Posted by: littlegirlyone | June 29, 2010

Baby’s Food

It was crowded, I noted, as I followed my Daddy and the host to our table. It was also a little bit loud, and maybe the chairs weren’t the most comfortable, I admitted to myself, thinking already about Daddy’s objections to this restaurant.

For my part, I was thrilled to be going to dinner with him, and even happier about where we were. It wasn’t his favorite restaurant, although he knew it was one of mine. This was the place I’d think I’d get to go for my birthday. That’s why I had been a little shocked, but happily so, when he’d suggested it. It was just a random Thursday night. No special occasion that I could think of.

I was looking forward to the food. It was just my style: fresh, interesting, comfortable. Crunchy salads served on chilled plates. An unending stack of chewy sourdough baguette slices in the bread basket. Softened butter in small ramekins, sprinkled with crusty sea salt. Lots of fish, and a handful of roasted, meaty dishes. Everything was delicious.

We sat. I glanced at my menu, just to confirm my favorite dish was still there, and it was. More than anything, I loved the halibut. It was so delicious: a flaky, tender pillow of white fish dressed in simple butter and green peas. It was spring on a plate. With a glass of white wine, and a couple of slices of that bread, I’d soon be the happiest girl in the city. I had no idea what I’d done to deserve such treatment, but I smiled sweetly at my Daddy across the table, thinking about how sexy he looked, and how much I adored him.

My first clue that perhaps I wasn’t quite as lucky as I thought, came with our drink order. The waiter politely asked what I’d like, and I glanced at Daddy to confirm that I was allowed to answer for myself. I knew from the look on his face that he’d be ordering for me. I deferred my eyes to him.

“She’d like a glass of milk.” The corners of his eyes crinkled up in an evil smile as he ordered it. It’s not like I hate milk, but I certainly don’t drink glasses of it. Not at dinner in a nice restaurant. Not anywhere, not ever. I dropped my eyes, blushing slightly. I couldn’t bear to look up; I knew he looked amused. A glass of milk indeed…

Daddy ordered his own drink and the waiter shuffled off.

“What’s going on?” I asked softly.

“What do you mean, sweetheart?” His voice was just as soft. He knew exactly what I meant.

“The milk?”

“It’s good for you,” he patted my knee under the table. “Does a body good, and all that.”

He laughed at his own joke. I didn’t think it was very funny, and I crossed my arms low against my belly, but then I caught myself. I didn’t dare pout too much, or he’d never let me forget that the last time he’d taken me out to dinner, I was a pouty, sullen little thing. Not much fun. I decided to smile and play sweetly. Maybe he just didn’t want me drinking? It was certainly his decision.

“So,” I lifted my eyes. “What are you going to have?”

“Oh, I don’t know. What is it that you like here so much? The halibut?”

“Yes, it’s so so yummy,” I enthused.

“Is that what you’re having?”

I nodded.

“Good.” He looked pleased, which always makes me feel warm inside.

It took some effort not to roll my eyes when the waiter returned with the drinks, and set the cold, white glass of milk in front of me. They’d put it in a pint glass, which made me feel even more ridiculous. The waiter asked Daddy if we were ready to order.

“I’ll have the halibut,” he started. I looked up. “And, she’d like some plain noodles with butter. Would that be something you could do?” He sounded apologetic, like he hated to bother the kitchen with my odd food request.

I stared at the table. I felt a combination of disappointment, embarrassment and something akin to anger. That was so unfair! It took all my composure to sit still, eyes down, while the waiter agreed it would be no problem.

“We make that all the time,” he assured Daddy.

What he didn’t say, but we all knew he meant, was that they made that dish for children. Actual children. And, I thought with irritation, only those picky children who didn’t like to eat anything. I’m not like that. I like all kinds of interesting things. I wasn’t even a picky eater as a child!

I pleaded with my eyes across the table as the waiter headed to the kitchen.

“What?” He teased me. “Didn’t you want something plain?”

“You know I didn’t. I wanted the halibut.” I kept my voice low, grateful for the loud restaurant masking our conversation.

“Oooh. Did you really?” He was toying with me.

“Yes, really.” I snapped a bit, letting my irritation show.

“Careful, piglet. If you throw a tantrum in the restaurant, I’ll have to take you to the car until you calm down. You don’t want that, do you?”

I shook my head. Tears of frustration welled in my eyes.

“Good girl. Now, go to the little girl’s room and wipe your eyes.”

I stood, pushing my chair back. I looked at the floor as I wandered toward the back, where I knew the restrooms were. Pushing the door open, I made my way into the closest stall. I dabbed at my eyes with some tissue. I sniffed. This was not the way I thought my night was going to go. And I didn’t know why he was doing this. I hissed some of my frustration out, alone. Then I dabbed at my eyes again, and washed my hands.

He looked happy as I walked back towards the table. I also couldn’t help noticing that he looked very handsome. Even when I was mad at him, and he was teasing me, I was still gooey for him. That was also irritating.

I sat demurely, crossing my legs at the ankle and smirking back at him.

“Feeling better?” he asked.

“Oh, yes. Much.”

“Good girl. Drink your milk.” He pointed at the full glass in front of me.

“I’d rather have water,” I replied, reaching for my water glass.

“Mmmm. I told you to drink your milk.” He looked sternly at me.

I adjusted my reach to the milk glass, and lifted it to my lips. I watched his face over the rim as I took a sip. He was damnably happy about this. The milk wasn’t unpleasant, just odd. Just not what I wanted. I swallowed, and placed the glass back on the table. I dabbed at my mouth with my napkin.

“Good girl,” he nearly mouthed the words at me, not really talking at all. And in the din of the restaurant, there was no way anyone could hear. But something about it made me blush. It was like he’d brought something from our sex life to the dinner table. I dropped my eyes, and my cheeks started pinkening.

“So cute,” he cooed. Of course, to anyone but me, he’d just sound like an affectionate partner. But to me, he sounded like a patronizing Daddy. And that is just the kind of thing that drives me wild. I could feel my body responding to the loss of control, the humiliation, the condescension, the public aspect. Even though I hated so many things about it, I liked it, too. There was no denying that.

He chuckled then, reading my face.

“Love/hate, huh?”

I nodded.


I shook my head slowly.

He sat back, and I knew from this body language that our dinner was coming over my shoulder.

Of course, he’d recognize it. Very few orders of halibut and butter noodles coming out of the kitchen tonight, I thought to myself. I kept my eyes down as the large bowl of plain angel hair pasta swimming in butter was placed in front of me. It didn’t even have cheese or pepper. Nothing to make it interesting. Once the waiter had stepped back, I sighed.

“This looks delicious,” Daddy grinned at me.

I rolled my eyes. I was, in some small way, happy that he was enjoying this. I knew better than to pout and refuse to eat, so I lifted my fork, and took a small bite of the pasta. Thank god the kitchen hadn’t boiled it to mush. That was something.

I watched enviously as Daddy took his first bite of halibut. He closed his eyes briefly, a sign that he was tasting something really good.

“You’re so right,” he conceded. “This is really a good dish.”

“I’m so glad you like it,” I smiled. And genuinely, I was glad. Although I was also jealous and frustrated that I wasn’t going to get any. At least he was happy with it. Maybe that meant he’d want to come back some time.

I picked at my noodles. I was hungry, so I had to eat some of it. But it wasn’t exactly inspired.

“Five more bites,” he told me.

“How about three?”

“Six,” he looked at me sternly. I should have known better, he doesn’t let me bargain out of spankings. Why would this other form of punishment be any different. I sighed.

“Are you going to watch me?” I asked.

“Oh yes.”

I twirled the fork in the pasta, trying to pick up as few of the strands as possible. I lifted it to my mouth.

That was one.

I noticed he’d put his fork down, and really was watching me eat. I hurried my way through five more mouthfuls, chewing and swallowing as quickly as I could while still being polite.

“Thirsty?” he inquired.

I nodded.

“Have some milk, babydoll.”

I took a small sip of the milk. It wasn’t particularly satisfying after all that butter. I wanted water.

“Can–may I have some water?”

“You may.” He grinned at how I’d caught myself. He corrected my grammar anytime he got an opportunity.

I sipped the water more thirstily.

“Are you done?” he asked.

“Oh, yes.”

“Are you sure? Are you full?”

I nodded.

“That’s too bad,” he teased, as I noticed he still had halibut on his plate. “I was going to see if you’d like to try this halibut. It’s really delicious.”


  1. I know this is part of your dance with him, but honestly, if I was your waiter and caught any of that, I would have dumped a pot of hot coffee in his lap…. and enjoyed it. That’s just me…

    • You know, ridingwild, I can see why you might feel that way. But I should make a point that this is 100% my fantasy. I sent it to my Daddy, and he didn’t even like it. I’m sort of a weirdo.

      • no, love, you’re not a weirdo, I get what stirs you. I just have this protective streak. Comes from having sisters ; )

  2. I think that treatment would hurt me worse than the nipple clamps you spoke of.


    But I’m sure glad you enjoyed it, Little Girl!

  3. I’m curious as to why He didn’t like it? Did He say? Some of this I can see my Master doing. πŸ™‚ But He’s not generally this way. His style is more to get me to do very sexual things in public. Which of course I love, lol.

    • I guess I should be more accurate. He didn’t dislike it. He first said that it wasn’t his favorite thing I’d ever written. When I asked him what part didn’t appeal to him, he said there was nothing unappealing, but that it just didn’t arouse him. And he then told me I could publish it if I liked. I suppose what I meant to convey to ridingwild was that this was totally my own fantasy, not really something my Daddy has done, or even shown an interest in doing. He very kindly lets me play fantasy with him in my writing.

  4. I have to say this post caught me a little off guard, not because of what you wrote but because of my reaction to it. It appealed to me in a way I couldn’t have anticipated. So if you’re a weirdo, I guess so am I πŸ˜‰

    I think I’m going to have to look a little deeper into my own little girl desires.

  5. This is in my view an excellent rendering of a classic d/s scenario. The manipulation of your conflicting impulses, to obey and to resist, is wonderfully well done, and the final twist brought a smile to my lips.

    I can imagine the next course, where Daddy orders a large slice of chocolate cake maybe and consumes it slowly and with relish while you have a dry biscuit and a small piece of cheese.

  6. well, you know that this is very in line with my own fantasies about embarrassment around the idea of being treated like a little girl. i found that i wanted the daddy to be more real-daddy-like, though– in my fantasy he’d make you eat a lot of veggies or something, and say he was doing it because that was what was healthy for you (while still being not what you wanted)– as opposed to doing it just to torture you. πŸ™‚ anyway, i could totally picture the whole scene and it was a great piece!

  7. This was a wonderful post.
    Some of those things I could see myself doing and saying.
    I loved the interaction and dynamics you conveyed in this post.
    Well done!


  8. I’ve just started reading your blog and following your tumblr this past month and I cannot tell you how much I look forward to your posts. Amazing, tantilizing scenario…

  9. Thanks, guys. This piece was really fun for me to write. But then after I published it, I felt a little silly and self conscious. Maybe the combination of my Daddy not loving it, and ridingwild’s comment. I worried that this was like, super weird. And of course, it’s all mine, so it’s not like I could even say “oh, yeah. My Daddy’s such a mean, weirdo…” Not that I would ever say that about him.

    But yeah, I just wanted to say thank you to everyone who mentioned that they liked it. It never ceases to amaze me what things will make me feel insecure. This was an unexpectedly close to the heart post.

    (And, thanks ridingwild for the protectiveness. I think I’ve mentioned that I find that quality very attractive. And this time is no exception πŸ˜‰ )

  10. […] for that real father/daughter relationship is evidenced by my very strong fantasies about being treated like a kid. In fact, if you asked my Daddy, he’d probably tell you my two main erotic triggers are […]

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