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

against my pubic bone. My pussy clamps down around the bullet. Cramps.

“Daddy, it hurts.”

“I know, sweetheart. Strong, isn’t it? Just like when I fuck you hard. Take it for me, baby.”

“Yes, Daddy,” I whimper.

“Rub yourself. Imagine I’m there with you, little girl. Filling up that tight cunt and rubbing you with my fingers. Imagine my hand on your throat, holding you down while I pound your sweet little cunt.”

I’m gasping, straining against the hard thrumming inside me. It’s not as good as when Logan fucks me. There’s none of the wild friction of his body slamming against mine. None of his wonderful weight. But it still feels so, so good and the heat of the bullet, which really does feel like it’s on fire inside me, makes up a little for his absence.

“That’s it, sweet girl. I can see your cunt flushing. Reach for it.”

“I can’t,” I whimper. I can’t come like this. I need pain.

“Yes, you can. You can come for Daddy. I give you permission. Press the red button on the control pad.”

I thrash around until I find the pad and press the red button.

The bullet’s warmth intensifies until I scream with the heat of it. It’s burning me. It must be burning me.

And then I’m screaming with pleasure. My orgasm pulls the bullet deeper, until it feels like it’s searing my core. Just like when Logan comes in me, and I howl his name as the spasms of my orgasm slam me against the mattress like a rag doll.

“Good girl.” I hear Logan’s voice praising me, warm and close, like he’s whispering in my ear. “Let me see your eyes.”

I lift the phone up to my face. My arm’s shaking so badly I don’t know if he can see anything but I hold it there as the shocks and flares of my orgasm fade.

“Oh, that’s my baby girl. Look at me. Look at me like you will when I hold you down and come deep in that sweet cunt tonight.”

I hold the phone higher and roll my eyes up to him. As I do, he spurts with a heavy groan. I can’t see where it falls, just the thick white spurts, five, ten, a dozen. I’ve never seen a man ejaculate so much. I have no idea why that makes me hot, but I find myself licking my lips as I watch him.

“Daddy, I wish you were coming in my mouth,” I whisper.

Logan groans, impossibly deep. He spurts one last time, then cups his hand around his base, in that protective gesture that ignites something inside my chest.

I hear him panting. The phone drops and I have a view of an ivory ceiling with recessed lights. Then Logan picks up the phone. His face is flushed and sweaty. He looks at me with heavy, hooded eyes.

“Baby, so proud of you. Daddy’s so proud of his good girl. Turn the bullet off now. White button.”

Caught up in the beauty and power of his orgasm, I forgot about the thing still rattling my pubic bone. I turn it off and sigh with relief as the heat fades.

“Take it out, gently, sweetheart. Don’t hurt Daddy’s little cunt. I want you ready to be fucked when you land.”

“Yes, Daddy.” I fish around until I find the little rubber string and slowly draw out the bullet. It feels okay coming out. Only a little achy. “It’s out.”

“Good girl. Leave it on the table by the bed and I’ll deal with it when I get back.”

“Don’t you want me to wash it and put it away? I will. I don’t mind.”

“Yeah, if you’re okay with that. I can’t do your aftercare. Again. This is beginning to tee me off, all this long-distance bullshit.”

I giggle. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not. And you don’t even have time for a shower, so this is going to be really abbreviated, but imagine it’s me doing this. Hug yourself tight and count to ten.”

I hug myself as instructed, which feels a little silly, but also nice, as Logan talks to me and tells me I’m his sweet baby girl.

“Now reach into the drawer by the bed and take out a baby wipe. Wipe yourself front to back, double the wipe over and wipe again, front to back. Show me the wipe when you’re done.”

I find the wipe and wipe myself as instructed, then hold the wipe up to the phone.

“Good girl. I don’t see any blood. Is there any blood?”

He checks to see if there’s blood? I didn’t realize that’s what he was doing. “No, sir.”

“Good. Throw the wipe in the bin under the nightstand. Then pull your panties up. Put a bra on. Don’t think I didn’t see that you’re running around without a bra. I’m going to paddle your tits if I catch you without a bra again.”

I giggle wildly. “I don’t like wearing a bra when I fly. It’s uncomfortable. If I don’t wear one on the flight, will you discipline me?”

“Yes, I will. What are you wearing on your bottom?”

“Shorts.” My butt’s healed in the days we’ve been apart, which is disappointing, so I could wear jeans, but I tend to bloat on long flights, so I packed soft, comfortable shorts and thigh-highs. I roll out of bed and move to my open suitcase. I take out the shorts and hold them up so he can see them.

“Okay, put them on. Let Daddy see.”

I hold the phone out as best I can while stepping into the shorts and pulling them up my legs.

“Socks and shoes,” he says. I retrieve them from under my suitcase and slip them on.

“You ready?”

I nod. “I just need to brush my hair.”

“Good girl. Do you wear it up when you fly?”

“No, but I spray some oil on it so it doesn’t dry out during the flight.”

“Do that now. Prop the phone on the dresser.”

I find a way to angle the phone between the dresser’s oval mirror and a long leather case on the dresser top. His horsehair brush feels good against