by Frost, E J
His encouragement and pumping fingers send me over the edge, and I have to grab at him to keep from falling over because my legs are shaking so hard.
He chuckles and holds my eyes with that dark, wolfy gaze that sucks down each cry of pain and pleasure as his due. When he’s wrung the last gasp out of me and I’m getting so sensitive that I’m gritting my teeth against the urge to push him away, he slides his fingers out of me and pulls me in tight to his chest, still keeping his painful hold on my nipple.
“Ta, Daddy,” I whimper.
“You’re welcome. Who do you belong to, ninja puppy?”
“You, Daddy.”
“Everyone at the party’s going to be able to see you in this sexy little outfit, my girl. Your beautiful nipples and your beautiful pussy and your beautiful ass all on display. Who does all this beautiful belong to?”
His words make me flush afresh. “You, Daddy. All yours.”
“That’s right.” He twists my nipple until I yelp. “Nobody touches all this beautiful without my permission tonight. Not Daisy. Not Rick. Not anyone. Anyone tries to touch you without asking me first, you tell them, ‘Paws off. I belong to my daddy.’ ”
That makes me giggle, despite the pain radiating from my nipple. “Okay, Daddy.”
“I mean it, little girl. I’ve had enough of other people touching you today. I don’t want to see anyone else’s hands on you. It’s going to be my hands tonight. My cock. Expect to be bent over and fucked like the kinky, little puppy you are at least once during the party. You’re Daddy’s puppy to fuck whenever he wants.”
Wow, he’s gone into super possessive-mode. He constructed the tickling scene, so it’s kind of nuts he’s grumpy about the other Doms touching me, but this isn’t the first time he’s gotten like this, and it makes all the heat flushing me run straight between my legs again, so I’m not about to argue, either.
“Yes, Daddy.”
“When you’re getting your fucking, little puppy, I don’t want to hear a single word. Nothing but whining and yelping while Daddy’s mounting you. I loved controlling your speech while you were being tickled, so we’ll be doing more of that, and puppies don’t talk, so while you’re my little fuck-puppy, not one word.”
Whoa, insane Dom-mode. It makes me shiver uncontrollably. Such good, hot, bright shivers.
“Yes, Daddy. Not a word.”
“Good girl. I’m very pleased with you, little girl.”
That makes me a different kind of warm all over. “Ta, Daddy.”
I tip my head up in hope of a kiss and he gives me a deep one, nipping at my lips before he lets me go. Wolfy-Daddy.
“Love you, Daddy.”
He nips the tip of my nose. “Love you, too, little girl. Let’s go have some fun.”
* * *
The caterer is still wheeling carts of booze and canapés into the kitchen when we arrive at Rick’s apartment. After checking in with Manny, Daddy guides us upstairs, out of the way.
Past Rick’s creepy, chrome-skeleton thing, we head, first, to the bathroom, where we change out of our street clothes. While Daddy’s transforming me into his ninja puppy, Jiro strips Laurel down to an iridescent G-string and suspenders that hold up her scale-patterned stockings. The G-string reveals several welts across her butt and upper thighs that must have been made by something like Daddy’s evil Delrin rod, given their precision and deep purple color. Seeing her bruises makes me feel much better about displaying my own.
Jiro has Laurel put her arms behind her, and, wow, her elbows nearly touch in the back. He smooths a beautifully tooled, green leather armbinder up over her arms. The armbinder has a set of ridges that look like a dragon’s spine. Jiro laces up the armbinder until Laurel’s shoulders are drawn back and her breasts thrust so far forward, I’m worried she’ll tip over. He offsets the binding with a huge butt plug that supports a scaled green tail. Finally, he settles a leather half-mask over her face. The mask is studded with green rhinestones and fringed like a dragon’s scales. Laurel looks so proud and fierce it brings tears to my eyes.
Daddy pauses in lacing up one of the paw mitts to catch my chin in his hand. “What’s up, my baby?”
“Laurel looks magnificent, Daddy,” I whisper.
Daddy flicks his eyes over her. He smiles, but there’s no heat in his eyes. “She does, sweetie.” He draws me against his chest and speaks warmly into my ear. “But I prefer my sweet, sexy, ninja puppy.”
I wriggle happily in his arms.
He releases me to pack away our street clothes in his toy bag. Daddy’s wearing a black suit, which he sometimes wears to play if he’s more in Dom-mode than Daddy-mode, but I sense he’s wearing it tonight to reinforce the fact that he’s working. I notice he tucks his phone and his baton into his pockets, along with lube and the horrible clover nipple clamps. I’ll try hard not to earn those tonight. Daddy’s not carrying his gun. He rarely does, but I know he’s worried about Rick’s stalker trying something at the party. I noticed Manny was carrying his gun when we said hello to him downstairs.
Once Daddy’s zipped up his toy bag, I smooth his red silk tie down with my paw. “You look really nice, Daddy.”
“Thank you, sweetie.” He kisses the tip of my nose. “You’re the star of the show in this outfit, but I’ll try not to let the side down.”
I giggle. “You could never let the side down.” My hot daddy.
Jiro’s wearing more classic Dom-wear: black leather pants and a harness that shows off his chest and arms. While Jiro buckles a black, leather collar studded with golden dragons around Laurel’s neck, I admire his colorful tattoos.
“Are you suuure I can’t have a tattoo, Daddy?” I ask.
“Are you suuure you want one? I really like the idea that the only marks on this pretty baby skin will be my brands.”
Well, when he puts it that way. “Okay, Daddy!”
He chuckles. “That’s my sweet girl. Seeing how much the idea of pony play excited you, I think I might give you the second brand while you’re in the breeding stall. I’ll breed you until you pass out, then I’ll shock you awake with the brand on your ass and fuck you again while you’re still screaming. What do you think of that, my horny little mare?”
I think I’m going to faint because all the blood in my body has just rushed to my pussy.
“I-I think I’d like that, Daddy,” I whisper.
“I bet you would.” He chucks me under the chin. “C’mon, let’s get the plug in you.”
I squint up at him uncertainly, because even with the lube and all the naughty talk ramping me up, I’m pretty sure this is going to hurt like heck.
“Just breathe with me, my good girl. ‘Yellow’ if it gets to be too much,” he says, as he bends me over the sink. I wrap my arms around the bowl of the sink in a death grip, but Logan runs his palms over my forearms until I relax. “This isn’t discipline, sweetie. It’s just a cute tail for my kinky, ninja puppy, but you’ll still be my kinky, ninja puppy without it. If you’re too sore to wear it, that’s okay.”
I blow out a breath. Hearing him say it’s okay if I don’t wear the tail makes me want to try twice as hard to take it for him. “Ta, Daddy. I’ll try.”
“That’s my baby. Here’s more lube.” He drizzles it down my crack and works it in with the cool tip of the plug. Even that stings a little, but as he presses more firmly, it feels better. I arch my back, trying for the angle that feels best. Daddy pushes against my movement. The burn as my bruised, swollen sphincter stretches around the plug makes my eyes water and forces a whimper out of me, but then the widest part is through and the plug settles into place, with a brush of fur against my ass I’m not used to. Daddy rubs my lower back, sliding the silky material of my bodysuit over my skin. I focus on the sensations of his hand and the tail, rather than the biting ache of my very sore sphincter, and after a few moments the pain eases.
“There you go,” Daddy says. He reads me insanely well. “Let me see my kinky, ninja puppy.”
He
holds out a hand and I take it as I straighten. The tail brushes the backs of my legs whenever I move. Ooo, goose bumps. That’s a feeling I could get addicted to.
“Beautiful, baby girl.” The approval in his tone and words makes me warm and tingly, but that’s nothing compared to the heat that races through me at his wolfy stare. Holding my eyes, he palms my breasts and pinches my nipples until they’re standing out like pegs under the sheer fabric. Everyone can see how turned on I am, and that’s just how my daddy wants it.
“Perfect,” Daddy croons. He snaps the leash onto the thick leather band around my throat and gives it a gentle tug. Enraptured by the spell he’s woven around me, I drop to my hands and knees and crawl after him.
He takes us on a tour of the bedrooms first. There’s a different scene set up in each room: a cupping scene in Rick’s bedroom, a pegging scene in the guest bedroom, and an interrogation scene in the third bedroom that Rick uses as an office. After Daddy appropriates a straight chair and a small “reserved” sign from the threesome doing the interrogation scene and drags the chair to the back of the room, he introduces Jiro and Laurel to the trio. The Domme greets Logan like they’re old friends. As they talk, I gather she was once a house sub at Blunts.
I’ve met tops who started as bottoms before, and they always have interesting stories. I wish I could ask the Domme for her story, but I don’t want to break character. Daddy hasn’t taken away my words except when I’m getting puppy-loving, but I’m enjoying being his puppy and it feels right not to talk. I tuck away my questions and hope I get to talk to the Domme after the party’s over.
Daddy doesn’t introduce me to the Domme, although she asks to pet me and when Daddy gives her permission, she pats me on the head. “What a good little puppy you have here, Logan.”
Daddy closes his hand on my nape and pulls my head back so he can smile down into my eyes. “The best little ninja puppy in the world.”
I grin up at him.
“You’re allowed to talk, baby doll.”
I give a little yip of acknowledgment and he moves his hand around to cup my chin. “Like that, is it? Good girl.”
I rub my cheek against his fingers happily.
Once Daddy finishes talking with the Domme, we head downstairs. Jiro and Laurel are still deep in conversation with the sub of the trio; we leave them chatting after Daddy tells Jiro where we’re going.
Crawling downstairs is unexpectedly hard. I must have crawled downstairs as a toddler, but my body’s forgotten those muscle-memories. I feel unbalanced, top-heavy, and before we’ve gone down two risers, I’m whining and turning sideways to avoid tumbling headfirst down the stairs.
Daddy catches my collar with his fingers and brings my head up. “Slow. One step at a time. Paw, paw, knee, knee. Okay?”
I nod and follow his directions and make it down the flight of stairs without falling and splitting my head.
Daddy leads me down the carpeted hallway to the kitchen. The caterers have cleared out, but there are still people buzzing around. Resplendent in a peacock caftan, Rick’s manager, Glory, pours bright orange liquid out of a gallon bottle into a huge punch bowl. Whether it’s the punch or something else, there’s a heavy, sweet smell in the air, like night-blooming flowers. It makes my head spin.
Rick’s leaning against the kitchen island, not helping with any of the preparations—surprise, surprise—slurping down a glass of punch. He’s in pimp-wear again: black, leather pants and a white, short-sleeved, silk shirt. He was wearing pretty much the same thing the night I first met him. He ended that evening covered with regurgitated spaghetti after he choked out some poor groupie who was giving him a blow job.
It’s probably not being the bigger person to hope for a repeat of history tonight.
“Logan,” Rick booms when he sees us. “C’mon. Have a drink of Glory’s famous punch.”
Daddy stops a few feet away and draws me up beside him, looping my leash over his wrist. He puts out his hand and gives me the sign for Tower Slave, which is the same as Nadu but with my knees together.
As I settle onto position, I lean forward and lick his knuckles to show my gratitude. It’s a little thing, not having to spread my knees and expose my privates to Rick. But it’s so important to me in this moment. And Daddy, who knows me terrifyingly well, intuits it.
Logan greets Glory and Rick but declines a glass of punch on the grounds that he’s working. When Rick offers a bowl of punch for “the puppy,” Daddy strokes my head and says that I’m on water for the night.
In our contract, I have a two-drink maximum without permission, but Logan’s never restricted my drinking before, and I wonder if he wants me sober for a reason. He’s been to lots of Rick’s parties, while I haven’t been to any, and it makes me wonder what’s to come other than the scheduled scenes.
I don’t have all that long to wonder.
Within a half-hour, Rick’s apartment is absolutely packed with people. When the kitchen gets too busy, Daddy relocates us to the living room and commandeers a couch. Daisy sits next to Daddy, resplendent in the silver lace dress she bought when we went shopping. Daisy always looks good, but tonight in the shimmery dress, with her hair in a huge cascade of blonde and blue ringlets, and makeup that David Bowie would envy, she looks every inch the movie star.
I’m bracketed between their legs as I kneel at Daddy’s feet. It’s a good place to be, safe between two Doms. I smile at Jiro, who sits down on the opposite couch, with Laurel at his feet.
The position doesn’t insulate me from the noise, though: wolf-whistles and shouts of encouragement that rise over the din of voices. When a full-throated scream splits the air, Daddy pushes up off the couch. He gives me a hand-signal to stay while he moves towards the open archway into the living room. He watches whatever is going on in the hallway, or maybe across the hall in the dining room, before shaking his head and returning to the couch.
“Gang bang on the dining room table,” he tells us.
“Anyone I know?” Daisy asks.
“I don’t recognize her, but she’s wearing a red collar and Rick’s in there.” Daddy shrugs. “It’s his party.”
Daddy explained when he was introducing us to the performers doing the three scenes that Rick had hired a number of pro-tops and pro-bottoms for the party. The pro-bottoms are all wearing thin, red, leather collars so they’re easy to identify.
That doesn’t make me feel much better about a gang bang going on across the hall.
I whine and paw at Daddy’s leg.
He leans down and kisses my forehead. “I know, baby girl. Not your thing. It’s not mine, either. But it’s Rick’s party. The scenes upstairs will start in a few minutes and we’ll go up. Get away from the noise, huh?”
I yip and nod.
Daddy cups my chin. “Love you, my ninja puppy.”
I turn my head so I can rub my cheek into his palm. Daddy has great hands, with long fingers and big knuckles. He can cover my whole face with one hand, and his hands are always warm. When he holds me in his big, warm hands, every concern melts away, and I know nothing can hurt me. Not even whatever scary-sounding thing is going on across the hall.
Daddy draws me close, my side against his calf, my head on his thigh, while he goes back to his conversation with Jiro and Daisy. I listen with half-an-ear, in case Daddy wants me. They’re not talking about anything kinky at the moment, just discussing their favorite restaurants in Northern Virginia, where Jiro and Laurel live. Daddy’s pulled out his phone and is tagging restaurants, which makes my insides fizz with happiness because it means he hasn’t forgotten about the trip to DC that he promised me, even in all the craziness. Not that I thought he would forget, because Daddy never forgets anything, but it makes me all the happy that he hasn’t.
When he puts his phone away, I lean up and lick the back of his hand.
He cups my chin. “Doing okay, my puppy?”
I yip and lick his nose, which makes him laugh.
Daddy lifts his head
and looks around the room. “Crowd’s thinning out. Looks like people are heading upstairs. You ready?”
I beg, tongue wagging. Daddy chuckles and pinches my nipple before picking up my leash. I drop back onto all fours to follow him.
“Fuck,” Daisy says. “Please God, let me smack that ass at least once tonight.”
I can’t help but giggle, even though it isn’t very puppy-like, but Daddy’s growl makes up for my lapse. “Keep your hands to yourself, Daisy.”
She holds up her hands, white nails flashing, but grins at Logan’s back as he leads me around the couch towards the door.
There’s a crowd on the stairs, which makes it easy for me to go up slowly, although I’m super aware of the people behind me who are looking at my plugged butt as I wiggle it up one riser after the other. Since it’s not Miranda staring at me, and since Daddy’s displayed me this way, I let the naughty pleasure of it put an extra waggle in my wiggle.
Daddy leads me down the hall towards the bedroom with the interrogation scene. Several people ask to “pet the puppy” along the way, but Daddy refuses. It makes me feel so special, so cherished, to be admired but not touched.
Half-way down the hall, Daddy stops and tugs on my leash. I sit up and beg. Daddy twirls his finger and I hop around in a circle, wiggling my bottom so my tail swishes all around my legs. When I settle back onto my haunches, Daddy leans down and rewards me with hard kisses before leading me on to the bedroom.
The scene’s already going, with a crowd ringing the desk. The sub of the trio, Nikki, has been bound face-down on the desk. Stephan, the switch, stands behind Nikki. He and the Domme, Harlow, are wearing khaki uniforms while Nikki’s already naked, her mocha skin gleaming under the room’s dimmed lights. Stephan holds a rug beater, while Harlow’s got an absolutely terrifying-looking Tazapper.
“Comrade,” Harlow snarls, circling around the desk so she’s close to Nikki’s head. “You are a spy and a whore for the West. Tell me the truth now. Confess and this will end.”
“No, no! I’ve done nothing wrong,” Nikki sobs.
