by Frost, E J
“Daddy!”
I freeze, thinking I’ve hurt her. I track her eyes to the screen of my laptop and watch the door to Cabin D-21 close behind a red-haired woman.
“Back it up, baby. Let’s see that again.”
She pouts, but doesn’t protest, my good girl, and taps my laptop so the footage reverses. In rewind, we watch the redhead walk backwards out of the door, a tall, black-haired man following her in a strange reverse procession. They pause for a moment at the door. Black appears for a second, then the door closes and they goose-step backwards up the corridor.
“Ooh, it’s weird in reverse,” Emily says.
Yes, it sure is. I wait until they disappear from the frame, then hit playback at normal speed. The man and woman appear, obviously conversing, but the CCTV doesn’t have audio so I can’t hear what they’re saying, before they stop at Black’s door and knock. He appears, lets them in and the door closes behind them.
“Hmm. The camera didn’t catch the man’s face.” There are a couple of decent frames of the woman in profile while she was waiting for the man to proceed her into the room. Guess he’s not a gentleman. I reverse and fast-forward the footage a few times, just to make sure. “At least we got the woman.”
“How do you want me to enter that?”
“Man and woman enter Black’s cabin,” I tell her. “Put an action item next to that: review passenger ID.”
“Does that mean we have to look through all of the passenger photos?”
“Might do, baby doll, but I’m hoping these two will be the couple that Chrisjean Olsen mentioned. As a first step, I’m going to email a headshot of the woman to Olsen and see if she can confirm. We’ve got the woman’s first name already, so that might narrow it down.”
“I can do that.” Emily taps away for a minute, going backwards and forwards until she gets a clear image of the woman’s face. She takes a screenshot and saves it to my desktop so I can email it later. Efficient little girl.
“Okay, let’s see when they leave.” I press fast-forward again. After a few minutes of closed door and empty corridor, it becomes clear this isn’t a quick visit. My hand strays back between Emily’s legs.
“Super distracting, Daddy,” she protests, but she wiggles happily.
She hasn’t seen anything yet. I work her up a little, then apply the clit-licker.
She rubs her butt against my thighs as the machine gets going with a soft whirr and a slurpy sound that has us both laughing. Emily’s giggles change over to moans and I watch with fascination as she climbs through the stages of arousal: eyes glazing, breath quickening, nipples peaking to poke around Kylo Ren’s silhouette, a soft flush spreading from her cheeks down her throat. She’s beautiful in her passion and I tell her so, whispering warmly to her between kisses. Her little hands leave her laptop to wrap around my neck as I lean over her.
“Hold on,” I murmur, and kiss her temple when she grips me. “Are you getting close, baby doll?”
She nods, but a line forms between her brows. “I don’t think I can come like this. I’m all empty inside.”
She’s going to stay empty inside. Her poor cunt looked so raw when I inspected it earlier it made me wince. She needs to heal at least until tonight. I’m confident she can come just from clit stimulation, but I’m also confident she’ll enjoy it more if she’s not trying too hard. “Don’t feel any pressure,” I tell her. “Just enjoy the sensations.”
“You don’t mind?”
“Nope. I’ll happily play with you until it’s time for Cocksucking Class. In fact, I think it would be good for you to go to class aroused. Give you a little incentive.”
She laughs, but tears bead at the corners of her eyes. I kiss them away. “Have you felt pressure to come with me?”
She nods. “I don’t want to disappoint you.”
“You have not, in any way, disappointed me, sweetheart.”
The reassurance relaxes her, the clit-licker slurps away, and she climaxes naturally within a few minutes. I gauge her responses, drawing out her orgasm, then let her sag back into the pillows before it becomes too much. I want this to be pure pleasure. She goes utterly limp as she finishes, eye drifting closed in bliss. I turn off the machine and rub my hand up and down between her breasts, mussing and smoothing the damp cotton of her tee.
She opens her eyes and looks up at me.
The well of emotion catches me, sucks me down, shakes me. I tap my laptop to stop the playback so I can focus on her. When I reach for her, she slides into my arms, cuddles tight to me, looks up at me with such adoration it makes my chest clench.
“That was beautiful. Ta so very, very much.”
I kiss her forehead. I don’t usually gush during aftercare, but if she thinks she could ever disappoint me, she needs reassurance.
“Good girl for remembering to thank me. You’re such a little angel.” She glows, looking up at me. I rub my thumb over her bottom lip and when she opens her mouth, give it to her to suck. The sensation of her warm, wet mouth closing around my digit is almost as fulfilling as coming in her. “Do you understand how much having you with me this week has meant?”
She holds up her hand, with her thumb and first finger an inch apart.
I lean over and nip her finger. “A lot more than that.”
She giggles and moves her fingers two inches apart.
“Silly baby. Look at me, Emmy, I’m serious now. I don’t want our time to end when we get off the boat.” I cup her cheek with my free hand. “Spend the summer with me. I promise I’ll give you more time to write and do your own thing. I’ve got plenty of space; you can have your own room. If you need anything from your place, we’ll bring it down. I want to spend as much time as I can with you. Will you think about it, sweet girl?”
Her eyes go so huge they could swallow the world. She stares up at me without answering and my chest tightens. I’ve gone too far, too fast. Like busting out her damn collar; I’ve let her need for reassurance unhinge me.
She throws her arms around my neck. “Yes. Yes, please. I just need to go home to visit Maman once a week.”
The vise in my chest loosens. “We’ll work that out.”
“You really—?” She chokes on the words. Maybe she has a vise in her chest, too.
I trace her lip with my wet thumb. “Really what?”
“Really want me to move in with you for the summer?”
I really want her to move in with me, period, but I’m worried she’ll freak-out if I push harder. “Yes, I do.”
I want to say more. To tell her how much I need her light and laughter. I want her to understand how much she’s come to mean to me in just the few days we’ve known each other. But that really would scare her off. I settle for cuddling her until she falls into a doze, tucked warmly against my chest.
I stretch my arm out slowly until I can reach my laptop, tap it to start the playback again, and watch the empty corridor while Emily naps, her breath feathering across my neck, her tongue cupping my thumb, her hand curled over my heart.
* * *
I wake her fifteen minutes before her class, which turns out to be good timing because the couple emerge from Black’s room just as she stirs. I note the hour and minute. They’ve been in Black’s room for over three hours. Way too long for anything other than a scene.
“Damn,” I say, as I watch them move off down the corridor. “Never got the man’s face.”
Emily yawns and rubs her eyes. Cutie. “Is he hiding? Did he know the camera was there?”
It’s possible, but if this is our pusher, he showed a lot more sophistication and forethought in avoiding the camera than the clumsy search of my room would suggest. “Doubtful, but I wish we had a shot of his face. Can you enter that and put an action item to ask Ed Isaak for the CCTV footage from any nearby cameras?”
“Sure.” She stretches, then types. “Are you going to keep watching while I go to class?”
“Uh-huh. I’d like to get this out of the way so we can enjoy
our night.”
“Okay, you’ll need my laptop password. It’s ‘Storm Trooper,’ with zeroes for the ‘o’s and a star between the words. Shift-eight.”
“Thank you, sweetheart.” I sit up and kiss the back of her head while she types. “I appreciate it. Let’s get you dressed, huh? Too bad you didn’t bring your schoolgirl uniform. That would be perfect for Cocksucking Class.”
She giggles. “I brought something else. Can I borrow one of your white shirts, Daddy?”
“Of course.”
Curious to see what she’s going to do with my shirt, I retrieve it for her. She rolls up the sleeves, knots it under her breasts and pares it with Mary Janes, white knee socks and a denim mini-skirt. Fuck me. She puts her hair up in ponytails while I struggle to control my stiffy, and when she’s done, tucks her hands behind her back and twists side-to-side, the points of her nipples sliding under the white cotton of my shirt, grinning up at me.
“Your teacher’s going to have a heart-attack, little girl.”
She wets her lips and blinks her big eyes at me. “If I learn my lessons perfectly, will you give me a gold star, Daddy?”
She’s going to give me a heart-attack. I swat her ass through the mini-skirt and am rewarded with her wild giggle.
Resentful of losing even a minute of her company, I walk her up to the Spa. Inside the Spa’s carved, teak doors, a sign directs us into the Yoga Suite. About twenty guests, mostly women, mill around the studio, a huge circular room lit by an equally huge, circular skylight. Niall gives me a chin lift from the far side of the room, where he’s standing with his arm around Vashi. Emily and Vashi rush to each other and hug like they’ve been separated for months; I hear Emily whispering something about tea before they break apart with matching grins.
Barbie-tits from the treadmill yesterday waves them over and they join her on the yoga mats that have been laid in a semi-circle on the floor. The masseur who did the induction yesterday, Jacob or Jansen or something, stands in the middle of the semi-circle, holding a large purple dildo and a strip of condoms.
Niall makes his way over to me and glances meaningfully at the door. “Unless they’re willing ta practice on the real thing, I don’t think we wanna stay here for this.”
Watching Emily deep throat a dildo would be the end of me right now. I nod.
“Let’s go get a beer.”
That sounds like so much more fun than watching the empty corridor. “You’re on.”
Chapter Eight
Emily
I should be paying attention. Logan’s helping me be more focused, and I told him I wanted to be a top student. But I’m already pretty good at cocksucking, or so several Doms have told me, and giggling with Vashi is much more fun.
“Then what?” she asks in a whisper as we sheathe our practice dildos, fortunately much smaller than the one Rose was waving around yesterday. The condoms the instructor has provided are strawberry-flavored, which I suspect will be sickly once we get going. But I understand the need for them if these dildos are used for class after class.
I’m so glad I don’t have to use condoms with Daddy.
“He asked me to move in with him for the summer,” I whisper back. “Omi—goodness. I’m so excited. I’ve never done this full-time. What’s it like?”
“Living with your masters?” Her eyes shine. “It is every dream—”
“Ladies.” The hunky, dark-haired instructor stops in front of us, and we both bite our lips in embarrassment. Not that we’re the only ones talking. The room is filled with whispered conversations and smothered giggles, but Rose has picked a mat right up front, so we’re easy targets. “Condoms on?”
“Yes, uh, sir.” I don’t need him to carry a crop to know what he is. He’s a Dom all the way. I hold up my dildo. The red condom over the flesh-colored dildo looks as icky as it’s going to taste, and I wish Logan had stayed so I could practice on something yummy instead. I console myself with the thought that he’s going to let me demonstrate on him later.
“It’s Master Jason, and make sure you roll it all the way to the hilt, because you will be sucking it that far down.” He unrolls the condom down the dildo another inch in a move that looks creepily well-practiced.
Chastened, I nod. “Thank you, Master Jason.”
He doesn’t praise me or call me a good girl, the way Logan would, just moves on to check Vashi’s and Rose’s dildos. Rose holds hers out like she’s presenting him with an Oscar. He pats her head before he moves away.
I would hiss “teacher’s pet” at her, if I didn’t remember how hurtful those words felt when they were aimed at me. Instead, I sit, silent and shamed.
Vashi leans over and whispers right in my ear. “It is masala chai every day.”
I smile gratefully at her.
“Would you two stop talking?”
Rose hisses at us, quite loudly, causing the instructor to flash an annoyed, blue-eyed glance at me. I bow my head.
I take in the rest of the class, dutifully deep-throating the strawberry-flavored dildo as far as I can when instructed, but it’s mechanical. There’s no fun to it now and the nasty strawberry flavor of the condom makes my tummy churn.
When he arrives to collect me, Logan notices, because Logan notices everything.
He tips my chin up as he puts his arm around me. “Cocksucking Class too rough on your throat, little girl?”
I smell beer on his breath. The same way Ash used to smell of beer before he’d want to have sex. He’d ask me questions I didn’t want to answer, too. You know I still love you, don’t you, E-Bae? You know I have needs, right?
I shake my head and look away.
“That’s a mouthy sub you have there,” Master Jason says, from where he’s rolling up a yoga mat. “If she were mine, she’d be wearing a ball-gag for the rest of the day.”
“Emily?” Logan frowns and looks at me. “What happened, baby doll?”
He blames me, too.
With my head bowed, I say, “I’m very sorry I disrupted your class, Master Jason. I didn’t mean to be disrespectful.”
I turn away, moving out from under Logan’s arm and through the outer doors of the Spa.
Behind me, I hear Vashi’s soft voice, “But, sahib, there were many talking—”
I wrap my arms around myself. I’ve gotten her in trouble with her Dom, too. Wiping my eyes, I make my way quickly back to my room. The blanket fort is half-collapsed, a messy tumble of pillows and blankets between the couch and desk, disrupted by our comings and goings. It looks sad and stupid. I’m in the middle of pulling it apart and remaking my bed, when there’s a knock on the connecting door.
My heart jumps into my throat.
Then I force myself to relax. It’s Logan. Of course, it’s Logan. An intruder wouldn’t knock.
But when I open the door, it isn’t Logan. It’s Master Niall.
I take a sharp step backwards.
“Caileag, are yeh ah’right?” he asks.
I nod. “Where’s Logan?”
“He stayed to speak with the instructor.”
He stayed to apologize for me, because I’m his sub and my poor behavior reflects on my Dom. Sickly strawberry squirts into the back of my throat as my stomach churns.
“I’m really very sorry about disrupting the class. Please don’t be mad at Vashi. It was my fault.”
Niall tilts his head as he looks down on me. “Vashi said the same.”
That it was my fault? Way to throw me under the bus. “Is she being punished? Please don’t punish her.”
“Nae, why would she be punished?”
Of course, she wouldn’t. Because it’s my fault. I’m going to be punished. That’s why Logan is speaking to Master Jason: to determine the depth of my transgression. Which is pretty deep since I kept talking even after Master Jason reprimanded me. And that’s why Master Niall is here: to keep an eye on the bad subbie while my Dom figures out my punishment. And we will be jumping directly to a punishment. The contract Logan sen
t me says that there could be correction or discipline before punishment, but I can feel the impending doom like the figurative sword hanging over my head. A real punishment is coming my way.
Rubbing my clenching stomach, I move back to sit on the edge of my half-made bed. I see Niall glance around my room and sink a little lower into myself at his frown.
“Sorry, Master Niall, I was just cleaning up when you knocked.”
“Would yeh like any help?”
He’s offering to help clean up my mess? That’s so nice. Just like Vashi said: he does the things.
“No, thank you. I’ll just finish up so Logan doesn’t come back to this mess. Sorry.”
He nods. “Knock if yeh need anythin’.”
He closes the connecting door quietly and I sit for another moment, rubbing my stomach and feeling an accompanying sick swirl in my head.
You knew it couldn’t last, didn’t you, you silly girl? Sooner or later your stupidity would embarrass Logan. Don’t think he’s going to want you to spend the summer with him now.
I press my fingertips to my temples, trying to drive out that hateful voice, but that’s never worked in the past and it doesn’t this time, either.
I take a couple of broken breaths before scrubbing my hands over my face. I can’t let Logan come back to this. He’s so tidy. He’ll be furious. More furious. He’s been so good with me, but he won’t be for this punishment. Doms never are when their subs embarrass them. I remember a dungeon party Matthew took me to a couple of years ago. A sub lost control during a whipping scene. I remember the sharp smell of her urine, the Dom’s furious, purple face as the whip cracked again and again, her screams of “red, Master, red!” as the dungeon monitor pulled him off.
I remember the lines of blood welling across her back, dark against her welted skin.
Rubbing my own backside in fear, I climb off my bed and clean up my room as fast as I can.
I’m just rearranging the top of the desk, disrupted by the blanket I hooked over it, when there’s another knock on the connecting door.
