The Daddy P.I. Casefiles: The First Collection Frost, J (good beach reads .TXT) 📖

to him and climb up onto the couch. Planting my forearms in the back cushion, I lean over so my butt sticks up.

Logan runs his hand down my back, smoothing the silk over my skin, then back up to lift the ruffle and bare my bottom. He toys with me: squeezing my cheeks, brushing his fingertips over the cane stripes on the backs of my thighs, while he pulls on a latex glove and drizzles lube down my crack. A kiss of ice on my labia makes me flinch and whimper. Cold, cold, cold. But the plug warms as he rubs it up and down my slit. It feels so different from Morris. Stanley’s cool and super-slick as Logan dips it inside me, working it in and out, fucking me with it. “Daddy, Daddy.”

“How’s that feel?”

“Chilly but good.” I wiggle a little as he continues to work the plug in me.

“The high seas can be chilly, pirate baby,” he tells me in a serious tone, which makes me giggle. “Let’s see how it feels in your bottom.”

I flex my hips and arch my back to tip my ass up as much as possible. It feels best going in that way and I don’t want him to struggle inserting it. He rewards me with more swirling touches over my butt, before he draws the plug out of my pussy and rubs the wet tip over my sphincter. I bear down and he pushes it in. I register the difference immediately. It’s wider and burns going in, but the coldness of the metal counters the burn, making me shiver and whimper at the conflicting sensations. Once it’s in, he tugs a little to make sure it’s seated and my ass contracts around it uncontrollably, sensation zinging up my spine, heat spreading through my belly. I moan and grind my forehead into the back of the couch. I have a feeling he won’t let me come until I’ve found the other two treasures, but I’m so, so ready. Somewhere in the back of my mind I recognize I’ve already had five orgasms today and that should be more than enough for even the horniest little pirate, but nothing under my ruffles recognizes that logic.

“How do you like Stanley, baby?”

“Zingy, Daddy.”

“Zingy?”

“Stanley burns going in, but he’s cold, too. It’s like fire and ice in my bottom.”

Logan chuckles. “Ah, zingy.”

“Should I look for the second treasure now?”

“Uh-huh. Let me help you up.”

He does, which is good because Stanley’s heavier than Morris, too, and there’s a moment where I wobble. Logan keeps me steady. I wrap my arms around him and give him a huge hug.

“Thank you for Stanley, Daddy, and the treasure hunt. This is so cool.”

He kisses me on the forehead. “You’re very welcome, angel baby.”

I retrieve the map, and he pulls me into his lap so I can use him as a desk again. I study the map, turning it around, trying to find a point of reference. There are Xes in the Pillowy Mountains and Pirate’s Lookout, too.

I glance around the room. Pillowy Mountains. There are lots of pillows in Logan’s cabin. On the couch. One on each chair. On the bed.

The X in the Pillowy Mountains has a little dotted trail leading up to it from the Upside-Down Heights. What’s upside-down in Logan’s room? I look around but don’t see anything out of place.

Glancing at his bed, I’m reminded of yesterday morning when we boarded—goodness, that feels so long ago now—Logan fucked me with my head hanging off the edge of the bed. Amazing head-rush. Amazing, upside-down orgasm.

I smack another kiss across Logan’s mouth before I climb off him and hobble like a bow-legged sailor to the bed. I bet Anne Bonny never had to run around with a boulder in her butt. I hear Logan chuckle behind me. I probably look ridiculous, but I don’t care. If he wants me to treasure hunt with Stanley in my butt, I will. Particularly if there’s a ravishment waiting for me at the end.

At the bottom of the bed, I stop and look at the map again. A dotted line leads up to the pillows. There aren’t any other dotted lines on the map.

I climb up onto the bed, stick my ass in the air, and crawl on my hands and knees up towards the pillows.

“Fuck, yes,” Logan breathes behind me. Close behind me. He’s followed me from the couch.

Because I’m crawling, I feel it, under my palms, through the comforter and sheet: a ridge that runs up the bed. When I reach the pillows, I pull them aside.

Underneath the pillows lies a small, oval control pad. I pull it out. The chains it’s attached to slide up from under the covers. Three, long, thin chains that end in metal clamps. I shiver. The rubber clamps he used on me this morning were bad enough, but metal? With teeth? Eek.

I turn and crawl back to where Logan’s standing at the bottom of the bed, watching me with those savage eyes. For a moment, I want to protest. Metal clamps! Who in their right mind wants metal clamps on their tender parts? But I lost my mind to him days ago, and, as much as the idea of metal clamps scares me, the idea of Logan putting them on me excites me way, way more. I hand him the treasure silently, lie back on the bed and lift my nightgown, baring all those tender parts for him to torment.

I can barely breathe, I’m so excited.

“What do you think these are, little pirate?” he asks, as he leans over me, opening one of the clamps in his fingers.

“Zappy clamps,” I whisper. I haven’t done electrical stimulation play before, although I’ve watched it. Matthew had a pacemaker, so electrical play wasn’t safe for him, and none of my other Doms have used it on me.

Until Logan, who clearly loves toys and seems committed to trying all of them on me.

“That’s right. Zappy clamps for a pirate