American library books Β» Other Β» The Daddy P.I. Casefiles: The First Collection by Frost, J (great novels .txt) πŸ“•

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was all I ate for days.”

I can believe that. β€œAnything other than water to drink?”

She shakes her head. β€œWhat are you having?”

β€œA glass of wine with the meal. Would my little girl like a sip?”

β€œDoes Daddy share that, too?” she asks, catching the tip of her tongue between her teeth.

Oh, that pert tongue. β€œI could be persuaded, but I’d need something from you, baby doll.”

She lifts her eyebrows, quizzical and engaged. β€œWhat, sir?”

β€œWhatever you feel like sharing.”

β€œOh.” She bites her lip as she thinks. β€œDoes it have to be embarrassing?”

β€œNo, but your story about the flip-flops had me laughing all the way home yesterday. I watched a couple of those β€˜People of Walmart’ videos last night. I haven’t laughed that hard in a long time.”

She smiles and soft color rises to her cheeks. β€œI have an entire library of embarrassing stories.”

I reach across the table and take her fingertips in mine. I slide the pad of my thumb across the edges of her pink-painted nails. β€œHow about you share a fantasy instead?”

Her pupils immediately widen. Score.

β€œYes, sir, but—”

We’re interrupted by the waiter. I order for us both, watching the flush spread down Emily’s throat as I do.

After the waiter leaves, I pick up her hand again and stroke her knuckles with my thumb. β€œYou were saying?”

β€œBefore we were so rudely interrupted?” She smiles at the clichΓ©, but then her smile fades and a little line appears between her brows. β€œMy fantasies can be a little, um, dark.”

I start to say that nothing’s too dark for me, but that’s not true. I have limits of my own, which we’ll discuss if and when they become relevant. Instead, I squeeze her fingers. β€œI’m good with dark.”

β€œOkay.” She worries her lip with her top teeth for a moment. β€œThere’s this one. I haven’t told anyone. It’s about a princess in a castle—”

β€œI play the princess?” I ask, to inject a little humor.

She sticks the tip of her tongue out at me. That tongue. I’m going to clamp it before too long. β€œThe castle is stormed by a knight dressed all in black. He takes the princess hostage and-and—” She pauses. β€œI can’t believe I’m telling you this.”

β€œI’m liking everything I’m hearing so far,” I say, to encourage her. β€œIs the Black Knight good to his hostage?”

She shakes her head.

β€œMmm.” I can see where this is going. I stretch my legs under the table to relieve the pressure growing between them. β€œDoes the Black Knight force the Princess?”

She nods and breaks eye contact, blushing brilliantly. β€œIn front of his men, so everyone knows she’s his. And he makes her serve him. Like his slave.”

I can think of all kinds of service the Black Knight could force the Princess to give him. My balls throb so hard a hot wire shoots up into my belly. β€œIs she a good little slave?” I ask, watching her reactions closely.

She shakes her head again. β€œShe runs away. He goes after her and catches her and punishes her for escaping.”

Fuck, yes. I’m loving this fantasy. There’ll be flogging and face-fucking and so many sweet tears. β€œDoes he put her in chains?”

Her eyes flash up to mine, pupils hugely dilated. β€œI hadn’t thought . . . yes, yes, he does. On her ankles, so she has to shuffle around when she’s doing chores and she can’t run away again.”

Fuckyesfuckyesfuckyes. Then I do a mental run through my catalogue of toys. Cuffs. Spreader bars. No ankle manacles. How is it I have no fucking ankle manacles? Do I have time to make some before we fly? I should have bought a pair at the expo. I remember them being on display. I focus for a moment, and with the recall that got me through a year of N.Y.U. while nursing a permanent hangover, I remember the shop name printed on the tablecloth under the manacles. Here’s hoping they have overnight delivery.

β€œOnce she’s chained, does she accept being his?” I ask, to see how her fantasy plays out.

Emily opens her mouth to respond, then snaps it shut as the waiter returns, bearing our appetizers. Her blush puts Times Square to shame. While the waiter arranges the plates in front of us, I tap my finger to my lips. Emily, watching closely, sits silent until the waiter leaves.

β€œWait,” I murmur to her.

β€œYes, sir,” she whispers.

β€œBefore you eat, we say grace and you ask for permission.”

She squeezes her eyes closed and when she opens them, they’re wet.

β€œToo much?” I ask, keeping my voice low and soothing. I’m very, very much enjoying dominating her all the time, but we haven’t discussed whether she’d accept that, or whether she’d find it overwhelming.

β€œNo, sir.”

Sounds like she might be receptive to it. The thought of dominating her full-time sends another hot zap through my blood.

β€œGood girl. Bow your head.” I use a simple, secular grace that I remember my great-grandmother using to bless the table, since I’m not sure about Emily’s religious preferences. When I finish, she lifts her head and watches me with over-bright eyes.

β€œSir, may I have permission to eat?”

β€œYes, you may.”

She smiles, her lower lip trembling, picks up her utensils and begins cutting up the white slivers of fennel into small bites.

That’s a job I want.

β€œIn future,” I say conversationally, β€œDaddy will cut up his little girl’s food. And I want to see you chew each bite ten times.”

She puts a bite-sized piece in her mouth, chews carefully and swallows. β€œYes, Daddy.”

There it is again, and this time I’ve got her number. I let her eat for a while before I say, β€œGoing back to this fantasy, does the Princess ever accept being his?”

β€œI haven’t really thought that far. It’s just the early scenes that I’ve thought through when I, uh, when I’ve thought about it.” Her cheeks flare again, brighter than the glowing red that’s banding the sky above our heads.

This is something she’s fantasized about. A hot and dirty rape fantasy. My sweet, filthy baby doll.

β€œWhat do you think?” she asks.

I love that she wants

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