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

handles me. How desperately I’ve wanted to be so firmly but lovingly dominated. I haven’t felt this since the very beginning with Lew and I’ve missed it all the way down to my bones. Logan’s even better with the physical dominance than Lew was. I feel myself sinking, sinking, sinking into the well of his control. I could happily drown here, but his care, even as he works his fingers in and out of me before picking up the fig and pressing it in, keeps me floating instead of submerging. I feel like I’m swimming in the Great Salt Lake, but instead of treading water, I’m floating on my back with Logan’s hand gently supporting me. When the tingle begins in my sphincter, it’s just the nip of the salt. Nothing bad or scary. It’s a tingle, then a burn, then the most amazing blossom of heat. In my mind’s eye, it’s a solar flare blooming out into the coldness of space. It’s hot, and it hurts, and it’s wonderful.

Logan’s thumb slips down, opening my labia. He’s not using the fingers he had in my butt. Oh, Daddy, Daddy. His care makes hot tears slip from my eyes.

His gaze cages mine as a deep, pleased hum reverberates in his chest. The vibration spreads through me.

“Cold showers, little girl,” Daddy whispers, his words flowing into the shimmering sensations swirling around and inside me. “Back off a bit.”

His command tugs me back, and I realize the vibrations spreading through me are the beginning of an orgasm. It’s not the kind of orgasm I’ve had before, in my vagina or my clit. This is happening somewhere between my belly and spine, in a place I didn’t even know I had nerves.

Thinking about cold water hitting my skin like needles slows the vibrations a little, shifts them so they’re working through my tummy instead of a place in my lower back, over which I have no control. I ride them the way my daddy said to, like I’m on a roller-coaster. The shivery, silvery excitement in my belly lifts, crests, and drops, over and over. This is a ride that never stops, just circles around and around in a loop of sensation.

Daddy’s hand, cool against my feverish skin, sweeps my hair back from my cheek, drawing me back to him. I realize my eyes are nearly closed. I’m seeing nothing. Thinking nothing. Just feeling. Lost in the sensations my daddy’s flooding me with.

My mouth makes shapes, but no words escape. Just gasps and whimpers. Daddy turns and stretches out on the bed beside me, still holding my eyes, his hand curling around my nape. Holding me still, grounding and centering me as I shake under the onslaught of heat billowing through my veins. My organs dissolve into an expanding tide of warmth. It’s like having a fever without any sickness. A deluge of heat. Daddy leans in and draws my arm down to my side so he can kiss my forehead. His lips feather across my cheek and trace the shell of my ear. A lick of wet warmth into my ear’s sensitive interior echoes the heat licking and lapping and consuming my soul.

Daddy’s fingers sift through my hair, trickle down my spine like drops of burning water. He presses his forehead against mine while he cups my bottom, squeezing with his fingers, tapping the base of the fig with his thumb so waves of glittering, furious heat spread through me.

The room wavers in and out.

“Cold showers, Emmy,” Daddy whispers, his lips gliding along my cheek. “You’re doing so well. Ride it, my good girl.”

I try to nod but all I can manage is a shiver.

Daddy squeezes my bottom again. Wave after wave after wave rolling and breaking through my sacrum, into that place in my back I never even knew was sensitive. His hand tightens, releases, lifts away from my skin in a burst of cold air, then descends to land across my left cheek, slamming a tsunami of heat up my spine.

I shriek and hunker forward, throwing my arms over my head. Too much. Too much. Too much. It’s not an orgasm. My nerves short-circuit.

“Sh-sh-sh.” Daddy’s arms close around me and he draws me against his chest. “Stretch out against me, little girl.”

Shaking, I push my legs out straight. His jeans brush my stockings as he hooks his leg over mine and gathers me tight against him. His hand rubs up and down my sweaty, shaking back. He grips my stinging cheek and squeezes.

“Take more for me, sweetheart. Show me how much you can give me.”

I whine wordlessly, but I nod. I’ll take anything for him.

His hard, hot hand descends again, slamming into my flesh, another earthquake of sensation rippling out from the epicenter of impact.

I ride it. Up and down the roller-coaster. My belly shaking against his. Arms locking around his shoulders as I scrabble for any lifeline in the firestorm breaking over me. His hand lifts and descends, again and again, thick, meaty slaps, not hard, not hurtful, just piling sensation on sensation until I’m a huge, tolling bell of pleasure, vibrating helplessly in his arms.

I have no idea how long the spanking goes on. Decades. I gray-out more than once, only to be pulled back by another slap, another quake. My body clenches and clenches, but my pussy’s empty and I don’t come. I can’t come. I can only keep riding it, feeling what my daddy wants me to feel.

It takes a long time for me to realize that the spanking’s stopped. Daddy’s just holding me now, sweaty and limp in his arms as he murmurs to me, his lips brushing my forehead. The heat’s fading. Gentle ripples flutter through me instead of towering, crashing waves. I take a deep breath that’s smooth instead of shaky and look up at my daddy.

He shifts up onto his elbow and smiles down at me. “Back with me, little love?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

“That was magic. I think it’s safe to say you like the