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

It’s her turn to lift an eyebrow. Then she nods, “I’d like that. Or maybe you and Emily could come over for dinner and a scene some night. I know you don’t share her, but I’m perfectly happy to play the voyeur.”

“That’s a date. Text me when’s best for you and we’ll be there.”

Dana flashes me a grin. “Anything else we need to punish this poor excuse for a submissive?” She runs her long nails through Pence’s no-longer-carefully-styled hair, grabs a handful and drags his head back so his face is tilted up to hers, although he keeps his eyes averted. “Landed yourself in hot water, didn’t you? You’ve never agreed to play with me, but punishment’s a different beast. I hope whatever Master Logan has in mind lets me ream your ass with the biggest strap-on I can find. You’d like that, wouldn’t you, bad boy?”

Pence gulps and his eyes dart to me before he nods, yanking against Dana’s hold on his hair.

“He lying?” I ask her. “Because he’s already on two strikes.”

“No, afraid not. His pupils dilated.”

“Too bad. Three strikes and he goes in a cock cage for the duration. I think we just need a plastic sheet and a few towels then we can get him set up.”

“I know where those are.” Dana releases Pence and walks off, impossibly graceful in her stiletto boots. She returns a minute later as one of the waiters from the restaurant appears, carrying the bucket of ice I requested.

We spread the sheet on the floor behind the wooden pillory. I pile the towels at one edge of the sheet, ready to mop up whatever leaks out of Pence during his punishment, and I intend for there to be a lot of leakage, then gesture Pence to rise and take his position on the wooden frame. I don’t lead him there, or coax him with touches, the way I would with Emily. This is punishment. He moves slowly, grudgingly, and I can see he’s lost whatever good the humiliation in the hallway did him.

Time to get him back in the right mindset.

As I lock the upper bar of the pillory over his wrists and adjust the chin-rest, I tell him, “My submissive, who you called a ‘widdle baby,’ reads poetry in her spare time.”

“That’s quite an intellectual activity for a widdle baby,” Dana observes, as she circles the pillory like a shark.

“Yes, it is. She reads her favorite poems aloud to me, and I’ve become a fan of Robert Frost. One of his poems goes like this: ‘Some say the world will end in fire. Some say in ice. From what I’ve tasted of desire, I hold with those who favor fire. But if it had to perish twice, I think I know enough of hate, to say that for destruction ice, is also great, and would suffice,’ ” I pause to let the implications sink into Pence’s thick skull. “I like that. Fire and ice. I think we’ll put that to the test tonight, and you can tell me which wrecks you the most. But first I’ll give you a choice. You ready?”

Pence nods. He doesn’t try to look up at me, but I doubt that’s because I ordered him not to look at anyone. He’s not even trying to please me.

“I think we need a posture collar here so the boy’s not in any doubt where to look,” I say to Dana.

She grins, a knife-edge flash between the blood red of her lips. “I know the perfect one. Excuse me.”

She sidles off again, and I go back to the unrepentant little shit.

“While she’s getting you a collar, I’ll give you a choice in your punishment, Pence. Option one, you take whatever I dish out for an hour. After that, for an hour, any member can punish you, but only with a flogger or crop, and without drawing blood. No cock cage and you can orgasm if you can manage it. Two hours and you’re done, but you’re at my mercy for one of those hours.” Dana might be disappointed if he picks this option, but I doubt he will, so her ass-reaming plans are probably safe. “Option two. I only watch, but any other member can punish you any way they want, up until closing time. You wear a cock cage until midnight. After that, it comes off and you can orgasm if you can manage it. So, you’re clear, that’s six hours, four in a cock cage. No one will breach your hard limits under either option. Don’t answer immediately. You have a minute to think about it. Then your restrictions are lifted. You can look where you like and talk.”

He frowns, not looking at me, and I’m not sure he’s thinking, either. Still not really trying. I walk away from him to arrange a pair of backless couches so I can watch him, either for an hour after I’m done with him, or for as much of the six hours as I care to watch, since no matter what he chooses, I’m not keeping my little girl up past her bedtime.

The loungers all have long straps attached underneath for securing wriggly little subs, but the straps work just as well to fasten two couches together to make enough of a bed that Emily and I can lie, and fuck, on while we watch Pence get what’s coming to him.

Because Emily’s pain isn’t the only pain that turns me on.

As I’m binding together the loungers, Dana returns with the posture collar, buckles it on so Pence’s head is tilted up, his chin supported, then comes to stand next to me and asks, “Out of curiosity, what insult did this wayward submissive give you?”

“Yes,” booms a man’s voice. “I’d like to hear that, too, Logan.”

I lift my head and nod to Harold as he enters.

There are a lot of colorful stories about the older Dom. That he’s a vet of a South American war so secret, no one