Negotiation: Daddy P.I. 0.5 by E Frost (self help books to read .TXT) 📕

my blazer instead. “Try standing up, sweetheart. I’m right here behind you. You’re not going to fall.”

“Yes, sir.” I push up with my hands against the tile lip, but my arms shake too hard. I can’t push myself up.

Logan’s big hands smooth down my arms. His weight settles against my back. He wraps his hands around my forearms and gathers me in, hugging my back against his front. Then he straightens, pulling me upright with him.

“I’ve got you,” he whispers to me.

“Thank you, Daddy.” I close my eyes and melt back against him, using the strength of his big body to brace my wobbly knees, my strained back and shaking shoulders. He wraps his arms around me and holds me tight to his chest.

“How does it feel when you’re standing up?” he asks, his breath warm against my temple.

“Like there’s a thing in my butt,” I say truthfully.

He chuckles. “Fair enough. Is it hurting?”

Not really, but I’d like it out. “How long has it been so far?”

Logan holds up his right wrist so I can see the fancy diver’s watch on his wrist. The blue metal face has a dial with hands, but there’s also a digital inset with a timer that’s running. 01:17.

“Oh,” I say.

Logan chuckles at my obvious disappointment. “Try walking over to the far wall and back. I’m right here. I won’t let you fall.”

“Yes, sir.” I straighten slowly. Logan rests his hands on my shoulders until I begin moving away from him. The plug is a strange fullness in me, like gas, but—contrary to my expectations—it doesn’t hurt, and just produces a little friction when I walk, although I’m not sure if I’ll be able to sit down with it in. I reach the tiled wall and pause for a moment, before turning around and walking back to Logan.

He’s watching me with a very big smile. He opens his arms when I reach him and pulls me to his chest. He tips my chin up and taps the tip of my nose with this finger and I spare a second to wonder if that’s the finger he had inside my ass. “How’re you doing?”

“Okay, sir.” Which is, surprisingly, the truth.

“Good girl. I want to recap later—”

“Recap?” I know the sports term but have no idea how it applies to anal training.

“Mm-hmm. I want to talk about what that little panic was all about. But we’ll do that later. Now, before we go, open your shirt for me. I want to check on your breasts.”

My breasts? Oh, the nipple clamps. I’d almost forgotten them in light of the whole sticking Morris up my butt thing, but now that he mentions them, my nipples throb.

While he washes his hands—and is he humming “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star” as he does it?—I take off my tie and stuff it in my blazer pocket, then unbutton the shirt and hold it open so he can inspect his handiwork. He takes off each clamp, massages my nipple, then puts the clamp back in place. “How do these feel?”

“Achy.”

“Good. They’ll help keep you focused, too. Wash your face, blow your nose, button up, put your tie back on and we’ll go upstairs.”

“Yes, sir.” I follow each of his instructions carefully. As I check my hair in the mirror, I see a smile I wasn’t aware of. It’s a dreamy smile, which is crazy when my whole body’s aching. But it’s there all the same.

When I turn back to Logan, he’s watching me, his hands in the pockets of his dress pants, leaning against the door. His face is relaxed, unsmiling, and the only way you’d know he just put a plug in my ass is from the intensity in his eyes. I move to him, stand very close and look right up into those amazing dark eyes. “Thank you very much, sir.”

He lifts an eyebrow. “For?”

Mostly it’s for checking on the clamps. But it’s also for everything else. From the way he commands me so precisely, to his control when he was angry with me, to buying me a little purple butt plug called Morris. “Everything.”

“Good girl.” He kisses me gently, flicking the tip of his tongue across my lower lip, which makes me shiver. “How’s the focus?”

“Good, sir.” I definitely wouldn’t reach for the check now. My mind’s quiet and calm. I’m actually not thinking about much, just feeling the constant sizzle of my nerves.

“Remember, if you feel like you’re going to lose control of your bowels, straight to the bathroom. You don’t need to ask permission. I’ll check in with you in five minutes.”

I nod. I remember. He could give me instructions for assembling a jet engine right now and I’d remember every word.

He gives me one last kiss, then opens the door and ushers me out.

Chapter Five Logan

The first person we meet upstairs is Rachel. Of course.

She’s standing on the landing at the top of the stairs as I help Emily up them. My little girl’s struggling with the butt-plug, grasping the bannister with one hand and my arm with the other as she tries to climb the stairs. I’d be able to tell from a mile away that she’s plugged, and I’m sure Rachel can, too.

I refuse to remember teaching Rachel to walk while plugged.

Whatever Rachel’s remembering, she’s got her face under control by the time we reach the top of the stairs. Rachel’s one of those women who has a different hairstyle every time I see her. Tonight, she’s pulled the hair around her face up into a high ponytail. The rest falls in caramel ringlets to her shoulders. It’s pretty, but it’s a little too styled for me. I prefer Emily’s long, loose curls that I can run my hands through.

I also prefer Emily’s school-girl uniform to the black leather basque set that Rachel’s filling out. The uniform reminds me of school in Morecambe, where I fit in, had good friends and played rugby and cricket. Those aren’t sexy memories, but they’re rich and