The Daddy P.I. Casefiles: The First Collection

by Frost, E J

  She grins.

  Harry comes to sit next to me on the loungers while I’m getting Emily in a comfortable position for her spankings. Another of our club brothers, Franco, has taken Harry’s place in front of Pence and is grunting through a fast and forceful face-fucking. Pence is going to have an extremely sore throat tomorrow.

  I cradle Emily in my right arm, with her back propped against the arm of the lounger, and play with her sweet, little nipples, while Harry gets comfortable, stretching his legs out in front of him and crossing his ankles.

  “I think the boy needs a break,” he says quietly.

  “Agreed.”

  “Want me to tack a half-hour on to the end?”

  “No, I think he’ll have gotten the message by then.”

  Harry snorts. “Loud n’ clear, I’d say.” He glances at Emily, who is cuddled up against me, her binkie around her waist, wriggling at each twist and pinch and looking up at me adoringly. “Still, the more I think about what he did, the more it pisses me off. If one of the house subs had done that to him, I’d be tearing them several new holes, and he’s not even mine.”

  I give Emily a more-playful-than-painful slap across the side of her breast, and enjoy her little gasp, the wobble of her breast, and the pink that flushes her pale skin. I lean in, rub her nose with mine, and smile into her eyes before I slap her harder. Her squeak makes my cock twitch even though I just came.

  “I’m not at all happy with him,” I say to Harry, continuing to smile down at Emily as I change my angle and swat the soft underside of her breast. “If you think there’s more I should be doing, I’m open to suggestions.”

  Harry clears his throat. “The house subs—”

  I shoot him a side-eye. This is becoming a familiar refrain.

  “Ryan’s Master of Training,” I say, tipping my hand to catch Emily’s nipple with each slap, drawing more of those delicious gasps out of her.

  Harry grunts. “And you have your hands full.”

  “Yes, I do.” I give Emily another Eskimo kiss before I change my angle again, sweeping down with every slap so I scrape her reddened nipple with the ridges of my fingers. Emily squeaks breathily.

  Franco finishes on Pence’s face with a hoarse groan and I give Harry the nod.

  “We’re going to give the boy a half-hour break,” Harry announces. There’s one final, deep pop from Nico’s single-tail, then Pence is surrounded by Doms, rubbing him down, checking his restraints.

  Pleased he’s being looked after, I flip back Emily’s binkie so I can slap her between her legs. Her squeal is loud over the murmurs of the Doms. Her shudder is delectable.

  “I’m concerned,” Harry says quietly, his attention on me and Emily. “This scene might be giving him what he’s looking for, even if it’s not the way he wants it.”

  I nod while rhythmically slapping Emily’s wet cunt. “Too much attention.”

  That’s always the problem with punishing a submissive who is acting out for attention with anything other than isolation.

  The little girl in my arms is doing anything but acting out for attention. She’s shivering, writhing, but biting down on her lip to keep silent, so she doesn’t disturb the conversation. My little angel. I give her the reward she deserves, thrusting my fingers into her channel and flicking them up against the spot guaranteed to drive her insane. When she trembles on the edge for a long moment, I work my thumb over the swollen button of her clit. She bites back a scream before arching against my arm.

  Harry grunts, low and pleased. He and I have talked before about the pleasure of seeing a submissive orgasm at their Dom’s hand, no matter who the Dom is, or the submissive.

  I nuzzle Emily’s throat as she comes down from the heights I’ve pushed her to. As her body relaxes and her head comes back up, I catch her mouth in a deep kiss.

  Once I release her lips, she lies in the curve of my arm, her head lolling and her eyelids fluttering as she fights off a post-orgasmic doze. I kiss her soft throat and enjoy the slowing beat of her pulse against my lips.

  “Rest for a minute, baby doll,” I whisper to her, rubbing my wet fingers over her lips. Her little, pink tongue flicks out, catching our mingled flavors. She sighs happily as she snuggles back against my arm.

  I pull her binkie back up over her to keep her warm and give Harry my attention. “Javier’s already sentenced him to that cage until Sunday. That’s not exactly good attention.”

  Harry chews on the fuzz of graying beard below his lip. “No. And he does love his orgasms.”

  “Couple of days in a cock cage and orgasm restriction, on top of tonight’s scene, seems like enough to me,” I say.

  “Does it?” Harry asks. “If Emily resists coming here in the future, will you feel the same way?”

  I kiss my dozing baby doll’s forehead and smile when she cuddles closer.

  “She won’t. Emmy’s not like that.”

  She won’t because I’ve told her several times how much I’ve enjoyed returning to my club now that I have her to play with. Her desire to please me might mask any damage Pence’s actions have caused. That’s something I’ll have to watch for, but that’s between me and Emily.

  “You’ve got a good girl there,” Harry says.

  “I know.”

  We’re both silent a moment while we watch Pence. He’s beginning to recover. Color’s back in his cheeks and he’s no longer hanging limp in the pillory. He makes eye contact with Dana as she wipes off his face.

  “He should be fine for round two,” I say to Harry.

  “He’ll be fine for round two, three, four, and five. He’s tougher than his skinny ass looks.” Harry grunts. “I’m not satisfied, though. I might have a word with Karl. See what else we can come up with.”

  I chuckle. “Do your worst. I almost feel sorry for the shithead.” Emily stirs at my chuckle and I lean in to rub noses with her. “What about you, baby doll? You ready for round two?”

  She blinks up at me groggily. “But, Daddy, we’re already on round four.”

  I tug her binkie down and pinch one soft nipple. “Oh, no, little girl. Your night’s just getting started.”

  She squeaks, and wriggles, and grins.

  Chapter Nine

  Emily

  My daddy is awesome. And fucking scary.

  I never, ever want to be on the receiving end of Logan’s brand of pissed-off sadism. Six hours of punishment. Good Lord above. The longest punishment I’ve ever received was overnight. Lew put me in uncomfortable bondage and made me sleep in it after I’d snapped at him over something stupid. Not that I got much sleep, because uncomfortable became agonizing as the hours ticked by. But I was resting and Lew left me alone. Pence was bound and collared and beaten and fucked, for six hours.

  The whole fire and ice theme was kind of brilliant, especially since I think Logan came up with it on the spur of the moment. I don’t need to overhear him talking to Master Niall to know that the ice was both to make Pence very uncomfortable, and to reduce the swelling and inflammation while he was used for such a long time. That’s very Daddy: taking care of his bottom even while he’s torturing them.

  Still, I don’t ever want that to be me.

  So, I’m on my very, very best behavior this morning. When Logan’s alarm goes off, instead of rolling over and going back to sleep, I get up with him, brush my teeth, then offer him my mouth, which he takes sleepily before he sends me back to bed for an hour while he has his committee meeting. When he returns, I’m up and showered, but I wait for him to dress me. I brought two different outfits, and he decides on a vintage, cotton sundress with cap sleeves and purple, lace flowers at the hem. It’s something out of a Victorian nursery and makes me feel very little. No bra or undies makes me feel exposed and vulnerable. He puts my ankle socks and white Keds on for me. Daddy’s ticking every single one of my boxes today.

  Over breakfast at the club buffet, I don’t ask any questions about the meeting, even though I’m insanely curious about how the cl
ub is run, or even about Pence’s punishment, which also raised a few questions. Instead, I ask about British football, since the season is starting and I heard Logan talking with Max about it at the party. British football isn’t a game I know anything about, other than knowing it’s a national obsession. Master Javier joins us with a cup of coffee and they both field my questions. Logan’s smile is indulgent; Master Javier’s is condescending.

  Several masters stop by our table as Logan hand-feeds me toast and fruit salad and patiently explains the “offside rule,” which doesn’t make any sense at all. Isn’t the whole point of attacking to get to the goal? I guess it isn’t in British football.

  The other Doms pat Logan on the shoulder, and express their pleasure in having him “back,” which tells me that he volunteered to organize the Monday theme nights. Maybe I’ll get to be a kinky, ninja puppy soon, a thought that has me wiggling happily in my chair.

  I stop wiggling when a woman I don’t recognize walks up to our table. She looks slightly out of place in worn jeans and plain T-shirt, her brown hair scraped back in a tight ponytail. Most of the masters are dressed for work, while a few are still wearing their dungeon leathers. She’s not even wearing shoes, although she has a pretty pedicure. No matter how informally she’s dressed, there’s no question she’s a Domme. It’s in her bearing, and in her large, brown eyes, which hold no vulnerability whatsoever. She’d look younger than me if not for those eyes, which have seen everything the world has to offer, and found it wanting.

  I shrink back from her a little.

  Logan stands up, his body effectively blocking the woman from approaching me. “’Morning, Caddy.”

  “G’morning, Logan. I haven’t met your submissive.”

  Logan turns slightly towards me, but doesn’t move out of the woman’s way. “This is Emily. Emily, this is Mistress Caddy.”

  Since he’s standing, I stand, too, and, since he’s keeping her too far away for a handshake, I curtsey to her.

  She nods. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Emily.”

  That doesn’t sound like a lie. But those hard eyes never soften.

  “May I?” She gestures to our table, which has an empty chair since Master Javier has gone outside for a cigarette. Happily, the empty chair is across the table, because this woman is a little scary and I’m not sure I want to be in touching-distance.

  “Please do,” Logan says. He holds out my chair for me to sit back down, but doesn’t hold the chair for Caddy, and I wonder if there’s a reason why not. I’ve seen him hold chairs for Mistress Maude, so I don’t think it’s a Domme thing.

  As soon as we’re seated, a waitress trots over and sets coffee and a plate of eggs in front of Caddy. There are a couple of staff in the buffet, but they’re mostly clearing tables and refilling trays. I haven’t seen anyone else get table-service, not even Master Javier, who I thought kind of ran the club. It tells me this woman isn’t just scary, she’s scary-important.

  “I wanted a moment outside the meeting, Logan,” Caddy says, after taking a sip of her coffee. “You’ve been away for a while.”

  Daddy nods as he breaks off another piece of toast and feeds me. “I needed some time off after Christmas.”

  “It’s good to have you back,” she says, although she sounds more perfunctory than the other masters when she says it. “You bring fresh eyes, which is always valuable. Other than the tension with your former submissive and the incident last night, have there been any other problems with having Emily here as a little?”

  I want to shrivel up in my chair. Am I a problem? I glance at Logan anxiously. There’s a muscle ticking in his jaw, but his eyes are warm as he offers me a sip of iced water.

  “Nothing specific,” Logan says. “Are you concerned about Emily’s littleness?”

  “Concerned?” She arches an eyebrow. “I found what you said about Blunts being a safe place where our members can indulge any kink compelling. That’s an inclusivity we haven’t always had.”

  Logan shrugs. “I don’t have the history with the club that you do, but I’m not aware that we’ve excluded certain forms of kink.”

  “Excluded isn’t quite the right term,” Caddy says. “Channeled is more accurate. More extreme philias have been channeled into more mainstream ones. And, of course, pedophilia has never been tolerated.”

  Logan’s eyes narrow. “Caregiver relationships are not a form of pedophilia.”

  “No more than school-age role play,” Caddy says. She seems to be agreeing with Logan, but something in her tone says she isn’t. “What were you thinking of in terms of the Monday theme nights?”

  “A month of the various forms of pet play, followed by a month of body fetishes, followed by a month of sensation play. I’ll see what people are enjoying after that.”

  Caddy eats her eggs and a slightly strained silence stretches. “But no age play?”

  “I haven’t considered it yet,” Logan says.

  Because I’m the only little at the club? Or because the other Doms aren’t really okay with age play? I shrink further and further into my chair and wish I could disappear.

  “Maybe you should,” Caddy responds.

  Logan rubs his hand over his bristly chin. I can tell he’s thinking, but I’m not sure what he’s thinking.

  “Okay. I’ll add an age play night to the calendar when I send it to the committee for approval.”

  “And an estimate for converting one of the playrooms into a nursery,” Caddy says.

  “That’s jumping in with both feet. Don’t you think we should see if there’s any interest in the age play night first?”

  “William Blunt created the club as a haven for his kink. People came.” Caddy takes the last few bites of her eggs. “If you create a nursery as a safe space for age play, people will use it.”

  Daddy looks at me. His eyes are still warm, but there’s a question in them that I can’t read. Still not sure what’s going on but wanting to support him in any way I can, I offer him a shy smile of encouragement.

  “I’ll put together a list of equipment and get an estimate for redecorating,” Logan says.

  “Good.” Caddy sets her silverware down on her empty plate, rises, and nods at each of us. “Emily, nice to meet you.”

  She walks away, silent on her bare feet.

  Daddy watches her go, then pats his thigh without looking at me.

  I slide out of my chair and into his lap. He wraps one arm around me and drops his head to speak right in my ear.

  “That was bloody odd,” he murmurs to me.

  “Super-duper odd, Daddy.”

  “Pretty sure that’s the first one-on-one conversation I’ve ever had with Caddy.”

  “At first, I thought she was criticizing my littleness, but then I felt like she was being supportive. Did I misunderstand?”

  “Nope. Seemed that way to me, too.”

  “Quite strange also, Daddy.”

  He chuckles at my quote from a movie we watched together last week, The Core, which made us both laugh. The whole movie was silly, with some really dubious science, but it had Aaron Eckhart in it, and he’s a total daddy.

  “I’m delegating the equipment list for the nursery to you, by the way.”

  I bounce on his lap. “I can do that.”

  “I know you can. Daddy has one request. An adult-sized cradle. I want to try rocking you.”

  I’d like to try that, too. Maybe with my Sea-Bands on, because I can see the motion making me queasy. Babies don’t get queasy when they’re rocked, do they?

  “Should I include things like stuffies? How much should I make it like a real nursery?”

  “Definitely stuffies. Include everything you’d like in a nursery, as well as some things for middle-space, like puzzles and games. Twister could be fun. Caddy wants us to be inclusive. Let’s be inclusive.”

  “Okay, Daddy. Are the other masters unhappy because I’m a little?”

  Logan grunts, soft and low. “I don’t know and I don�
�t care. The first person who tries to kink-shame us gets my boot up their ass. I don’t say a word about the bloody gang bangs Ten and Cris and Franco stage even though they turn my stomach. That’s their kink and I respect it. Anyone who doesn’t give us the same respect, I will fucking crucify.”

  He kind of did that already. I’m pretty sure Pence is feeling fairly well crucified this morning. If he can even walk.

  “Crucifixion,” Master Javier says, sitting down in the chair Mistress Caddy vacated and pushing her empty plate to one side. The smell of the cigarette smoke clings to his linen suit. Wow, contact high. “Now, that sounds like fun. What did I miss?”

  Logan grunts and shifts me on his lap so he can face Master Javier but keeps his arm tightly around me. “Caddy’s asked me to include an age play night in the calendar. And to come up with an estimate for creating a nursery.”

  Javier raises a dark eyebrow. “Did she? Well, well, well. Sounds like our Catriona’s finally moving past the past.”

  “History I don’t know about?” Logan asks.

  “You won’t remember him, but Catriona’s uncle was chairman before Chess. Over fifteen years ago. His name was David. Ring any bells?”

  Logan shakes his head. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard of him.”

  “That’s because Catriona excised every trace of him.” Master Javier’s face shifts from its usual sardonic set to solemn. “You won’t find a record or mention anywhere in the club. About ten years ago, he was convicted of rape and child molestation. During the trial, it came out that a number of his family members were victims.”

  “Including his niece?” Logan asks.

  “Including his niece,” Master Javier confirms.

  I shiver. No wonder her eyes are like that. Poor Mistress Caddy.

  “I’ll repeat what I said to her. Caregiver relationships are not pedophilia. I’m not Emily’s daddy because I secretly want to molest children; no more than any of us would actually rape someone just because we like to role-play rape scenes or fuck a horse just because we like pony play. I resent the implication.”