The Daddy P.I. Casefiles: The First Collection by Frost, J (great novels .txt) π
Read free book Β«The Daddy P.I. Casefiles: The First Collection by Frost, J (great novels .txt) πΒ» - read online or download for free at americanlibrarybooks.com
Read book online Β«The Daddy P.I. Casefiles: The First Collection by Frost, J (great novels .txt) πΒ». Author - Frost, J
βEmily, come lie across my knees,β I say gruffly. βTime for you to face the consequences of not doing what youβre told.β Thatβs suitably vague.
Javier shoots me a look that tells me he wasnβt done interrogating her. I nod at him. While I enjoy it when my brothers participate in scenes, he has no idea how little I know about Emily. Or how very vulnerable she is. Seeing her perhaps all-too-real response to criticism just reinforces my conviction that Emily isnβt to be shared, not in any sense.
Emily follows my command, but itβs a slow, grudging compliance. She literally drags her feet. The motions of a resentful schoolgirl. Nothing like the immediate, precise way she usually follows direction. Again, her immersion in the role surprises me. Even the way she holds herself is different. Her shoulders are slumped, hips canted forward. Emilyβs posture is usually as straight as a ruler: shoulders back, spine straight, hips aligned, like a dancer.
Either Emily missed her calling and should have been on Broadway, or this is something else. Something I havenβt seen in all the years Iβve role-played with my bottoms.
This is a little.
She kneels beside the couch, then awkwardly crawls across my lap, as though sheβd never assumed a spanking position before. She hangs over my thighs like a sack of grain, her ass slightly elevated.
βPut your hands on the floor, your arms straight and walk forward until I tell you to stop.β
βThat doesnβt make any sense,β she grumbles.
I grab her hair, wrap it around my fist and give it a firm tug. She gasps.
βHands on the floor.β She arches forward until she can touch the floor with her fingertips. βPalms down.β She does, inching forward over my right thigh. βArms straight.β She pushes up, locking her elbows. βWalk forward on your hands.β
She pulls herself forward, her belly and thighs moving across my lap. When her entire torso is off me and just her legs are supported by the platform of my thighs, I stop her. βYouβll hold yourself up until I tell you that youβre done, and then you will thank me for your punishment.β
She mutters something.
βWhat was that?β
βOkay,β she says more clearly.
βThatβs not what you said. What did you say?β
βNothing.β
Bullshit. I flip up her skirt, yank down her panties and slap her full strength across her striped left cheek.
She yelps and scrambles backwards, yanking against my hold on her hair. She stops with a whimper, probably when the pain in her scalp becomes unbearable, grinding her face into her shoulder.
I bend over her and speak close to her ear. βYou do not lie to me. Not under any circumstances. Ever. That was a lie. What did you say?β
βIβm sorry, sir!β I can hear the tears in her voice. βI said, βfat chance.β I didnβt mean it. Iβm sorry!β
I bet she is. Her ass will really be smarting. But Iβm not playing now. She doesnβt lie to me. Not while weβre doing a scene. Not while weβre arguing. Not while Iβm fucking her brains out. Not ever.
βThatβs better. Weβll try this again. Walk forward on your hands.β
She trembles, but she does it, much less reluctantly than a minute ago. When sheβs back in position, I release her hair, pull up her panties and smooth down her skirt. I told her the scene would be above her panties and it will be. I didnβt intend to punish her ass tonight. I have something else in mind.
I hook my finger under the edge of her left knee sock, and draw it down her leg. Then the right one. When her socks are draped around her ankles, I take out the leather, two-tongued tawse Iβve been carrying in my pocket and lay it across her calves.
βHave you ever been punished with a tawse before?β I ask her.
She shakes her head, dark hair hanging so I canβt see her face. Thatβs no good. I gather up her hair, twist it into a long coil, and tuck the coil down the back of her shirt, so her face is visible to both me and our small audience. βTry that again, using your words.β
She swallows. βNo,β she says.
That gets her skirt back up, panties down and my hand hard across her ass again. She doesnβt get to be disrespectful just because sheβs in bratty teen headspace.
βNo, what?β I growl at her.
She sniffles and squirms and takes such a long time to answer that I raise my hand to spank her again.
βNo, sir,β she says finally.
βThatβs right. I can follow this lesson in doing what youβre told with a lesson in politeness. Is that what you want?β
βNo, sir,β she says, her tone wholly petulant. She has her face angled away from me, but I wouldnβt be surprised if sheβs pouting.
βDo you get to decide how many lessons you get tonight?β I ask, running my palm up and down her calf, warming her skin.
βNo, sir.β
So fucking petulant.
βWho decides that, Emily?β
βYou do.β Her words are right, but her tone is so very wrong, and sheβs left off my title again.
I tap her on the calf with my palm. βWho decides?β
βYou do, sir.β
βIt doesnβt sound like you believe that.β I pick up the tawse and slap it down without much force across her calves. The two leather strips make a spectacular pop against her firm skin.
Although the impact couldnβt have hurt anything like either the belting back at my house, or the spanks I just gave her, she jolts. A shiver runs all the way through her and she squeezes her thighs together. βI do, sir.β
βDo you? Weβll see. Start with ten. Count, Emily.β
βOne,β she says, resentfully, before I even bring down the tawse again.
Little brat.
I pull my arm back, snap my wrist and bring the tawse whipping down across her calves hard enough to leave a mark.
She shrieks.
I hit her again, not as hard, but with an incredibly satisfying pop. Her pale skin marks immediately: a lighter pink stripe rising next to the
Comments (0)