Page 362 of The Daddy P.I. Casefiles: The Second Collection

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 silicone. 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. Ilove 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.