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

are those players. That thought fills me with gratitude towards the woman taking my crop with soft cries and washes away some of the pain of Mac’s rejection.

When I finish snapping the last clothespin off her, Emily’s back is decorated with long trails of welts and dots of sweat. I set aside the crop, lean in, and lick a line up her spine, tasting the salt of her skin and the faint muskiness of the leather. Emily shivers and moans. I press up against her back, skin to skin, while I reach around and tap her mons with the flats of my fingers.

“How does it feel, little love?”

“Stingy and pinchy and shivery and hot in my tummy,” she responds.

I’m feeling that heat, too, centered in my cock which is sandwiched against the small of her back and throbbing almost angrily. I rub her belly and feel the muscles bunch under my palm.

“Are you riding those sensations, my good girl?”

“Yes, Daddy. Roller coaster’s still going up and up.”

“Good baby.” I rub my hand over her, tummy and thighs and tickling over the gusset of her panties while she wriggles and makes breathy little sounds of pleasure. “Daddy wants to fuck you for a few minutes. I won’t go too crazy and neither of us is going to come. Just focus on Daddy’s cock in you and enjoy the sensations.”

“Please, Daddy.”

“Good girl.” I untie my sweatpants and push them to my knees. She immediately sticks her ass out, and I guide her hips with my hands until she’s in a deep arch, hanging from the chains as she grasps them. To emphasize the difference between this and sex where I’m fucking her to a climax, I shift aside her panties but don’t take them off her and tickle her opening with my fingers until she’s shivering and squeaking. I have to bend my knees to line us up because Emily’s much shorter than I am and Martyn doesn’t have a safety step like I have in our playroom, but I make it work, guiding my cock into her and relishing the slick grasp of her body as I sink deep. I wrap my arms around her, palming one of her sweet, little tits, and rock us back and forth, using the bondage as pivot points.

“Daddy, Daddy!”

“Yes, my baby. Feel Daddy in you?”

She nods and tips her head to the side so I can kiss my way up the long line of her neck.

I rock in her, not really thrusting, just melding our bodies together while I touch her everywhere: her throat, her breasts, her tummy, her quivering pussy lips, her flexing thighs. Emmy and I both enjoy the hard drive towards orgasm so much that we do this rarely. I have to remember the pure pleasure of being inside my soul mate, our bodies bound together in the most intimate and primal way we can join. That means denying her more often, which Emily will not be a fan of, but I can feel from the hot clutch of her cunt and the little moans that keep rippling out of her how much she’s enjoying this.

“My little love.” I nuzzle the words into her ear while I grind deep in her. “My angel baby. You’re Daddy’s perfect sheath. I want to leave my cock in here forever.”

I feel the giggle start in her belly. “You’d need a detachable penis, Daddy.”

I bury my face in her neck as I laugh. This is Emmy. No matter what we’re doing, she brings such light and laughter into my life.

I fuck her for several more minutes while she hums the King Missile song. I join in on the last chorus and hear chuckles around us.

I give her a last suck on the hickey I’ve been building below her ear, a last squeeze of her sweet tits, before I withdraw and straighten our clothes. There’s a griping pain in my belly and balls, but there’s a pleasure in it, too, that needy ache.

I walk around in front of her and give her a kiss. Her face is sweaty, probably from a combination of taking the pain for me and holding position while I fucked her. I retrieve some wipes and a towel from a station Martyn has set up in an antique, roll-top desk tucked to the side of the room, clean her face off, and kiss the end of her nose.

“How are you doing?”

“Really good, Daddy. I’m all pulse-y.”

I chuckle. “Pulse-y, huh?”

“It’s not a nasty, I want to kill someone ache. It’s just really nice and pulse-y.”

“I’m glad you don’t want to kill me, little love. That’s not the idea of this. If I flog your breasts for a bit, will that keep the nice, pulse-y feelings going or will that be too much?”

“Not too much.”

“That’s my little love. If it gets to be too much, I want to hear yellow.”

Emily nods readily. “Okay, Daddy.”

I roll my shoulders as I go to find a flogger that will deliver more thud than sting.

* * *

An hour later, I have Emmy wrapped in a sheet, since the dungeon’s too warm for a blanket, tucked in my lap as I sit in a bean bag chair facing Niall, who is similarly positioned with Shaan in his lap and Vashi kneeling at his side. It’s taken Niall a long whipping, and a shorter face-fucking, and some aftercare, since Niall agrees with me that questioning a sub while they’re actually in subspace is unethical, but Niall’s finally getting answers out of Shaan. Although I’m monitoring, I’ve been keeping eye contact with Emily through most of the questioning, since I don’t want Shaan to feel that I’m intruding on this moment of deep vulnerability with his Dom.

I stroke Emily’s cheek and see what I’m sure is my concern mirrored in her eyes. “It’s okay, little love.”

“This is a big deal,” she mouths almost silently.

I nod. The concerns Shaan’s airing, about giving up a lucrative hospital staff position to move East