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

while she responds to a stream of babble from Barbie-tits. I wink at her so she knows I’m still paying attention even though I’m talking to Niall. I consider telling him that being Emily’s Daddy makes me feel the same way I did that first night in Jasmine House. But that might embarrass her and I’m not sure I know Niall well enough yet for that, either.

Instead, I ask, “What about you?”

“Party,” he grunts as his treadmill rises steeply. “Flogging scene. Brought together every fantasy I’d had in meh head since I was a lad.”

I nod. “Do you do impact play now?”

“Aye. Signal whip’s my preference, although I use a bullwhip on Shaan.”

That’s right, he’s in a trio with Vashi and another man. Sounds like he tops both of them. There are two trios at Blunts, but I’m not close to the Doms in either, so I don’t know much about the dynamics of a ménage. It’d be interesting to watch, even for just a scene. “Be sure to let me know when you’re doing a scene. I’ve used whips, but I’m no expert.”

“Happy to demonstrate. Signal whip’s a good starter if yeh have some experience already. Can Emily take that level of intensity? She seems, delicate.”

My Kevlar baby doll, who held up so well against the worst I had to offer?

“We’re still exploring her limits, but I think we could work up to a whip. She’s done great with a tawse and a silicone paddle. The paddle stings like fuck.”

Niall chuckles. “I have a fiberglass one. Vashi calls it Daruka. That’s a Hindu demon.”

I join his laughter. “Emily hasn’t named my paddle yet—”

“Satan’s paddle?” Emily chirps from my other side.

I have to grab the treadmill’s handrail to keep from falling off while I laugh. “You cannot call my favorite paddle Satan’s paddle, little girl.”

“Fine, Sir,” she grumbles. “Belphegor, then.”

I’m going to have to look that one up, but I can guess the name is not flattering. “If Belphegor doesn’t like his new name, he’s going to give you ten on a very sore spot.”

Emily sticks her tongue out at me, then blushes as bright as the gorgeous color her tits turned this morning and becomes engrossed in her treadmill settings while Niall and I laugh.

“I can see yer girl shares my subs’ feelings about paddles,” Niall says, still grinning.

I give him a wicked grin back. “Let’s see how she feels about canes.”

* * *

At ten of twelve, I knock off my treadmill and give Emily a nod. She says goodbye to Barbie-tits, polite girl, but I notice she doesn’t invite Rose to watch the scene. I gather up my bag and water bottle, lay my arm over Emily’s shoulders and steer her towards the changing rooms.

“How are you feeling about the scene, baby doll?” I ask, once we’re out of hearing range of the treadmills.

She looks up at me with nothing but happy anticipation in those big eyes. Whatever her reasons for not inviting Rose to watch the scene, it wasn’t embarrassment or trepidation. “Good, Sir. Excited.”

“Me, too. Your safe word is still airplane, if you need to stop, and the ship’s safe word of ‘red’ will bring the monitor running. If you can’t speak for any reason, three hard slaps on my hip or wherever you can reach, and I’ll stop and check in with you.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Anything you’re worried about?”

She shakes her head. “Just excited, Sir.”

“Good girl.” I give her a swat on the ass to send her into the ladies’ changing room, while I head into the space I’ve reserved for our scene.

I expect to have a few minutes to prepare and take in the lay of the land, but the coed changing room is already full of people. It’s a confined space anyway, sandwiched between the ladies and men’s changing rooms along a corridor leading from the gym to the sauna. Through the door, there’s a double row of lockers to the left, an open, tiled floor that’s clearly the scene area, and a wall shower between two toilet cubicles to the right. An open cubby by the door holds towels, hand-sanitizer, baby wipes, bottled water, and the ever-present, complimentary lotion. Maybe the California kinky crowd suffers from chronically dry skin.

Despite the crowd, the scene monitor is easy to spot. He’s a Pink Pearl Dom, wearing a pink arm band. He’s also wearing black jeans and a black tee, so I guess the thong isn’t mandatory. When I approach, he shakes my hand and introduces himself as Paul. I tell him the broad outline of the scene and Emily’s safe word, while he shows me the emergency kit, which includes a defibrillator and medical shears. Since I intend to restrain Emily during the scene, I appreciate knowing where the shears are. Paul helps me move a wide, heavy, padded bench from beside the lockers to the middle of the scene area. He makes a quick inspection of the toys and tools I’ve brought before giving me a nod and stepping back.

I turn to the crowd lining the walls, which is about thirty strong, many more than I expected. It’s mixed: men and women. About half are naked, and it’s nice to see there are a couple of older people in the crowd. After a decade in the lifestyle, I’m not self-conscious, but the constant parade of perfect tans and twenty-something hard bodies on this ship makes even my confidence flicker.

I clear my throat and speak to the audience the way I would before a scene or demonstration at Blunts.

“Hello, I’m Logan. My submissive’s name is Emily. We’ll be doing a medium intensity punishment scene. Unless she’s a very bad girl during the scene, I’ll be rewarding Emily at the end of the scene with sex. I’ll be restraining her and using impact toys. Emily’s already marked and I will be marking her during the scene.”

Not everyone is comfortable with welts and bruises, even during impact play, so I figure I’d better give them a