Can We Go To Disneyland, Daddy?

[Un****]

It was strange, really, that Tokyo suited her so much. It had never been on her wish list of places to go – not like the USA, or Italy, or the Greek islands – where of course English was still a common language, and the weather much like the UK, or in the case of Southern Europe, almost guaranteed to be warmer.
Japan was definitely… well… ‘foreign’. The customs were different, it was hardly informal overall… so many things to avoid – pointing, blowing one’s nose, and in the case of the women, laughing without putting your hand in front of your mouth. And you felt it, you felt like an outsider. Even ordering food relied heavily on seeing the garish displays in the restaurant’s cabinet, then pointing to the dish you wanted and hoping it turned up! Stay there too long and, no matter how cosmopolitan you hoped you were, the yearning for a bacon sandwich or a slice of pizza would inevitably find you!
But… and it was a fairly subliminal ‘but’… there were aspects to it that felt almost natural. Natural, that is, if you were a sub with an element of ‘little girl’ and you were visiting with your ‘Daddy’.
So much of Tokyo had cute elements. Kitsch was everywhere, from the pretty dresses in the shops in their ridiculous childlike sizes, even brands - the predominance of ‘Hello Kitty’, the popularity of ‘Kookai’ - to the seemingly higher pitched vocals of the women, the almost inherent deference that occurred of females to males. The subliminal thrum of accepted power exchange was like a thread than ran through the weave of Japanese society… or so it felt to her.

They weren’t staying long, just a week. Enough for Daddy to conduct his business affairs and come home. They had just the one day off, away from the continual accompaniment of hosts and translators. Their hotel room was a haven, a private space where the need to comprehend, to forever be ‘polite’ could stop, and they could relax - genuinely relax. The mere four channels on the hotel’s TV had almost been an incentive. They hadn’t indulged in any heavy play; the walls were thin, they were both still jet-lagged, but Daddy had been attentive… massaging her back at night to send her off to sleep, and teasing her breasts… kneading and working his way to her nipples, pinching and using his nails on the very tips until she came. A kind of casual, comfortable indulgence.

But today was their free day. And she knew what she wanted. As soon as they had breakfasted in their suite, avoiding the bustle and formality of the hotel dining room, she asked:
“Can we go to Disneyland Tokyo, Daddy?”
He looked up. His eyes twinkling. “Disneyland? Haven’t you already been to…what… Florida?”
She sighed. The sigh of a little girl who knows far more than her silly old Daddy! “That was Disney WORLD, Daddy! It’s completely different!”
He laughed. An indulgent laugh. The laugh that, to a little girly sub, meant she already knew she’d get what she asked for.

“OK baby girl,” he said, “I’ll take my princess to see a Disney princess. But I know which one I’m coming home with. We’ll take the train on our own… a little adventure before we arrive. Make sure you wear a vest!”
Private joke. She smiled and felt the wash of happiness run through her. Sometimes, these were the best moments. Feeling cherished, feeling wanted, feeling… his.
Two hours later and they were at the main gates. She was secretly overjoyed. Daddy had got the trains all wrong and they’d gone two stops the wrong way before turning around and finally alighting at Maihama station, opposite the resort. She’d be able to use that one all day! Her innate cheekiness so liked ammunition. If she pushed it too far, maybe he’d decide to punish her a little. An added frisson to the experience!
Tickets bought, and they began wandering around. Of course, much of it was already familiar. She’d been to Disney World, as she’d pointed out, and he’d been to the one in L.A. so neither of them were novices. But… she loved it! She loved the innocence, the magic, the opportunity to indulge her girly side. Daddy bought her candy floss, a big cup of coca cola and they started at the ‘small world’ attraction – a kind of happy boat ride for small children actually, but like a picture book come to life. It was gentle and innocent and peaceful, and Daddy held her hand all the way.
After that they went into Cinderella’s Fairy-tale Castle… wandering through the corridors and into the Grand Hall. There were ***tings of Cinderella from the time she was treated as a servant, a movie that showed the magical transformation of Cinderella's rags into a lovely gown, and other pretty and familiar things from the movie. It was like exploring a big Wendy house with lots of pretty baubles to see and touch…
“Let’s go outside” said Daddy.
As they moved back into the sunlight, Daddy looked at his map.
“Come on, princess, this way” he said.
“Where are we going?” she asked, as he threaded his way through the crowds.
“It’s nearly time for the Daytime Parade,” he replied, “you wouldn’t want to miss that would you?”
She tugged his hand to slow him down.

“Is that the parade where they have all the floats and the characters on them all waving and stuff?”

“That’s right,” he said, “there’s a night-time one too if we’re here long enough. That’s great – with lots of Disney characters and lights… and all the tunes from the movies as they go past.”

She tugged his hand again, and turning, they halted as the crowd flowed past them, like water around a rock.
“But Daddy,” she said, only slightly petulantly, “I don’t like the characters!

They’re only people dressed up and their faces don’t move or change expression… they’re… creepy.”

Daddy laughed. “Awww baby girl,” he said, “of course they’re only people, but they’re cute. They’re all there to make your day a fun experience…look… the little kids love them! Are you saying they’re ..what… scary?”

She pouted. “I don’t know,” she said, “I just know I don’t like them. They’re like clowns. Clowns are just ‘wrong’…”
He smiled his teasey daddy smile. She loved the way his eyes crinkled when he did that.
“OK, baby girl, no daytime parade. I’ll tell you what, if you want to wait ‘til later, maybe the night time one will be better anyway. The characters stay on the floats, they don’t come up to you or anything, and that’s prettier anyway with lots of lights and dancing! Deal?”

“Deal” she said.

And so that’s what they did. They had a late lunch, after going on Big Thunder Mountain, which hurtled them around a track and made her scream – while Daddy was silent and very slightly tight-lipped! She knew he wasn’t a great fan of fast rides, but it made her all fuzzy knowing he’d been on it for her, though she wasn’t sure who’d held whose hand the tightest!

Lunch was a bit disturbing – they ate in the Crystal Palace Restaurant where, unbeknown to them, a feature was the Disney characters that visited you while you ate! Normally she liked Minnie Mouse, but not when her face was four times the size of her own, and with a fixed expression that no amount of capering could diminish. Daddy was protective and took all Minnie’s attention, but it creeped her out all the same…

They had – finally- watched the night-time parade. It was clearly the most popular event of the day, and the route was packed solid with families and excited children so she felt safe from the furry-clothed suited folk in their fixed-expression headwear... and, to be fair, it was brilliantly done. Music came and went as each float went past; the smell of flowers and fried food was in the air; the lights were beautiful, and the waves of childlike abandon were a palpable delight.
Later on the way home, in a taxi, not a train, she’d dozed on Daddy’s shoulder and dreamt vaguely of playgrounds and singing…

She was dreaming… of sex. It was vivid, so powerful, like her senses were a hundred times more attuned than normal. These weren’t the vague kind of interpretive diluted sensations. This was almost real… she could feel fingers inside her, exploring her, touching her most intimate sensitive spots … teasing and thrusting…then withdrawing to find her clit, rubbing – but not insistent enough, always making her do the work, demanding her need and response… letting her know that she wasn’t in control, only the recipient of what was hers to receive…

The dream continued… she was nowhere in particular, being finger-fucked by no-one specific, waves of vivid sensations her only focus… she could picture her own cunt, in strange lust-filled images...wet…throbbing… responding only to the teasing thrusts of the invisible fingers, like a greedy mouth, open and wanting… needing and dripping as the dream went on and on …
Consciousness came slowly until, like a speeding train emerging from a dark tunnel, she found herself awake, and gasping, no longer dreaming, no longer vague, she found that she was on her front, head buried in the pillows as Daddy – for who else could it be – pushed his fingers in and out of her soaking cunt, sometimes changing his grip so that she felt his thumb inside her while his nails gripped her slippery lips and his fingers rubbed her clit at the same time…

She felt used, and ***, and totally out of control, as Daddy teased and probed, sometimes gentle so she needed to thrust on his fingers; at other times brutal in his pounding of her wet lips and clit; she could feel his knuckles bruising her as he gave vent to his own want, mixing pleasure and ***… she writhed and bucked, her fists knotting the sheets, until finally, through lips dry, and eyes closed but squeezing tears in the air-conditioned room, she gasped:
“Please, please fuck me daddy!”

Silence.

“Please… Daddy… I need you to fuck me!”

Strong hands turned her on her back, the momentary pause in fucking making her moan with need. She felt his hands grip her tiny wrists, forcing them back, above her head, and the familiar wave of submission ran through her body, making her weak and open, wanting to be used…
He pushed open her legs, exposing her smooth shaven cunt, and she felt a cool breeze as the air fanned her wetness, a momentary chill in the heat of her want. It barely lasted though, as he pushed himself roughly inside her, filling her with his cock, and moving slowly so as to increase her neediness…
She could picture him above her, his shoulders in her peripheral vision as his hands pinned her down, his dark hair matted as he pounded her cunt, a light sheen of sweat on his brow, and she felt tiny, a mere slip of a girl, powerless and willing to be so- for him, to be taken as he wished, to be used as he wanted to use her… his doll.

This was the intenseness she craved sometimes. Not to be caned or cropped or spanked, but to simply be used, to be his, to give herself to her Daddy, the combination of little and sensual and ***, and love and…
She opened her eyes.

Later, when she awoke, alone, in daylight, it took her a while to remember. Was it possible to have a sex fuelled nightmare? Was there such a thing? Pleasure and a kind of horror all at the same time? In her waking fantasies she’d had plenty of practice at the scenario….men in black masks, a man in army gear, fireman, interrogator, queues of lust-filled Romeos waiting to take their turn, the humiliating masturbating hotness of being used in a club, in public, as her naked flaws were laid bare to a gawking audience and her cunt responded nonetheless - but this was different. Those fantasies were hers. Those, she owned.

Opening her eyes, she’d barely registered the implausible. Shiny cheap flesh-coloured plastic. Gaping eyeholes, pitch black in the night’s glow, looked emptily and pitilessly at her as his cock pounded her cunt. Flashes of detail, not quite making sense… the cheap tufts of garish orange hair at the top, unmoving as he moved, stuck in position, fake. No sweat on his forehead, as his forehead was ***ted, an overcompensated pink, with furrowed brow on a thin, imitation, poorly-finished mask. The images, pieced together in her just-awake state, gradually coerced into a realisation, chiming almost exactly with the last detail she noticed - two rosy red cheeks, perfect blobs of pink circles, as though a blush had been applied by a blind man interpreting their description… a clown.

Her cunt felt bruised. The sheets were still damp from where she’d been fucked by a staring, unreadable, unmoving face. It hadn’t been hot… had it? She remembered, like an aftertaste, the unreasoned terror that had washed through her. Her *** was unreasonable, even laughable to some, but it was *** nonetheless, being fucked and *** - in the grip of those exaggerated features, whose alien stillness made the face unreadable. Perhaps some deeper knowing had held her together. Perhaps the fact that she just couldn’t escape was why, as the disinterested glaring clown fucked her, her terror hadn’t stopped her cunt from getting wetter, until she came in a deep gushing mess… Fuck the thin walls.

Getting up, naked, she made her way to the bathroom. Opening the door, she gasped and felt sick. The… ‘thing’ was hanging over the mirror, it’s empty eye sockets gazing morosely down at the sink from where the thin cord held it above the mirror.
She turned and exited, moving into the narrow gap between bathroom and hotel wall, and saw the hotel embossed envelope that had been slipped under the door. Bending down, feeling suddenly the scratches down her back where ‘it’s’ nails had raked her, she slit the top and withdrew the paper.
‘Morning princess,
Left early to get the metro – didn’t want to wake you. Have had a word with Michiya and guess what – he’s taking you to Disneyland! I’ve had a special word and he’s under strict instructions to get you a good place at the front – for both parades.
I’ll see you later.
D.’
This was too much! With a sudden sense-of-humour deficit, she turned to go shower and start the day proper. Again she was confronted by her clown, listlessly hanging, covering the mirror. Those empty eyes gazing hollowly at the sink…
Or were they looking just a little bit higher than before…?