CHAPTER ONE
Lyric
The crowd is rowdy tonight, and that’s fine by me. Sometimes, a little rowdiness is what it takes to make a gig work. I look out over the crowd, the way the people sitting in the club almost look like they’re hanging out in a biker club. Oh, none of them are dressed like bikers, except for one table with three actual bikers. They’re all just rowdy. This club is very successful despite the fact this is a small town, and tonight is particularly special.
It’s little girl week.
Almost everyone who works at the club belongs to a lifestyle Vanessa, my best friend, calls DDlg, which stands for Daddy Dom/little girl. The men act like daddies and the girlfriends and wives act like little girls.
Not daughters.
It’s not that kind of a lifestyle where they pretend to actually be related.
From what I can tell, its more that the man is in charge and takes care of the woman as though she were a little girl. The woman gets a chance to live without the pressures of adulthood whenever she’s in “little space.” From what I can understand from Vanessa, the lifestyle is as varied as any other lifestyle. Some Daddies are very, very strict. Some are lax. Some little girls are completely submissive. Some are very bratty.
Some little girls remain little girls twenty-four hours a day. Some do so for specified times and some just flow in and out of “little space” without any definitive schedule. The club is filled with Daddies and littles tonight and will be for the whole week. Most of them aren’t local. Carl set up this week as a way for the people in the lifestyle to live openly for at least a week every year.
I don’t know why I thought everyone would be weird.
The lifestyle appeals to me, although I am not a little girl. In fact, it appeals to me enough that I fantasize about it. Ever since I arrived, these fantasies claim me. I fantasize about having a Daddy. More accurately, I fantasize about having Carl’s friend as a Daddy. Phillip. Thoughts of him fill my days and at night, they fill my mind while my fingers fill my pussy.
Okay, not just at night.
God, it feels like I masturbate thinking of Phillip as often as I breathe these days. As I strum my guitar and sing an old cowboy song, “Utah Carol”, in a lilting voice and a slowed down, minor key composition that doesn’t sound like a cowboy song at all, I can’t glancing at him so often I might as well just give up on being sneaky and stare directly at him the whole time. After the first song, that’s exactly what I do.
The moment my set is done, I rush to my dressing room.
The door is barely closed before my pants and panties are at my ankles and my fingers tease along my folds. I lean my head back in my chair, close my eyes and imagine Phillip as I rub my clit. Pleasure rolls over my body in soft waves. “Oh yes,” I whisper. “Yes, Daddy! Phillip, yes!” I slide a hand under my shirt and close it over my nipple, gently squeezing and pinching while I moan. I spread my legs as much as I can and there’s something neat about my ankles being trapped by my clothing. It makes it all seem like I have less control.
Like my Daddy is controlling me.
God, why does this turn me on so much?
I have no idea why it drives me crazy but it does. I don’t understand it at all but I’m so damned enamored of it. I move my hands faster and more forcefully. “God, yes,” I whisper. “Daddy! Daddy!” I imagine his body, wonder what he looks like naked. “Fuck me, Phillip,” I whisper. “Fuck me!”
With no Philip present to oblige me, my fingers move of their own accord and slip inside me, first one, then two. I gasp when the first one enters and cry out, “Oh God, yes!” so loudly I’m afraid for a moment someone might have heard me. I stare anxiously at the door for maybe thirty seconds, still fingering myself feverishly.
Finally, I’m satisfied no one heard me and turn back to the task at hand. When I am no longer anxious about being discovered I imagine what I must have looked like, staring nervously at the door while fingering my pussy like I’m trying to give myself a baby.
This thought prompts a burst of laughter which also doesn’t stop me fingering myself. The laughter is choked off in a gasping moan when my hand, again moving seemingly of its own accord, decides to slip a third finger inside my pussy.
I’ve never been able to fit three fingers inside before and the feeling of my pussy stretching to accommodate the extra digit is a little painful but it’s also incredibly hot. I imagine Philip’s big cock stretching my pussy out and moan, “Oh, Philip, you feel so good. My fingertips graze my g-spot, sending an bolt of electricity through me. I inhale sharply as sparks go off behind my eyes, then graze my g-spot again and weather another lightning strike.
“Oh Philip. Oh baby, I’m going to cum.”
It’s true. I normally don’t finish so quickly but the feeling of my pussy stretching over my fingers while I imagine Philip thrusting into me has me right on the edge.
When I use my other hand to gently rub my clit I am no longer on the edge but fall completely over it, screaming and moaning and jerking as wave after wave of deep, pulsating pleasure ripples from my pussy up my spine to my neck and back down my shoulders, vibrating through my nipples before cascading down my navel and back to my throbbing pussy.
I try to stop myself but I can’t seem to tear my fingers away from my pulsing clit. I collapse to the floor, shaking and moaning while my fingers continue their manic dance inside of me. When I can form words again, I moan, “Fuck me Philip! Fuck me Daddy!”
The orgasm lasts for what seems like an eternity but finally it fades enough I’m able to pull my fingers out. They make an audible pop when I remove them from how hard I squeeze them and the sound makes me think of what it would feel like to wrap myself around Philip’s cock.
The thought prompts a little aftershock of pleasure and I twitch slightly, still laying on the floor. I rub my thighs together in a slow, scissoring motion. I’m still sensitive, so the movements send more aftershocks coursing through me.
I lay there like that for several minutes, writhing and moaning as my orgasm slowly fades.
God, I want Philip so badly. I can recall wanting men before though usually I don’t have to want them for long before they eagerly agree to give me what I need. I’ve never wanted anyone like I want Philip though. From his sandy-brown hair to his rippling muscles to his piercing green eyes, he is the man of my dreams and more.
The orgasm fades in warm happiness and then suddenly I hear the click of the door closing. I sit bolt upright but nobody is in the dressing room. Did I… Did I imagine it? God, I hope so.