The Daddy P.I. Casefiles: The First Collection

by Frost, E J

  “I, for one, am hopeful that if we have a permanent nursery, more of our house subs will explore age-play,” Master Javier continues. “Or that we might attract some littles. Wouldn’t you like other littles to play with?”

  I nod. I wasn’t self-conscious about being the only little at Blunts until Mistress Caddy made it an issue. Now, I would definitely like some other littles to divert attention from me.

  “I was going to ask a few of the couples from our playgroup to come as my guests anyway,” Daddy says. “Having a nursery would make them feel more comfortable, don’t you think?”

  “Yes, Daddy.”

  Logan lifts my chin so he can see my eyes; he holds my gaze, and I sink into the power of his.

  “There we go.” He smiles at me before he releases my chin. “No more worrying. Now open wide. Here comes the airplane.”

  He plays with me, twirling a fork with a piece of pork on it through the air before he pops it into my mouth. I smile while I chew ten times. Silly Daddy.

  As Logan feeds me, the Doms go back to their conversation, and I slide back into my super-happy place. Logan brings me up again so that I can clear the table after everyone’s finished eating. Mistress Maude’s brought apple crumble for dessert, which smells heavenly. I hope Daddy will feed me a bite, even though I’m already over my seventeen-hundred calories for the day. I’d still like a taste of that wonderful smell.

  While the coffee’s brewing, Austin and I serve dessert. I set out cream and, ugh, custard, because Logan somehow likes that curdled goo. Must be a British thing, although I note that not even Miranda ruins her crumble with it. Once everyone has coffee or tea, or in Master Javier’s case, dessert wine, I sink back onto my knees next to Logan’s chair with only a little pinch from the stupid plug.

  I hear Logan’s fork scrape on his plate and despair of having any crumble—why didn’t I stash away a piece for myself?—when he strokes my head and says, “Emmy, I’ve saved you a bite. Can I tempt you? It’s awfully good.”

  Yes-yes-yes, he can tempt me.

  “Please, Daddy.”

  “Mmm, good girl. Open up for the crumble choo-choo.”

  He’s so silly. And he’s playing with me right in front of Miranda, who is frowning like asphalt that’s buckled on a hot day. My mother used to tell me if I frowned too hard my face would freeze like that.

  One can hope.

  The idea of a permanently frowning Mir-beast makes me grin to myself while I chew the buttery, gooey, cinnamon-y deliciousness Mistress Maude has created.

  Logan ends the meal once everyone’s finished their tea and coffee. It’s nice in one sense, because my knees are getting as sore as my butt. I’ve been kneeling for over an hour and Logan rarely makes me kneel for so long. But I’m sorry in another sense; other than the plugging, I’ve enjoyed my first High Protocol dinner so much. I hope we have a lot more.

  Austin helps me clean up the kitchen. I notice Miranda disappears out into the yard without even offering to help; I silently wish bug bites on her, since the mosquitos do tend to nip at this time of night, but they probably don’t suck blood from one of their own. Austin’s back in a ball gag, so we can’t gossip as we wash up, which is a shame because I really want to know what’s going on with him and Mistress Dana. But I’m not supposed to talk to anyone but Logan when I’m in High Protocol anyway, so I guess it’s good I’m not tempted.

  By the time the kitchen’s clean, everyone’s back inside. Maybe the bugs are biting. My sneaky, but awesome, Daddy calls an Uber for Miranda without her noticing, and the surprise on her face, when he bundles her out the door into the waiting car, is priceless. Pretty sure that expression in Brit-speak is “gobsmacked.” A gobsmacked Mir-beast. Ha.

  Master Javier’s car isn’t far behind the Mir-monster’s Uber, and we wave everyone goodbye from the front door. There’s a snapping, electric connection between Mistress Dana and Austin that I can feel even as they leave; whatever scene they’re about to go do will be a doozy. I’d envy Austin if I didn’t have my own wonderful Dom.

  Once our guests are gone, Logan sends me up to get ready for bed while he locks up the house. It’s early, just a little past nine, so we have time to scene, too. But it doesn’t feel like that kind of evening.

  Logan joins me in the bathroom, takes out Stanley, to my great relief, and starts running a bath. As he adds bubbles and some of my bath toys, I can see he’s in Daddy-mode. I love Daddy-mode. It makes me feel super little and adored. Tonight, I’ll do my best to adore him right back so he knows that despite everything the Mir-beast has said and done today, he’s loved and appreciated.

  Once we’re cuddled up in the bath, he releases me from High Protocol. We play with my bath crayons, while I tell him pirate stories that I half-remember, half-invent. He draws stick figures on my back; from the feel of it, they’re humping. When I get a turn with the crayons, I make him into a pirate, with a black eye patch, droopy red mustache and purple beard down to his navel. When we’re both prunier than prunes, and the water’s gone cool, we rub the crayons into suds and wash off. It’s probably not the cleanest either of us have ever been, and I haven’t washed my hair, but it’s so fun to play together I don’t think Daddy minds. I certainly don’t.

  While he shaves and brushes his teeth, I trot off to pick a bedtime story. I hope he doesn’t mind In the Night Kitchen again. That Logan’s shaving before bed tells me there are orgasms to go before I sleep. I get orgasms almost every night, but tonight it feels particularly important, because I want to feel as close to Daddy as possible, after being bitten so hard by the jealousy bug this afternoon. I didn’t want to be so terribly jealous. I wanted to be cool and dispassionate about him spending time with Miranda. And it’s not that I don’t trust him. I know nothing happened and that she was just being a bitch with her lip-licking business, but it made me so mad she got to spend time with him when I didn’t. I hated feeling that way. I want to love-up Daddy so much that it wipes that hatefulness right out of my heart.

  When Logan comes into the bedroom, he puts on his “Music to Fuck Emily Even Harder to” playlist and turns on the air-conditioner.

  Hurray! Sweaty bumping of uglies, here we come.

  Before we get started, Logan sits me in his lap and brushes out my hair. He strokes the horsehair bristles over the damp tips and works upward. This is usually part of our Bedtime ritual, but I’m not at all sorry Daddy’s doing it out of order tonight, because it feels so good it almost sends me into subspace.

  “This hair,” he says warmly as he brushes. “I love these curls. I love the contrast against your pale skin. Gorgeous.”

  “It could look even better with a pink streak,” I say. “Pink’s my daddy’s favorite color.”

  He chuckles. This is a long-running joke between us. He winds a curl around his finger, tugs playfully and kisses the skein of hair before he releases it to bounce against my shoulder.

  “No coloring it. No cutting it. I want it down to your ankles.”

  “That would need a lot of brushing.”

  “Yes, it would,” he agrees. “But I’d be up for it. Brushing my submissive’s hair was one of my favorite forms of aftercare when I was training in Thailand. Some of the girls at Jasmin House had hair past their asses. I loved brushing it.”

  Daddy usually fucks me for aftercare, and although I really like having my hair brushed, I’d be devastated if he stopped having sex with me after a scene. I can’t imagine any subbie wanting her hair brushed instead of Daddy’s wolfy fucking.

  “You didn’t have sex with them after?”

  “Nope.” He turns me on his lap to work on my bangs. “Most of the girls were sex workers and they seemed to find personal service more relaxing than intercourse.”

  That makes sense. “I didn’t realize.”

  “Um-hum. Jasmin House is a brothel. Kinky brothel. Not all of the girls offered sexual services, but most of them did.”

  “Did you have sex with all of them?” I ask, although I
’m pretty sure I already know the answer.

  “I did. Part of my training was learning to work with a variety of submissives, but I also genuinely liked all of them and would have asked to have sex with them even if I hadn’t been learning to top them.” Daddy slides his finger under my chin and tips my face up so he’s looking into my eyes. “Is this a problem?”

  “No, Daddy.” Given that he’s had over five hundred partners, I figured that some of them were probably sex workers. “What was it like?”

  “It was good sex. Some of it was very good sex.” He pinches my chin and holds my eyes. “None of it was close to what I have with you. Do you understand that?”

  Dawn breaks inside my chest and I can’t keep a stupid grin from spreading across my face. “I do now.”

  “Cheeky monkey. You’re my missing piece, little girl.” He kisses me and looks at me closely. “I know you were jealous of Miranda getting to spend time with me today, but her little bullshit when you got back from shopping, it didn’t upset you, did it?”

  “No. Promise. I know you wouldn’t let anything happen. She was just being horrible.”

  He leans in to rub noses with me. “That she was. She was pretty horrible to me, too. She kept denying it, but everything she did boils down to her wanting a baby more than she cared about me.”

  I cup his face in my hands. “That is horrible. I’m sorry, Daddy.”

  He curls his hands around mine and kisses my knuckles. “Swear something to me, little love. Swear that you won’t stop talking to me. You won’t stop telling me what you want and need. Even if it’s something other than what I’m giving you. Just don’t shut me out.”

  “I promise.”

  “Thank you, good girl. I promise you the same thing.” He sighs, his warm breath whispering across my fingers. “There’s something I want to talk about with you. I’m a little worried it’s too soon. But let’s set a date, huh? For our three-month anniversary we’ll go away for the weekend. Maybe Niagara Falls. Have you ever been?”

  I shake my head. I’ve lived two and a half hours away most of my adult life, but I’ve never been. It seems silly when I think about it, but I’ve always thought of Niagara as a destination for couples. Ash never wanted to go, and I haven’t been a true couple with anyone else.

  “A long weekend in Niagara, then.” He releases my hand and drops his fingers to my collar to trace the platinum chain around my throat. “We’ll talk about the future. About making things official.”

  My heart leaps. He’s going to collar me?

  “I would love that. So, so much.”

  He smiles and leans in to kiss me, slow and sweet and deep.

  * * *

  Sometimes Logan fucks me, Master claiming his subbie. Sometimes Daddy makes love to his little girl. I love all of Logan’s modes, but, tonight, I want lovemaking. And maybe a little bondage.

  Logan intuits this, because he knows me scarily well after only two months. He rolls me beneath him, pulls the straps he has affixed to the bed frame up and wraps the Velcro around my knees to hold my legs wide. I wriggle as much as I’m able against the bonds, looking up at him with my heart in my eyes. I always love it when he restrains me, but somehow it means more when he’s being tender. It blows my soul open.

  He settles between my legs, cups my bottom, lifts so my thighs drape across his, and slowly pushes into me. He skims his lips and hands over me all while he moves in me. Lighting up my skin. Weaving patterns of sensation. Binding us tighter together. I shiver and writhe and look up at him, sinking deeper and deeper into the power of his gaze. I feel myself flower in that avid heat. Anything he asks of me, I’ll do. Anything he wants, I’ll give. Whatever he sees, it darkens his eyes and fills his face with primal satisfaction.

  “That’s my baby. That’s my sweet girl.”

  His deep voice fills me as much as his cock. Warm waves of sensation tickle through me.

  “Daddy,” I whimper. “Please.”

  “Mmm, you like being spread wide and held down, don’t you, sweetheart?”

  I nod fervently, my hair foaming around my face. I shake it back and reach for him. He hasn’t restrained my hands and I want to touch him, increase the connection between us.

  Logan reaches out and threads his fingers through mine. “I’ve got you.”

  He does. He holds me tightly as he spreads his knees and begins to surge within me. The angle is perfect, and his thick crown bumps my cervix, sending bright shocks through me that make my toes curl. He maintains a hard, but unhurried, rhythm matching the beat of the music he has playing: The Sugababes’ “Too Lost in You.” Each stroke glides all the way from my opening to my core, over and over. The motion fills me, hot and sharp and very delicious. I roll against the bed, shoulder to shoulder, as much as the bondage and his hold on me allows, wallowing in pleasure.

  “That it,” Logan growls. “That’s my baby girl. Let it all out. Come for me.”

  His hands shift, sliding around to press against my belly, pushing down against his upward thrusts. Hard shivers begin under our joined hands and then it starts, sucking in-in-in, like I’m pulling Logan inside my skin, we’re so deeply connected. He groans and the moment stretches, drawn out by his deep thrusts.

  When it spills over, I sob through the sharp ripples of my orgasm, “Ta, Daddy, thank you. Ta so much.”

  I sink back into the bed, dissolving into delirious shivers.

  After he’s made me come, Logan releases my legs and changes position, sitting up against the headboard and pulling me into his lap so I’m riding him. Except I never really ride Daddy because he never gives me that much control. He fists his hand in my hair, clamps his arm around my hips, and dictates every thrust. Our movements make a delicious sound: wet and meaty and unmistakable. The feelings our movements create are even more delicious, winding the tension tighter and tighter until I’m flying again. I’m not quite coming. I’m riding the edge and he knows it and he keeps me there. Not thrusting hard or fast enough to push me over into my orgasm, but never letting me down from it, either. I whimper and pant and beg and promise I’ll do any-any-anything for him, if he just gives me what I need.

  Finally, he takes my hands and puts them in the small of my back. He closes his fingers around my wrists and pulls backwards, so I’m arched over his legs. The position changes the angle of his penetration and he bumps hard into my cervix, giving me that perfect bite again. I howl with pleasure and Logan groans. Just as my body goes wild around him, he releases control, slamming up into me. There’s a furious moment that stretches, where our bodies strain together, and then release pours through us, out and into each other. I take as much from him as he does me, and give as much back.

  He releases my wrists and brings me down onto his chest as I go limp. He holds me, stroking my back, while we pant through the aftershocks. His body still inside mine, his chest pressed to my breasts, his palm moving up and down my sweaty back, they keep me grounded. Otherwise, I’d be shooting off into the stratosphere, I’m so light and floaty.

  A sound pulls me back to Earth. Logan takes a deep, broken breath. He chokes, presses his lips against my temple, and whispers, “I’m so fucking sorry, Emmy.”

  I try to pull back to see his face, but his hand clasps the nape of my neck and holds me, tucked into his neck. Oh, no, what’s happened? Didn’t he enjoy it?

  “Daddy, what’s wrong?”

  “Everything. What the fuck am I doing? Inviting Miranda into our house. The paternity test. I know this is hurting both of us but I don’t know how to stop it and I’m afraid . . . I’m so fucking afraid, sweetheart. What if the baby’s mine?”

  Oh, my poor daddy.

  “It’s okay. It’s okay, Daddy.” I stroke whatever I can reach. His cheek, his throat, his shoulder.

  “It’s not okay. None of this is okay.”

  I wrap my arms around his shoulders and huggle him tightly.

  “Promise it’s okay. Promise-promise. I know this is really hard. But you’ll
do the right thing. I know you will. I believe in you.”

  “Oh, sweetheart—”

  “I couldn’t love you so much if you weren’t so decent. Do you remember in L.A., when you told me why you hurt me? Why you felt so bad?”

  He nods, his cheek rubbing against mine. “Because of the feelings I had about Lizbeth.”

  “Because you felt bad. You never acted on those feelings. You never hurt her. You suffered through the feelings. Because you’re a good person. I’ve told you I fell for you that night.” I turn my head as much as he lets me and kiss him in that soft, warm spot under his jaw. “I fell for you because I knew I could trust you no matter what. I do, Daddy. I trust you to do the right thing. Not the easy thing, but the right thing.”

  “Oh, little love.” He takes several broken breaths. “Thank fuck for you.”

  I hug him some more and stroke his neck and shoulders. “And if you get custody and need my little room for a nursery, that’s okay, I don’t mind.”

  He chuckles into my hair. “No, but thank you for offering. We’ll use the guest room. I love your little room. It’s a special space. I don’t want to lose it. I just . . . how can I ask you to take on a kid that’s not even yours?”

  He’s worried about me?

  “Daddy, please. Let that be the last thing on your mind. I wouldn’t ever want to replace Miranda as the baby’s mother but I could be a really good babysitter. Maybe we could think of it like that?”

  “We could.” He sighs. “And because I’m a complete pervert, now all I can think of is coming home to find the naughty babysitter watching dirty movies and having to discipline her.”

  I giggle and nuzzle into him, reassured that we’ll make this work somehow. Do I suddenly want the responsibility of a child that’s not mine? Kinda not. I don’t like the idea of being step-mommy, but I love the idea of being the babysitter, particularly if Logan’s turned on by it.

  “I’d like to do that scene. It’ll all be okay, Daddy,” I whisper to him.