The Daddy P.I. Casefiles: The First Collection

by Frost, E J

  “I like Master Niall, too.” And I owe him more than I could ever repay for taking such good care of me when Daddy was injured. “I’m really looking forward to seeing him and Vashi and Shaan again.”

  They’re planning to come out to New York in September for the big festival at Daddy’s club, and I can’t wait to see them.

  Daddy’s face tightens. “Yeah, me, too. We’ll make that work somehow.”

  What does he mean? Is there some reason their visit wouldn’t work? The thought that made me cry into the tomatoes hits again. What if Daddy plans to sell this house before September? I can’t let that happen.

  He taps the tip of my nose. “None of that, little girl. I see that worried face. Stop it right now. Since you won’t let Daddy in the kitchen today, you’re on KP-duty and then I believe we have a movie to watch before Knee Time.”

  Maman used to tell me to “fix my face” whenever I was worried or upset, because ladies are supposed to smile, always. I stopped buying into her misogynistic bullshit a decade ago, but, now, I fix my face. I have a way to solve Daddy’s money worries and, once I figure out how to convince him to accept my money without topping from below, everything will be okay. I focus on that, and the fun of watching a movie together, even if it is one of Daddy’s crazy action movies, and smile as I rise to collect the dinner dishes.

  * * *

  The best part about watching movies with Logan? It’s not his selection, although tonight he’s picked The Fifth Element because he knows how much I adore Daddy Bruce.

  It’s not laughing through the silly, stupid, or cringey parts. It’s not even thinking how much hotter my daddy is than any Hollywood star, even the well-muscled goodness currently running around the screen in a Gaultier tank top.

  The best part is snuggling together on the big leather sofa, watching the movie, and feeling part of us.

  Once the movie’s over, with me sniffling through Corbin’s final declaration of love to LeeLoo, Daddy sends me upstairs to our bedroom while he locks up the house. I move the ladder back chair Daddy likes to sit in for Knee Time to a clear space on the rug between the bed and dresser. Then I take off my clothes and kneel by the chair. Before Daddy comes in, I have five minutes to think about what I want to say and get in the right headspace. Logan can ask me anything during Knee Time, and he does. Tough questions. Questions I struggle to answer. And I have to answer every question fully, with complete honesty. That sounds easy and when we included it in our contract, I didn’t anticipate it would be one of the hardest parts of my submission.

  But it is.

  Knee Time has made me realize I’ve never been totally honest in any of my previous relationships, including my doomed marriage. Some of my lies were little fibs. Some were whopping untruths, like pretending to enjoy sex with Ash. But all of them tarnished the relationship. Daddy told me once that my heart is pure platinum. I’ve given him my heart; I don’t want to give him something tarnished.

  Remembering that, and taking a lot of deep breaths, helps me get ready to bare my soul to my Dom.

  When Daddy comes in, he goes first to the dresser and puts his phone in the speaker dock. There’s a soft, electronic tingle, followed by men’s chanting voices: Enigma, which is Daddy’s favorite soundtrack for Knee Time. That tells me we’re going to be talking about something important. An anxious shiver runs through me. But his music selection also tells me that if I can stick with it, and give Daddy the honesty he asks of me, then I’ll get a good-girl spanking by the time we get to “Back to the Rivers of Belief.”

  That thought makes me smile down at the carpet.

  Logan turns on the room air conditioner before he strips down and pulls on a pair of black pajama pants that are his Dom-at-home uniform. Definitely a good-girl spanking. Maybe even a good-girl belting. That thought gives me a different kind of shiver, which doesn’t have anything to do with the cool air swirling through the room.

  Seeing him walk towards me and sit in the chair, spreading his knees so I can kneel between them, puts me right where I need to be. I scoot forward until I’m between his legs and can rest my head on his thigh. I take a deep breath, breathing in his warm, spicy, daddy scent, letting it fill my lungs, then let it out slowly, sinking into the space where I can tell my daddy anything, without fear.

  Logan’s warm hand settles on the top of my head. He strokes my hair with his fingertips.

  “Good thing first, little girl.”

  “The branding, Daddy. I’m so excited about it, and so happy that you think we’ve built enough trust that you’d consider doing it now rather than waiting until next month.”

  “Good, sweetie. And the thing that’s worrying you?”

  I’m still not quite sure how to say it, but I take a stab. “The company that’s been sending you letters and calling you, EverCollect?” I feel his thigh muscle bunch under my cheek, but part of Knee Time is that we don’t interrupt each other, so I push on. “I’m a little worried about them. Are your medical bills a lot of money?”

  “Yes, little girl,” he says. “My turn.”

  Damn. That didn’t go the way I wanted at all. He didn’t tell me anything I hadn’t already guessed, and he slammed the door on the topic without any discussion.

  “My good thing is the party this weekend. I’m looking forward to spending time with everyone and then doing a scene to show Max what topping’s all about. I was thinking I’d break out the violet wand and we’d have some fun with electricity. Does that sound good, little girl?”

  I nod against his leg but am careful not to interrupt him.

  “The thing I’m worried about.” He lets out a slow breath. Is he going to tell me about his medical bills? About selling this house? “I’m not sure how to bring this up with you, sweetie.”

  Oh, please, please, Daddy, tell me about the medical bills.

  “Lucy’s asked me to top her. Outside of the club. That’s what her call was about before dinner.”

  What?

  I don’t interrupt, but he must feel me tense. He strokes his hand down over my hair, across my shoulders and along my spine. “I know our contract allows for it, Emmy. I know you trust me, and you know that I’d never do anything to undermine that trust. I just don’t know if this is a door I want to open.”

  I’m not sure if it’s a door I want him to open, either. In fact, I’m pretty sure it’s a door I don’t want him to open. Our contract does allow for him to top other people, so long as he doesn’t have sex with them, but I figured it would be part of scenes with me. Not him topping another subbie one-on-one.

  “I want to help Lucy,” he continues. “She’s not getting what she needs at Blunts. I have a pretty good idea of why, and I think I can help her. But I don’t like taking time away from you. And I don’t want to do anything that might make you throw a wobbler.” He’s silent for a moment, stroking my back. “I’m not going to break Knee Time by asking you how you feel about it yet. I want you to think about it tonight and we’ll talk about it tomorrow. But it’s on my mind, baby doll. I want to do it, but I’m unsettled about it.”

  I’m unsettled about it, too. Even more so when the music changes to the “Principles of Lust.” If that’s not the universe talking to me, I don’t know what is.

  I’m glad he doesn’t want to talk about it yet—my wise Daddy—because I need to think it through. I’m not sure what I’ll say. Or how to feel. Lucy’s Daddy’s friend, and of all the Blunt’s house subs, I feel closest to her. Unlike Rachel and her coven, Lucy’s never made me feel anything but welcome. And I know that Daddy’s topped all the house subs before we met, and had sex with them, too. Until this moment, that didn’t bother me.

  Now, I’m not so sure.

  “Okay, little girl. We’ve told each other what’s on our minds and we’ll talk more about those things tomorrow. For the rest of our Knee Time, I want to talk about your mother.”

  I nod hesitantly, not sure where he’s going with this.

  “You told me you we
re too irresponsible to have a kitty. Who told you that, Emmy?”

  Oh, now I see.

  “Maman, but you have to understand. I was really clumsy and careless when I was younger. I broke things. Nice things.” I hunch my shoulders, curling against his leg, remembering when I broke Maman’s priceless china ballerina. I’m not sure she ever actually forgave me for that. “And I forgot things. I’d get my head in a book and I’d forget about dinner. Babysitting. Everything. Maman had to remind me all the time.”

  “Uh-huh. When was the last time you dropped a plate or broke a glass, little love?”

  I try to think of the last time. “I’m not sure.”

  “Has it been a while? Years?”

  I nod against his leg. “I think so. I can’t remember breaking anything recently.”

  “That’s because you’re not clumsy or careless anymore, sweetheart. You’re graceful. I’ve never seen you break anything, and you’re wonderful about keeping to my schedule. You make me proud every day.” He takes a deep breath. “I want you to let go of the negative things your mother said about you. I want you to see yourself the way I see you. Beautiful. Graceful.” He lowers his voice and says in a tone that brushes along my nerves like fur. “Desirable. I have an idea about how to help you see yourself that way, but it bumps up against one of your hard limits.”

  My hard limits? How would breaking one of my hard limits help me see myself the way Logan sees me? I know Maman said and did things that have dented my self-confidence, and Daddy’s worked to get me to see myself differently, not to be so self-critical, but I really don’t get where my hard limits figure in.

  Logan’s quiet for a minute, stroking my hair, letting me think. Then reaches over to the dresser and grabs his phone. Is he going to call someone? Lucy? I hope not. I’m totally not ready to do anything but yell at her. How dare she approach my daddy to be her top?

  As Daddy fiddles with his phone, I blow out a long breath and concentrate on relaxing my shoulders the way he’s taught me. Lucy’s really nice, and until this moment, I would have called her my best friend at Blunts. I’m sure she had a good reason for asking Daddy to top her. Maybe if I can focus on that, I’ll stop feeling like I want to grab her by the throat and shake her.

  Daddy holds his phone down by his thigh so I can see the picture on the screen. It’s beautiful. And so hot. It’s a nude woman in rope bondage. She’s upside-down, with one leg straight above her, the other bent out to her side, bound thigh to calf. Her arms are pulled behind her back, pushing her full breasts out. Her eyes are closed, and she looks totally at peace. The image is black and white; the only color is the bright red rope circling her body. Every undulation of her skin, every indentation of the rope, is exquisitely shaded in soft gray. Her skin looks like marble. Only the drape of her dark hair, sweeping the floor, and her softly parted lips, render her real: a living work of art.

  “That’s gorgeous, Daddy.”

  “That’s Tania, Ry’s wife. Austin took the picture as a wedding present for them a couple of years ago. Ten did the rope work.”

  I peer at the intricate knots, perfectly placed from the base of her throat, down her torso, with the last one resting on her clit. The leg pointing at the ceiling is completely encased in knots, like she’s wearing stockings of red rope.

  “Wow.” I don’t know what else to say. It’s beautiful and erotic. Tania and Ry must adore this image. What a perfect wedding present.

  “I know pictures of you in submissive or sexual positions are one of your hard limits, baby girl, but what would you say to letting Ten rig you and Austin take some pictures like this? You can keep your underwear on. We could have one or two framed prints here in the bedroom and the best pictures on our cloud server. We can put them in an encrypted folder that only you have the password to, so I wouldn’t have access—”

  “Oh!” I never meant for my hard limit to make Logan think I didn’t trust him with sexy or submissive pictures of me. It’s a hard limit because Gavin, DThree, tried to convince me to do a spanking scene with him that he was going to film on his phone. He swore it would just be for him to jack off to when we weren’t together. I only refused because the idea made me insanely self-conscious. But after we broke up, I noticed stills and clips that he’d posted on Pornhub, and from the comments, it seemed like he didn’t have permission from the girls in them. So, I added it to my hard limits. But Daddy wouldn’t ever do anything like that. “No, Daddy, I didn’t mean it for something like this. This is art. It’s beautiful, not skeevy. I’d love to do this, if you think Master Ten and Austin wouldn’t mind?”

  Daddy smiles. “They definitely wouldn’t mind. Once the pictures are taken, I’ll add looking at them for five minutes a day to your schedule. I want you to get used to seeing yourself the way I do.”

  I look again at the gorgeous image. “You really see me like this?”

  He bends all the way over so he can kiss the top of my head, even though I know from his grimace when he straightens that it hurts his back. “I really do, little love.”

  I sniffle at the idea that he sees anything half that beautiful when he looks at me.

  Daddy tucks his phone away and we finish Knee Time with five minutes of him stroking my hair. I close my eyes and drift while he touches me. It isn’t quite subspace. I don’t float. But I feel so at peace at my daddy’s knee, with his big, warm hand moving slowly over my head. There are lots of things I should be worried about, including this new thing with Lucy. But, here in this serene moment, none of them touch me. For right now, there’s nothing but me and Daddy.

  Finally, he clears his throat. I lift my head and his hand falls away.

  “Go to the bathroom,” Daddy says softly. “Do anything you need to do. We’re going to be at least two hours. When you come back, climb up onto the bed and assume the Bara position across my legs.”

  He gives me the hand gesture, holding his hand out by his thigh, turning his palm down and then closing his hand. It’s just reinforcement. I know the positions by heart now.

  “Yes, Daddy.” I sit back and straighten my spine, flexing my thigh and calf muscles, before I rise to my feet. Knee Time is over and we’re not in High Protocol, but I still feel like I want to formally acknowledge his dominance, and how much it means to me. There’s no standing slave position of obeisance, or, if there is, he hasn’t taught it to me. Instead, I slide my left foot behind me and drop into a deep curtsey. “Ta very much for Knee Time, Daddy.”

  When I rise, he smiles, hot and wolfy. “You’re very welcome, little girl.”

  Grinning to myself, I scoot off to the bathroom to empty my bladder, wash my face, brush my teeth and hair, and do my nightly gag-reflex training. He hasn’t told me to get ready for bed, but if we’re going to be two hours, it will be after eleven-thirty before we’re done and Daddy’s very strict about my bedtime.

  Blowing through my bedtime once when I was trying to get something done for my publisher, which didn’t really have to be done that night, won me my second trip to the playpen and twenty-four hours without an orgasm, during which Daddy fucked me five times, just to make his point. Not an experience I want to repeat. Now I’m very, very, very careful to be ready for bed no later than quarter of twelve. Since I’m a total night owl and habitually stay up past three in the morning, or sometimes all night, when I’m not with my Dom, I thought I’d grow resentful of Bedtime. Or, at least, restless with the routine. But it hasn’t been like that at all. I love Bedtime. I fall asleep pretty much as soon as Logan spoons me and I sleep so, so well in his arms, cuddled in his big bed. Daddy sleeps well, too, and Hendry’s told me that our very regular sleeping patterns have contributed to his speedy recovery, which makes me crazy happy.

  Once I’m clean and ready to play, I return to the bedroom. Enigma’s gone off, which would be a sign that I’ve spent too much time in the bathroom, except that now there’s a heavy, insistent beat in the air. I wriggle, recognizing the music. It’s an instrumental version of Depeche
Mode’s “Master and Servant,” but a better name for it would be Daddy’s Spank Track. He’s only played it a couple of times, and always during impact scenes. I’m getting a super-spanking. He really meant it when he said he was happy with me.

  He’s sitting on the bed, his back against the headboard, a line of toys on the pillow next to him. I have to bite the insides of my cheeks to keep from just throwing myself at him. The little pain helps me concentrate on moving gracefully—which I always try to do and how wonderful is it that Daddy noticed?—as I climb onto his high bed, drape myself across his thighs, put my hands behind me in the small of my back, and cross my wrists and ankles. I can’t keep my butt from wriggling a bit, though, and Daddy chuckles.

  “Excited, little girl?”

  “Yes, Daddy.”

  “What are you excited about?”

  “I think I’m about to get a good-girl spanking.”

  And a good-girl strapping. And then I’m really hoping for a good-girl fucking, since Stanley-the-Stainless-Steel-Butt-Plug is on the pillow next to Daddy’s thick leather strap. There’s almost nothing better than a hard fucking from Daddy while I’m wearing Stanley. I don’t see any condoms on the pillow, so he’s not planning on anything going in my bottom except Stanley, which is kind of a relief, since I’m still a little conflicted about anal sex. And best of all, Daddy’s evil, whippy paddle is nowhere to be seen. He’s given me enough sexy paddlings that I know play with Belphegor can be pleasurable—in a really owie way—but I’ll never prefer a paddling to a spanking or a belting.

  Daddy rubs his big, warm hand in circles over my bottom and the backs of my thighs.

  “And why are you getting a good-girl spanking?” He punctuates each word with a tap on my bottom. Not even enough to sting yet but starting to warm me up.