by Frost, E J
We spend a few more minutes talking about what Niall dubs the Katonah Kinksters’ Kabins before Niall gets up for another round of beers. I ask for a bottle of water since I have a scene planned with Emily before bed.
When he settles back in his chair, he asks, “What’s the plan for tomorrow?”
“Breakfast here at eight-thirty. Sightseeing after breakfast. People will be arriving around lunchtime, so I’ve left the afternoon open. Emmy’s arranged a big dinner starting at sixteen hundred. Then the arm-wrestle battle, of course. Scene opens once we’ve all had some time to digest. We have to be done by midnight.”
“Yeh keeping the big scene a secret?”
“From Emily. Can Vashi keep a secret?”
“Vashi’s Fort fecking Knox. Shaan’s the problem. Emily bats those baby gurl eyes at him, and he’ll fall over himself to tell her.” Niall grins and shakes his head. “Better if neither of ‘em know.”
“It’s the Red Riding Hood scene I told you about.”
“Ahh, glad yeh picked that ‘un. It will be fun. This place big enough to have us all runnin’ about chasin’ our subbies?”
“Martyn, the fellow who runs the inn, says so. There’s a maze in the back. I’m going to look at it after breakfast if you want to come with?”
“Aye, I will do. Doan suppose there’s a gym here?”
“No, but Emmy found us one. It’s about a mile away. We could run there, lift, and run back. Thought we might go on Saturday morning before the Mad Hatter’s Tea Party?”
Niall salutes me with his bottle. “That’s a plan. Doan make any for Saturday night after dinner.”
“Why not?” I ask warily, since he’s told me something similar for the night before the wedding in January. I’ll let him lure me into a bachelor party once, but not twice.
“’Cause I got plans of my own.” He winks at me.
“Do these plans involve strippers?”
Niall snorts. “Whaddo Doms need with strippers? Yeh want a striptease or a lap dance, that’s a fine scene. These plans involve beer and not that piss.” He hooks a thumb over his shoulder at the beer ‘fridge which, admittedly, only contains three different domestic brands.
I chuckle. “Fair enough.”
“I know Vashi’s not a little, but do yeh think Emmy’d have any problem with her coming to the tea party and sleep over? She’ll enjoy them all the same.”
“The more the merrier. I think the youngest little we’ve got coming is around four. And Emmy won’t go younger than middle teens, so Vashi needn’t worry.”
“Emmy still inhibited about being really little?”
I nod. I’ve discussed this with Niall briefly, and with my daddy-mentor Warrin in more depth, to see if they can help me figure out where I’m going wrong. But we’ve all concluded this is something I need to let develop in time. With me, in private, Emily is extremely playful and uninhibited, and I’d put her mental age during those playtimes as young as six or seven. Around others, even very young littles, she maintains an early-teens mindset and I can’t get her to relax enough to go younger, even though I’ve seen her watch younger littles playing with longing.
“Work in progress,” Niall says. “Like my boy. He’s driving me crazy. I’m chasin’ his arse down tomorrow and whippin’ him until I get some answers.”
I smile fondly, remembering the scene we did together on the cruise. It was memorable for me and Emily. She told me she was falling for me as soon as she hit subspace.
It was memorable for Niall as well, but for a very different reason. Shaan went into a complete meltdown the next day after his humiliation during the scene and Niall had to go to some lengths to understand why his sub was feeling unloved and unappreciated. From what Niall’s said, things were much improved after that, but over the last month, Shaan’s put distance between them again and Niall’s at a loss to understand why.
“Is the formality part of him pulling away?” I ask.
Niall nods. “He’s started calling me sir even when we’re not in scene. Hasn’t done that since before Vashi joined us.”
I understand Niall’s discomfort with the change in honorific. Emmy calls me sir instead of daddy when she’s very unhappy with me but still trying to be respectful. I always know I’m deep in bad books when she calls me sir.
I might be getting a sir or two over the next two days as I deny her orgasms.
“Vashi said anything?” I ask.
Niall shakes his head. “She wouldn’t even if he’d told her, but I don’t think he has.”
“If you need any help prying it out of him, let me know.” I give him a grin that Emily calls my “wolfy” grin. “Always happy to help pry open a subbie’s lips.”
Niall laughs his Viking laugh. “I’ll hold you to that.”
I finish my bottle of water and tap it against Niall’s nearly empty bottle. “You ready to call it a night? I have a little girl to bathe and fuck and break some news to that she’ll find deeply dismaying.”
Niall gives me a grin that’s no less wolfish than mine. “Yer denying her orgasms until the ceremony, eh?”
“Too fucking right. How’d you guess?”
“I did it before collarin’ each of ‘em. I made Shaan go a month. Boy was so pent up by the end he came nine times in one night. He was beggin’ meh not to make him come by th’ end. Sweetest fecking music I’ve ever heard.”
“You are such an evil fucker.” I laugh and rise with him as he finishes his water. After tossing the empties in the recycling, I make a quick check of the inn’s doors and windows. Niall laughs at me and when I realize what I’m doing, I join him.
As we head upstairs, Niall asks, “Who’s joining us here tomorrow?”
“At the inn? All of your competition: Javier, Warrin, and Mac. Warrin’s little, Aggie. Maude, Dana, and Austin. I think you’ve spoken to Austin a couple of times.” At his nod, I continue. “Harry, from the club; he’s going to bunk in with Mac. There are a couple of the club submissives sharing a room and another couple from D.C. who I don’t think you’ve met.”
“The scaly and her master? Emmy’s told Vashi about the dragon-girl so many times, I think I could paint a picture of her.”
I chuckle. “Emmy’s excited about seeing Laurel again. And if she hadn’t set her heart on this whole dark fairy tale theme for the weekend, I think we’d all be dressing up as dragons.”
Niall slaps me on the back and nearly knocks me down the stairs. Fuck, he needs to bench less.
“I’ve always fancied having wings, meself.”
I roll my eyes at him. “Piss off. You’d have arm-wrestled me for the chance to wear that Boglioli suit at the ceremony. Vashi told Emmy all about it. She says you stroke it for an hour every night before you go to sleep.”
“I’ll kill her,” Niall chortles. “It’s not even a half-hour.”
“You sad, sad sack.”
“Yeh won’t say that once you’ve seen it. Best hang of any jacket I’ve ever owned. Saville Row can feck right off.”
I shake my head at him. Although I did splash out a bit for both my outfit for the Mad Hatter’s Tea Party and the ceremony itself, I didn’t throw two grand at either suit. He’s mental.
“At least you can reuse it in January,” I say.
Niall face takes on a very sly cast.
“What?”
“Ever heard of the Flying Elvises?”
I eye him warily as we stop in front of our respective doors. “Sky diving Elvises, right?”
“I used to dive before I broke me back. Doan know if I ever told you that. I got a clean bill of health, so they’re lettin’ me dive with them. I’m Irish Elvis.”
“Irish Elvis,” I say flatly. There’s getting married by Elvis at the Care Bear wedding Emily’s planning and then there’s having Irish Elvis crash the party.
“Uh-huh, I’m all shook up, sláinte.”
I snort.
Niall slaps me on the back again. I’m going to have a bruise. “See you in th
e morning, gobshite.”
“Night, wanker. I’m knocking at eight-thirty. Don’t you try claiming jet lag.”
Chuckling, Niall disappears into his room.
Shaking my head at the idea of Irish Elvis, I head into our suite.
Emily glances up from where she’s sitting on the bed amidst a pile of pink pillows and teddy bears when I enter. She shuts her laptop hastily.
I begin to strip off my shirt. “That’s an extremely guilty look, little girl.”
“I was researching, Daddy,” she says.
I turn that over in my head as I fold my T-shirt and take off my belt. She could legitimately be researching something naughty for her books. Despite how much we’ve done together, she sometimes gets bashful when I discover pages on primal play and bestiality in her search history. But Emily’s a blusher and that sort of research usually results in fiery red cheeks. Her sweet cheeks are pale. As much as I give my little girl the benefit of the doubt, I feel like she might be hiding something behind that quickly-closed clamshell.
“Researching what?” I ask, unbuttoning my jeans.
“Um. Stuff.”
She’s so busted.
I toe off my shoes and strip down to my skin.
“Stuff like where Sean and Moon can stay?”
She twists her hands together. Yup, exactly that kind of stuff.
“What did I say, little girl?”
“I took it off my To Do list!” she protests. “I had a little free time, so I just thought I’d email a couple of places to see if they had any cancellations because everything around here is booked up.”
“And this is your problem, why?”
“I just want everyone to have a good time.”
“Everyone will except you if you keep worrying about this crap, Emmy. I mean it, that’s the last effort you make to find someone a place to stay, or arrange a special meal, or find a goddamn drycleaner. Enough. Next time I have to tell you, it’s discipline. Are we clear?”
“Yes, Daddy,” she whispers, staring at her working hands.
“C’mon, little love. This isn’t what I wanted for tonight. Let’s get you in the bath. Did you bring bubbles?”
She nods and a hint of color returns to her cheeks. She slides out of the pillow/stuffie stockade, tucks her laptop away, and opens one of the several bags she’s brought. It’s a good thing we came by train, because I don’t think we could have stuffed all our luggage into a car. Not even Manny’s damn limo.
She brings out a small bag of toiletries and opens it in front of me so I can see the selection of bath products. I flick past the lavender bubbles I usually use because I don’t want to gear down toward sleep yet. I stop at a bottle with a unicorn on it. “Unicorn bubbles?”
She nods. “Rainbow.”
I pull out the bottle. She deserves rainbow bubbles. “Put everything away, get undressed except for your slippers, and meet me in the bathroom.”
“Yes, Daddy.”
She gives me the big eyes and I draw her to me so I can kiss her on the forehead.
“I’m not angry at you, sweetie. Just because I tell you the next time will be discipline, doesn’t mean I’m mad at you. I’m just giving you fair warning.”
“You sounded annoyed.”
“Okay, I was a little annoyed.” I tap the tip of her nose with my forefinger until she smiles. “I know you’re just trying to make sure our guests have a good time, but Daddy decides what’s important for you to focus on, right?”
She nods and the big-eyed anxiousness calms a notch.
“And Daddy’s telling you the important things for you to focus on this weekend are Daddy and yourself, not everyone else. Agreed?”
“Yes, Daddy.”
I can see her relaxing word by word. Emily tries so desperately to please me, and her mood rides on whether she feels she’s succeeded or failed. It’s important for me not to let small irritations bloom into something larger. It’s a good reminder for me as a Dom and a daddy: I need to be in control of myself before I try to control her.
“Good girl. Do as I told you.”
“Yes, Daddy.”
I have no doubt she’ll not only remember but follow my instructions to the letter. I leave her to get on with it while I set up some music and run the bath. The honeymoon suite’s bathroom is sumptuous, with a whirlpool bath that could probably seat four comfortably. Maybe they get a lot of poly groups. The unicorn bubbles are mostly just iridescent, but they smell good, like cherries and vanilla. Although I generally like Emily not to smell strongly, particularly when we’re about to do a scene, I don’t mind this scent. It’s like a cherry pie, and there are worst things than eating my little cherry pie.
When Emily trots in, adorably naked except for her pink bunny slippers, I’ve got the bath run and equipment for the scene ready, lined up on the sink counter. Emily stops dead when she sees the distinctive bag and nozzle.
“Da-daddy, I didn’t break a rule,” she stammers.
“This isn’t discipline, baby doll. Or even a correction. By accepting my collar this weekend, you’re giving Daddy everything. That starts with Daddy controlling every part of you, inside and out.” I pat the bag. “I also want to go back and forth between your pussy and your ass tonight and my baby has to be super-super clean for that.”
Those hazel eyes could swallow the world. Last week, we negotiated our contract again before the collaring. She asked to take pictures of her in sexual positions off her hard limits list, which was easy to agree to, and I asked her to think about taking ass-to-vagina off her limits list. She agreed on the proviso that I could make sure there was no risk of infection. So she’s probably known this was coming, but I don’t think she expected it quite so soon. Her expression is adorably conflicted.
“Are you worried about infection, sweetie?”
Her brow unknots a little. “No, Daddy. I know you’ll take care of me.”
Warm blooms in my chest. “Then why the worried face?”
I know why the worried face. I just want her to articulate it.
“I’m not—I haven’t had an enema from someone else before. I’m worried it’s going to be messy.”
“I see. Does Daddy take care of his little girl’s messes?”
She nods. “But this is really gross messy.”
“I’ve given enemas before, sweetheart. I know what to expect. If I couldn’t handle it, I wouldn’t ask you to do it. Who is in charge of you, little girl?”
The tightness around her eyes and mouth eases. “You, Daddy.”
“That’s right. So, you don’t need to be worried about this, do you?”
“No, Daddy. I’ll try not to worry.”
“That’s my good girl. Come and bend over the edge of the bath so Daddy can get the solution into you and then you can sit in the bath for ten minutes while it works.” I pat a pair of towels I’ve put down. “The hot water will help with the cramping. Daddy takes care of his girl, doesn’t he?”
She nods. “Yes, Daddy.”
She folds herself down and positions her knees on the towel I’ve put down to soften the tile, her tummy on the other towel. Her back is as tight as a board. I rub her hip, fingering the healed, two moon brand I gave her last month, to help her relax.
“Dangle your fingers in the water and play with your unicorn bubbles, my baby.”
I hear little splishes as she does and the rigidity of her back softens slightly.
So she’s not obsessing about mess, I wipe her down first with baby wipes. Emily’s on psyllium-husk pills that clean her out naturally and we used suppositories the first few times we had anal sex, but I’ve never given her an enema before. The heightened sense of control has my blood singing in my ears and my dick throbbing. I brush my distended length against the backs of her legs as I move around her, readying a hook for the bag on the towel rack next to the tub, squirting lube on the nozzle and drizzling it down her crack. She shivers and goosebumps ripple across her back and buttocks.
; I rub her soft skin to soothe the goosebumps. “You’re not chilly, are you, sweetheart?”
I don’t think she is. The room’s pleasantly warm and steamy. I just like emphasizing her body’s reactions, so she focuses on what she’s feeling instead of the worries that are crowding into her thoughts.
“No, Daddy.”
“I love seeing you like this, little girl. Bent over and waiting for what Daddy’s going to give you.”
She shivers again. “Yes, Daddy.”
I rub my fingers up and down her crack, dipping into her hole. The nozzle’s small and I don’t need to open her up to take it. I just love playing with my girl’s sensitive holes. She lifts her bottom to my touch, the fine muscles of her ass and thighs flexing under her creamy, lightly freckled skin.
“Feel good, little girl?”
She dips her head, muffling her words. “Yes, Daddy.”
I smile to myself, enjoying her sweet embarrassment. We’ve done so much in the months we’ve been together that Emily could have become jaded. But she’s not. Her littleness is a font of endless innocence that I just love corrupting. I hope I can still make her blush when we’ve been married for decades.
I play with her for a little longer, alternating my finger with the tip of the nozzle. The cool silicone makes her twitch every time I slip it into her. Finally, instead of drawing it back out, I push in the first of six ribs. She shudders but holds herself still like the good girl she is.
“Feels funny, doesn’t it?”
“It’s not as nice as a plug, Daddy.”
I bet it’s not. Just wait until I inflate the balloon inside her.
“This is going to go deeper than you’re used to with a plug, baby. Doing okay?”
“Yes, Daddy.” She shivers and arcs her back as the nozzle’s fourth rib passes through her sphincter and I work it around a little to help navigate the turn into her colon.
“Relax your back, little girl. You know I don’t like to see that.”
She twitches her shoulders, trying to settle herself, and the sound of her splashing in the water increases, but she slowly relaxes back into a natural curve.
“That’s better. Long, smooth part now,” I tell her as I push the nozzle in past the fifth rib. The inflatable part of the nozzle is smooth and slides in easily, but she tenses as I near the sixth rib. “Is that hurting, baby?”
