The Daddy P.I. Casefiles: The First Collection

by Frost, E J

  He chuckles. “It’s certainly going to tingle. I promise you that ginger doesn’t cause any lasting harm. You’ll feel the worst of the burn for twenty to thirty minutes. Afterwards you can tell me on a scale of one to ten which was hotter, the toothpaste or the ginger.”

  I nod tremulously, my eyes still glued to the long, sure strokes of the knife as he removes the brown peel, exposing the yellowy meat. The ginger’s hot, fresh scent fills the room.

  “Smell that, baby?”

  “Yes, Daddy.”

  “That smell’s what made me think of this for the second part of your reward. Sleeping with you after we’ve had sex is like sleeping in the world’s best bakery, my gingerbread baby.”

  I smile, even as I wonder what my butt will smell like after I’ve had a stick of ginger up it for forty-five minutes. I’m guessing it won’t smell like baked goods.

  “I can see all sorts of thoughts moving through your eyes, little love. Are any of them what I want you thinking about?”

  What does he want me thinking about? Oh, right, the journey. “No, Daddy.”

  “Why have I put you on speech restriction, Emmy? You know I find what you have to say interesting. I’m depriving myself of that so you can focus on your reward. Can you do that for me?”

  “Yes, Daddy.”

  I breathe out slowly. Concentrating, I shut out the hundreds of distractions swirling around in my brain like a hurricane. I focus on my position, how wonderfully controlled it makes me feel. I take a deep lungful of the ginger-scented air, let the smell fill me, and think of being his gingerbread baby. A warm rush of pleasure and gratitude heats my chest.

  “That’s much better. Your whole body relaxed. More comfortable now?”

  “Yes, Daddy.”

  I am. I was beginning to feel the strain of the position in my knees, hips, and shoulders. As soon as I shut out doubts and distractions, my aches subside. I feel the little pleasures of the position: the stretch in my arms, the slight scratch of the towel against my skin, the cool air around my exposed bottom.

  Daddy sets the piece of ginger he’s carved on the towel next to me. It’s the rough size and shape of Morris, the butt plug he started my training with. I understand now why he wanted a finger of the ginger, so that there’s a thicker part that stays in me, a narrower neck my sphincter will close around, and another wide part that will sit on the outside. The care with which Logan’s planned this sends another flood of warmth from my head to my toes. I want to thank him, but I’m on speech restriction, so I file it away for later.

  I figure he’s going to put the fig in my bottom now, but he doesn’t. He picks up the big hunk of ginger and carves off a much smaller piece. He peels it for a moment before he asks, “Any idea what this is for, baby doll?”

  “No, Daddy.”

  “This is a piece for your clit. Those naughty Victorians realized ginger is an aphrodisiac as well. Perfect for masochistic little girls who like pain with their pleasure and pleasure with their pain.”

  His words make me shiver deliciously, even while the idea of a piece of ginger on my clit makes every muscle clench in trepidation.

  He finishes removing the thin skin, cuts the piece in half, and sets the two slivers next to the much bigger fig.

  “This time, we’ll just put a piece on the hood of your clit. Maybe next time we’ll tuck a piece inside the hood. Really up the sensation. But this is enough for your first time.” He puts the big piece of ginger back in a bowl of water on the nightstand, cleans off the knife with a baby wipe, then cleans his hands. “I’ll be careful not to touch your face until I’ve given my hands a good scrub. Ginger in the eyes or nose is not a burn you want.”

  I nod and smile to show that I understand, and I appreciate him being careful with me.

  He picks up a nitrile glove and pulls it on before holding his fingers to my mouth. “Lick, little girl. Get them nice and wet. I’m going to open your bottom before I put the fig in. Lube keeps the ginger oil from interacting with your tissues, so lube is out, but I don’t want to push the fig into you dry.”

  That’s an incentive. I work up a mouthful of saliva and lick and press as much of it into his gloved fingers as I can. They drip when he slides his fingers out of my mouth. I hope that’s enough.

  He holds my eyes as he reaches around to part my cheeks and rub his wet fingertips around my sphincter. I fall into the heat and power of those dark eyes. As my muscles relax, my body flattens naturally onto the bed, my bottom tipping up. I see approval light his eyes even before his growl fills my ears.

  “That’s my good girl. Now you’re in the right place. Not overthinking it. Just feel, sweet baby.”

  My eyelids are getting so heavy it’s hard to maintain eye contact. I blink and try to keep them open against the thick, delicious, filthy pleasure of his fingers pushing into my forbidden place. Shivers run through me. I wish I could control them, but the only thing keeping me still is the position. Realizing Logan probably put me into it for exactly that reason makes me shiver harder.

  I want to tell him how much I appreciate the way he handles me. How desperately I’ve wanted to be so firmly but lovingly dominated. I haven’t felt this since the very beginning with Lew and I’ve missed it all the way down to my bones. Logan’s even better with the physical dominance than Lew was. I feel myself sinking, sinking, sinking into the well of his control. I could happily drown here, but his care, even as he works his fingers in and out of me before picking up the fig and pressing it in, keeps me floating instead of submerging. I feel like I’m swimming in the Great Salt Lake, but instead of treading water, I’m floating on my back with Logan’s hand gently supporting me. When the tingle begins in my sphincter, it’s just the nip of the salt. Nothing bad or scary. It’s a tingle, then a burn, then the most amazing blossom of heat. In my mind’s eye, it’s a solar flare blooming out into the coldness of space. It’s hot, and it hurts, and it’s wonderful.

  Logan’s thumb slips down, opening my labia. He’s not using the fingers he had in my butt. Oh, Daddy, Daddy. His care makes hot tears slip from my eyes.

  His gaze cages mine as a deep, pleased hum reverberates in his chest. The vibration spreads through me.

  “Cold showers, little girl,” Daddy whispers, his words flowing into the shimmering sensations swirling around and inside me. “Back off a bit.”

  His command tugs me back, and I realize the vibrations spreading through me are the beginning of an orgasm. It’s not the kind of orgasm I’ve had before, in my vagina or my clit. This is happening somewhere between my belly and spine, in a place I didn’t even know I had nerves.

  Thinking about cold water hitting my skin like needles slows the vibrations a little, shifts them so they’re working through my tummy instead of a place in my lower back, over which I have no control. I ride them the way my daddy said to, like I’m on a roller-coaster. The shivery, silvery excitement in my belly lifts, crests, and drops, over and over. This is a ride that never stops, just circles around and around in a loop of sensation.

  Daddy’s hand, cool against my feverish skin, sweeps my hair back from my cheek, drawing me back to him. I realize my eyes are nearly closed. I’m seeing nothing. Thinking nothing. Just feeling. Lost in the sensations my daddy’s flooding me with.

  My mouth makes shapes, but no words escape. Just gasps and whimpers. Daddy turns and stretches out on the bed beside me, still holding my eyes, his hand curling around my nape. Holding me still, grounding and centering me as I shake under the onslaught of heat billowing through my veins. My organs dissolve into an expanding tide of warmth. It’s like having a fever without any sickness. A deluge of heat. Daddy leans in and draws my arm down to my side so he can kiss my forehead. His lips feather across my cheek and trace the shell of my ear. A lick of wet warmth into my ear’s sensitive interior echoes the heat licking and lapping and consuming my soul.

  Daddy’s fingers sift through my hair, trickle down my spine like drops of burning water. He presses his fore
head against mine while he cups my bottom, squeezing with his fingers, tapping the base of the fig with his thumb so waves of glittering, furious heat spread through me.

  The room wavers in and out.

  “Cold showers, Emmy,” Daddy whispers, his lips gliding along my cheek. “You’re doing so well. Ride it, my good girl.”

  I try to nod but all I can manage is a shiver.

  Daddy squeezes my bottom again. Wave after wave after wave rolling and breaking through my sacrum, into that place in my back I never even knew was sensitive. His hand tightens, releases, lifts away from my skin in a burst of cold air, then descends to land across my left cheek, slamming a tsunami of heat up my spine.

  I shriek and hunker forward, throwing my arms over my head. Too much. Too much. Too much. It’s not an orgasm. My nerves short-circuit.

  “Sh-sh-sh.” Daddy’s arms close around me and he draws me against his chest. “Stretch out against me, little girl.”

  Shaking, I push my legs out straight. His jeans brush my stockings as he hooks his leg over mine and gathers me tight against him. His hand rubs up and down my sweaty, shaking back. He grips my stinging cheek and squeezes.

  “Take more for me, sweetheart. Show me how much you can give me.”

  I whine wordlessly, but I nod. I’ll take anything for him.

  His hard, hot hand descends again, slamming into my flesh, another earthquake of sensation rippling out from the epicenter of impact.

  I ride it. Up and down the roller-coaster. My belly shaking against his. Arms locking around his shoulders as I scrabble for any lifeline in the firestorm breaking over me. His hand lifts and descends, again and again, thick, meaty slaps, not hard, not hurtful, just piling sensation on sensation until I’m a huge, tolling bell of pleasure, vibrating helplessly in his arms.

  I have no idea how long the spanking goes on. Decades. I gray-out more than once, only to be pulled back by another slap, another quake. My body clenches and clenches, but my pussy’s empty and I don’t come. I can’t come. I can only keep riding it, feeling what my daddy wants me to feel.

  It takes a long time for me to realize that the spanking’s stopped. Daddy’s just holding me now, sweaty and limp in his arms as he murmurs to me, his lips brushing my forehead. The heat’s fading. Gentle ripples flutter through me instead of towering, crashing waves. I take a deep breath that’s smooth instead of shaky and look up at my daddy.

  He shifts up onto his elbow and smiles down at me. “Back with me, little love?”

  “Yes, Daddy.”

  “That was magic. I think it’s safe to say you like the ginger better than toothpaste. What’s your number? You may elaborate.”

  “Three for the toothpaste, twenty thousand for the ginger, Daddy.”

  He laughs. “Twenty thousand, huh? Since the scale was one to ten, I think that’s pretty good. Let’s take it out now. That wasn’t quite forty minutes, but I’m more than happy with that.”

  It wasn’t even forty minutes? Impossible. It was at least a millennium.

  Daddy keeps one hand on me while he sits up, pulls on a glove, and opens a baggie. He lifts my knee and slides the slivers of ginger out from between my labia and clit hood first. I wasn’t even aware of him putting them in there. Everything just turned to fire.

  The fig in my bottom isn’t nearly as nice coming out. It’s gritty and owie. I whimper but am careful not to protest because Daddy hasn’t told me High Protocol is over.

  “There we go.” Daddy takes off the glove, puts it in the baggie, and seals it. “Give me a kiss to end the scene and then we’ll have a little cuddle before Vashi gets here.”

  I throw my arms around his neck and snuggle in before I give him a very chaste kiss. He was an iron pillar against my belly while he was spanking me. But true to his word, he hasn’t gotten off, and I don’t want to tease him.

  He kisses me back, soft, sweet kisses while he cuddles me. He rolls me so I’m on top of him while he stretches back into the pillows. I wriggle until I’m in a super-comfy position. Daddy runs his hands up and down my back lazily.

  “Best part, little girl?” he asks.

  “All of it,” I say dreamily, remembering the wonderful sensations. “I felt it in a place in my back where I’ve never felt anything before. Right above my butt-bone. That was so cool. And even though there were things I wanted to say to you, I loved-loved-loved the High Protocol. It really helped me focus on what I was feeling. And the figging itself was crazy-good. A ginger volcano in my insides.”

  Logan chuckles, bouncing me on his chest. “A ginger volcano, huh? Well, we’ll definitely have to do that again.”

  “Daddy, why didn’t it hurt? I thought figging was punishment?”

  “The burn can be more painful. I ordered fresh ginger and I’ve kept it in water all day. That lessens the intensity. For more intensity, I can age the ginger in the fridge. We’ll play around with that when we get home.”

  I’m not sure whether I should look forward to it or be terrified. But it’s hard to be terrified of anything when I’m so relaxed and happy, snuggled up with my daddy.

  “I really liked the spanking part, too. If you’d caned me instead of spanking me, maybe it would have tipped over into real pain. Although I really like being caned. And you’re really good at it.”

  Daddy laughs, deep and warm. “Are you trying to tell me you’d like to be figged while I cane you, little girl?”

  Yup, that’s exactly what I’m trying to tell him. My eyes roll back in my head at the thought.

  “Itty-bitty bit.”

  “Well done, sweetheart. You suggested you might like to be figged while caned, without demanding anything, and explained why it might make you anxious, and complimented me, all at the same time. Good girl. For that, there’s definitely a fun, figged caning in your future.”

  I squee. I can’t help it. A fun, figged caning sounds better than Christmas.

  Daddy laughs. “You’re a delight, little girl.”

  “Can I ask what the best part of the scene was for you? Or is that a Dom secret?”

  “I’m not going to have any Dom secrets with you around, big ears.” He pinches my bottom, enough to make me wriggle with a lingering burn as my sphincter twitches. “I loved watching you ride the sensations. You did exactly what I asked, felt exactly what I wanted you feel. That made me feel like Superman.”

  Twinkling lights fill me up and I wiggle even closer, pressing little kisses on his bristly chin and jaw. “Superman’s less of a dork when he says things like that.”

  Daddy chuckles. “Good to know. We’re going to have to get dressed in a minute, beanie. If you and Vashi end up going to the bondage marketplace, text me to let me know you’re going. Keep your phone with you.”

  “Yes, Daddy.”

  “That’s my good girl. I’ll knock on your door at five-thirty for your last edging. Go into it with the same mindset as this scene, and I’ll be so proud of you.”

  “I will, promise.” I kiss him everywhere I can reach. “Thank you for helping me see this differently. I don’t know if I could have stuck with it after this morning without you encouraging me and then I would have missed the most amazing experience. Ta very much.”

  He catches my head in his hands and holds me for a long, sweet kiss. “You’re very welcome, baby doll.”

  When he’s done kissing me, while my head is still spinning, he dresses me in the pretty pink dress. Between the humidity of the coming storm and everything we’ve done today, my hair’s not going to behave for anything less than a shower, so I brush it back into a ponytail. Daddy gives my hair a tug, and me a final kiss, before he goes through into his own cabin, leaving me to wait for Vashi.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Logan

  There are good scenes, and there are great scenes, and then there was that.

  Fuck, my head’s still orbiting somewhere around Jupiter. I’ve topped plenty of times without fucking my bottom. I did it routinely while I was in charge of training
the house subs at my club. But I’ve never connected to my bottom so deeply without sex. Never felt each wave of sensation pass through her body just from looking into her eyes. I’ve never applied the word “exquisite” to a scene before, but that was fucking exquisite. I cannot get enough of my little girl.

  And what I have planned for our last edging scene, flogging her pussy and ass with a rubber flogger coated with peppermint oil, should be even better.

  I stagger through my cabin to the bar, take some water out of the fridge, and chug it down. The cold steadies me. I hate to lose this high, this phenomenal buzz, but I have to focus. On something other than my baby girl and her exquisite submission.

  I wash up, scrubbing every trace of ginger off my hands, before I change and take out my laptop and notebook. I don’t anticipate showing the chief purser any pictures. I doubt he had any contact with the victims, but it’s better to be prepared.

  As I wait for a knock on the door, I think back on my interview with Jason Merullo. I’m certain he’s hiding something, but is it the brick? I told Ed Isaak I was sure, and instinctively, I am, but if I can’t find the brick, how else can I prove it? And what about Rod McCall? Again, it’s only a gut feeling, but I’m sure he knows about the brick, whether or not he supplied it. What’s the link between McCall and Merulla? Is it just coincidence? It doesn’t feel like it. I’ve learned as both a Dom and as an investigator to trust my instincts, but the insurance company isn’t going to be satisfied with what my gut is telling me. They’re going to want proof.

  I need to find the brick.

  The chief purser, Kofi Palmer, knocks as I’m wondering what I’ve missed, what other avenues I could go down. I open the door to a smooth-faced, black man. I hear a hint of a Jamaican accent when we exchange greetings. His smile is brighter than the lightning crashing outside my window.

  He gives me the master key Ed Isaak promised, differentiated by the other key cards I’ve been given by its dull orange color. I tuck it away in my breast pocket while I ask about the delivery and storage of medicines. Palmer echoes what the security guard told me.