by Frost, E J
I almost sob with her. Her position looks painful, even from a distance, with her legs spread wide, ankles manacled to the desk’s legs, her arms stretched over the desktop and her cheek crushed against the polished wood. She’s twisting against her bonds. Her skin’s dotted with sweat. With the murmuring crowd ringing her and the tops towering over her with their implements of torture, she must be terrified.
Harlow touches the red tip of the Tazapper to Nikki’s shoulder. The snap of the discharge is so loud it makes my ears ring. Nikki screams, either in surprise or pain, and I scream with her.
Daddy turns at my shriek. When he sees my expression, he starts laughing. He leans down and kisses my nose. “It’s a fairly mild shock, sweet love. It just makes a ton of noise. Nikki’s not being injured.”
I nod, but Daddy can see I’m trembling. He draws me against his leg and pets me, his big, warm hand moving over and over my head and shoulders. Jiro comes to stand beside Daddy, and they watch the scene together for a few minutes. Jiro has Laurel kneel next to me. She can’t touch me while she’s in the armbinder, but she leans against me so I can feel her warmth and strength.
The interrogation goes on while Logan’s gentling me. I jump a little with each terrible snap of the Tazapper, but remember what Daddy’s said about it having more bark than bite. When I’m calm, Daddy gives a little tug on my leash and leads me over to the chair he’s reserved. He offers it to Jiro first—he’s such a gentleman—and when Jiro declines, Daddy urges me up onto the chair, with my knees on the seat and my paws over the back. He positions the chair so I can watch the scene before he walks around me, trailing his hand down my body from shoulder to hip. I shiver happily. Daddy moves in behind me, his thighs brushing mine, and smooths his palms down my back, shoulders to hips, over and over, until I’m purring more like a kitty than a puppy. I want to be a pet all the time if Daddy will stroke me like this. He touches me a lot, but this is special. It feels like he’s grooming me, making my coat shine. I preen under his hands. There can’t be a more beautiful kinky, ninja puppy in the entire world at this moment.
Daddy leans over my back and whispers in my ear, “My wonderful, wonderful baby doll. I love you so much.”
I yip softly, wanting to acknowledge him without breaking character.
“Good puppy,” Daddy murmurs before dropping kisses on my shoulder. “I’m going to enter you now. I know you’re still sore. Three yips if you need me to stop. This is not something to endure. This is a fucking for us both to enjoy. When I slap your clit, try to come for me. Okay?”
I nod eagerly.
He nips and sucks on my earlobe before he growls, “Good girl. Love this little puppy. Offer me your pussy to fuck, sweet puppy-girl.”
I grip the chair back, drop my head and shoulders down, arch my back, and tip my butt up as far as I can. I wiggle as hard as I dare without falling off the chair.
Daddy flips my tail up onto my back with a silky swish. His hands close on my ass-cheeks and squeeze. “Look at my puppy’s pussy. Still purple and swollen. So fucking beautiful.” He runs his hands back toward my center and spreads my cheeks with his thumbs. “Knees a little wider, baby girl.”
I scoot my knees apart and Daddy growls. Although his growl is wolfy, his touch is gentle. An achy shiver still goes through me when he touches the bruises, but it’s more than bearable. A little more and it will trip that crossed wire in my brain.
The snap of the Tazapper and another shriek from Nikki almost drown out the noise of Daddy’s zipper. The sounds go through me, tickling along my nerves, pushing me over the edge between fear and excitement. I shiver so hard that Daddy grips my cheeks to hold me still. He waits until a lull in the noise from the scene to say, “You’re okay, sweet puppy.” He strokes my pussy more firmly and I hiss at the sharp, pleasurable ache. “Arch your back a little more for me. Here we go.”
His broad tip slides up and down my opening, parting my lips. Even that little pressure makes me shudder. It feels like there’s no room for him; I’m so swollen. He increases the pressure. I try not to resist, not to push back against his penetration, but I can’t help it. I’m scared and excited and everything inside me is getting tighter and tighter. Logan groans as his tip burrows into me.
“Oh, puppy-girl, that’s so good. You feel so fucking hot inside.” He rubs one hand up my back, gathers the leash, and pulls back slightly so I feel the collar constrict my throat. With the pressure on my throat, he guides me back as he slowly pushes forward. I feel every vein and ridge of his cock. It burns worse than when he figs me with ginger. My whines and whimpers are drowned by Daddy’s groans, the murmurs of the crowd, and the harsh snapping of the Tazapper.
I drop my forehead between my hands and lift my ass as much as I can to ease his entry. It still feels like he’s twice his normal size. When he hits bottom and pulls back, it feels like he’s pulling my insides out with his cock. I give three, high yips and Logan stops moving.
“Too much, puppy-baby? It’s okay.” He strokes his hand down my back. I hear a snap that’s not the Tazapper, then coolness trickles down over the tissues Daddy’s cock is stretching. I groan with relief, and then with pleasure as he slides deep again and without that terrible friction, the soreness morphs into aching delight. I moan long and low and I don’t care that it doesn’t sound like a puppy because Daddy’s filling me and it’s so-so-so good.
“That’s my baby,” Logan groans, stroking in and out. Smooth thrusts that make me shudder when he bottoms out and howl when he pulls back to rub the inflamed tissues at my entrance. He leans over me, planting one hand, with my leash still wrapped around it, beside mine on the back of the chair. With the other hand, he rubs between my thighs, stroking the skin covered by the sheer jumpsuit, tickling the skin it leaves bare. I shiver and grab at the back of the chair to hold myself still.
“Hold on to my wrist,” Daddy rumbles in my ear. I grab his wrist and cling as he begins to pound in and out of me, the chair creaking with the force of his thrusts. His wet fingertips find my clit. He begins to tap-tap-tap. I howl with each little impact. It hurts, but it’s not enough and I’m afraid I’m not going to come and it feels like Daddy’s getting close from the taut urgency of his thrusts. I focus on his pleasure instead of my own, squeezing down on him as hard as I can. He bites down on my shoulder to stifle a roar and slaps my clit so hard I scream. The pain ripples through me, tightening everything, and launches me straight over the edge. Daddy plunges deep, giving me the best pressure to work against as I come and come and come, shaking so hard my knees slip and it’s only Daddy grabbing me around the waist that keeps me on the chair and on his cock as he pumps his heat into me.
I curl into a ball around his arm, shuddering through the aftershocks. Daddy kisses my ear and holds me, murmuring between kisses that I’m his very good girl, his wonderful puppy-girl, and that he’s so proud to be my daddy.
When my sanity returns, I stroke his wrist and uncoil enough to get my knees back under me. Daddy releases me and straightens enough to run his hand up and down my back. He gives my tail a tug, which sets off a shudder in my core. I give him a happy, puppy bark and he smacks a kiss on the back of my head.
“Pleased with you, puppy-baby.”
“Ta, Daddy,” I say, wanting to follow his rules, even though he’s told me I’m excused while I’m a puppy.
“Good girl. Hold still while I clean you up a little.” He withdraws gently and damp coolness moves between my legs. The scent of tea tree oil overrides the salty smell of sex. I whisper my thanks for him taking such good care of me and press kisses to the arm he still has braced on the back of the chair.
“Off the chair and onto your knees now, my sweet puppy. We’ll watch the rest of the scene and then head back downstairs to keep an eye on things.”
I lick his wrist gratefully before I climb off the chair and sink to my knees to the harsh snap of the Tazapper.
Chapter Twenty
Logan
Even by Rick’s st
andards, this party is out of hand.
As we return downstairs, we have to edge around a threesome going at it on the bottom stair. The roar from the dining room suggests the gang bang is still going strong. I’m amazed there hasn’t been a noise complaint yet.
I send Emily into the living room with Jiro and Laurel while I check on the gang bang. Rick’s no longer in there. A different, red-collared sub is on the table with a guy in her mouth and a blonde woman bent over her, eating her out, while the five-deep line waiting their turn hoots and catcalls. I check around the room, because an unmonitored gang bang is all kinds of bad idea. A man dressed all in black, with two full sleeves of tattoos showing on the burly arms he has crossed over his chest, catches my eye as he leans against the wall, watching the action intently. He gives me a thumbs up.
Reassured that someone’s monitoring the sub for signs of distress, I back out and make my way across the hall into the living room, weaving through clots of people groping, kissing, and fucking. It’s not all that unusual for private kink parties to devolve into orgies, which is one reason I haven’t brought Emily to any. I prefer the more structured setting of Blunts. Still, Rick’s parties are usually more restrained.
I find Emily, Jiro, and Laurel back on the couch with Daisy. There’s a topless brunette kneeling in front of Daisy, licking lovingly up and down her instep. Daisy laughs as she picks up a cup of bright orange punch.
A memory catches at me. It tumbles along a sudden flood of connections.
“Daisy, stop,” I say, loudly enough to be heard over the party’s din.
She stops with the cup half-way to her lips. “What’s wrong, Big Daddy? You think I’m going to get shit-faced and try to jump your little girl?”
“The punch.” I point at her drink. “It’s usually red. It’s always been red at Rick’s other parties, hasn’t it?”
Daisy looks askance at the cup in her hand. “Yes.”
It all comes together in my head. Glory’s resistance to shutting down the internet trolling. Her name on Rick’s list. The French kiss and her stupid pet-name for him. That flicker of disgust when she saw Emily in High Protocol. The punch.
“How much have you had?”
“This is my second glass, but Rick’s had about six.” She leans over and taps the woman worshipping her feet. “Jazz, hold up a minute, sweets.”
“Go make yourself throw up, Daisy,” I tell her. “Right now.”
To give her credit, Daisy doesn’t question me. She puts the cup down and drags the foot-worshipper with her as she heads towards the bathroom. Emily climbs off the couch right behind Daisy and comes to me, looking anxiously up into my face. I wrap my arm around her shoulders and hold her to me as I fumble my phone out of my pocket.
Manny answers on the second ring. “Yo.”
His voice is nearly drowned in the background noise. The smack of leather on flesh and shouting. There wasn’t an impact scene scheduled. What’s going on?
“I need you to make Rick vomit,” I shout to be heard over the noise.
“What? Are you kidding?”
“No. Do it now.”
“He’s in the middle of a scene.”
“He wasn’t scheduled to do a scene,” I shout.
“I know. Supposed to be some kinda thing with fire in here, but Rick walked in and tossed these two girls on the bed and began smacking their asses with one of those cat-o-nine-tail things, so the fire people cleared out.”
Fuck.
“Does he look like he’s in control?” I ask.
Manny’s silent for a moment, while the noises in the background escalate. My stomach knots.
“T’be really honest, he looks high. He’s red and sweaty and laughing. Waving his dick around.”
That doesn’t sound like he’s in control.
“I think there’s something in the punch. I want you to walk over to Rick and say the word ‘red’ really loudly in his ear, then make Rick go to the bathroom and throw up. Stick your fingers down his throat if you have to.”
Manny swears colorfully. “He’s going to be fucking pissed, hermano.”
Better pissed than under the influence of whatever Glory’s put in the punch.
“I know. I’ll take the blame. I’ll be up to help you but stop the scene now.”
“Okay. I’m guessing this’ll be the end of us workin’ these parties.”
“I don’t care. Manny, do it now. And have you seen Theo?”
“Who?”
Fuck, Manny doesn’t know Theo. “Never mind. I’ve got to find someone and then I’ll be right up.”
“Don’t drag your ass, man. This is going to suck. Hey, Rick!”
He ends the call.
As soon as I pull the phone away from my face, Emily squeezes me to get my attention. “I think Master Theo and DirtyGurl are in the kitchen. I saw them go that way while you were in the other room.”
I kiss her on the forehead. “Thank you, my good girl. Let’s go find them. I want you with DirtyGurl while we deal with this.”
She nods and nestles into my side.
I turn to Jiro. “I need to find Theo.”
“Right behind you.” He holds his hand out to Laurel as he rises off the couch.
The hallway seems abnormally crowded, possibly because there are couples in cinches all along it. I push my way through to the kitchen, ducking a half-hearted punch from a man whose blow job I interrupt as I bump into his back. He curses at me before he goes back to banging his boyfriend’s head against the wall.
I tuck Emily a little more tightly against my side.
The kitchen is just as crowded as the hallway. There’s a dense mass of people near the sink, and I hear the sounds of retching even over the loud conversations and even louder sex sounds. Either the bathroom was busy and Daisy decided to use the sink, or someone has had too much to drink
Elbowing my way into the room, I glance at the central island, where the drinks and finger foods were laid out. It’s a shambles, with nothing but a few crumbs left on the food trays and most of the drink bottles standing empty. The punch bowl has maybe a half-inch of orange liquid in the bottom. I try to remember how many gallon jugs Glory had on the counter. Five? Six? Maybe more.
As I’m scrabbling through my memory, I see a flash of blue out of the corner of my eye.
DirtyGurl’s pushing through the crowd around the sink. Her dreadlocks swish among more natural hair colors as she makes her way to a mop of spiral curls. When DirtyGurl reaches Daisy, she rubs her hand up Daisy’s back and leans over to offer words of comfort. It occurs to me that Daisy’s a frequent-enough visitor at Blunts that DirtyGurl knows her.
A hand closes on my arm. Remembering the guy from the hall, I put my hand in my pocket for my baton before I turn.
Theo shoves his face into mine, nose to nose, so he doesn’t have to shout. I smell cigarettes on his breath as he growls, “This party’s outta hand.”
“Agreed,” I respond. “I think the punch might be spiked. Can you flash your badge and start clearing people out—”
My phone buzzes in my breast pocket.
Manny?
I fumble my phone out.
Max.
I exhale in relief and swipe my thumb over the ignore button.
He rings back immediately.
I’m torn. Max could have something. But Theo’s glaring at my phone and he doesn’t know who Max is. Nor do I really want Theo-the-cop knowing about Max-the-hacker.
I swipe my thumb over the ignore button again.
“Spiked with what?” Theo growls. He sounds like he’s grinding rocks between his molars.
“I don’t know, but this is way wilder than Rick’s parties usually get and the color of the punch is wrong. It should be red.”
Theo lifts an eyebrow. “Red,” he says flatly.
“Don’t give me that look, mate. My Spidey sense is tingling. Rick’s manager made the punch. She could be the stalker. There’s a goddamn gang bang going on in the dining roo
m and people fucking in every corner. All these people can’t be exhibitionists—”
Theo sneers. “Everyone knows you have a thing against gang bangs.”
“I have a thing against my client being poisoned by something in the fucking punch!” I shout at him.
The kitchen goes silent around us.
Theo gives me a glare that tells me exactly what he thinks of my outburst before he stretches his arm over his head, holding his badge in the air. “Sorry, folks. We might have to call this an early night. No reason to panic. I’m sure there’s nothing wrong with the punch.” He gives me another glare. “But if anyone feels sick, please come and talk to me before you leave.”
Several people surge toward Theo. I yank my arm out of his grip and step away to return Max’s call.
I turn straight into a fist. This punch isn’t half-hearted. It has a man’s full weight behind it. His fist catches me right on the jaw and rings my bell. With stars bursting behind my eyes, I stagger back.
“Fuck, Rick, have you lost your fucking mind! He’s has a head injury!” Manny, two steps behind Rick, grab’s Rick’s arm.
Rick jabs his elbow into Manny’s face and swings for me with his left. For a moment, I don’t see his fist. I see a fire extinguisher and Jason-the-Murderous-Bastard’s face behind it.
Emily screams. “No!”
No one’s taking me away from my little girl again.
I side-step Rick’s punch, balance on my good leg, and sweep his knee with my left leg while hammering a punch at his face. His nose crunches against my knuckles. He falls back into Manny and a woman who doesn’t scramble out of the way fast enough.
“Jiro, get the girls out of here,” I snap as I advance on Rick.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Jiro wrap his arm around Emily and sweep her towards the door.
Rick staggers up out of the tangle of people and comes at me again, his shoulders drawn up to his ears like a boxer. He’s as much a boxer as I am a fucking caber tosser. He also doesn’t keep his guard up for shit. I slam my left knee into his undefended gut while blocking his sloppy cross. He doubles over and is only saved from my follow-up hook by Theo grabbing me from behind.
