The Daddy P.I. Casefiles: The First Collection

by Frost, E J

  “Uh-huh. Why don’t we re-lube the plug and get you some knickers and then we’ll go to Konk?”

  A shy smile. A nod. She’s such a sweetheart. And I failed to protect her from the fucking viper I invited into our house.

  “Miranda’s gone. I’ve told her no future contact with either of us. I want you to block her on your phone and if she calls the house, you hang up.”

  Her mouth drops into a rosebud of surprise, but she stammers, “Yuh-yes, Daddy.”

  “I love you, little girl, and I’m sorry that our house was not a safe place for you today. Miranda’s gone and we’re going to set things right between us and move on. I will be branding you next week and I will be offering you the lock for your collar next month. Nothing that has happened changes how I feel about you.”

  She holds her hands out and I pull her up into my arms.

  “Love you most, Daddy,” she whispers into my throat, her small hands clutching my back.

  “Do I need to be the generous one?”

  “Please, Daddy?”

  “Mmm, I can do that.”

  After a long cuddle, I take her upstairs, draw the plug out, coat her ass and the plug with lube again, then slide it back in after checking her sphincter. It’s a little swollen, but there are no splits and it’s a dark pink instead of an angry red. She’s fine.

  Once her punishment’s done, it’ll be a different color, and she will not be a happy baby. I need to think carefully about her aftercare. I usually fuck her for aftercare, but she won’t be able to take my cock after the punishment I have planned for her. She’s also going to be exhausted. Today’s been tough already, she napped for barely fifteen minutes, and her punishment’s going to be an endurance test. There’s an appeal to leaving her at Blunts to sleep and coming back for her after interviewing Dovie Donegan. I’m not sure who’s monitoring today, but worst-worst, I can call Maude to keep an eye on her. Blunts is closer to Manny’s, too.

  “Baby doll, while I’m washing up, I want you to put out dry food for Sable, then pack a couple of stuffies, one of your binkies, and a nightgown.”

  “Should I pack my toothbrush, too?”

  “Yes, just in case, but I’m not planning on spending the night. Bring your laptop or your tablet so you have something to do if I run a little late.”

  “Yes, Daddy.”

  After I wash up, I collect Advil, witch hazel cream, and Epsom salts from the bathroom cabinet. I don’t usually give my bottoms painkillers after a punishment. Part of the lesson is suffering the discomfort afterwards. But I’m not sure how Emily will react, and if she’s in real pain, rather than just discomfort, I want to be prepared to relieve her.

  Blunts has everything else I need for the scene, but I bring my toy bag anyway, so I have my favorite tools, and the small cuffs, for Emily’s slender wrists. I throw in some clothes and my toothbrush, just in case. Once we’re packed, I pick a pair of pink cotton knickers for Emily to wear and take her to lunch.

  Konk’s a trendier place than I would pick, with menu items like “smashed avocado toast.” But I like the setting, a converted greenhouse, and the clientele is so eclectic we fit right in.

  I keep our conversation light. There’s a serious talk we need to have, but it needs to wait. Emily tells me about her white dragon dream, and as always, I can’t tell if she’s spinning the tale on the spot or if she actually did dream it. She’s a master storyteller, my little girl.

  When she finishes, I tell her about an idea I’ve had for one of our next big scenes. There may be those who are uncomfortable with Emily’s littleness at Blunts, but not even Caddy could object to some school-age role-play. I want to riff off The Breakfast Club, which is one of Emily’s favorite movies, with the subs in detention. There’ll be interrogation of the naughty detainees, some corporal punishment on bare legs and bottoms, some sneaky nookie in the janitor’s closet, and we’ll finish with a sushi buffet, a la Claire Standish’s lunch. Emily grins like a loon all while I describe the scene, so I figure I have at least one enthusiastic participant.

  Of course, I’ll have to delay the scene by a few days to let her recover from her punishment, or she won’t be quite so enthusiastic.

  Once I’m finished my “twisted Reuben,” which is just a Reuben sandwich with fried gherkins instead of bread, and Emily’s had her crab salad, we hop on the train to Blunts. I haven’t called ahead to book a dungeon, because it’s mid-afternoon, mid-week, so the club should be quiet. Cappa’s on the upstairs door. He’s a good man and a conscientious sub, but Emily barely knows him. I’d prefer to have someone she feels close to watching over her while I’m gone.

  While Cappa books us into one of the dungeons until midnight and reserves an upstairs room in case we need to stay the night, I pull out my phone and text Maude.

  Before I even slide my phone back into my pocket, Maude pings me to let me know that she, Javier, Ten, and Austin are just finishing lunch in the Trattoria and she’ll be right up.

  I reply to say that Austin’s excluded from the scene, and I’ve barely hit “send” when the phone rings.

  “What’s going on?” Maude asks coolly.

  “White and red scene with a gold star,” I tell her.

  “A white and red scene, with Emily?”

  “Yes.”

  “I see.” She’s silent for a long moment. “I’ll monitor—”

  Javier’s voice rises in the background. “I’ll monitor.”

  “I’ll monitor,” says a deep, gruff voice. Pretty sure that’s Ten. “You’re both too close to the girl.”

  “We’ll draw straws,” Maude drawls. “In any event, I’m available to keep an eye on her. We’ll be right up.”

  “Thanks. We’re in the Western Room.”

  Emily’s big, baby eyes are on me through this exchange. She wrings her hands, but she doesn’t say anything. I put my arm around her shoulders and draw her to me. “No house subs will be allowed to watch, sweetheart.”

  “Okay, Daddy,” she whispers, clinging to me, crumpling my shirt in her little fists.

  “I’ll blindfold you if having others watching will be too much for you, Emmy.”

  She nods. “Please, Daddy.”

  I slide my finger under her chin and tip her face up to me. After making sure she’s not panicking, I give her a gentle kiss. “Relax, sweet girl. We’ll get through this and then we can move on, right?”

  She nods and huddles against me. She’s not panicking, but she is shaking. I rub her back while I wait for Cappa to finish.

  Cappa passes me the room key card silently over the big desk, his eyes on Emily and concern creasing his fine-boned face. On the wall behind him, the dungeon board updates with my member number in white, on a red background, with the small gold star above my number. There are three other dungeons in use, but none of them are punishment scenes, so I expect our scene will attract some attention, particularly from the club’s sadists. Blindfolding Emily is definitely the way to go. I’m glad I brought my toy bag so I have her own blindfold; that will help make her comfortable.

  Once I’ve pocketed the key, I nod my thanks to Cappa and steer Emily down the corridor towards the playroom. We don’t need to change since I’m going to stay clothed for the scene; I’ll take off Emily’s clothes as we go. Not changing first also helps establish that this is punishment, not play.

  The Western Room is, as the name suggests, western-themed. The deer antler chandelier is a little much to my eye, but the room has what I need for this scene: a wooden horse, or chevalet.

  The horse is folded in a corner, along with a leather case of interchangeable top-pieces, or rails, of various shapes and widths. I particularly like this version of the horse; a big step up from the basic block of pyramidal wood on legs that I learned on at Jasmine House. The different rails make it completely customizable to suit the experience the Dom wants the sub to have. It’s also innocuous-looking, if you don’t know what it’s for, and Emily doesn’t look at it when we enter the room. I
nstead, her eyes are drawn towards the far wall of the room where there’s a long display of coiled whips.

  I’m not particularly good with a whip, although Niall has offered to give me some lessons while he’s visiting next month, but I wouldn’t use a whip to punish Emily in any event. She does best with discipline that breaks down her defenses, allows her time to think about her wrongdoing, and gives her a catharsis. That’s why I like the playpen. I could have used the playpen for this punishment, but I’ve had enough of the cat-fights, so I’m raising the stakes exponentially with the wooden horse.

  I let her stare at the whips while I settle our bags on a cowhide footstool and move a spanking bench out of the way. She’s so fixated on the whips that she doesn’t notice when I take the horse from the corner and set it up in the middle of the room. I lock the legs into place, then select a flatter, one-inch-wide rail, set it in place, tighten the screws at either end of the bar, and wipe it down thoroughly with an antibacterial wipe. With this rail, Emily’s skin shouldn’t split, but that’s always a risk with a wooden pony and the last thing I want to do is give Emily an infection.

  Once the horse is ready, I open my toy bag and take out Emily’s satin blindfold. She’s still staring at the whips when I walk up behind her.

  “What do you think about a whipping scene when Niall visits next month?”

  She shivers. I wrap my arms around her, letting the blindfold dangle from my hand, and kiss the curve of her little ear.

  “Emmy, answer me,” I murmur into her ear when she’s silent for too long.

  She shakes herself out of whatever spell the whips have cast over her. “Sorry, Daddy. I, um, I would like that but I’d be really scared, too.”

  I give her ear another smooch. “I think, with Niall’s help, we could do a scene that would be more exciting than scary.”

  She twists her neck so she can smile up at me. “Okay, Daddy.”

  “That’s my brave girl.” I kiss her temple. “Can you be very brave for me now? I want you to close your eyes. I’m going to put the blindfold on you. Then I’m going to take the plug out and take off some of your clothes before I cuff you and put you on the wooden pony.”

  Her eyes widen and she tries to look over my shoulder, but I tuck her a little tighter against me so she can’t get a good view.

  “W-w-wooden pony?”

  “Yes, sweetheart. I’m going to have you ride a chevalet. It’s on the list of possible punishments, remember? I know you haven’t ridden one before. I know you’ll be scared. You always have the same choice, to submit to me or not. If you use your safe word, I won’t hold it against you. You know I won’t.”

  “I know, Daddy. B-but—”

  “No, no buts, little love. Will you accept your punishment? Do you want to submit to me?”

  Her eyes clear and she nods. “Yes, Daddy. Always.”

  “That’s my good girl.” I kiss her forehead before I bring the mask up and fasten it over her eyes.

  She takes a shaky breath. I turn her around in my arms and kiss her until we’re both breathing hard. While we’re kissing, the door opens and closes, and when I turn around, Maude is perched in one chair, Javier in another, while Ten stands in the middle of the room with his heavily muscled arms crossed over his chest. His vest bares several of the “X” tattoos that are the basis of his club name. In full leathers, he looks ready to play, even though I didn’t see his number on the board.

  I acknowledge them with nods, but don’t say anything as I lead Emily over to the horse. Once we’re within easy reach, I stop her and guide her hands to the rail for balance as I bend her over to take off her knickers and remove the plug.

  “Emily, what’s your safe word?” Ten asks in his baritone rasp.

  “Dominoes or red, sir.” She doesn’t stutter but her voice is so small. She’s frightened, my little girl, but this isn’t the time for me to comfort her. That will come later.

  “Have you ever ridden a rail before?” he asks.

  “No, sir.”

  Ten’s hard, blue eyes flick to me and he nods, although his perpetual scowl doesn’t lighten. I’m not sure what he’s approving, but since he’s one of the club’s more serious sadists, I suspect it’s the mode of punishment. I’m not much for club gossip, but I know that Ten and Karl and their cabal consider me a “soft” sadist. Since their approval of my kink isn’t something I’ll ever give a single fuck about, I’ve never made any effort to correct their impression.

  I pop the plug into a baggie to clean later and remove Emily’s skirt, leaving her in the adorable thigh highs. They’ll prevent her legs from sticking to the horse’s sides. Goose bumps break out over her hips as her skirt drops to the floor. The room’s comfortably warm, so that’s anxiety, not a chill. I rub her thighs and hips gently before reaching up to unbutton her shirt and unfasten her bustier. She releases the horse so I can draw her clothes off her arms, then stands with her arms wrapped around her middle and her head down. She doesn’t cover her genitals, and I feel a surge of pride to see her being so well-behaved, despite her obvious fear.

  “Emily, hold out your wrists so I can put your cuffs on.”

  She does immediately. I praise her as I buckle on her dainty cuffs. Then I pull rope out of my bag and drop it next to the horse.

  “I’m going to lift you and set you on the horse. Master Ten is going to guide your right leg, so if you feel other hands on you, that’s all it is. He’s not going to touch anything but your leg,” I say, more for Ten’s benefit than hers. “I’m going to position the horse so the rail is pressing against your pussy. Then I’m going to tie your cuffs so you won’t be able to fall off. I want you to keep your feet flat on the floor the whole time. Understand?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  I know Emily separates my nurturing side from my sadistic side and calls me “Sir” when she thinks I’m in meanie-mode, but I don’t like it.

  “No, I told you, we’re not doing that. I’m Daddy, little girl.”

  She shivers but nods. “Yes, Daddy.”

  “Okay, here we go.” I grip her slender waist and lift her a few inches so Ten can draw her leg over the top rail of the horse. Then I lower her gently until she finds her feet. The top rail is about two inches below her groin; I bend down and adjust the legs until the rail presses against her from pubic bone to anus. Ten proves surprisingly helpful, working the legs on the other side of the horse; he gives me a nod as we finish.

  There are a hundred different ways to bind a bottom on a wooden horse. I don’t intend to leave Emily on for more than an hour, so I don’t need the bondage to immobilize her, just prevent her from falling off as she becomes fatigued. I also want to leave her enough freedom that she has to choose to submit to her punishment from moment to moment.

  Mindful submission, as Niall would say.

  I draw her hands behind her back and tell her to grip her elbows. Once she does, I clip her cuffs together.

  “Reach down and feel the rail, Emily,” I tell her. She does, her little fingertips inching along the wood. “That’s right. Now that you know where the rail is, you may not touch it with your hands again. I know you’ll be tempted as the pain increases to reach back and push yourself up off the rail. I don’t want to see that. That’s not accepting your punishment. That’s not submitting to me. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, Daddy.” She lifts her fingers away from the rail and tucks her hands in the small of her back.

  “That’s my girl. I’m going to bind your ankles now. This is just to make sure you don’t fall. The bondage won’t support you, and it won’t prevent you from going up on your tiptoes to relieve the pressure. However, I’ll be timing you. I have a number in mind for how long you’re going to ride the horse. I’m not going to tell you how long, only that it’s not more than ninety minutes. Whenever you go up on your tiptoes, the time stops until you go back down on your heels. Do you understand?”

  She swallows hard. She’s probably already feeling the pressure, b
ut she nods. “Yes, Daddy.”

  “Good girl.”

  She is being very good. Some bottoms, figuring that they’re already in deep shit and have nothing to lose, try to bargain at this stage. It never goes well for them, but it doesn’t stop them from trying. Emily tried to bargain with me once while we were on the cruise, but she learned from her mistake and has never tried it again. My sweet girl.

  I tie off the rope to one leg of the pony, run it through the D-rings on her right cuff, tie it off to the back leg, then do the other side. She can move up and down, but not side to side.

  “Go up on your tiptoes so I can see whether you’re stable, Emmy.”

  She does it immediately, no wobble.

  “Good. Come back down onto your heels.”

  She settles back onto the rail with a whimper. I adjust her labia so they’re spread on either side of the curved top and step back.

  “Are you ready, Emily?” I take out my phone and flip to the timer.

  “Yes, Daddy.”

  “Time starts now.” I thumb the timer and set it down on the bed so I can see it easily. I intend for her to ride the pony for an hour. If she makes it the whole time, she’ll be in severe pain. She probably won’t be able to walk unassisted for the rest of the day and will develop bruises that will last for a little over a week, given the way Emily marks. This won’t be a punishment she forgets, and it will make her think long and hard before she deliberately breaks one of my rules again.

  She draws in a deep breath and rocks experimentally back on the rail, resting most of her weight on her ass. Given that her sphincter is already sore, I don’t expect she’ll be able to stay in that position for long, and I’m proven right when she rocks forward with a whimper after little more than a minute.

  She quickly discovers there’s no good position. Sitting flat on the rail puts pressure on her recently-fucked vaginal opening and perineum. Sitting forward puts pressure on her clit with its thousands of nerves. Emily’s clit isn’t the most sensitive I’ve ever come across. She can stand for me to spank it and give it a hard pinch. But it’s sensitive enough that she rocks back off her clit after only a minute, too.