Eventually, realizing that I might be struggling to breathe, she dropped me back to the ground. I giggled. I had missed Michelle’s hugs.
“Seriously, we’re ok? You were pretty angry with me and…. I wasn’t the best friend to you back then. I’ve been talking to someone…. professionally, to help deal with some of my issues,” she said.
“Yeah, I mean, I was immature and overreacting to things. Everything was so new for Daddy and I, so the very hint of anyone trying to interfere with us, well, you get the idea,” I said. She nodded.
“Plus… I had a friend I tried to, well, rescue. Brought her out to Montreal from Saskatchewan, and if the friendship wasn’t dead before, it certainly seems over now. We’ve just changed so much that we have nothing in common anymore.
“But until things got, well, stupid?” I asked Michelle, wondering if that was the right word. She nodded again. “Stupid with us; you were great. You were like a big sister that I never had. I miss that. So yeah, maybe we can try again?”
It wasn’t an old-school Kitten ramble, but it was close. But I don’t think I realized how much I missed Michelle until now. Judging by the look on her face, she missed me too.
“I’m honestly trying hard not to hug you again because I think crushing you to death is a bad way to renew a friendship,” she said. I laughed. “But yeah, I like the idea of trying again.”
I gave her a hug, which was less likely to result in death. We headed back to the table, and I think both Daddy and Ahmed looked relieved that we were exiting the bathroom laughing and smiling. Bridges mended. After my failure with Kris, it felt terrific. Maybe things would get messed up with Michelle in the future, but I think we’d be smarter and more careful.
We went back to the table and talked more about our wedding, and Michelle expressed her jealousy about it taking place in Venice.
“I still haven’t been to Europe. I’d love to go one day, but who knows when we’ll get the chance,” she said.
That’s when I had a brainstorm.
“Daddy, do we have a photographer yet?” I asked. It felt ridiculous that Daddy was doing so much planning for the wedding, but he was working with the planner in Venice and ran everything past me first to make sure I was okay with it. He shook his head. I glanced at Ahmed and Michelle.
“So, are you busy in August? We seem to have an opening for our wedding photographer,” I said.
It was an insane offer. We had just renewed our friendship. I hadn’t run any of this past Daddy yet to see what he thought. Given their popularity, they had to be booked in August when we needed them. Plus, there was the whole matter of payment.
I expected some polite “well, we’re busy that week” and “Kitten, we might need to talk about that first” comments. Instead, Ahmed and Michelle opened their phones and began looking at dates. There was muttering between them. Michelle said she didn’t like the bride anyway, and they could pass that one off on someone else.
Daddy shook his head and took another bite of his cheesecake.
“Never stop surprising me, Kitten,” he said.
“Can we make this work? I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you first about this, but…”
He leaned over and kissed me on the head.
“We’ll make it work,” he said. “I… probably overreacted back then. So yeah, we’ll figure out a way to make it work.”
After Ahmed and Michelle finished chatting, they said they would have to juggle a few things, but they could clear some time to shoot our wedding. I was over the moon. Ahmed and Daddy promised to get together and hash out the details.
As we walked out of the restaurant, Michelle took my hand and squeezed. We slowed down as the men kept walking forward.
“Thanks for this,” she said. “Really. It means a lot that you trust us with this. And getting to spend some time not in Kingston for the summer is also amazing.”
“I’m not sure you should. Daddy warned me that Italy in August makes hell seem cool and refreshing,” I said.
“We’ll make it work. Maybe a carefully planned beach day or something,” she said. Then she glanced to make sure the men weren’t in earshot. “By the way, one of the things I’ve been doing recently is boudoir photos of the bride-to-be. A little gift for the husband. Let me know if you’re interested.”
I felt my pussy get damp. Despite my exhibitionist streak, I’d always been shy about getting photographed. Daddy wasn’t a great photographer. And I was weird about being photographed. When I was cosplaying, sure, I loved it. I was in character and it was fun. Naked or wearing lingerie? I froze up. This was weird given my exhibitionist streak, but I knew girls growing up who sent nudes to guys, and it was a horror show for them. I dodged a few close calls when I was younger, making me very careful.
But for my husband? I could probably take the risk.
“I’ll think about it, but yeah, that sounds like it could be fun,” I said.
Michelle hugged me and ran off to catch up with her husband. This had been a pretty shitty year so far; maybe things were finally changing for the better.
***
I was still thinking about that a few weeks later as I got ready to go to my convocation. I was still sad leaving my Daddy for the next two months, but I had a month of mind-blowing sex and my period was late, so maybe I was pregnant. I was finally leaving school behind and getting ready to go on an European adventure.
So yeah, maybe the year has turned around. It might also explain why I felt horny as I got ready for the convocation ceremony. We’d come into Montreal and got a hotel room for a couple of nights. The day after convocation, I was on my way to Prague.
But as for tonight….
I looked at my graduation robe and hat hanging on the back of the bathroom door. I posed in front of the mirror again in my little black dress, stockings and 4-inch heels. Combined with my heart lock collar and glasses. I looked good. Professional. Like an adult.
But I knew several male and female classmates were going naked or just in underwear under their robes. It was a warm evening, and it felt like their last opportunity to be immature. I shimmied the dress down my body and had it pool around my heels. I looked in the mirror again. Black lace push-up bra, French-cut panties, garter and stockings. Better.
I reached over and put on my robe. It came down to my knees, and you couldn’t see any cleavage up top. It wasn’t transparent when I was backlit. The only way you knew I was only wearing lingerie underneath is If I decided to flash someone. I grinned. It was impossible to resist. Although I knew I needed one more thing to complete the outfit.
I picked up the dress off the floor and opened the door. Daddy was sitting in a chair, looking at his phone. He managed to resist looking at his watch. We still had 30 minutes until we had to be there and it was a 10-minute walk-plenty of time.
“Can you put this in my purse?” I asked Daddy. He took the dress and put it in my TARDIS bag that he would hold for me while I walked across the stage.
“Should I ask?” he said, raising an eyebrow.
I grabbed the hem of my robe and slowly lifted it until he could see the top of my garters. Then I turned around, raised it above my hips, and wiggled my ass at him before dropping it again. I could hear him make both a sigh and growl simultaneously.
“It will be torture watching you walk across the stage knowing what you’re not wearing under that robe,” he said.
“So why torture yourself, Daddy?” I said. I walked over to the hotel room window, lifted the robe, and did a little shimmy with my hips, trying to lure him over. The one last thing my outfit needed? Daddy’s cum in my pussy as I walked across the stage.
I heard Daddy stand up and look in the reflection of the glass. He walked over and clicked off the light, making it harder for people outside to see into the room. Of course, we were on the 30th floor, so I wasn’t too worried about that. Then I heard his cane start to tap the floor as it got closer to me.
I closed my eyes and the next thing I felt was his hands running along my ass, which made me moan.
“What kind of slut wants to be walking across the stage with her Daddy’s cum dripping out of her pussy?” he said.
I could feel my knees buckle with those words.
“Your slut, Daddy. Your bratty little girl needs your cum in her when she struts across the stage. I’ll have a big smile feeling it inside me,” I said.
“Oh, well, if you’re looking for a unique sensation for walking across the stage…”
And suddenly, I realized maybe I misjudged things. But before I could say anything, his left hand pressed against the back of my neck, pinning me to the window, and the right one landed squarely on my right ass cheek, the sound echoing in the quiet of the room.
“Owwww! Daddy!” I whined.
“Let’s give you a nice red ass to keep you distracted when sitting on those hard, little metal seats,” he said, slapping my other cheek.
“No Daddy!” I whined, trying to squirm out of his grip. He wasn’t having any part of it and tightened his grip on my neck, reminding me who was in charge. He then spent the next few minutes smacking my ass. It stung and I knew my ass must be cherry red by now.
Then he moved my legs further apart using his cane and slid his fingers across my pussy. Unsurprisingly I was soaking wet.
“I guess it wasn’t that torturous for me to paddle you your ass, little girl,” he said, running his fingers across my clit and then sliding two fingers into my pussy. I stopped squirming against his grip and lowered my head.
“Please, Daddy. Please. I need your cock, Daddy. I need you fuck me,” I pleaded.
“Oh, it’s about what you need, is it?” he asked, and I realized I had made another mistake. So with his fingers inside my pussy, he gave my ass a few more swats. Cock or not, I could feel my orgasm starting to build. I began pushing my ass back against him; even though it made his slaps harder, I could push his fingers further inside me. I could feel it building and building…