The Daddy P.I. Casefiles: The First Collection

by Frost, E J

  I give each of the Doms a handshake, hug Austin and permit him to hug Emily. I told Javier this was a High Protocol dinner, but I check briefly with Austin to make sure he’s okay with High Protocol and let him know his safe word will be honored no matter what. He confirms with a smile at Dana that makes me wonder what I’ve missed. He smiles at her like they’re a couple; I didn’t know they’d even done a scene together.

  I raise an eyebrow at Javier, who gives me a knowing wink.

  Since Dana hasn’t been to the house before, I give her a tour. When we return from a quick circle of the upstairs rooms, Emily and Austin are waiting for us in the hallway on their knees. Dana has Austin strip down to a G-string. She takes a ball gag out of her bag and straps him into it, before kissing him on the forehead and instructing him to remove her sandals, which he lines up next to Maude’s heels and Javier’s loafers, since I observe the middle-class tradition of no shoes in the house, much to Miranda’s well-bred horror.

  With our submissives following on their hands and knees, Dana and I proceed into the kitchen.

  “Did I miss something between Sunday night and now?” I ask Dana.

  “Austin and I did a scene last night. It was—” She pauses and gives me a feline grin. “Illuminating. When J invited me to dinner tonight, I decided to see if our chemistry went beyond a single scene. J said it would be okay if I brought a subbie tonight. I hope it is.”

  “Of course,” I say. “You’re both welcome any time.”

  I’m a little surprised that she’s jumped so quickly from Mally to another house sub. I hope Mally’s not crushed. But that’s really Dana and Mally’s business, not mine.

  Although, if I give in to Javier’s manipulations, it might become my business. I glance back at the subs. I like Austin. I like Mally. I like all the house subs, well, most of the house subs. But taking them on means less time and energy to devote to Emily. My little girl comes first, always.

  When we reach the kitchen, I see that Miranda, Javier and Maude have clustered around the central island, where Emily’s set out trays of nibbles, red and white wine, and a pitcher of gin-and-tonic. Javier’s leaning against the butcher block, sipping his drink and eating shelled, spiced pistachios, while Maude interrogates Miranda about her pregnancy, in Maude’s inimitable way.

  Miranda’s eyes flick away from Maude to Emily, as she crawls behind me. Her look becomes something I don’t like. I stop a safe distance away, bring Emily up beside me with a flick of my fingers, into the Tower Slave position, with her knees together, and rest my hand on her hair while I introduce Dana to Miranda.

  Dana gives Miranda the same smile she seems to bestow on all subs.

  “Nice to see you again,” Dana says. “You may not remember, but we met a few years back at Blunts.”

  Dana has a good memory. I certainly don’t remember ever introducing them.

  “And congratulations,” Dana continues. “When are you due?”

  “End of September,” Miranda replies, aiming a smile at me.

  I ignore her and continue stroking Emily’s hair.

  “Shame.” Dana clicks her tongue. “You won’t be able to participate in the fun tonight.”

  “Oh.” Miranda’s smile gets sharper. “I’m happy to be waited on.”

  Dana taps her pink-tipped finger against her lip. “If I remember correctly, you’re a submissive. Submissives don’t get waited on at High Protocol dinners. They do the waiting. But no responsible Dom would ask anything so taxing from someone so heavily pregnant. Best you just sit and enjoy the conversation. Austin will make up a plate for you before each course. And you must tell us all about living in London. I’ve visited, but never for more than a few days. It rained the whole time.”

  Miranda’s face freezes. After a moment, she forces a smile. I force my face to remain blank. Fuck, that was neatly done. I don’t know if Austin primed Dana, or if Dana just makes it her business to squash subs who overstep themselves, but I’m going to have to ask her for pointers.

  While I’m admiring her social ninjutsu, Dana turns slightly and cups her slender hand under Austin’s chin. When he looks up at her, she smiles that killer smile at him and rubs her thumb over his lips, held apart by the ball gag. “When I release you, you will rise, top up Javier and Maude’s glasses and pour me a glass of white wine. Then you will follow me on your hands and knees while I admire the flowers. When I stop or sit, you will kneel at my feet. Nod once that you’ve understood.”

  Austin nods, looking up at Dana with dazed, brown eyes.

  She releases him with a fonder smile, and he rises smoothly to follow her commands.

  “Illuminating, huh?” I say quietly to Dana.

  “Like Yankee Stadium at night,” she responds, following her submissive with her eyes. “I have no idea why I haven’t played with him before. Short-sighted of me, I guess.”

  “And Mally?” I ask as gently as I can.

  Dana tips her head. “If tonight goes well, I’ll have to speak with her. Neither of us has made any commitment beyond the scenes we’ve done, but I don’t want to hurt her feelings.”

  “Thanks for that.”

  “Still looking out for the interests of the sub you trained?” she asks with a wink.

  “Absolutely.”

  “Which is why you were so well-suited to Master of Training,” Javier interjects from where he’s watching Austin top up his glass.

  I grimace at him and Dana laughs.

  “Don’t let him bully you,” Dana says, patting my arm.

  “I only bully people who want to be bullied,” Javier retorts.

  Under my hand, Emily shifts, and a tiny giggle escapes her.

  “Comment from the peanut gallery?” I ask her.

  “No, Daddy.”

  “If you’re bored, little girl, you can make me one of those dirty vodka martinis.”

  “Yes, Daddy.”

  I stroke the top of her head and let her rise to make my drink.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Emily

  Logan’s filled our two months together with new experiences. Most of them wonderful.

  Kneeling on a couch pillow beside Logan’s chair, with him hand-feeding me bites of the Korean beef lettuce wraps I’ve made as a second course, sunk so deep in subspace that I feel drunk, I think this might be one of the most wonderful. I haven’t done a High Protocol dinner before, although Logan’s put me in High Protocol during meals. This is different. It’s not just the service, although I absolutely love serving Logan. It’s the praise all four Doms keep showering on me. The prettily set table. The classical music I have playing. The food. The service. They don’t miss any little touch I’ve put into this dinner. I feel deluged by approval. It fills me with such a warm glow, I must rival the sunset.

  Not even Miranda glowering at me from across the table can dim this feeling. It’s beyond stupid happy. I’m luminous, glimmering with happiness.

  Logan notices, because he notices everything, and caresses my cheek, before he holds a glass of iced water for me to sip.

  Once he’s finished feeding me the lettuce wrap, he starts sifting his fingers through my hair, pressing his fingertips gently into my scalp. All my muscles turn to jelly, and I only remain upright by leaning against his thigh.

  Logan chuckles and strokes his hand over my head, down the back of my neck, over my bare shoulders, and up my neck to gently cup my throat. He rests the heel of his hand against my memory chain while his thumb and fingers caress my throat.

  Swoon. So domly.

  Under the lip of the table, I can see Austin kneeling between Maude’s and Dana’s chairs. He looks as blissed out as I am. His ball gag’s loose around his neck; his eyes are half-closed. He’s leaning against Dana’s thigh, his arm wrapped over her leg, hand under her skirt, while Maude holds a mouthful of spiced beef and lettuce to his lips. Would Logan like it if I touched him that way? No, he’d tell me. That’s one of the most wonderful things about this level of submission. I don�
��t need to say or do anything unless Daddy tells me to. My mind can just relax. No hateful voices whispering to me. No worries tearing at me. Blissful blankness.

  I nuzzle into Logan’s thigh and he slides his hand under my chin, tipping my head back so he can look into my face. His eyes meet mine, and his ignite. He loves my submission. How many times has he told me how important it is to him? I’ve lost count, but it’s a lot.

  I blink up at him for a long time, enraptured by the dark heat in his gaze. I know my whole soul is bare to him right now. He can see everything. The love. The gratitude. I don’t try to hide anything. Logan already knows me better than any of my previous Doms. If there’s something he hasn’t seen before, he can have it now.

  I’m his.

  Finally, he leans down and kisses me. Still looking into my eyes, he says, “Count backwards with me from five. Then you’ll rise, clear the table, and bring the next course. After I feed you, you can go back into subspace. I’m very proud of you, sweetheart.”

  He hasn’t asked me a question, and I retain enough presence of mind, even swimming in bliss, not to break High Protocol. I nod so he knows I’ve heard and understood him.

  He smiles into my eyes before he says, “Five.”

  I count with him, and when we reach one, I rise off my cushion and pad into the kitchen. Austin follows me. Together, we plate up the pork chops, couscous and sesame pak choi that I’ve made for the entrée. Austin, who did his own stint as a waiter in college, carries three plates expertly, while I carry two. He puts Miranda’s plate in front of her, then he and I kneel between our Doms, lift the plates above our heads and carefully set them in front of each Dom. Austin gesture-coached me before we presented the first course this way. It goes down just as well this time. I’m glowing again by the time I settle back onto the pillow beside Logan’s chair.

  Over the clink of silverware, the four Doms continue their conversation. Although Mistress Dana said she wanted to hear about Miranda’s life in London, that didn’t even last through the first course. Since then, Miranda hasn’t contributed much to the conversation, except in weighty glares. The four Doms have been talking about Blunts, and although I don’t understand everything they’re talking about, Maude and Dana are as supportive as Javier of the age-play night and turning one of the theme rooms into a nursery. That adds to my happy glow. While I wasn’t upset by what Mistress Caddy said, particularly after Javier told us about her history, I was a little worried that maybe the other Blunts Doms didn’t want me around.

  “Make sure rectal thermometers are part of the nursery equipment,” Mistress Dana says to Logan. “Little boys and girls need their temperatures taken before they get their bedtime medicine.”

  Her voice always has this laughing lilt. Even when she was pounding Pence with that strap-on that looked thicker than Logan’s forearm. She’s kind of terrifying. But Austin’s looking at her like she’s his personal miracle, so she must not terrify him. Or maybe she does, in the best way.

  “That will definitely be part of the nursery supplies,” Daddy says. “Along with enema bags to make sure our littles stay regular, and cloth diapers.”

  “Mmm,” Mistress Dana says throatily. “Old school.”

  “Environmentally conscious,” Daddy responds, eliciting chuckles from the other three Doms.

  “I hope this will be a permanent addition,” Master Javier says. “There will be some resistance from a certain faction of our house submissives. Resistance that will take several visits to the naughty stool to overcome.”

  That gets more chuckles. I’m sure Master Javier is thinking of Rachel’s clique, and although Daddy says Rachel won’t be around much longer to offer any resistance, Briar Rose and Pence won’t be at all happy if they’re put in diapers. I’m not actually sure how more flexible subbies will deal with it, either. Lucy’s friendly now, but how will she feel after one of the Doms has given her an enema and put her in diapers because of me? What about the ultra-sophisticated subbies like Skye and Zuki, who both dance in the night club, and have barely deigned to say hello to me? They won’t ever thaw if they find out I’m the reason they had to spend a night in diapers.

  Just as worry begins to bubble through the good food in my tummy, Daddy’s warm hand lands on my head.

  “Emily, where’s your focus? You may elaborate.”

  I know where my focus should be. That’s not where it is, though.

  Shit.

  “I’m sorry, Daddy. I’m just worried the house subbies might resent me if they’re made to do age-play and hate it.”

  “Ah.” Daddy strokes my head. “Is that what I want you thinking about tonight? You may elaborate.”

  Across the table, Miranda gives a fake, ugly laugh. I keep my eyes down and my back straight, but everything in me wants to glare back at her. Mir-Witch.

  “No, Daddy. I’m very sorry. My mind should only be on you. I’ll do better.”

  He pinches my chin gently and lifts my head so I meet his eyes. “What do I want you to do? You may elaborate.”

  Fuck. He’s not going to let me off. He never does. Logan’s serious with consequences, and it makes me cringe to think he’s going to plug me at the table with Miranda gloating the whole time.

  But I knew where he wanted my mind, and I let myself become distracted. I blew it. Now I need to pay the piper.

  “You want me to go get Stanley, is that right, Daddy?”

  “Yes, it is,” he says, so deep and low a shiver runs through me. “Rise, retrieve Stanley, and meet me in the bathroom.”

  He’s not going to plug me at the table. Thank the Lord. On top of being totally humiliating, it’s probably not very hygienic.

  “Yes, Daddy.”

  “That’s my girl.” He lifts his hand off my head and I trot off to retrieve the plug, which is upstairs in Logan’s armoire o’ sex toys.

  As I come back downstairs, carrying the plug and a bottle of lube that I really, really hope Daddy will use, I reflect that Stanley is not my friend. He’s my least favorite of Logan’s butt plugs. Well, other than that monstrosity downstairs that I can barely get both hands around. But I honestly think that one’s just for show since the biggest one Logan ever uses on me is only as thick as his three fingers. Stanley’s not that wide, but the plug is weighted, so I have to keep my butt tensed to avoid it slipping out. Logan says the weight helps tone my rectum and sphincter even as the plug’s neck stretches me. I get all that, and I’m grateful that Daddy pays attention to my health as well as to our pleasure, but I still don’t like Stanley very much.

  Logan’s quick in the bathroom, and he does use the lube I’ve brought, and I look him a huge thank you in the mirror, but I’m careful not to speak.

  He gives me a pat once the plug’s in, and I rise from where I’ve bent over the sink so that he can wash his hands. When he’s done, he draws me to him and kisses my forehead.

  “I’m not angry at you, little girl. I know you’re trying. I also know you’re already sore and you’ll feel Stanley pretty keenly. I’ll take him out once everyone leaves. If you’re in distress before then, you can tap my knee or foot three times and I’ll take a look, although I don’t promise to take it out. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, Daddy.”

  “I’m plugging you to help keep you focused. To keep your mind where it should be. Do you understand that, sweetie?”

  I nod, but keep my eyes down, careful not to break High Protocol. I know what he’s doing is for my benefit, even though the sadist in him probably also gets a thrill out of my discomfort. “Yes, Daddy.”

  He kisses my forehead again and his lips move against my skin. “Love you, little girl.”

  I hug him, since I’m allowed to touch him, even in High Protocol. He holds me for a long minute before he leads me back to the table.

  After he helps me back down onto my pillow, and ow-ow-ow, the plug does not feel good as I kneel, Logan rests his hand in my hair and picks up the conversation as though we’d never left the
table.

  “Emily, no house sub would ever be forced to do age-play if they hate it. They all have safe words, and believe me, they know how to use them.”

  That gets chuckles from the other Doms. I guess the Blunts house subs aren’t shy about their safe words. To be fair, I wasn’t with my previous Doms. I just don’t want to use my safe word with Logan because I know how hard he tries to make our scenes work for both of us. He pushes me, and sometimes that scares me a little, or hurts more than I think I can bear, but his belief in me helps me conquer fear and pain. I’m glad I haven’t used my safe word with him, but I’m also glad I have one. I know that some slaves, like my friend Vashi, don’t have safe words. I’m not ready for that. I might be, someday. I’ve already thought about asking Logan to take away my safe word during discipline. But I’m not there yet. Logan’s wonderful, and everything I could hope for in a daddy, but I’ve seen firsthand how things that start off well can end horribly. If I didn’t have my own experience to draw on, example numéro un is sitting across the table, glaring at me again.

  “Emily,” Master Javier says, drawing my attention to him even though I keep my eyes down. “No one blames Moon for the Stables. Not all of the house subs like pet play, but none of them blame her for it.”

  Although I haven’t actually met her yet, I’ve seen Master Sean’s subbie, Moon, from a distance. She was pulling a tiny carriage, wearing those impossible bondage shoes that look like hooves. In her harness, with her mane and tail flowing like silk, she looked gorgeous, and as glowingly happy as I must have looked earlier. I didn’t realize they created the Stables for her, and I certainly haven’t heard anyone complaining about her, even though Master Javier’s right that not all of the house subbies like animal play.