The Daddy P.I. Casefiles: The First Collection

by Frost, E J

  “Naz hasn’t been a member for five years yet,” Maude says.

  Since when did that become a criteria? “You drafted me as Master of Training before I’d been here that long.”

  “Special case, dear,” Maude says. “Theo’s worth considering. Why don’t you have a chat with him?”

  Me? I know the guy in passing. We’ve done a scene or two together over the years, but that’s true of most of the older members. I only thought of him because he’s an acknowledged master but hasn’t ever served on the committee or taken any role that I know of. He’s also unattached, since his partner died of cancer a few years back, and it’s helpful, although not required, for the Master of Training to have sex with the house submissives. “Okay, fine. I’ll have a word.”

  “There’s a dear.” Maude pats my hand.

  My balls don’t fall off, but I do roll my eyes at Emily, who giggles into her teacup.

  * * *

  At twenty hundred, Emily and I leave Maude and Javier lingering over cheese and dessert wine while we make our way upstairs. That the dungeons at Blunts are upstairs is just one of the club’s endearing ironies.

  I can feel Emily’s eyes on me as we mount the staircase that wouldn’t be out of place in Buckingham Palace. I struggled with the stairs when we first came back to the club a month ago, and occasionally had to admit defeat and use the lift. But my leg doesn’t even twinge as I walk up them tonight. As we reach the top, Emily gives me a soft smile.

  “No pain, Daddy?”

  “No pain, little girl. Guess that means I won’t have to use Freddo on you after all.”

  She makes a face that’s equal parts angry koala and relieved kitten, which has me chuckling. Freddo is the biggest butt plug I own, seven inches in diameter. The plug’s more a novelty than anything else since I’ve never seriously considered using it on any of my subs. Emily’s seen Freddo in my toy chest. Her anxiety when I mentioned that I might use it to slow her down so I could keep up with her on stairs was utterly adorable. Even with a normal-sized plug like Stanley, she struggles with stairs when she’s plugged, and complains that the plug makes her walk like a duck. Which is a little true. And warms every cockle of my sadistic heart.

  At the top of the stairs there’s a security door similar to the one in the lobby. It opens to my thumbprint and an eight-digit code that we change weekly. With the manned outer door, this might seem like excessive security, but sex clubs are illegal in New York City, or so the club’s lawyer tells us, so we have a couple of layers of insulation.

  Beyond the security door, there’s a vestibule with an oak desk more imposing than the check-out desk at the New York Public Library. A huge digital board hangs behind the desk, listing the club’s twenty-five dungeons and play spaces. All but five are lit, which is normal for a Sunday night. The Long Gallery, Upper and Lower Library, Stocks, and Roof Garden are open tonight. My eyes track down the board to the Blue Harem Room, which is my preferred play space at the club. It’s lit, showing the room’s reserved, with my member number in black letters on an amber background with a silver star next to the numbers. The black letters indicate a scene with both domination and sex, the amber background tells my club brothers and sisters that the scene’s open for anyone to watch but not participate, and the silver star allows any submissive to watch as well.

  I quickly take in the rest of the board. Lots of friends here tonight. I see from the member numbers that Ten has reserved a room for a punishment scene. There’s a gold star above his number, excluding the house submissives. Probably means Briar is the unlucky victim. Again. Harry’s here, too. I haven’t seen him since before I was injured, so I might try to catch him after his scene if Emily doesn’t need to be put to bed immediately. I don’t see Theo’s member number, so if he’s here, he hasn’t reserved a play space. Maybe I’ll send him a text and see if he can meet for coffee.

  As I’m evaluating the board, Austin rises from behind the desk. He bows and waits for me to acknowledge him.

  I give it a moment, to reinforce the difference in our roles from the party yesterday, where I was his friend and host, to tonight, where I’m a Dom and one of his employers. Finally, I say, “’Evening, Austin.”

  “Good evening, Master Logan. How may I serve you?”

  “Everything ready?”

  “Yes, sir. Blue Harem room’s ready for you, and here’s your key card for room thirty.” He sets a white plastic card that looks like any hotel room key on the top of the desk. “Can I have anything sent up for you?”

  “Nope.” The rooms all have minibars, stocked with water, soft drinks, and snacks at pretty much the same exorbitant prices as any hotel mini-bar, and the restaurant kitchen is open for room-service until two. I brought a sports drink and some of Emily’s juice boxes in case we get thirsty during the scene or before bed, but if we need anything else, I’ll hit the minibar. “Have a good night. Thanks for coming to the party yesterday. We’ll do it again soon.”

  “Have a good night, sir. Thank you again for having me. I’d love to come to the next one. May I hug your submissive before you go?”

  I smile at his courtesy. The last time we were here, Rachel was manning this station and not only wasn’t there any courtesy, but Rachel pulled another of her little scenes. Which is probably what led to Emily having a go at her later in the night. Which led to Emily’s hour in the playpen. Austin’s behaving exactly the way a house submissive should behave, and that’s what I want to see at my club.

  All the more reason for Rachel and her master not to be part of it anymore.

  When I give him permission, Austin bounces around the desk like an overgrown puppy and sweeps up Emily in a huge hug. He’s naked except for black spandex shorts that nearly disappear against his skin, but I don’t even feel a twitch of jealousy as he wraps all that skin around Emily. I smile at the two submissives indulgently.

  “Have a great night, babe-girl. I’m off in an hour. I’ll come watch if you’re still going.”

  She pats one of his huge shoulders. “Breath training.”

  “Ooh!” Austin gives an exaggerated shiver. “Enjoy!”

  “I will.” She pats him again and steps back to my side. I curl my arm around her shoulders so she feels both my control and my approval.

  I give Austin a nod before I lead Emily down the corridor to the East Wing. One of the newer house subs Annabelle, a statuesque, older redhead, sashays down the corridor from the other direction. She’s naked except for a black leather collar and diaphanous harem-pants, and I have to admire the sway of her big, soft breasts as she walks. She’d fit right in in the dungeon I have reserved. About ten feet away, she stops, moves to the side of the corridor, and bows her head.

  I don’t have to acknowledge her. She’s just doing what a house submissive is supposed to do. But she’s doing it prettily. “Evening, Annabelle.”

  “Good evening, Master Logan. May I serve you in any way?”

  “No, thank you. Have a good night.”

  “Thank you, sir. You, too.”

  I pass her, and steer Emily towards the submissives’ changing rooms. At the door, I hand her the small duffel she packed. “Just the thigh-highs, love. I’ve changed my mind about the nightie. I want your breasts bare. Keep your hair as it is and lube yourself front and back. Daddy wants all your holes. You can leave your bag in a locker. We’ll pick it up on the way up to the room later.”

  She grins up at me as she takes the bag. “Can I start calling you Captain Daddy now?”

  “Not until we start the scene.” I give her a rap on the ass that has her giggling. “Stop teasing Daddy or you’ll be doing the scene with a red bottom.”

  I lift my toy bag and shake it a little at her for emphasis. Everything in the bag is too well packed to do anything more than rattle, but the gesture gets another giggle out of her.

  “Yes, Daddy.” She bats eyes full of infinite mischief at me before she pushes through the changing room door.

  Shaking my head
at the adorableness of a cheeky baby girl, I take the two steps to the Dom’s changing room door and push through.

  The changing room’s all but empty. Someone’s in one of the shower cubicles, humming out of tune, but all I can see is a pair of slightly hairy feet. Could be anyone. The other Dom, sitting on a bench in front of the row of lockers as he wraps a support bandage around his knee, is more recognizable, particularly because he’s naked. The tip of his dick nearly brushes the floor. Some of the house subs swear it’s eleven inches, and although I’ve never measured it myself, I wouldn’t disagree with them.

  “Bull,” I say with a nod as I move to one of the lockers.

  “Logan. How’re you doing?”

  “Good. What’s wrong with the knee?”

  “I’m too old to play pickup football is what’s wrong with the knee.”

  I chuckle, since I know that feeling well, even before I got injured. “Sorry, old man.”

  Bull snorts.

  If he’s more than a year older than me, I’d be surprised. He certainly doesn’t have any gray in his thick brown hair or beard. Or pubes, for that matter.

  “Kikki and Twitch here tonight?” I ask, referring to Bull’s two submissives.

  “Kikki is. Twitch’s sister’s going to give birth any day, so he went home to help with her other kids.”

  “Mighty uncle-y of him.”

  “Mighty. I hate it when he’s not around. I can’t fucking sleep. Don’t tell him that or I’ll never hear the end of it. How’s your little girl?”

  “Good. Looking forward to demonstrating her deep-throating skills.”

  “Ah. That the scene you’re doing?”

  “Uh-huh.” I strip off the tie and dress shirt I wore to dinner, fold them, and put them in the locker. “I didn’t see your number on the board.”

  “No, I’m just an extra tonight. Karl’s doing an open flogging scene. I volunteered Kikki as a victim. I’ll reap the rewards after Karl’s messed with her head.”

  I chuckle. Karl’s an absolute demon with a flogger. He hits without rhythm. Complete mind-fuck for a sub who uses the rhythm of a flogging to achieve orgasm or subspace. Or even just to anticipate the next strike.

  “You’re an evil, evil master,” I tell him.

  “Damn straight. See you at the meeting in the morning?”

  “Yup, I’ll be there.”

  “You calling the vote on the thing with Sante and Rachel?”

  Bull’s on the management committee and when I approached him about resolving the Rachel situation, he didn’t hesitate in telling me he’d give me his vote.

  I finish undressing and pull on a pair of the loose, black pants I like to wear for scenes. “Uh-huh.”

  “Good. I never did like the way that shook out. Glad to have you back.”

  “Thanks.” Maybe Maude and Javier were right. “See you there.”

  I close the locker and pick up my toy bag. There’s nothing I particularly need for the scene, but it’s always nice to have my favorite toys and tools on hand. Particularly if a certain cheeky monkey earns herself a red bum before we get started.

  With a nod to Bull, I leave him to finish dealing with his weekend-warrior wound and move out into the hall to wait for Emily. She knows where the Blue Harem Room is and could make her way there herself, but I like leading her around when we’re at the club. It’s a small reinforcement of our roles and puts us both in the right frame of mind.

  The hallway’s quiet, and the door to the sub’s changing room is slightly ajar. A laugh, musical but cruel, carries into the corridor.

  I know that laugh. I move towards the door.

  “Aw, is the widdle baby going to cry?” asks a light, male voice.

  I know that voice. My entire body goes tight, blood racing to every muscle. A red haze drops over my eyes.

  I hear Emily murmur, but I can’t make out her words.

  “Crawl back under your rock, widdle baby, and leave the Blunts Doms to us big kids.”

  That little shit. I’m going to bloody kill him.

  I brace one hand against the door frame to keep myself from charging in there and doing serious bodily injury to the house sub taunting my little girl.

  Footsteps come towards the door. The click of heels and the slap of bare feet on tile.

  I move to the side and wait.

  Pence, a house submissive I’ve known for years, who should know so much fucking better, pushes through the door, all lithe muscle and boy-band flowing hair. The sneer he must have directed at my little girl still twists his fine-boned face. He’s naked except for ankle cuffs, his cock distended enough to waggle between his thighs, but not erect.

  I collar him around the back of the neck with one hand. “Kneel.”

  “Fuck!” Pence squeaks but drops to his knees.

  A step behind him, my former submissive, Rachel, still smirking over her shoulder, stumbles over him but rights herself on her stilettos a few steps away without falling.

  I level a glare at her. “Go to your master. If I find out you were involved in this, I’ll text him. Otherwise, I do not want to see hide nor hair of you tonight.”

  Rachel goes ashen under her makeup. “Muh-Master—”

  “Say one more word, Rachel. I fucking dare you.”

  She stares at me for a long moment, eyes so wide the whites show all around her brown irises, before she flees down the corridor.

  Emily peeks out of the changing room, takes in the scene in the hallway with wide eyes, and drops to her knees beside Pence.

  She’s exactly as I instructed: naked except for those sexy-adorable, white thigh-highs that I can’t get enough of. I can see the shine on her bare labia, which means she’s lubed herself, and the idea that she had to make herself physically vulnerable in front of Pence and Rachel while they were mocking her makes my anger shoot up into volcanic eruption levels.

  “You’re not in trouble, little girl.”

  “Okay, Daddy,” she whispers, but keeps her head down and her hands on her thighs.

  “See her?” I growl to Pence. “That’s a good submissive. Are you a good submissive, boy?”

  “I-I try to be, sir.”

  “We’ll see. You will answer each and every one of my questions. Say anything else and each time you speak out of turn, I’ll dock you a day’s wages. Are we clear?”

  A tremor runs through him. “Yes, sir.”

  “You’re aware that Emily is my submissive, aren’t you?”

  “I-uh, yes, sir. I know you’re dating.”

  “Try that again. Emily is my submissive. She belongs to me. You know that, correct?”

  “Yes, sir.” He hunches under my hand, for which I give him points, because he’s just realized where this is going and exactly how fucked he is.

  “When you insult my submissive, you insult me. Tell me exactly how you’ve insulted me. What words did you use, boy?”

  “Uh, I said that Emily didn’t belong in the adult changing room.”

  “And why doesn’t she belong in the adult changing room?”

  “Em-Emily pretends to be a little girl—”

  I give him a shake. “Do you pretend to submit?”

  “No, sir!”

  “Then you might want to rethink what you label a pretense. Was that the extent of your insults?”

  “Uh, I think so, sir.”

  “Emily, was that the extent of this worthless bottom’s insults to me?”

  A shiver runs through my little girl. “May I not answer that question, Daddy?”

  “No, you may not. I appreciate that you don’t want to tattle, Emily, and that’s a good girl, but Daddy’s giving you an order.”

  She nods, still keeping her head down and her eyes on the carpet between her knees. “No, that wasn’t all of it, Daddy.”

  Pence starts to turn his head towards Emily, which I forestall with another hard shake.

  “Confession’s good for the soul,” I growl at him.

  “I-I don’t remember ex
actly what I said, sir.”

  “Emily, do you remember exactly what this worthless submissive said?”

  “Yes, Daddy.”

  “Tell me.”

  She bows her head further and I give Pence another shake. “See how it hurts her to have to remember exactly how you insulted me? Emily is mine. Her pain is my pain. Is that what you wanted, boy? To cause me pain?”

  “No, sir!”

  “Liar,” I growl at him. “What’s the penalty for lying at Blunts?”

  “Punishment by the whole membership, sir.”

  “That’s right. Let’s see if that refreshes your fucking memory. What else did you say to insult me?”

  “I-I walked up to her and shook my dick at her and asked her if the widdle baby had ever seen a grown man’s dick before, but I didn’t mean it, sir!”

  I will fucking kill him.

  I clamp so hard on the little shit’s neck that he whimpers and tries to twist away from me, which gets him restrained by his hair instead, with his head pulled back until the cords stand out in his throat, while I get a handle on my temper.

  “Did your dick, at any point, touch my submissive?”

  “Uh—”

  “Did. Your. Dick. At. Any. Point. Touch. My. Submissive? Think very, very hard before you answer.”

  “Nuh-no, sir. I don’t think so, sir. I wasn’t that close to her.”

  “Then you can keep your dick for now. If your dick ever does touch my submissive, I’ll clamp it in a cock cage for a fucking month. Are we clear?”

  “Yes, sir!”

  “What did my submissive say or do when you waved your pathetic excuse for a dick at her?”

  His eyes fill, whether because my fury is finally getting through to him or because my hold on him is hurting, I don’t know and don’t care.

  “She, uh, she said something about being a bigger person and then she turned her back on me.”

  “And what did you say? How did you insult me next?”

  “I said she didn’t belong here and she should leave the Blunts Doms to us big kids, but I didn’t mean it, sir!”

  That was the part I overheard, although I notice he left out asking if she was going to cry and telling her to crawl back under a rock. He’s going to suffer for that, and for everything else.