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

ice was both to make Pence very uncomfortable, and to reduce the swelling and inflammation while he was used for such a long time. That’s very Daddy: taking care of his bottom even while he’s torturing them.

Still, I don’t ever want that to be me.

So, I’m on my very, very best behavior this morning. When Logan’s alarm goes off, instead of rolling over and going back to sleep, I get up with him, brush my teeth, then offer him my mouth, which he takes sleepily before he sends me back to bed for an hour while he has his committee meeting. When he returns, I’m up and showered, but I wait for him to dress me. I brought two different outfits, and he decides on a vintage, cotton sundress with cap sleeves and purple, lace flowers at the hem. It’s something out of a Victorian nursery and makes me feel very little. No bra or undies makes me feel exposed and vulnerable. He puts my ankle socks and white Keds on for me. Daddy’s ticking every single one of my boxes today.

Over breakfast at the club buffet, I don’t ask any questions about the meeting, even though I’m insanely curious about how the club is run, or even about Pence’s punishment, which also raised a few questions. Instead, I ask about British football, since the season is starting and I heard Logan talking with Max about it at the party. British football isn’t a game I know anything about, other than knowing it’s a national obsession. Master Javier joins us with a cup of coffee and they both field my questions. Logan’s smile is indulgent; Master Javier’s is condescending.

Several masters stop by our table as Logan hand-feeds me toast and fruit salad and patiently explains the “offside rule,” which doesn’t make any sense at all. Isn’t the whole point of attacking to get to the goal? I guess it isn’t in British football.

The other Doms pat Logan on the shoulder, and express their pleasure in having him “back,” which tells me that he volunteered to organize the Monday theme nights. Maybe I’ll get to be a kinky, ninja puppy soon, a thought that has me wiggling happily in my chair.

I stop wiggling when a woman I don’t recognize walks up to our table. She looks slightly out of place in worn jeans and plain T-shirt, her brown hair scraped back in a tight ponytail. Most of the masters are dressed for work, while a few are still wearing their dungeon leathers. She’s not even wearing shoes, although she has a pretty pedicure. No matter how informally she’s dressed, there’s no question she’s a Domme. It’s in her bearing, and in her large, brown eyes, which hold no vulnerability whatsoever. She’d look younger than me if not for those eyes, which have seen everything the world has to offer, and found it wanting.

I shrink back from her a little.

Logan stands up, his body effectively blocking the woman from approaching me. “’Morning, Caddy.”

“G’morning, Logan. I haven’t met your submissive.”

Logan turns slightly towards me, but doesn’t move out of the woman’s way. “This is Emily. Emily, this is Mistress Caddy.”

Since he’s standing, I stand, too, and, since he’s keeping her too far away for a handshake, I curtsey to her.

She nods. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Emily.”

That doesn’t sound like a lie. But those hard eyes never soften.

“May I?” She gestures to our table, which has an empty chair since Master Javier has gone outside for a cigarette. Happily, the empty chair is across the table, because this woman is a little scary and I’m not sure I want to be in touching-distance.

“Please do,” Logan says. He holds out my chair for me to sit back down, but doesn’t hold the chair for Caddy, and I wonder if there’s a reason why not. I’ve seen him hold chairs for Mistress Maude, so I don’t think it’s a Domme thing.

As soon as we’re seated, a waitress trots over and sets coffee and a plate of eggs in front of Caddy. There are a couple of staff in the buffet, but they’re mostly clearing tables and refilling trays. I haven’t seen anyone else get table-service, not even Master Javier, who I thought kind of ran the club. It tells me this woman isn’t just scary, she’s scary-important.

“I wanted a moment outside the meeting, Logan,” Caddy says, after taking a sip of her coffee. “You’ve been away for a while.”

Daddy nods as he breaks off another piece of toast and feeds me. “I needed some time off after Christmas.”

“It’s good to have you back,” she says, although she sounds more perfunctory than the other masters when she says it. “You bring fresh eyes, which is always valuable. Other than the tension with your former submissive and the incident last night, have there been any other problems with having Emily here as a little?”

I want to shrivel up in my chair. Am I a problem? I glance at Logan anxiously. There’s a muscle ticking in his jaw, but his eyes are warm as he offers me a sip of iced water.

“Nothing specific,” Logan says. “Are you concerned about Emily’s littleness?”

“Concerned?” She arches an eyebrow. “I found what you said about Blunts being a safe place where our members can indulge any kink compelling. That’s an inclusivity we haven’t always had.”

Logan shrugs. “I don’t have the history with the club that you do, but I’m not aware that we’ve excluded certain forms of kink.”

“Excluded isn’t quite the right term,” Caddy says. “Channeled is more accurate. More extreme philias have been channeled into more mainstream ones. And, of course, pedophilia has never been tolerated.”

Logan’s eyes narrow. “Caregiver relationships are not a form of pedophilia.”

“No more than school-age role play,” Caddy says. She seems to be agreeing with Logan, but something in her tone says she isn’t. “What were you thinking of in terms of the Monday theme nights?”

“A month of the various forms of pet play, followed by