Published: July 22nd 2020, 2:01:01 pm
The first part of a new short story commission from an anonymous Patron.
"A-Are you sure this is okay, Daddy?" Dakota asked nervously, hand curling around her fiance's muscular arm, creeping up closer to him, regretting tapping the bell sitting on the counter, really wishing she could have worn at least her Pull-Ups.
Of course, it made sense that she couldn't, considering what was going to happen, and she knew, once this started - if they went through with it - she'd be grateful for her big girl panties... She was, in general, anyway, and usually would whine and throw tantrums if Daddy made her wear anything else in public. Seeing this place, however, she would have liked the security that would have come with a bit of padding.
"It's all right," Blake promised her, rubbing her back. "There's nothing to be afraid of. This is what tattoo parlors look like."
Dakota rolled her eyes, stuck her tongue out at him. "As if you know! You haven't been in any more of them than I have!"
He was just trying to make her feel better, but she couldn't help feeling uneasy. She wasn't sure what it was, exactly; she hadn't been in one of these places before, so she didn't know why this one seemed strange to her. Probably, it was only nerves, the idea of what was going to happen. She had considered getting a tattoo in the past, more than once, and backed out at the last minute. She'd never made it this far... Maybe she'd have gotten this feeling no matter where they went.
This place was brand new, with nobody they knew to recommend it, no Yelp reviews to look at to get a sense of what it was like. They'd been talked about the tattoos for a while now, in an abstract way, and, just the day before, they'd finally settled on designs for them. Neither of them had heard this place was opening up, but they'd both found out earlier today it existed, was the grand opening today, and that they were giving out huge discounts in honor of it.
It was Dakota who had said, "It must be a sign," and suggested they take advantage of it, never one to miss out on a good sale. Blake hadn't said no, however, had driven them there and led her inside, even though, from the outside, the long-abandoned building the parlor had moved into hardly looked any different from usual.
Dakota had always wanted to sneak inside and see what it looked like, but never had, so she didn't know if it had changed or not. It was very dark, almost as if they hadn't gotten the electricity on yet, if not for the faint whir of tattoo guns. After a few moments, Dakota did spot some faint lights here and there, proving further they did have power, although she still wasn't feeling overly confident about this place.
Her anxiety only increased when someone finally stepped up to the counter, after Daddy had let her ring the bell what felt like an hour earlier. He was tall, thin, smirking down at her as if he knew she was the one who had summoned him. "Hello, there," he said, practically oozing smarm. "Are you sure you're old enough to be here, dear?"
Dakota blushed, the worst of her fears coming true as she felt a trickle of wetness make its way into her panties. Daddy had been making her wear diapers more and more often lately, and it wasn't helping her already admittedly somewhat shaky bladder control, at least for someone her age. When she got scared, or too stressed out, she was absolutely hopeless...
"I have her license here," Blake said, thankfully drawing attention away from her, even though that didn't help her stop blushing, the idea - and truth, honestly - that she was too immature to keep track of her own driver's license. When she was going to work, or out as a big girl, she had a nice purse she kept it in... If she was going out as his little girl, she had a tiny, plastic one he'd given to her as a gift. She'd broken the snap on it long ago, so she didn't keep anything important in there, scared it would fall out, while she waited for him to decide she'd been a good enough girl to deserve a replacement. "Do we need appointments? We were going to call ahead to check, but we couldn't find your phone number anywhere."
"No, no," the man shook his head. "I think we have just enough room for you. What can we do for you?"
"We each want to get a tattoo," Blake explained, sliding his phone out of his pants pocket, unlocking it and spinning it around. "We've got this one," he showed the first picture, the word 'Daddy' in elegant cursive, a red heart at the end. "Around the bicep, I think. And then we have this one..."
Dakota blushed again - or, rather, she blushed deeper, since she didn't think her face had fully recovered from the last time - as her Daddy swiped to the next picture. This one was much more childish, two sets of colorful baby blocks spelling out 'Baby Girl', with a diaper pin at one end, between them. That was the one that had taken the longest for them to settle on... At first, he'd wanted her to write the words out herself, in crayon, but, in little mode - and, honestly, when she was big, too - her handwriting was pretty awful, and, try as she might, it was hard for her to get a version that was legible. Then, he'd wanted a pacifier instead of the pin, but she'd wanted something a tiny bit more subtle.
"Really?" he'd asked, chuckling. "You don't think people will know what that is, when it's right next to a bunch of baby blocks?"
"Maybe not!" she'd glared at him, sulking. "There aren't that many people who use cloth diapers anymore!"
"But what else could it mean?" he'd pointed out. It was a valid point, she had to admit, though she'd still held her ground anyway, insisting it was better. And, in the end, she'd won.
Now, standing in front of the counter, watching the man stare at it, she was questioning her decision. "This one," Blake announced, "will be a tramp stamp."
Dakota squealed as he gave the area the tattoo was about to go in a pat, feeling another dribble in her panties. "Daddy!" she complained, without thinking, even though he'd given her permission to call him Blake while they were doing this. She was probably going to get a spanking when she got home if she kept this up... Not to mention how humiliating it was going to be if she had to get a tattoo with a huge wet spot on her shorts.
"He needs to know, silly," Blake laughed. "I can e-mail these to you, if you need, but I couldn't find that anywhere, either..."
"I think we have everything we need," the man cut him off. "Thank you. Now, if you could come right this way..."
Dakota bit her bottom lip, staring up at Daddy as the man gestured for them to come further inside. "It's okay," Blake promised, squeezing her hand. "If you can be a brave girl for me, maybe you'll get a treat afterwards."
Dakota's eyes lit up at that, imagining the bakery they loved, that she knew was on the way home from here. They had such yummy cupcakes there, and cookies, and brownies... She wasn't even sure what she'd choose! Of course, considering the state of her panties, there was a decent chance she wouldn't get anything, but she had no idea how long this was going to take... Maybe they'd dry out before they left, and he'd be none the wiser.
The back room was just as dark as the lobby, perhaps even more so. Dakota had been worried she'd see the other people getting tattoos, and freak herself out, but it turned out she couldn't see anything, which was worse. All she could see was a series of small booths, curtains closed in front of each, blocking her view, making her assume the worst. She pressed closer to her Daddy, practically clinging to him and letting him drag her along, like a koala bear on an ent it had mistaken for a eucalyptus tree.
"Here you are," the man pulled one of the curtains aside, revealing a large chair that looked too similar to a dental chair for Dakota's liking. "Your artist will be with you in just a moment, sir."
"Wh-What about me?" Dakota asked in a tiny voice. There was barely room for the chair itself in the room, and the person doing the tattoo... There was no way she could stay there and keep him company, or for him to do the same for her when it was her turn, which was the more worrying part.
"I don't know how they'll be set up," he'd told her, "but if I can, I'll be there with you, holding your hand."
"If you come with me, I'll take you to your chair," the man said.
Dakota's eyes widened, her panties dampening again. She wasn't a little girl; she was a fully grown adult, who spent plenty of time, every day, away from her Daddy, while she was at work. Here, in this strange place, knowing she was about to get needles punched into her back, however... And having to walk away, alone, with this person who made her so uncomfortable, for reasons she didn't completely understand...
Blake noticed it, of course, gave her hand another squeeze. "Could she stay here?" he suggested. "I can go to the other chair."
"Are you sure?" the man smirked.
Blake smiled down at Dakota. "Yeah... I think her little legs are tired from walking all this way."
"Nuh-uh!" Dakota pouted, stomping her foot before she could help herself. She knew he could tell she didn't want to be alone with the man, though, and that he was doing this to help her, even if he was teasing her at the same time.
"Just sit and rest, sweetie," he ordered. "This will all be over before you know it."
She bit her bottom lip again as the curtain was closed, leaving her all alone, staring at the cloth for a moment or two, then turning around, planning on pacing, full of too much nervous energy to sit down sooner than necessary. Except...
"Are you ready?"
Dakota gasped, another squirt of urine escaping from her bladder. She hadn't heard the other person come in, had fully assumed she was on her own, still... And then, seeing who it was, she only got more flustered.
It was a woman, taller than Dakota - as most adults were - and covered in tattoos. She looked so cool, Dakota felt even more self conscious about the tattoo she was getting herself, and that this woman would be the one giving it to her. "Hi, there," the woman grinned, bending over, her tight shirt showing off the cleavage spilling out from the top. "Did you have a little accident?"
Dakota blushed, glancing down, seeing that, indeed, her panties had finally had too much, as if she needed any more help looking like a dorky little girl compared to this woman. "N-No," she squeaked.
"Hmm," the tattoo artist raised a pierced eyebrow. "If you say so. All right, into the chair with you."
Dakota was anxious about the chair, but more embarrassed about standing there in her wet shorts, so she climbed up, while the woman looked at her phone, trying to lie down on her stomach.
"What is this?" the artist chuckled. "Do you think you deserve a spanking for wetting yourself? You probably do, but that's not my job."
"N-No," Dakota shook her head. "I-I..."
"I see," the woman said, confusing Dakota until the smaller woman realized she'd been talking to herself, or, rather, what she was looking at on her phone. "Yes, I think this will definitely do you some good..." Dakota whimpered, hating that this super cool looking woman had already determined that she deserved the moniker that was about to be permanently etched onto her. "Come on, turn around."
"B-But..." Dakota frowned, though she did as she was told anyway. "A-Are you not ready yet? I-I'm not sure..." She shivered at the cool touch of the wipe the woman began rubbing onto her arm, cleaning a large swath of her bicep. "I-I think there's a mix-up here..." Dakota told her timidly, wishing Daddy was here to take care of this for her.
"Don't worry," the woman smiled, picking up her tattoo gun and turning it on, Dakota's eyes growing bigger and bigger as she watched the needle start to move, jabbing back and forth like a sewing machine, aimed right for her flesh, her mouth going dry, refusing to let her speak again, no matter how much she wanted to, "It'll sting a little, but you'll get used to it in no time..."