I was getting deeply annoyed and was thinking of stepping in, but Kitten said she could handle it. And she did. She finished last Saturday. She got all the costumes done, despite putting in some extra, unpaid hours. And even did a wedding on her last day. At the end of it, Michelle dropped her off at the house, gave her a check, said something to her that Kitten still wouldn’t talk about, and drove off.
I could have cheerfully driven over to their house the next day with the cane containing the sword, but Kitten talked me out of it. It was over, she needed to get ready for school.
Smart little girl.
I decided to deal with her unhappiness by taking her shopping for new clothes before going back to school. She’d been complaining that I’d been fattening her up all summer, and yes, she had put on a few pounds. If I felt like being suicidally honest with her, I could have told her that some extra weight suited her. She’d always been on the thin side.
Normally she grumbled at me spending money on her, but I’d been good since Disney and had been limiting my spending to the occasional supper out. Plus she didn’t have time to make clothing for herself and needed some new underwear.
So off we went to downtown Kingston with my credit card.
I figured this would be a good time because as far as I knew, most girls like torturing their man by making them go shopping and commenting on whether something looked good on them. She’d get to spend my money, tease me, and get a new wardrobe. Solid plan.
The solid plan went off the rails from the start when she made me turn around five minutes into the trip because she had forgotten her purse. Trying to argue that I had my wallet with the credit card and that’s all we needed didn’t fly, so we had to turn around and get her ‘purse’.
Purse being a relative term, of course. Kitten had two kinds – small ones she could pop a bank card, cell phone and lip gloss in and her TARDIS bag. I believed it could be a TARDIS, as I’d seen some improbable shit come from that bag. But when you’re a cosplayer, It was a handy thing to have.
The next thing to make the morning go off the rails was the horrific discovery that throughout the summer she’d gone up from a size 4 to a 6.
There are no calm and consoling words to tell a young woman that she’s gone up a size, especially when she’s in a design program. The size up was immediately attributed to me fattening her up all summer.
“I’m a Kitten not a cow, Daddy,” she growled at me.
I could point out I’ve seen some pretty chubby kittens over the years but quickly determined 49 was far too young to die.
Underwear shopping didn’t get any better. Her chest size and cup size had gone up, so she was now a C cup. Unbeknownst to me, most women hate bra shopping. So visions of my girlfriend trying on different bras, modelling them, flashing me, and maybe dragging me into the change room for some fooling around… not happening. I did get a grumpy little girl complaining that nothing felt right because her boobs were now wrong but eventually settled on four new bras and a bunch of new panties.
Normally I’d take her to our favourite restaurant, but decided maybe a bakery wasn’t the place to go right now so I let her pick. She chose a sushi restaurant because I hate sushi and this was her way of acting out some more.
I picked at some vegetarian sushi and she ate her… raw fish. At least it seemed to cheer her up a bit. I was fairly frustrated with her at this point. I thought some shopping would cheer her up. She was going away in a few days. I knew she was disappointed and it wasn’t going to be easy for either of us, but I didn’t want her going back to Montreal cranky and pissed. I needed to find some way…
Then it hit me. Because I’m an idiot.
“Hand me your bag,” I said. She looked startled, then sheepish. I thought she might argue, but then she handed me the bag she’d made such a fuss over earlier.
I looked inside. Just as I thought, she came prepared today. I’m sure some of her behaviour from earlier was genuine frustration at the weight gain, and yeah, I’d learned my lesson about bra shopping. But some of it was her looking for trouble and wanting me to discipline her.
I had my back to the wall and a clear view of the restaurant. I looked around. The place was mostly empty and no one was looking at us. So I very deliberately began pulling items out of the bag and putting them on the table.
I pulled out a summer dress she had stashed in there. She was currently wearing jean shorts and a t-shirt. Next on the table was a bottle of lubricant. Kitten’s eyes got wide when she realized I was leaving it on the table for anyone to see. She started to look around when I corrected her.
“Eyes on me, Kitten,” I said. She listened but fidgeted.
Next out was a vibrating egg for her pussy, the one that synced with my phone. Then I pulled out a butt plug. There was no tail with it, but it was about as big as the one I saw earlier the month at the pool.
Finally, I pulled out a set of kitten ears and a collar. The ears were fairly basic and she wore them semi-regularly. Kitten was wearing her three-ring daytime collar. This was a thin leather collar with a bell around the neck. She could walk without making any noise, but it wouldn’t be easy.
They were all sitting on the table and Kitten was nervous. She desperately wanted to see who was nearby, but I was staring right at her and she couldn’t spare a glance.
“These just happened to be in your bag, Kitten?” I said.
“Uh-huh,” she said, unconvincingly.
I drummed my fingers on the table for a moment, mostly just to drag out her anxiousness.
“Take everything that’s on the table and go into the bathroom. You’re to put in the egg, the plug, change collars and put on this dress. You can keep either your bra, or your panties, but not both,” I said. Her eyes got wide and it looked like she was about to protest.
I swiped open my phone and tapped on the timer. “You have five minutes to do this, starting now,” I said and hit the button.
Kitten quickly weighed wasting time arguing with me about my instructions versus the consequences of not getting everything done. She scooped everything off the table and moved quickly towards the bathroom.
I tried to be a good Daddy to Kitten and in many areas, I succeed. I care for her, help her when she needs to make decisions, and protect her when people try to take advantage. I liked doing those things.
But sometimes I fail to realize that not only did she need discipline, but she also wants it. She described it as this uncomfortable knot of tension in her chest and stomach that all the coddling and protection in the world couldn’t properly untie. Sometimes, she just needed to be told she was a brat and punished. Not with cruelty. Not viciously. And not with me doing it in anger.
She needed to be shown love by being punished. I read up on it and while it was still a challenge for me sometimes, I knew that’s what she needed. And after the work drama of last month, going back to school, and being away from me, I bet she had a big knot of stress she needed to release.
And the way that worked best for her was some public squirming, some bondage, and then a good hard fucking.
Well, Daddy was here to help.
I glanced at my phone, and time was disappearing quickly. I had a clear view of the bathroom and with about nine seconds left, the door opened and she stepped outside.
She was, of course, amazing. It was a yellow dress that buttoned up the front and had a belt around her waist. It was a tight fit, but only in ways that flattered her. Her face was flushed as she moved towards the table and I could tell she was still adjusting to the toys inside her. She managed to make no noise with the collar until there was a gentle ringing noise as she sat down. She handed over her t-shirt, shorts and panties. Interesting choice. She was going to have to focus to make sure there wasn’t an… accident.
“Did you do as I instructed?”
“Yes, Daddy,” she said. There was, impressively, still a hint of a brat in her tone.
“I guess we’ll see,” I said, and took my finger and swiped it up across my phone’s screen. Too late she realized I’d changed apps and what that motion would do.
I couldn’t hear the egg buzz inside her pussy, but her eyes immediately widened, her hands slammed down on the table with her fingernails trying to dig into the wood. She quietly gasped and the bell on her collar made a little more noise.
She moaned and I could see she was shifting in her seat, but she hadn’t asked me to stop yet. I was almost tempted to see if she would cum in the restaurant, but then I flicked the egg setting to a lower level. She groaned again and tried to catch her breath.
“So, here’s what’s going to happen,” I said, pretending that she hadn’t almost just cum in a sushi place, “we’re going to finish here, and then we’re going to walk to the comic book store. I haven’t gone in a couple of weeks. It’s about a 10-minute walk. Can you manage that?”
“Yes Daddy,” she said, although she didn’t sound confident.
“After that, I’m going to stop and get a burger or something because after this I’ll need something else. You’re going to walk in and get that for me. I’ll be waiting in the car.”
She groaned.
“At no time during any of this are you allowed to cum. Do you know why?”
“Because I’ve been an ungrateful brat, Daddy,” she said. Not a question.
“Yes, you have. And I know it’s been a hard couple of weeks, but that’s not an excuse for this kind of behaviour. And you do know what the punishment is if you don’t obey me for the rest of the day?”
“No Daddy,” she said but looked curious about what new tortures I might dream up.
“I’ll just stop,” I said. “I’ll turn off the app, and hand you back your t-shirt and shorts and we’re done. Just like that. But you know you deserve to be punished, and I think you’re a responsible enough little girl to take your punishment.”
“I will, Daddy,” she said, looking very serious.
“Hurry up and finish your sushi, then let’s get going,” I said, nudging the vibration in her egg up a notch. She stiffened, smiled, and popped a piece in her mouth.
***