The Daddy P.I. Casefiles: The First Collection by Frost, J (great novels .txt) π
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I snort. βPretty sure I just had you on your knees, yielding to every inch of me, Princess. And I will again. But first, you need to pay for your insults to my honor. Twenty, count them out.β
I pull back my arm as she says, βI shall, sirrah, since weβve already established you canβt count. Pity your knightly education lacked lessons in numeracy.β
βTwenty-one,β I growl and swing.
The flogger sings, a silvery swush, then bites with a jingle and a truly evil snap across Emilyβs right cheek.
Her body bows, locking up against the pain. She takes a breath like sheβs coming up from deep water, and shrieks as she lets it out. βNoooo!β
I give her until the count of five to get on top of the pain. Iβm just about to open my mouth to tell her sheβs earned an extra stroke for failing to count when she gasps out, βOne!β
βVery good, Princess. More bite than you were expecting?β
She huffs out several breaths. βI fear neither you nor your monstrous instrument.β
I run my hand down the hot, crimson flesh between her shoulder-blades and drink in her whimper. βYou may regret those words in the coming minutes, Princess.β
βDo your worst,β she hisses, but she doesnβt call me any names.
I chuckle and drop a kiss on her shoulder before I step back and swing in the opposite direction. The whip sings and snaps against her left cheek.
She gasps out βTwo!β before I reach the count of three. As she takes another breath, I whip the flogger against her right cheek. Back and forth, sing and snap. The falls leave tracks that blanch white before rising a glowing crimson. Gorgeous. Her skin marks like a dream.
She keeps count more easily after the first two. Her breathing evens out and she finds a rhythm again, several huffing breaths out and then a deep breath in just before I hit her. She whimpers when the tails sing before they hit and again after the strike. With the heavy slaps on her skin, itβs a symphony, the most beautiful music Iβve ever heard. I maintain the same weight and speed through lash after lash. Her body arches into that willing, perfect S. Our kinks mesh, her masochism to my sadism. Doubling and redoubling the connection between us. Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful.
When I reach nineteen, I pause and stroke her gorgeous, welted skin, bunching it a little in my fingers until I draw a long whimper out of her. βLast two, Princess.β
βYes, Sir.β
Such a good girl, telling me where she is with just two words. Sheβs not in subspace; her speech is too clear. Sheβs not in littlespace; sheβs not calling me Daddy. Sheβs feeling every sting and scrape, ache and burn, but sheβs still accepting the pain, working with it, and letting it soak into her, still holding herself in the perfect position so I can deliver it.
βI want you to take these last two across your breasts, Princess,β I tell her.
She huffs in and out. βIt matters not where you strike me, sirrah, Iβll not yield.β
βTake these two across your breasts. Ask me for them. And Iβll give you pleasure when I make you mine in front of my men.β
βIβll never be yours and Iβll never yield.β
Wanting to see her eyes as she struggles with the mind-fuck of having to ask for two strikes that she knows will be infinitely worse than the nineteen sheβs had, I circle around the chains. Her head is slightly bent as she holds the S-shape, but lifts when I move in front of her. Her eyes are bright and clear, gleaming with defiance. I reverse the flogger so I hold the wrapped leather end. I stroke it down the side of her face, along her throat, down the pink-tinged skin of her chest, to circle each nipple.
βAsk me to flog your breasts, Princess.β
βNever, never, never,β she sings.
βDefiant girl, you test my patience. Every minute you delay is another stroke, starting now.β
βOnly an honorless brute changes the rules in the midst of the game!β When I reverse my hold on the flogger with a jingle, she exclaims, βNot that Iβm calling you an honorless brute!β
βIt certainly sounded like you were calling me an honorless brute, and I still havenβt heard what I want to hear, Princess.β I swing the flogger once, not striking her, just letting it sing. She flinches. βAsk, Princess, and Iβll show mercy.β
She shakes her head vehemently. βMercy is for the weak.β
βMercy can be for the little Princess who already has a very red bottom thatβs about to get pounded on the table. Ask me for two strikes across your breasts and Iβll give you only pleasure when Iβm done. Further defiance and you and your ladies will know only pain.β
βLeave my ladies alone!β
βGive me what I want and Iβll show mercy. I wonβt even ask that you admit defeat. Just that you take what I give you. Ask, Princess, for the sake of your ladies.β
She screws her face up like sheβs biting into a lemon. βI ask you to flog my breasts.β
βNow, where are your noble manners? Ask nicely. βPlease, good sir, flog my pretty breasts.ββ
Her expression becomes even more contorted. Angry koala face. Itβs so cute, I struggle to keep a straight face.
βPlease, good sir,β I prompt. βFlog my pretty breasts instead of putting my ladies to the sword.β
βPlease, Blackheart,β she spits. βFlog my poor, helpless breasts.β
βGood enough, but thatβs four. Get ready, little girl.β I step back and swing across instead of down, to catch the side of her breast and her nipple rather than the sunburned skin of her upper chest.
Emily shrieks and shudders, pulling at the chains, which are far too heavy to be moved. She contorts, trying to pull in air while trying not to move her stinging chest. While sheβs gasping shallowly, I snap the flogger at her other breast. The pain tips her over the edge and she screams, not the throaty howls of her
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