The Daddy P.I. Casefiles: The First Collection, Frost, J [famous ebook reader TXT] 📗

since I trained a service sub, and I’ve missed it like hell. “Of course, sweetheart. You know you have to lick them clean before you shine them, right?”

She gives me those killer, big eyes. “I thought I just had to spit on them?”

“A spit shine might be good enough for some, but for Daddy’s things, they need a baby’s tongue.”

She giggles. “Yes, Daddy.”

Her ebullience doesn’t abate even when I take her to the bathroom and instruct her to bend over the sink. She does it without hesitation. There’s no hint of the brat that appeared during our scene in the library. She’s sweet and compliant, giggly and playful. Is this still her little, just in a different mode? As I pull on a blue nitrile glove from the stash in my pocket, I ask her about it.

“Baby doll, when we were doing the scene in the library, what were you thinking about? Pull up your skirt and pull down your panties as you answer me.”

She does, wriggling a little as she works the band of her wet panties down her thighs. That sends a fresh spike of heat through my cock, which hasn’t stopped throbbing since I got her over my knees in the library.

“I wasn’t really thinking, sir,” she says. “I was just inside the scene. Did I do something wrong?”

“No, you didn’t do anything wrong. You were amazing.” I rub her ass with my bare hand as I speak to her, gentle on the welts from my belt. With my gloved hand, I take a small plastic bag out of my pocket and set it on the tail of her flipped-up skirt. “Mmm, you look gorgeous. Your pussy’s still flared and wet, and your legs are so pink. Beautiful.” I slip my fingers between her cheeks and stroke her labia until she squirms. Paddling my fingertips against her, I part her lips and tickle her clit.

She grabs the sink. “Oh, yes, sir, yes.”

“Does that feel good, honey baby? I didn’t pay much attention to your clit when I was finger-fucking you. Don’t worry, I’ve got plans for this sweet little clitty later.”

She writhes and I grin at how much a little dirty talk turns her on.

“You are such a sweetheart, Emily, but you didn’t really answer my question.”

“Wha-what was the question again, sir?” She presses her knees together and squirms on my hand.

“What were you thinking about while we were doing the scene? You had to be thinking of something.”

“I don’t know,” she says with a little wail. “I don’t want to get the answer wrong.”

“There’s no right or wrong answer. I’m just curious what was going on in your head. You were different during the scene. Defiant and sullen and so fucking bratty it made me want to beat you black and blue.” I press the plug’s base with my gloved fingers while I continue to play with her clit. I want her distracted, physically and mentally, when I take it out.

“Did you not want me to be, Daddy?” She lifts her head and looks at me in the mirror over the sink. Her little face is knotted with anxiety.

“Emily, relax. We’re just recapping. I’m interested in finding out about your headspace. I loved our scene and I want to do a lot more with you. Absolutely nothing I’m saying is meant as criticism.”

“Oh, okay.” She gives me a tentative smile in the mirror.

“While you’re telling me about where you went in your head during the scene, I’m going to take out the plug. I want you to bear down when you feel the tug, okay?”

She nods. “Like the love beads.”

“That’s right. Did they hurt coming out?”

“No, they felt kind of good.”

“Once you’re used to Morris, he’ll feel good, too. You’ll want to be plugged.”

“Okay.” She doesn’t sound at all sure, and I gather that we’re not quite to that stage yet.

I grasp the jewelled base and gently pull back.

“Oooh.” She arches her back. Then her shoulders drop as she bears down and the plug slides out.

“That’s it. All done.” I slide the plug into the plastic bag, pull off my glove with my teeth so I can keep stroking her cunt with my other hand and toss the glove in with the plug. After sealing the bag, I pop it in my pocket. I’ll clean up later.

“Thank you, Daddy. That didn’t hurt at all.”

“Good, baby doll. I don’t want it to hurt, just keep you focused. Now focus for me and tell me where that bratty, bratty girl came from?”

“Inside me,” she says, her voice tiny. Her shoulders shake a little. I clasp her upper arm and draw her upright, still teasing her cunt with my fingers. I move in close behind her and pull her back against my body, crossing my arm over her and holding her while she settles.

“Is that your little?” I ask her, rubbing my cheek in her hair and speaking soft and low into her ear.

She nods, watching me anxiously again in the mirror.

“Your little’s deliciously naughty, sweetheart. I want to play so hard with that naughty little girl.”

She bites her lip. “You do? I didn’t make you angry? You seemed kind of annoyed.”

“I was only annoyed when I spanked you. You’re not allowed to lie to me, or be disrespectful, even when you’re little.” At her wide-eyed nod, I continue, to reassure her. “But I wasn’t angry the rest of the time. I was turned on by that naughty little who kept pouting at me. I’m going to have so much fun playing with that little girl.”

“You are?” Her eyes fill, but these aren’t sad tears. They’re liquid hope. She wants so badly to be able to let this deep part of herself out, to stop hiding it behind all the adult armor she wears, but she’s afraid of censure. Someone, maybe many someones, have told her this part of herself is not okay. She needs me to make it safe for her.

And I will.

“Yes, I am. How did you