A Tattoo to Remember

Daddy has declared that he's taking me on a date today. We live in a small, rural town and there's not a whole lot to do here so I'm assuming we're going to one of the larger cities nearby. I'm not wearing anything fancy (we're not fancy kind of people), just a crop top, jeans and birkenstocks. Daddy said I look presentable enough so I don't change before we go.

Daddy's always in charge of music in the car which is fine by me, most of the time. I hate country music and he knows it so he'll play it to get me riled up sometimes. But today he's feeling like heavy metal is the vibe and I can get behind that.

Daddy's hand rests on my thigh, as it always does when we're in the car, and I slide my hand to cover his and squeeze it. I've gathered that we're headed further into the mountains to the nearby college town that's about 40 minutes away. It's a warm, sunny summer day. Perfect date weather.

I watch the little towns and farmhouses pass in a blur. The mountains are a formidable force that now surround us in every direction. Once we hit the outskirts of the college town, quaint farms are quickly replaced with warehouses, factories and retail shops. I observe them all, content in my role of passenger princess.

Daddy's taking us downtown, I'm sure. Where older brick buildings dominate the area, housing all of the best restaurants and speciality shops in town. Because downtown is so busy and full of life, I still don't have an idea of where we're going when Daddy parks the car in a small parking lot between buildings.

We both exit the car and meet in front of it to rejoin hands before Daddy guides me to the entrance of what looks like a trendy restaurant/bar with rooftop seating. After speaking to the hostess inside, we head up to the rooftop area to claim a table. Daddy snags a table in the shade and right next to the water misters to make sure I'm comfortable.

There's a bartender working on the roof who immediately takes our drink orders and a waitress who gives us our menus. Daddy tells me that this place used to grill burgers on the roof and you could literally get your food right off of the grill which is why he chose this place but it looks like that's not something they do now. Doesn't matter to me.

I tell Daddy what I would like to eat and when the waitress comes back, he orders for both of us - some variation on burgers and fries. Once the waitress is gone, Daddy reaches for my hand and holds it across the table while we speak together in hushed tones.

"What do you think my baby would like to get for your next tattoo?" Daddy asks, conversationally, as his other hand runs up and down my forearm caressing the tattoos that reside there.

I'm building a patchwork tattoo sleeve on my left arm and I have the majority of my forearm covered so the natural answer would be something that fits into my sleeve's theme and available space but I've actually been thinking about this for a while. I want to get a tattoo for Daddy.

"I think I want to get a lunar moth," I reply.

"Why a lunar moth?" Daddy questions.

"Because you're my moth-ew," I say with a giggle.

(It's important to know for context that Daddy's name is Mathew and that I call him Matty in public because Matty sounds like Daddy).

"But also because lunar moths represent transformation and rebirth. They represent femininity and vulnerability and embracing the unknown. All things that have brought me to you."

"I like that," Daddy says with a small smile.

I smile shyly back.

Our conversation drifts to other things and before long, our burgers are brought out and set before us. Just as I'm about to take a bite of the juicy delicious burger in front of me, Daddy excuses himself for a quick trip to the bathroom.

I put the burger down, deciding to wait for Daddy to return before I start eating. He's only gone for a few minutes and when he returns, we both dig into our burgers with gusto. I am usually unable to finish an entire plate when we go out to eat but I must be extra hungry today because I make that burger and those fries disappear.

After Daddy pays the bill, we head back to the car. I am fully expecting to head home but that's not where Daddy takes us. Just a few blocks away is a tattoo shop and he parks right in front of it.

"What are we doing here?" I ask.

"You'll see," is the only answer that I'm given.

We enter the tattoo shop and are greeted by several tattoo artists. The shop isn't busy but it's a clean and welcoming space.

Addressing the tattoo artists at large, Daddy says "Hey, I was just on the phone with you setting up our walk-in appointments?"

The tall, gangly tattoo artist in the back pipes up with an affirmative response. He must be who Daddy spoke to. When did he call a tattoo shop? It must have been the reason behind his very abrupt need to use the bathroom earlier. How very sneaky.

"You ready to go over designs?" the tattoo artist asks Daddy.

"Actually, I'd like to go over designs with you privately as one of these tattoos is a surprise," he says.

A surprise? What is this man up to?

Daddy turns to me.

"Why don't you look up inspiration photos for your lunar moth tattoo while I handle things?"

He motions to the couch indicating that I should sit down. I do. Then Daddy walks to the back of the tattoo shop to consult with the tattoo artist, his back to me. I can't hear what they are saying but I know Daddy's up to something. They spend an inordinate amount of time deciding on the design and I'm just becoming more and more curious.

Daddy finally turns around and announces that his tattoo will be first. He's getting a tattoo too? And it's meant to be a surprise? For me? I have never in my life been valued so much that someone would want to tattoo their body with something that makes them think of me and I'm honestly getting a little choked up about it.

I'm not allowed to see the tattoo in progress. I can, however, tell that Daddy is getting the tattoo on his left thigh. The whole process takes maybe thirty minutes and only once it's done am I welcomed into the back to take a look at it.

Oh. My. God.

Daddy has a tattoo of a woman with tears running down her cheeks, a ball-gag in her mouth and a collar around her neck. Underneath the image is "Yes, Daddy" in beautiful cursive script. Not only has he gotten this tattoo for me, he's had it placed in a spot where I can worship it while I'm on my knees for him.

I probably should be a little embarrassed that every tattoo artist in this shop has just gotten a glimpse into our dynamic, but I'm not. It actually sends a thrill through me that has me squeezing my legs together to relieve it.

"What do you think, baby?" Daddy asks.

My eyes, shimmering with tears, lift to his.

"I fucking love it" is the only acceptable answer to his question and I breathe the words out in a rush.

"It's your turn, baby. Where would you like your tattoo?"

I consider it for a moment.

"On my left shoulder blade," I decide.

"Not part of your sleeve?" he asks.

"No," I say with conviction. " I want you to be able to see it when you're fucking me from behind."

Daddy smiles broadly.

"On the shoulder, it is."

After the stencil has been laid, the tattoo artists gets to work. I love the pain of tattoos. The pain of this tattoo feels extra sweet. Daddy sits with me and rubs my knee throughout the entire process. My tattoo takes a little bit longer to complete but after forty five more minutes, the tattoo artist covers his work with second skin and gives us both instructions for tattoo aftercare.

On the drive back home, I am on a happy little cloud 9. I have this man permanently embedded into my skin, just a physical representation of how embedded he is in my heart.

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One thing can easily be said about Daddy and that's that he's pretty spontaneous rather than a preplanner. It keeps things fun. No sooner have we arrived at home, then I am informed that he got tickets to a demolition derby happening in the next town over and we're meeting his ex-wife/baby momma and her partner for a double date.

I really like Daddy's ex-wife. She's easy to get along with. And we're trying to foster a sense of community/village when it comes to raising his children and mine. Her partner is a little odd but hey, it's a demolition derby and I've never been to one so I'm excited.

Alcohol isn't allowed or sold at the derby so we sneak in some of our own like a bunch of teenagers. The whole spectacle is a loud, noisy affair and I have the best time.

After the derby, Daddy's ex invites us to come over for more drinks and we do. We're all hanging out in her garage, sitting around in camp chairs, chatting and laughing when I notice that blood has seeped through Daddy's shorts right over his tattoo.

"Baby, your tattoo is bleeding," I lean over and whisper.

"You got another tattoo?" Daddy's ex says. "Let me see it."

Daddy doesn't look at her but looks at me.

"It's not up to me." he replies to her, then indicating to me.

"She gets to decide who sees it."

I'm a little flabbergasted that this is my decision. To my knowledge, Daddy did not have this kind of dynamic with his ex. It's not that I'm embarrassed by the tattoo. I LOVE his tattoo. But I kind of also love it just for me. I'm aware that it won't stay a secret forever but I'm not sure that I want to share it just yet.

I give a little shake of my head.

"Sorry, to disappoint but it's for her eyes only" is all that Daddy says and I'm grateful.

Jesus H. Christ, I want to jump this man's bones. Is it time to leave yet?

Conversation resumes but after a while I feign a few yawns until Daddy notices. I want to get out of here and get my brains fucked out so I'm not above putting on a little act to get it.

Daddy makes our excuse for me, saying he needs to get me to bed, and we say goodnight. The drive home is only a couple of blocks and we're pulling up in front of our house within minutes.

Before we get out of the car, I reach over and grab Daddy's hand causing him to turn and look at me.

"Thank you for today, Daddy. For taking me to lunch, for setting up tattoo appointments for us, for marking your body for me. For the demolition derby too. I had such a good day."

"The day's not over," Daddy replies with a smirk.

"Yes, please! God, I need your cock."

"Into the house then, baby."

I scramble out of the car and make my way inside the house, heading straight upstairs for our bedroom. Daddy's hot on my heels. I'm peeling off clothes as I ascend the staircase.

I burst into our room and immediately kick off my shoes and drag my jeans and panties down my legs, stepping out of them and kicking them in the general direction of the dirty laundry basket. Daddy is getting undressed a little more slowly and deliberately.

I stand there, naked, watching him undress. When he pulls his shorts down, I can see the new tattoo is bleeding a little through the second skin the tattoo artist put on to protect it. Fuck me. I can't wait until I can lick it.

"Go get your gag, baby" Daddy says as he notices me eying the tattoo. "And your collar."

I do as he says, rifling through the trunk of sex toys and BDSM gear we keep in the closet. I located both items and walk over to present them to Daddy.

"Hair up," he commands and I use both hands to gather up my hair onto the top of my head, exposing my bare neck to him so he can fix my collar in place. The gag is next - the red ball matching exactly to the tattoo on his thigh.

"On the bed. Hands and knees."

I climb onto the bed and assume the position he demands with my ass to him. He grabs a fistful of my hair and pushes me down so my head is turned to the side, cheek resting on the sheets. He then grabs each of my wrists and moves my arms behind me so he can capture them both at the small of my back.

He leans forward and, contradictorily to his gruff demands and rough manhandling, places a soft, gentle kiss to the second skin that covers the new tattoo on my shoulder, making me shiver. Then he's plunging into my pussy and fucking me with deep slow thrusts.

"Every part of you belongs to me," he growls. "You are mine."

"Yes, Daddy!" I try to respond but the ball-gag makes my words come out muffled and trying to speak is just making a pool of drool form underneath my cheek.

He fucks me hard then, pounding into me. The wet sound of our bodies slapping together and my whimpering moans fill the room. Propping myself up on my right shoulder, as much as I am able to, gives me the leverage to rock my ass back to meet each of his thrusts. His cock is rubbing right against that most sensitive spot in my wet channel and I can feel the orgasm rising up inside me. A few more thrusts and I am cumming so hard I can feel squirt spraying all over. Daddy pauses mid-orgasm and withdraws his cock only to run it up and down my slit which just makes me squirt more coating both of us in my juices.

He releases my arms as he slides back into me grabbing my hips for leverage instead. With my arms free, I rise up onto my elbows and truly fuck him back, meeting him rough thrust for rough thrust.

"Is my baby trying to fuck herself with my cock?" Daddy asks.

I moan in confirmation.

He slides from my wet heat and I almost cry out in frustration. What the hell?! I was so close!!

"Come here, baby." Daddy placates as he lays beside me on the bed, "Climb up here and ride my dick."

I scramble to straddle him, lining his cock up with my entrance, but before I can sink down onto his shaft, Daddy's hand comes up around my throat and lightly squeezes.

"Slow down, baby. Do you think you also need a vibrator?"

I nod furiously. Fuck yes, please.

"Go get it. You have 10 seconds."

I don't have to go far. I always have a vibrator plugged in and charging under the bed for easy access. I climb off of Daddy and hang my upper body off the side of the bed, grab the vibrator, scramble back onto Daddy and sink down on him while I fumble with the on button. The vibrator buzzes to life and I lean back a little to spread my pussy lips and slide the vibrator between us, right against my swollen clit.

I rock forward and backward on Daddy's cock, one hand holding the vibrator and the other on his chest for stability. I can feel drool from the gag running down my neck and chest. Daddy reaches up and smears the drool all over my tits before squeezing them roughly.

"Look at you, pretty girl." Daddy praises.

I have orgasm after orgasm, coating us both in more of my squirt. The vibrator becomes too much to bear and I remove it and then turn it off. While I'm exhausted, I still haven't had my fill. I lean back, then, moving my hands behind me and onto Daddy's thighs for support and I roll my hips giving him a better view of our bodies joined together. I'm so dick drunk that it takes me a minute or two to realize that I'm pressing down directly onto Daddy's new tattoo but when I do realize, I immediately remove my hands and lean forward.

"Don't you dare stop," he commands roughly so I tentatively return my hands behind my back and onto his thighs. Daddy's hands have been resting on my own thighs as I straddle him but he moves one of his hands between my legs to rub my poor abused clit.

"Come for me."

It takes all of a few seconds for me to explode, shivers raking my body as I undulate on his cock., head thrown back and eyes closed. When I finally come down from my high, my head hangs and my body goes almost limp.

"Come here, baby." Daddy says as he reaches behind me to unfasten the gag. "You need to clean up your mess and swallow my cum."

"Yes, Daddy." I answer but again my words are muffled.

He slides the gag from my mouth and I take in a deep breath of air before scooting down his body to take his dick down my throat. I bob my head up and down and it doesn't take long before I feel the hot streams of his cum filling my cheeks. I patiently wait for him to finish before sliding his cock out of my mouth, still full of his cum. I wait until his eyes find mine before I deliberately swallow, making sure he sees me do it.

I crawl up the bed to snuggle into Daddy's hold and he places a kiss atop my head.

Now I have him etched into my skin and his cum in my belly. I couldn't ask for anything more.