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

morning paddling, if Princess Amber has any skin left on her bottom by then.”

“Princess Amber can watch whatever she wants because she’s a princess,” I tell him, planting my hands on my hips, the way princesses do. “And she thinks the Black Knight is a doofus who doesn’t know his movies, and she’s not afraid of the evil paddle because princesses don’t get paddled.”

Logan roars with laughter, scoops me up, and tosses me over his shoulder. So unfair. I mean I love how he handles me, but how unfair is it that he can just toss me over his shoulder to shut me up when Princess Amber is making a point? Total meanie.

I pound my fists on his back. “Princesses don’t get toted around like a sack of potatoes, either!”

“This princess does. Get used to it, little girl, because Princess Amber’s going to be in this position a lot tonight.”

“Because the Black Knight is a poopy-head!” I rage.

I hear Niall snort, but I can’t really see what he’s doing because I’m hanging upside-down over Logan’s back. What I do have is a great view of Logan’s butt. He changed while I was getting into my gown and he’s wearing black cargo pants and a black T-shirt. The pants hug his ass. Oh, yum-yum, Daddy’s butt is so firm.

Channeling my inner Buttercup, I play the bongo-drums on his behind.

Logan doubles over, he’s laughing so hard. I nearly end up on the floor before he straightens and smacks my ass, much, much, much harder than I hit his. I howl and kick my legs up against the hard bar of his arm wrapped around the backs of my thighs.

Which gets me another smack.

“See how this is going to go, Princess? You’re getting carried down to the dungeon this way whether you like it or not. You can fight me and get a smack with every step, or you can be a good girl and just lie over my shoulder until we get there. Then you can be as defiant as your little heart desires. Your choice.”

Well, duh.

I struggle like my life depends on it.

Logan smacks my ass with every step. It’s over my dress but it still stings because the Black Knight is the hardest-handed, blackest-hearted brute that’s ever lived in the history of the world. It feels like he’s whacking my butt with a slab of granite. I don’t know if it’s the position or the leverage he’s got or what but it smarts like fuck. I’m howling again before we’re ten steps down the hall, over Logan’s wicked chuckling.

Vashi follows a few steps behind me with Shaan gripping her shoulders. Niall follows his subbies, carrying a toy bag in each hand, and whistling a happy tune.

We’re a strange, noisy procession as we move down the corridor. A few people stop Niall to ask what scene we’re doing. Others just laugh. I get redder, and hotter, and more outraged on Princess Amber’s behalf. How dare the scurvy knave treat a princess like this?

Or is scurvy only a pirate thing? I can’t remember.

I’m going to have to get my insults straight before we start the scene, because if calling the Black Knight a doofus got my daddy doubling-over with laughter, he ain’t seen nothing yet. I’ve got years of research ready to unleash on the Black Knight’s sorry behind. And I would be fine to remember them all if Logan would just put me down so the blood stops rushing to my head. He’s such a scurvy knave.

But he doesn’t put me down. He carries me, and spanks me, down the long corridor, all the way to the other end of the ship. It’s really not fair. When we finally get to the dungeon, he doesn’t let me down, but walks around, letting me see everything from my upside-down vantage point. The dungeon’s a long, rectangular room with three scene areas. There’s a raised dais at one end with a couple of throne-like chairs clustered under a red canopy. Around the dais is a half wall, broken by a wide archway, which separates the dais from the rest of the room. That’s a castle fit for a kinky princess, if I ever saw one.

The middle scene area is more dungeon-y, with a double chain station, two standing crosses, several bondage tables, stocks, and a canopied bed.

At the far end of the room, forty or fifty feet from the dais, there’s a long oval table surrounded by benches. Both the edge of the table and the benches are padded, with lots of suspicious rings set into them. The table isn’t piled with knightly meat and drink, but rather rope, Velcro cuffs, towels, bottles of lube, bottles of water, and bowls of condoms.

There aren’t any tools or toys set out, other than the rope, but most people bring their own, at least to the dungeon parties I’ve been to. Too much risk of infection if you use toys someone else has used. Besides, it’s kind of icky. There are a bunch of weapons in the room: swords, crossed-axes, and wicked-looking halberds, which I hope are plastic, because edge-play with any of them would be deadly. They decorate the faux-stone walls, hung around shields of all sizes. Sconces between the shields flicker like torches, making everything seem scarier and more authentic.

The whole room makes me wiggle nervously.

On the second circuit of the room, Logan stops to talk to a blonde woman wearing a pink armband over a tight, black shirt. She’s got some serious muscles underneath, too, along with enviable boobies. She introduces herself as Rebecca, the scene monitor. After she goes over safety procedures and inspects the contents of Logan’s and Niall’s bags, she tells Daddy how sorry she is she won’t be participating, as Paul had nothing but good things to say about our previous scene.

Then she leans around Logan and tips her head down to smile at me. “I have a little boy of my own back in L.A. He’s got an