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

grips my hair and pushes my head down. He bends me all the way to the floor and pins me there with my cheek against the fake-stone tile. Since I’m slowly regaining control of my body now that those insane Black Knight eyes aren’t dictating my every twitch, I twist and flail a little, but Logan’s got a good grip and it really hurts my scalp when I move. Princess Amber’s going to have to settle for some token struggling until my hair’s free.

While he’s got me pinned, he grabs leather cuffs off the rack nearby and drops them on the floor next to me. He bends down, then sets his knee between my shoulders, leaning in to give me some of his weight. He crushes me to the floor, the same way he crushes me into his body after he comes. I’ve never been controlled like this before and as much as Princess Amber would resist, my whole body goes limp. I’m a lacy puddle on the floor as Logan buckles the cuffs onto my wrists, pulls my hands behind my back, and snaps the cuffs together. He pushes my legs out from under me, moves his knee to the small of my back, and pins me again as he buckles cuffs around my ankles.

I expect him to lift me once he’s got the cuffs on me but he doesn’t. He moves his knee up and down my back, avoiding my bound arms. When I squirm, he presses his knee into my ass until the pressure on my tailbone makes me squeal. He’s running his hands over me as he holds me down. I should be struggling but I’m enjoying being dominated like this so much I just lie in a happy puddle. A happy, floaty puddle.

Finally, and it could be hours or just a few minutes, he slides his knee off me, slips his hands under my arms, and lifts me. He turns me so I’m facing into the room and positions me next to one of the thick chains stretched from floor to ceiling. I can’t have been floating all that long, because there are still couples, and a threesome, sitting at the table negotiating their scenes. But some of the negotiations have ended. There’s a woman being caned on one of the crosses. Shaan is kneeling beside the table only a few feet from Vashi, his cuffs locked over one shoulder in a position that looks so uncomfortable my own shoulders ache in sympathy, while a Pink Pearl Dom fucks his face. Gabriela has her sub, now minus his harness and G-string, bound to one of the bondage benches while she warms him up with a Lexan paddle to his ass and thighs. The way his flesh ripples and flattens through the clear plastic is fascinating. I watch strike after strike after strike.

Fuzzily, it occurs to me that I should be struggling. Princess Amber would. But when I turn my head, Logan captures me with that Black Knight gaze again and I sink down, down, down into a place where there’s no fight, just warm, peaceful floating like the time I went swimming in the Great Salt Lake. I’m aware of Logan moving me. Lifting my arms so my wrists are just above my head before he snaps my cuffs to the hanging chains, then nudging my legs apart. I feel like I’m underwater. Every motion is slow and dreamlike. Gentle currents wash through me. I’m aware of Logan talking to me. Asking questions. I’m not sure what I say, only that I really, really want to tell him how hard I’ve fallen for him. He cups my face and kisses me and I’m dimly aware that his helmet has disappeared, but I’m lost in my daddy’s mega-melty kisses.

Chapter Eleven Logan

She’s fallen for me, has she? My sweet girl. I stroke her face and kiss her again before I go back to fastening her ankle cuffs to the chains. When I straighten, she’s hanging from her wrist cuffs, not limp but very, very relaxed. She’s deep in subspace and I haven’t even started flogging her yet.

And I’m flying. Soaring. So high in topspace that I don’t register the scenes or conversations going on around us, just Emily’s soft, slow breaths and happy, little whimpers. The rhythm of my breathing matches hers, another link in the chain binding us together. I’m peripherally aware of Rebecca, the dungeon monitor, circling the chain station. But my attention is on Emily, assessing her color, her breathing, the slackness of her face and muscles, the dilation of her pupils. Everything that tells me where she is. Floating in her happy place.

I don’t need to slide my hand beneath her skirts and touch her pussy, because I know how wet she’ll be, but I want to touch her, reinforce my ownership of every inch. I finger her for several minutes, enjoying the slippery flesh under my fingertips, the gingerbread scent that perfumes the air. She rocks back and forth in her restraints at my touch, my needy baby doll. When she’s moaning sweetly, the flesh under my fingers quivering, I cup my fingers over her soft mons and lean into her. Between kisses, I ask, “Do you belong to Daddy, little girl?”

“Yes, Daddy,” she whispers. “I belong to you.”

“Every inch of you?”

“Yes.” She moans when I give her mons a squeeze. “Every inch.”

“Daddy adores every inch, inside and out. Do you trust Daddy to take care of you?”

“Yes, Daddy. Yes.”

“Have you fallen for Daddy?”

“Yes, Daddy. So hard.”

“Good girl. Tomorrow, you won’t remember what you’ve told Daddy tonight. You’ll keep these feelings inside for now, without being worried or remorseful. These feelings will grow until some time when Daddy’s inside you, when Daddy’s making love to you and you can’t keep it in you any longer, you can tell Daddy again.”

“Yes, Daddy,” she whimpers.

I kiss her forehead while I massage her clit to keep her floating. It’s not that I don’t