Daddy’s Second Chance Little by Scott Wylder

CHAPTER SIX

 

 

 

 

 

 

Michael

 

“So how did you get into ceramics?” I ask. Josie is propped up on her elbow next to me. We’re lying in bed, recovering from possibly the most intense bout of sex we’ve had yet. The delayed gratification of being forced to watch her naked in those stockings combined with the elation we both felt at Josie’s finally sharing her lifelong passion made the sex intensely satisfying for both of us.

With her no longer feeling anxious and neither of us feeling any immediate need to slake our lust, I am eager to discuss some rules that will help Josie overcome her fear of rejection and get started becoming the artist I know she can be.

She giggles and says, “Well, when I was seven, I sneaked out at night to watch TV in the living room. My parents were asleep and I turned the TV on. It happened to be a documentary about pottery. I remember how fascinated I was that the guy on TV could take a lump of mud and make something beautiful out of it. He made a beautiful vase and glazed it in an amazing floral pattern. I thought it was just so wonderful, I decided that’s what I wanted to do.”

“Why didn’t you ever tell anyone?”

She shrugs. “Well, my friend, Lena, knows but that’s it. She caught me one day and forced it out of me. She tried to talk me into selling it, but I never did.”

“You’d like to sell your pottery?” I ask.

She nods and a little of the nervousness is back in her expression.

“I don’t know anything about the market for pottery,” I say. “It seems to me some of your items are too good for the average person. They’re high quality, like things you might get in a high end gift shop.”

“Thank you, Daddy,” she says. She looks so damned adorable with the praise I just want to stare at her forever!

I force myself to continue. “But, some of your items are more artistic, I think, like things you might see in an art gallery.”

She looks at me and she seems stunned. She swallows hard and says, “Do you . . . No. They aren’t that good.”

I look at her and raise an eyebrow. “We’ve already established that you think you’re not good enough, Little Girl. That means you can’t trust your opinion on the quality of your work.” She just stares at me and I ask, “Do you understand?”

She doesn’t respond right away and I ask the same question, very sternly.

She gasps and says, “Yes, Daddy. I understand.”

I scoot back, to lean against the headboard of the bed and then I lift her up and put her atop me so she’s straddling me. Her eyes grow wide and she kisses me. I end the kiss after a moment and make it clear we’re not starting another delicious round of lovemaking. I cup her cheek in my hand and I say, “You know how to create an inventory, don’t you?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

“All right, pumpkin,” I say. “I want you to create an inventory of everything you’re working on. Then, we’re going to make a schedule for you to complete the ones you haven’t finished yet.”

“Okay, Daddy,” she says.

“How much time can you dedicate to your pottery work, without hurting your business?”

She considers this question and she’s almost trembling as she says, “My business is almost on autopilot. I can probably do twenty-five hours a week on pottery, except for right around Mother’s Day or Valentine’s Day.”

“All right, Little Girl,” I say. “Then your first step is to do that inventory. I want to know everything you have ready to go and everything in progress. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Daddy,” she looks giddy.

I say, “Once we have that completed, we can decide the next steps.” She nods and I say, “We use words when we answer, Little Girl.”

She takes a breath and says, “Yes, Daddy!” She smiles and says, “When should I start?”

“Right now.”

“Really?”

“Right now, Little Girl.”

She pauses and then nods. “Okay, Daddy.” She climbs off me and reaches for a shirt.

“Nope. I’m gonna watch you, and I’ll be damned if you’re gonna be all covered up,” I say with a smile. She blushes and lets out a little giggle. “Let’s go get to work,” I say. “Actually, lets go and you get to work and I’ll watch that perfect little body of yours working.”

That first afternoon is remarkable. I watch her go about the work in her studio, naked. She’s giggly and silly the whole time. It takes almost a week just to get a good handle on things. She works on it every day and whenever I arrive, I make her strip and do the work, naked. That makes her giggle and laugh all over again. Over the next several weeks, she completes the inventory and then she works on the nearly completed pieces, as well.

I don’t think I have ever seen anyone sexier than my little girl working on her ceramics, wearing nothing but a smock. Of course, most of the work she does, she does in normal clothes. It’s only when I arrive that she dutifully strips and gets to work in the buff. There’s no real reason for it other than its fun and it distracts her from worrying about her abilities or her chances of success. After two and a half months, she has a good inventory finished.

It’s time for her to launch.

After some research, she suggests that putting the articles on her gift site might be the best first step. I know, at least in part, she thinks that because if it fails she will be the only person seeing her items don’t sell. I wrestle with that as I don’t want her to hedge herself against failure. On the other hand, it is the fastest path to being live.

So, I tell her I think it’s a good idea, but I also want her to look at other avenues as well, for a second phase, especially for the more artistic pieces. We come up with a list of galleries for her to contact and some online fine art sites. Everything is going wonderfully, and I feel very proud of her and proud of myself. I don’t know if it would be fair to say I’m a good Daddy, at least not yet. But, I am definitely doing the right things.

I feel thrilled when everything is done and ready, and I am determined for her to feel as self-confident as I am in her.

Everything is set. Everything is good to go.

Nothing happens. All of the preparation went perfectly, and her inventory has grown and keeps growing. She needs to get started on the part that scares her. However, she afraid to do that.

I arrive at her house after a shift. It’s close to midnight and after she hugs me, I tell her to strip. She does so quickly and happily. She thinks we’re about to sleep together.

God, I want to! Instead, when she’s naked, I walk her to the studio and I say, “Now, I want you to list your items on your gift site.”

“Right now?” she asks. I can see the fear in her eyes.

“Right now, Little Girl,” I reply.

She’s as nervous as hell, but then she smiles and comes closer, pressing herself against me. “But, Daddy,” she whines. “I need you so much! I’ve been so horny thinking about you.”

God, I want to sleep with her! Instead, I turn her around, give her a hard swat on her ass, and say, “Get those items online, Little Girl. Right now!”

She gasps, not from the spank, but from the no-nonsense tone of my voice. She knows arguing will be useless. She stands there and I land another swat.

She yelps and says, “Yes, Daddy!” and then hurries to her desk and opens her laptop.

I watch as she nervously takes pictures, uploads them, and sets up the listings. She works until about four, when I carry her to bed. When she wakes at ten, I take her back to her studio to finish the listings.