The Daddy P.I. Casefiles: The First Collection by Frost, J (great novels .txt) 📕

you must be trying to negotiate consequences with Daddy. Is that what you’re trying to do?”

She bites at her lower lip, realizing her mistake. What she’s really trying to do is to get me to give her pleasure instead of pain, because she’s clearly turned-on by the tit-spanking, while the paddle tips over into pain she has to work through. This is something pretty much every bottom tries at some point. I’m not going to be too harsh with her about it. The delay will only build her anticipation, which is no bad thing.

“Once I’ve told you what the consequences are, am I going to change my mind?”

She sniffles and shakes her head. “No, Daddy.”

“Then trying to get me to do something else is one of two things. One, you’re trying to delay the inevitable because you’re enjoying the warm-up. Or, two, you’re questioning Daddy’s right to correct you any way he wants. Which is it, Emmy?”

She’s too smart to compound her mistake. “The first one, Daddy.”

“Uh-huh. If you want me to keep doing something, you only have to ask, baby doll. Daddy will decide whether you get more of what you like. But the rest of your paddling is coming, and nothing is going to change that. Trying to negotiate with Daddy is a waste of time. Are you wasting Daddy’s time?”

“No, Daddy. I’m sorry, Daddy. I wasn’t being disrespectful.” Her lower lip quivers and fresh tears spill down her temples.

I love seeing her like this. Restrained to my will. Marked by my hand. A little anxious and wholly vulnerable and so, so aroused. It flips every switch. My cock’s straining against my stomach. My blood’s surging, singing in my ears, even more electrified than when I was running. There’s no high better than topping.

I warm her up for several more minutes, until her breasts are stained a glorious sunrise pink. She’s clearly loving this part. She writhes and strains against the cuffs—wiggly little thing. Her chest rises to each slap. Her legs thrash on the bed behind me, knees jerking with each impact, hitting me in the back several times, for which she apologizes sweetly. The whole room is perfumed with her bready musk. I don’t need to check to know how wet she is.

After she’s had long enough to wallow in the pain she’s enjoying, I pick up the paddle again and without giving her any time to protest, slap it down on her left breast.

She throws her head back. “Nooo, Daddy. That hurts sooo much!”

“That’s not something you get to decide, baby doll. Daddy decides what you can take unless you use your safe word,” I say, confident she’s nowhere close to her limit. “Count of ten.”

She counts the ten strokes, down across the top of her breast, catching the nipple so it glows red, up the side of her breast as I pinch her nipple with my free hand to stretch the flesh and intensify the sensation. She’s howling by five. Straining and bucking so hard by eight that I hold her down for the last two strikes.

“Ten, ten, ten,” she pants the number like a mantra, and I know she’s thinking she’s done, that I’ll give her a break, let her recover, before the last set.

Instead, I move straight to her right breast, capture her nipple between my two fingers, twist to stretch her skin, and swing the paddle hard against the side of her breast, building the pain even higher.

I expect her to scream. Her mouth opens, but no sound comes out. Her body contracts, bearing down into the bed instead of up, knees slamming up against my sides. While she’s still absorbing the pain, I slap the side of her breast three times in quick succession. She throws her head back. More of those hoarse screams rip out of her. Her belly works wildly under me and I realize she’s climaxed again, just from the paddling.

Without asking permission.

It wasn’t intentional. The orgasm was probably as much a surprise to her as it was to me, but she’s going to have to pay for it later. I’ll hold discipline in reserve, though. I don’t want to confuse it with what we’re doing now, nor overwhelm her during the scene I’ve scheduled.

I bring her down with lighter slaps of the paddle, down the top of her breast, giving her a count of two between each stroke. Her breathing slows and on the eighth stroke, she opens tear-stained eyes. I cup her cheek with my hand as I give her the last two strokes. She whimpers through them but smiles when I stop. “Ta very much, Daddy.”

“Good baby.” I stroke her cheek to heighten the praise. “You’ve taken your paddling and earned your necklace back. Do you want it now?”

She nods, eagerness written all over her little, red face.

I put the paddle aside and pick up the necklace from where it’s ended up near the foot of the bed. “Lift your head.”

She does, and I fasten the collar back around her throat. I center the pearl against the hollow of her throat and stroke her ember-red breasts.

“Happy to have that back, baby doll?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

“Good girl. Daddy’s going to fuck you until he comes now. Do you want it on your back or your front?”

She wriggles. “Can I come again?”

I consider. I could deny her an orgasm to make up for that stealth orgasm earlier. But I have something better in mind, and it will be more fun if she thinks she’s gotten away with it for a while.

“Yes. Good girl for asking.”

“On my back.”

“Do you like it best on your back, baby?” I ask, as I position her with her knees tight to her chest. Her cunt’s exposed and open to me. Morris’s purple gem winks in her ass. She’s flushed everywhere. Her face, her breasts, her inner thighs, her labia. Red and wet and ready. I stroke her cunt before giving it a sharp slap with my fingers.

She whimpers. “Yes, Daddy. Yes, like that.”

“You