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

He lowers his voice and says in a tone that brushes along my nerves like fur. “Desirable. I have an idea about how to help you see yourself that way, but it bumps up against one of your hard limits.”

My hard limits? How would breaking one of my hard limits help me see myself the way Logan sees me? I know Maman said and did things that have dented my self-confidence, and Daddy’s worked to get me to see myself differently, not to be so self-critical, but I really don’t get where my hard limits figure in.

Logan’s quiet for a minute, stroking my hair, letting me think. Then reaches over to the dresser and grabs his phone. Is he going to call someone? Lucy? I hope not. I’m totally not ready to do anything but yell at her. How dare she approach my daddy to be her top?

As Daddy fiddles with his phone, I blow out a long breath and concentrate on relaxing my shoulders the way he’s taught me. Lucy’s really nice, and until this moment, I would have called her my best friend at Blunts. I’m sure she had a good reason for asking Daddy to top her. Maybe if I can focus on that, I’ll stop feeling like I want to grab her by the throat and shake her.

Daddy holds his phone down by his thigh so I can see the picture on the screen. It’s beautiful. And so hot. It’s a nude woman in rope bondage. She’s upside-down, with one leg straight above her, the other bent out to her side, bound thigh to calf. Her arms are pulled behind her back, pushing her full breasts out. Her eyes are closed, and she looks totally at peace. The image is black and white; the only color is the bright red rope circling her body. Every undulation of her skin, every indentation of the rope, is exquisitely shaded in soft gray. Her skin looks like marble. Only the drape of her dark hair, sweeping the floor, and her softly parted lips, render her real: a living work of art.

“That’s gorgeous, Daddy.”

“That’s Tania, Ry’s wife. Austin took the picture as a wedding present for them a couple of years ago. Ten did the rope work.”

I peer at the intricate knots, perfectly placed from the base of her throat, down her torso, with the last one resting on her clit. The leg pointing at the ceiling is completely encased in knots, like she’s wearing stockings of red rope.

“Wow.” I don’t know what else to say. It’s beautiful and erotic. Tania and Ry must adore this image. What a perfect wedding present.

“I know pictures of you in submissive or sexual positions are one of your hard limits, baby girl, but what would you say to letting Ten rig you and Austin take some pictures like this? You can keep your underwear on. We could have one or two framed prints here in the bedroom and the best pictures on our cloud server. We can put them in an encrypted folder that only you have the password to, so I wouldn’t have access—”

“Oh!” I never meant for my hard limit to make Logan think I didn’t trust him with sexy or submissive pictures of me. It’s a hard limit because Gavin, DThree, tried to convince me to do a spanking scene with him that he was going to film on his phone. He swore it would just be for him to jack off to when we weren’t together. I only refused because the idea made me insanely self-conscious. But after we broke up, I noticed stills and clips that he’d posted on Pornhub, and from the comments, it seemed like he didn’t have permission from the girls in them. So, I added it to my hard limits. But Daddy wouldn’t ever do anything like that. “No, Daddy, I didn’t mean it for something like this. This is art. It’s beautiful, not skeevy. I’d love to do this, if you think Master Ten and Austin wouldn’t mind?”

Daddy smiles. “They definitely wouldn’t mind. Once the pictures are taken, I’ll add looking at them for five minutes a day to your schedule. I want you to get used to seeing yourself the way I do.”

I look again at the gorgeous image. “You really see me like this?”

He bends all the way over so he can kiss the top of my head, even though I know from his grimace when he straightens that it hurts his back. “I really do, little love.”

I sniffle at the idea that he sees anything half that beautiful when he looks at me.

Daddy tucks his phone away and we finish Knee Time with five minutes of him stroking my hair. I close my eyes and drift while he touches me. It isn’t quite subspace. I don’t float. But I feel so at peace at my daddy’s knee, with his big, warm hand moving slowly over my head. There are lots of things I should be worried about, including this new thing with Lucy. But, here in this serene moment, none of them touch me. For right now, there’s nothing but me and Daddy.

Finally, he clears his throat. I lift my head and his hand falls away.

“Go to the bathroom,” Daddy says softly. “Do anything you need to do. We’re going to be at least two hours. When you come back, climb up onto the bed and assume the Bara position across my legs.”

He gives me the hand gesture, holding his hand out by his thigh, turning his palm down and then closing his hand. It’s just reinforcement. I know the positions by heart now.

“Yes, Daddy.” I sit back and straighten my spine, flexing my thigh and calf muscles, before I rise to my feet. Knee Time is over and we’re not in High Protocol, but I still feel like I want to formally acknowledge his dominance, and how much it means to me. There’s no standing slave position of obeisance,