Daddy P.I. 3.0 (Daddy P.I. Casefiles Book 5)

Chapter 1

I crouchlow at the corner of a wooden wall and wipe sweat out of my eyes.

The sun’s set but the November day has been unseasonably warm. The heat, combined with the coveralls I’m wearing and the need for stealth as I move through a maze of hedges and walls, have me dripping.

I wipe my hands on my pants, adjust my weapon, and raise my free hand. My teammates, Mac, Sean, Taylor, and Cole, shuffle from their hiding spots and tuck in tight to the corner. They adjust their own weapons. Together, we wait.

I listen, straining to differentiate sounds through the muffling effect of the maze. There are eight teams out tonight. Too many. I told Ry it was too many. Too much potential for confusion. Too much possibility of being caught in friendly fire. But Ry’s not a military man, so he gave it the thumbs up anyway.

There. Over the city’s night noises, the slough of the breeze, the shuffling of feet, a high, soft giggle. That’s the sound I’ve been listening for.

“Attack!” I yell, willing to lose the element of surprise in favor of the panic my shout will induce in those listening.

I lead my team barreling around the wooden corner, my gun up and firing. A blob of bright pink paint catches a blonde head before it ducks behind an overturned trestle table. The rest of my ammo spatters across the wooden surface uselessly.

Three grinning faces pop up over the edge of the table, guns pointed at me like a firing squad.

“Ambush!” I shout at my team, hoping that at least one of them will make it to safety, even as splats of orange paint pepper the front of my coveralls.

“You’re dead, Daddy!” Emily whoops, as she continues to fire.

I sit down in disgust. Mac plops into the grass next to me, scooping fluorescent orange paint out of his ear.

“I’m still going to beat her ass tonight,” he tells me, tipping his head at his blue-haired submissive, who is still firing over our heads.

“Definitely. Rampant insubordination.”

Mac chuckles and lies back in the grass, probably smearing paint all up his back. Since I’m going to need a shower anyway, I join him in staring up at the night sky. A few stars pierce the city’s light pollution and I smile up at them, happy despite my team’s route.

“This doesn’t suck, son,” he says to me.

“I led us straight into an ambush,” I answer. “Kinda sucks.”

Mac laughs. “Faster the game’s over, faster I get to fuck my girl’s cute little ass. Win-win.”

“Now that is the honest truth.” I lift my head to see what my girl’s doing but she’s ducked back behind the trestle to avoid a volley of glowing green paint coming from my left. “Give ‘em hell, Emmy,” I shout, to encourage her.

“I got this, Daddy!”

I lie back, chuckling.

“You staying the night?” Mac asks me. He shifts, getting more comfortable on the grass, steepling his fingers over his chest. The dim light from electric lanterns and fairy lights strung up around the maze illuminates his craggy profile. I know Mac’s face almost as well as I know my own. This man I served under, sweated under, bled under. Now he lives under my roof. Eats at my table. Plays at my club. I can never repay Mac for what he’s given me but it’s a start.

“Yeah. Committee meeting in the morning.”

“Ah,” he says, like he’s forgotten. I know he hasn’t. His membership application is in front of the committee tomorrow.

“You’ll pass,” I reassure him.

Mac’s profile shifts, white teeth gleaming in the low light, as he grins. “You’ve made sure of that, haven’t you?”

“I have.”

There are things I leave to chance. Not many, I admit. I’m a controlling bastard. But the happiness of the people who mean the most to me? No. I make sure of that. Mac wants to be a part of the club that’s so central to my life. He’s got the experience, and the money. He’d have been a shoo-in if we’d both been smarter and done things a little differently over the last few months. If I hadn’t levied a financial penalty while punishing one of the house submissives for bullying my little girl. If Mac hadn’t claimed and collared Brenna, who I can hear laughing her head off with Emily, for his own. More than one member is salty that he plucked her out of the pool of house subs. I’ve had to make a bad bargain and call in several favors. But I have enough votes.

I’ve made sure of it.

Mac grunts. “What time’ll you be done?”

“Zero nine hundred.” By which time he’ll be a full member. “Meet us in the buffet at zero nine thirty?”

I need a half-hour to dress my little girl. And maybe give her an orgasm if she’s a needy baby.

“Roger that.”

“Speaking of which, you’ll need to set up your own account for club expenses. Time to stop sponging off me.”

Mac chuckles. “Guess I’ll have to make the most of it tonight. Room’s got a mini-bar.”

“If you charge fucking fifteen-dollar bottles of water to my account, I’m tacking it on to your rent.”

Not that I’ve let him pay rent, nor will I.

“Language, Daddy!” Emily shouts over another wet volley.

Mac joins me in laughing.

By dint of my team-mate, Sean, being a far sneakier bastard than I’d given him credit for, our team actually wins. Emily’s band of submissives is the second-to-last knocked out. Once her cute, pink coveralls are spattered with paint, Emily trots over and flops on top of me for a cuddle. Mac’s girl and the three other members of their team, Fleur, Lucy, and Austin, join us. A happy, wiggly pile of submissives is a fine blanket against the rapidly cooling evening.

When Sean finally takes out the last opponent, he and his submissive join our pile. Sean gives his subbie a couple of token swats with the game’s prize: a golden leather paddle. He passes the paddle to me, and I line up Emily, Fleur, Lucy, and Austin to give them each a celebratory smack. When I hand the paddle off to him, Mac stretches Brenna over his knee and gives her a much longer paddling, while she writhes and stuffs her knuckles in her mouth to keep from making so much noise the club’s neighbors complain. While the club building is heavily soundproofed, we’re playing in the courtyard which is open to the sky.

Once Brenna’s howled through a knuckle-muffled orgasm, Mac tosses the paddle back to Sean, throws Brenna over his shoulder, and heads inside. I pull Emily into my lap and tickle her under the chin.

“Ready to call it a night, my baby?”

She looks up at me, her big eyes luminous in her pale face. “Austin and Hunter have challenged my title, Daddy.”

Ah, the ongoing Hearts War between my little girl and the house subs who taught her the card game and have been losing to her ever since.

“Mmm, I think they’re going to have to wait for another night. Unless you want to miss out on a good-girl spanking.”

“A champion has to defend her crown.” Her plush, lower lip trembles. “But I really don’t want to miss out on a good-girl spanking.”

I chuckle and kiss the tip of her nose.

“How about this? Invite Austin and Hunter over on Saturday for a Hearts Battle Royale. You three can play all afternoon. Daddy will cook tea.”

The big eyes get even bigger. “Daddy will cook?”

“Daddy somehow managed before you came along, little girl.”

Austin, who is lying on the grass with Fleur under one arm and Lucy under another, snorts. “On microwave dinners.”

I kick him playfully. “Quiet, you.”

“I’ll bring Aunt Pearl’s Banoffee Pie,” he offers. “Hunt and I both have Saturday off.”

“Is that a deal, little girl? Can you wait to defend your title until Saturday?”

She immediately lifts her pinkie finger. “Deal.”

I shake her pinkie with mine before I draw her in for a deep kiss.

I barely take my mouth off hers as we wind our way through the club to the room I’ve reserved for the night. The Blue Harem room is my favorite dungeon in the club, although the Nursery we’re building is likely to replace that. The only downside to the Blue Harem room is that it doesn’t have an attached bathroom. Few of the dungeons do except the medical suite, which is semi-perpetually booked out.

Because I knew our play today would be messy, I reserved a room on the third floor. It’s the “pink boudoir” room and has all the elements of a terribly cheesy Vegas honeymoon hotel, right down to the heart-shaped bed. Most importantly, though, there’s a two-person hot tub in the attached bath.

Emily clings to me like the cutest baby koala as I carry her to the bathroom, dropping our overnight bags by the door. I’ll unpack later. I strip off our paint-covered overalls and the street clothes we’ve worn beneath. Some of the paint is still wet, so I make sure to use it to daub hearts on my baby doll’s butt-cheeks while I’m taking off her white knickers. That gets me a cute squeal that I muffle with my mouth as I pick her up and climb into the hot tub with her.

Kissing my little girl is an addiction I don’t want to break.

Once we’re in the hot water, I turn Emily around in my lap and braid her hair, taking my time to rub my fingertips over her scalp. She dissolves into a floppy koala, still clinging to me with her foot adorably hooked behind my calf. I love the points of connection she always creates between us.

I nibble her neck and the soft shell of her ear as I rub my hands over her. Sure, it gets the paint off but I’m really sensitizing her skin, warming her up for our lovemaking. Emily reciprocates sweetly, rubbing her foot up and down my calf, wriggling when I find a particularly sensitive spot on her neck so her soft bottom grinds over my lap.

“Who is this clean little girl?” I ask when I’m ready to move from the bath to the bed.

“You, Daddy,” my clean, floppy koala answers, lazily trailing her toes up and down my calf.

“Confident I’m not a clean little girl. I might be a wolfy Daddy who’s about to get down and dirty.”

A soft giggle out of my floppy koala. “My bottom should be safe from you.”

“Why is that, silly baby?”

“Cause I shot you dead at paintball. Only winners are allowed to get down and dirty with other people’s bottoms.”

I poke her in the ribs, eliciting a squeal and a squirm across my semi.

“I’ll remind you that my team won.”

“After you were dead,” Emmy points out.

“You are a menace. Was it your idea to set up that ambush?”

A wilder giggle.

“You’re in so much trouble. Right, little insurrectionist. I know how to deal with you.” I slide out from under her and make sure she’s steady on the rim of the tub before I climb out and gather towels. Blunts’ towels are thick, soft, and smell like watermelon. I help Emmy out and wrap her in the towel, taking my time rubbing her pink skin. Every time a curve emerges from the cloth, I lean in to kiss and nip. Emmy gets increasingly weak-kneed. I sit on the edge of the tub with her straddling my thigh as I dry her. When I cup her breasts in the terry-cloth and take my time nibbling and kissing her nipples to tight peaks, the part of her spread over my thigh gets wetter instead of drier.

I pretend to dab at her wet patch while really getting my fingers into her. Bending her back over my arm, I worship her breasts. I encourage her to grind down on my thigh until she catches a rhythm, then help her along by rubbing her clit until she clamps her thighs around mine and comes in a long series of sweet jerks and soft moans.

I gather my baby doll and our bags and drag them into the bedroom. As I pass the mirrored alcove over the sink, I catch my reflection. My grin is feral. Doesn’t matter. Emily’s not scared of her Daddy, no matter how crazy our play gets. She’s always been happy to follow me down the most twisted path.

Her trust and faith in me lights up my chest brighter than Times Square at Christmas.

I deposit my floppy koala on the heart-shaped bed, plant my hands on either side of her, and loom over her.

“Hi, little girl.”

She blinks up at me. Such big baby eyes. “Hi, Daddy. You’re looking very wolfy.”

“I’m feeling very wolfy, my baby. Can you take some pain for me?”

“Always.”

I kiss the tip of her nose.

Our play bag yields a juice box that I get Emily sipping while I unpack our toiletries, night clothes, lube, and a surprise for my little masochist.

“Um, Daddy? What is that?”

I work hard to keep my face straight as I hold out the paddle I commissioned for Emily from Fleur, who makes incredibly wicked toys. This one is clear silicon, swirled through with pink and black glitter. One side is flat. The other side has rows of short humps rising from the surface. It’s going to give my baby so much thump.

“This?” I turn the paddle around in my hand so she can see both sides. “Just something I saw and thought was pretty for my beautiful baby.”

She gulps loudly. “It, um, is very pretty. Ta, Daddy.”

“You’re welcome, little girl.”

“It, uh, looks like that nubbly side will hurt quite a bit.”

I smack the flat side against my palm. “Not very flexible. I wouldn’t discount the sting you’re going to get from this side.”

The big eyes get even bigger. I let myself drown in those eyes with a smile.

“Definitely not discounting the sting from that side, Daddy.

“Shall we test it out?”

“Sure?” she squeaks.

I can’t help but laugh. In a few minutes, she’ll be moaning and begging for more sting, more thud, more-more-more. But the moments of trepidation leading up to that are delicious; they feed the wickedness in my soul.

I survey the ridiculous bed. It’s on a raised platform. Looks like the right height. I reach over Emily and grab a pair of pink pillows.

“Over the edge of the bed, on your knees, little girl. Pillow under your hips and one for your head if you want one.”

She finishes the juice box with a gurgle and hands it to me before arranging herself over the edge of the bed with her knees on the platform.

I tuck the empty box into our bag to recycle since Emily has doubts about the efficacy of Blunts’ recycling efforts. Returning to the bed, sitting beside her, I take a moment to admire my fiancée’s sweet curves, first with my eyes and then with my hands, tucking the paddle under my arm while I squeeze and knead her round cheeks, pink from the hot tub and still wearing faint marks from a flogging scene. I rub at the fading bruises, aggravating them gently, and make note of where they are for a little extra sting.

“Stretch your arms over your head, sweetheart. Let me see that long spine.” When she does, I shape the dips of her waist with my palms and let my fingertips creep up her ribs like piano keys. I get the trill of her giggle in response: sweet, subbie music.

While her giggle is trailing off, I slap the paddle sharply across both firm cheeks.

Emmy shrieks. Her hands dig into the pink coverlet. Her toes curl and she crosses her ankles one over the other but she holds position, my good girl.

“Beautiful, Emmy,” I praise her. “Such a good baby. Does it sting?”

“Sooo stingy,” she groans.

I smack her bottom with the paddle again, enjoying the way her skin flattens like a spill of cream against the clear silicon. Redness rushes to the surface of her skin in the long rectangle shape of the paddle. I’m going to ask Fleur to make the next one with a heart cut-out at the top so I can leave a line of hearts down each cheek. Sadistic art for my little masochist to admire the next day.

When her ass is glowing and hot to the touch, I flip the paddle over. I run my palm up the paddle’s face, feeling the nubs that will bite into my girl’s soft flesh. With a smile that would draw a whimper out of Emily if she wasn’t grinding her face into the pillow while wiggling her red bottom at me, I whack the bumpy side of the paddle straight across both cheeks.

Emily howls into the pillow. “Daddeee!”

“Owie, my baby?” I ask evilly.

She scrunches the bedding in her little fists, working through the burn. “Owie. Super owie.”

“Mmm, it looks very owie.” I rub my thumb over some of the spots blooming crimson in a waffle-iron texture across her bottom. “Four more for Daddy? Count them down.”

She blows out a long breath, wiggles, and settles herself. Her back muscle soften. She clenches her ass-cheeks, then relaxes. “Ready-ready.”

“That’s my good girl. I love seeing you do that, my baby. Getting ready to take pain for me. Relaxed and accepting of whatever I’m going to give you. Such a good girl.”

She rubs her cheek against the pillow. “Love you, Daddy.”

“I love you, my little wonder.” I give her ass a sharp rap with the paddle and take a deep breath, sucking her high moan into my lungs, into my soul. “I love the sounds you make for me. I love seeing your soft bottom go hot and red as you take what I want to give you. I love your acceptance of every part of me. I’m so grateful for you, Emmy.”

“Daddy.” Her breath breaks but I know it’s just emotion. Emmy can take a flogging with my heaviest flogger. The paddle’s giving her some good sensation but she’s nowhere close to her limit. “I’m grateful for you, too. Oh, and that was one. And ta, ta very much for my good paddling.”

“Good girl for remembering.” I tap her softly with the paddle for the second hit, so I can build the last two.

“Two, ta, Daddy.”

“Very good girl.”

I tuck the paddle under my arm while I rub in the sting. The hot satin of her skin under my palms is heaven. She wiggles under my touch and the sweet tang of her arousal spices the air.

“Does my baby want to be fucked?” I ask rhetorically.

“Yes, please, Daddy!”

I chuckle at her enthusiasm. “Okay, two more.”

I deliver them in quick succession, one after the other, with barely a breath in between for her to count. She shrieks on the second one, her whole body going tense. Her back jerks, her legs squeeze together. A deep red flush spreads down the back of her neck.

Her body goes limp, then she flips over onto her back, looking up at me with wide eyes. Tears spill.

“Baby?”

“Daddy, I’m so sorry!”

Chuckling, I lean over her. “Surprise paingasm, little girl?”

She nods tearfully.

“So, I’d say you like the paddle a little?”

She shakes her head. “It’s an evil, evil paddle. Waaay worse than Belphegor.”

“Way worse, huh?”

“So much worse. I’m really sorry, Daddy. The pain took me by surprise.”

I give her a slow, licking kiss. “I’m not angry, baby. I love watching you come. I know it was involuntary. You haven’t broken any rules. Lift your legs now, Daddy wants to fuck.”

She blinks back her tears, still looking a little uncertain. My sweet baby who tries so hard to follow my rules. I’ll reinforce that she’s still my good girl while I’m fucking her.

She slides her legs up my hips and sides, silky skin on silky skin. Her hands slip around the backs of her knees, the way she knows I like her to hold her legs while I fuck her. I push us both up the bed so I can get my knees on the mattress before I sink down onto her.

I kiss my way down her, starting with her forehead, then each wet eyelid, then her rosebud mouth. I nudge her chin with mine until she tips her head back and lavish kisses and teasing nips down the line of her throat. She smells sweet here, in the folds of neck and shoulder. I rub my lips, the tip of my nose, and my cheeks over her delicately scented skin while I push her legs wide, cup her breasts in my hands, and roll her nipples with my thumbs.

“Are your little nips still sore, my baby?” I ask as I pluck at them. I got a new set of nipple clamps yesterday and she spent the day in them, to much protest. Compressive pain is never my baby’s favorite thing.

“Don’t feel anything but good, Daddy,” she murmurs, her eyes hazy and unfocused.

I drop my face into the valley between her breasts and smile up at her rapturous expression as I lick and kiss my way down to her captured nipples. Rosy-red skin peeks between my fingers and I give each nipple a kiss before rolling them firmly. Emily squeaks and shivers. That suggests that even though she’s swamped with feel-good chemicals now, her nipples are sore. I still suck and nip at them but I don’t dig my teeth in the way I might if she hadn’t suffered those clamps yesterday. Lighter pressure still has her moaning and wriggling, seeking the satisfaction of penetration. I’m eager for that, too.

Releasing one sweet peak, I slide my hand under her and lift her hips onto a pillow. Emily’s body is wholly familiar to me after several months together but the moment of crowning her, of feeling myself sink into her hot, wet welcome, is always new. The sensation catches in my chest. Tugs on that deepest part of me that opens to her. My soul baby. My life-love. I suck on the side of her breast as I take her hips in both hands and pull her to me, sinking to the balls. Gasping, she squeezes down on me.

“Fuck, baby. So fucking good.”

“Daddy,” she mewls.

I reach out and capture one of her hands, twining our fingers together and holding her down as I circle my hips, applying pressure to every nerve in her divinely-responsive pussy. She keens with pleasure so I do it again and again, adding a snap of my hips with each rotation to give her the deep thump against her cervix that she loves. She throws her head back and howls.

“Oh, my little girl. Are you close?”

“Yes, Daddy. So close. I know I don’t deserve an orgasm but please, please, a thousand pleases may I have one?”

I lift up so I can look right down into her eyes. Hers shoot wide, her black pupils so blown there’s barely a green ring around them.

“You deserve all the orgasms, my baby. Come for me.” Her little brow beetles as she succumbs to the sensations. Her face twists in what would look like pain if I didn’t know how intensely she comes a second time.

I let her release, the delicious spasms around my plunging cock, the snap and wrap of her legs around me as she shudders out each wave of pleasure, pull me over the edge. A half-dozen hammering thrusts and I’m there-I’m there-I’m there, pouring everything that’s in me into her. All the light and dark in my soul. It dives into the well of hers, ignites, and burns like a star.

With my release still firing behind my eyes, I roll us over so Emily’s not trying to take my weight and hold my little love to me so tightly she knows her Daddy will never, ever let her go.