterflies in my tummy were doing back flips now. "But I, I am not sure if I am ready for you to see me naked." I told him honestly.
Daddy shook his head at me, his face stern. "Of course I am ready to see you naked!" He declared as he took a few steps closer, so the little cover I was being provided by the screen was taken from me.
"Too late." Daddy told me as I stared at him incredulously. "I can see everything."
"What are you doing?" I demanded, "are you crazy?" I was losing my tempter, and the smile on Daddy's face told me he was enjoying this, it pushed me even harder. I wanted to slap him like the starlets in movies do.
"I am showing you how little it matters." Daddy told me, "Most of these men who want to be someones benefactor are having sex with them right away as part of the interview, there is none of this time to get to know one another like we are having." He was telling me.
"I can't believe you!" I cried as I pulled clothes from the screen to cover myself with. "You are trying to get a free peak! That's not what this is!" I cried angrily.
"Then what is it?" He asked calmly, "Tell me. I would like to know." His arms were crossed, right over his heart.
I stared at him, feeling mad. We had been having fun until now, things were going well (I had thought) Then suddenly he was trying to put a diaper on me and would be seeing me all naked before I was read for it.
I threw the dress I had been wearing before over my head. It bought me a few seconds as I put it on and tried to re-assess what was going on.
By the time the dress was on my skin, I could talk to him more calmly, which would ensure I was taken seriously. "I just don't want to be seen naked yet. I am not ready for that." I told him, barely able to contain my upset feelings.
There was silence for a moment, him holding the diaper and looking ashamed. It occurred to me when I caught the look on his face what he might be feeling, "it's not that I don't want to wear a diaper, I do. I want to do things to make you happy, it's just, I don't feel ready for this yet. For being naked in front of you. I am from small town America." I was telling him everything that was on my mind in an attempt to make him feel better, but it wasn't working. How could he understand my perspective? He didn't even know me!
Unable to stop myself, I kept going, "where I am from, you marry your high school boyfriend and have kids and that's your life done. I wasn't supposed to come to Paris, I wasn't supposed to do any of the things that I am doing, and now I am doing them and this is all so much to be taking in and I -"
But he cut me off, "don't worry." He told me, his voice flat. "I won't ask you for more than you are willing to give."
Then he turned on his heel and made his way to the door, calling over his shoulder, "I will get the car for you. Get dressed."
Then I was left standing alone in the room in the polka-dotted dress, feeling more exposed than I had felt when Daddy had stormed behind the screen and seen my exposed flesh.
CHAPTER TEN
My ride back home in the car was a somber one. It wasn't like loosing a job would feel, but more like loosing a friend or partner would feel. I was only getting to know this guy and I had put my foot in it. But not before he had seriously done the wrong thing first.
I realized that these arrangements were not supposed to be like romantic relationships - he wasn't my boyfriend - but that didn't matter, I reasoned. No matter what happened between this man and I, no matter what we called the relationship, there would always be more to a relationship than how you labeled and classified it.
The ride to see Daddy felt like it took ages, yet the ride back from his apartment felt like no time at all. When I got out of the car I thanked the driver and walked away.
That night in my own tiny apartment, I thought long and hard about what had happened. Why hadn't I just given him what he wanted? He was right, other men looking for arrangements would want to have a girl who had sex with them, that almost went without saying. Why couldn't I be like one of those girls? Why couldn't I be the type of girl who didn't care about sex enough to think it was special or should be something shared between two people who love each other - or at the very least care about each other, or like each other - why did I have to have these old fashioned views? And besides, where did they come from anyway? I had already challenged some of my assumptions in this arrangement, why couldn't I challenge others? Maybe I was jumping into all of this too fast. It was worlds apart from what I had been bought up to want from life, from what everyone around me had happening in their lives.
Why couldn't I give Daddy what he wanted? Why couldn't I just have let him put the diaper on me? Sure it was different to what I normally was into, but at least he would be happy, and wasn't that what I wanted really? To make the man happy.
Those feelings were juxtapositioned with my own feelings of being violated, of being angry that he had come behind the screen without making sure it was okay with me first, without even asking.
He hadn't touched me, but I felt as if he had. I felt as if he had done something very bad to me. As if he had come back there and slapped my ass without making sure it was okay first, or grabbed my breasts, or shoved his fingers into my hungry cunt.
The last thought made me feel horny, and through the haze of a million emotions, I started touching myself.
I felt strange, because I
was feeling so upset with Daddy for what he had done, but at the same time I was also really horny. I started to touch myself and the shame slowly lifted as I imagined Daddy taking control of me right there, of him taking me in his arms and kissing me. I imagined his strong body up against mine and how it would feel to be his property, how it would feel to have him own me, rather than just be some sort of sugar daddy.
Imagining myself as a sex slave, unable to say no to any desire my Daddy had, I pushed my fingers inside myself. I imagined they were his fingers, touching me roughly, probing my body for his own pleasure, and giving me pleasure as a side-effect.
I imagined Daddy's smile, the cheeky look on his face when he realized he was going to get everything he wanted without me putting up a fight. I imagined what it would feel for him to be inside my body, unable to put up a fight. I imagined being inside my body, delighing in pleasing Daddy but feeling as though I shouldn't do it, as though this was something very naughty we were doing and I didn't know if I wanted to do it. Imagining that feeling of him just taking something that I was so hesitant to give drove me harder.
Imagining Daddy knowing that but taking what he wanted anyway turned me on. It pushed me to rub my clit a little faster. My breathing was racing ahead, my body aching for more. I gave myself what I needed, imagining giving Daddy what he needed. I imagined giving myself up to him to please him and how much that would turn him on, how much he would go crazy for that. I imagined Daddy getting more and more of what he needed and how it would feel for him, how pleased he would be touching me, how pleased he would be as I touched him, as I let him have my body. As I let him inside my body.
I imagined Daddy thrusting into me, I imagined him getting closer to his own orgasm. I imagined how it would feel to him, being inside my tight, wet pussy, hearing me moan under him. I imagined how much it would turn Daddy on to have me beg him for it, to have me beg him for his cum. I imagined Daddy forcing his cock deeper inside me as a result of my begging.
