The Daddy P.I. Casefiles: The First Collection by Frost, J (i love reading txt) 📗

thighs flexing under her creamy, lightly freckled skin.

“Feel good, little girl?”

She dips her head, muffling her words. “Yes, Daddy.”

I smile to myself, enjoying her sweet embarrassment. We’ve done so much in the months we’ve been together that Emily could have become jaded. But she’s not. Her littleness is a font of endless innocence that I just love corrupting. I hope I can still make her blush when we’ve been married for decades.

I play with her for a little longer, alternating my finger with the tip of the nozzle. The cool silicone makes her twitch every time I slip it into her. Finally, instead of drawing it back out, I push in the first of six ribs. She shudders but holds herself still like the good girl she is.

“Feels funny, doesn’t it?”

“It’s not as nice as a plug, Daddy.”

I bet it’s not. Just wait until I inflate the balloon inside her.

“This is going to go deeper than you’re used to with a plug, baby. Doing okay?”

“Yes, Daddy.” She shivers and arcs her back as the nozzle’s fourth rib passes through her sphincter and I work it around a little to help navigate the turn into her colon.

“Relax your back, little girl. You know I don’t like to see that.”

She twitches her shoulders, trying to settle herself, and the sound of her splashing in the water increases, but she slowly relaxes back into a natural curve.

“That’s better. Long, smooth part now,” I tell her as I push the nozzle in past the fifth rib. The inflatable part of the nozzle is smooth and slides in easily, but she tenses as I near the sixth rib. “Is that hurting, baby?”

“It feels too deep,” she whimpers.

I rub her sacrum while I work the nozzle in and out, so the friction stimulates the nerves around her sphincter and helps the deep penetration feel good. She relaxes in increments until the sixth rib slips in.

“That’s it, sweetie. All in.”

Her shoulders slump. “Thank goodness.”

“Stay relaxed for me while the water goes in. It’s nice and warm.” I test the jug of distilled water I’ve got sitting in the sink with my pinky. Still a comfortable temperature. I add five tablespoons of Castile soap before I pour it into the enema bag, clamp the hose and nozzle to the bag, and hang the bag off the towel rack. Then I turn the stopcock on the hose and let the water flow.

Emily jerks at the first rush of water but settles back into position. She’s come up onto her elbows and I can’t hear any more splashing, so I break out the first of the toys I’ve brought to distract her.

“What’s Daddy playing at, little girl?” I say in mock self-disgust. Emily twists her neck to look over her shoulder at me. “How can you have bubbles without a ducky?”

A grin breaks across her face. “You brought my duckies?”

“Of course, I did.” I pull her flock of yellow rubber ducks out of one of the fifty million bags we’ve brought and hand them to her one by one, pretending to examine them for fitness to swim in the unicorn rainbow bubbles.

As she starts to play with the ducks, I notice a wet spot on the towel under her knees. I turn the stopcock to stop the water and pick up the bulb to inflate the balloon in the nozzle. I settle one hand in the small of Emily’s back to hold her still and give the bulb a couple of squeezes.

“Oh!” She twists but as soon as I growl at her, sinks back into position. “Daddy, that’s not nice.”

“It’s just to keep the enema inside. Stay relaxed and play with your duckies, sweetheart.”

“I already feel full,” she says, a hint of a whine edging into her voice.

I check the bag. Not even half-way yet.

“Little more. I want to make sure you’re nice and clean for me.”

She huffs but doesn’t protest further as I open the stopcock again.

To keep the connection between us open, I kneel beside the tub and stroke her back and hips while the water flows. Emily’s skin is pillow-soft under my fingertips. She has a spatter of faint bruises across her ass-cheeks from our frequent impact play. I pinch a few of the purplish marks just to hear her squeak.

A spray of warm water hits me in the chest. I turn my head to find the source and catch the next spray across my neck as Emily uses one of her rubber ducks to shoot a jet of water over her shoulder at me.

I smack that soft ass. “Monkey.”

“Ouch, Daddy!”

“Behave, you miscreant.” I push the edge of the towel under her knees around to mop up the water that’s dripped to the floor. “Almost done now.”

I hear her whispering to her ducky.

“What was that, little girl?”

“We hates the enema, precious,” she says in a squeaky, ducky voice.

I smack her ass again to cover my chuckle.

“New rule!” she squeaks and squirts water at me again. “No smacking of the bottom when there’s a gigantic balloon thing and fifty gallons of water inside it!”

Another smack.

“It’s a tiny balloon thing and not even eight cups of water, you monkey. And there will never be a rule that limits when Daddy can smack the bottom.” I hear a gurgle from the bag and turn the stopcock to end the flow. Unhooking the tube from the nozzle, I let the small amount of water in the tube drain into the bathtub. “There it is. All in. Ready to get in the bath?”

“No. I’m stuck,” she says.

I know that tone of voice and smile to myself. She’s deep in littlespace. I love that just my exercise of control over this very private part of her body and a few bath toys have helped her slip into her happy place. Even if she is super-pouty as I help her sit up.

She reaches back and feels the end of the nozzle and gives me her angry koala face. “There’s a tree branch sticking out