Z is for Zingy

 

Wow! It's the very last letter of the A to Z challenge, I can't believe I made it. It was fun while it lasted, a very exhausting and stimulating fun. I learned to write on demand, late at night, knowing I need to come up with original content by midnight. 

Thank you to all who came here to read through my April journey! 

My apologies, I kept writing two long stories during A to Z challenge, the Birching Bordello story and the Alphabet story (this one). Promise, I will put together all the links in the Spanking stories, so it's will be easier to read in order.

This snippet is part of the Alphabet story, comes immediately after X is for Xanadu.

Z is for Zingy

Izzie shuffles semi-comfortably on Nick's bony knee. He spared her thighs, as he always does, but not completely this time. Some extra strokes for swearing, clenching, and arguing in general, did some damage to her future sitting pleasure, and now she wriggles from time to time, causing Nick to bite his lower lip and blush.

"Please dip the merguez in the yolk," she waves at the plate to distract him from their sitting arrangement.

"You mean your weird lamb sausage?" Nick chuckles, as he follows the specific instructions. "Here comes the airplane". A fork with a piece of the sausage dipped in yolk approaches Izzie's lips.

"It's flavourful and zingy." Her usual manners out of the window, hungry Izzie talks with her mouth full. "Not dull as your bacon, just empty calories."

"Bacon is salty and crunchy," Nick picks a forkful from his own plate.

"It has no zing. Take these roasted tomatoes, that's pure umami, the zing of life."

"Pray tell, what else is zingy?" Nick is too busy to feed Her Highness with as much food as possible. 

"The belt, of course. Threatening, punishing, exciting, all at once."

"What about the cane?" 

"We can be frenemies, with time. Definitely, zingy." 

"Hairbrush?" 

"No! Stingy is zingy, thuddy is cruddy."

"Is that so?"

"You know I hate wood, except your morning wood," she nods royally in the direction of his lap and royally doesn't bat an eye at the treacherous twitch. "And the furniture, some of it, not this hideous abomination." Izzie gestures at the rest of the room, and in the process she kicks the fork out of Nick's hand. The egg with tomato lands on the hem of his shirt she's wearing. Izzie jerks to stand up, Nick holds her down.

"Don't you dare to get up!" He picks the offending pieces off his shirt with a napkin and continues with the feeding frenzy. 

"But.." 

"No buts, except yours, which is off limits for the foreseeable future. Hence twenty-five lines of, umm, 'I will not wear Nick's dress shirts to breakfast.' Go on with your zing speech." 

"I can't." The ruined shirt and the prospect of writing lines instead of a spanking take the wind out of her sails. 

"Come on, I like it. Everyone needs some zing in their life." Nick nudges her mouth open with the next piece. 

"Yes," Izzie nods. "We all subconsciously pick something that excites us, the zing." 

"You picked me." Nick grins at the memory. 

"Uh-huh, at the bar, slow night."

Nick doesn't hesitate to deliver a hefty smack on her sore bottom with his free hand. 

"Ouch! What was that for?" Izzie reaches to rub, but Nick pins her wrist to the small of her back. 

"Say it, you picked me." Nick raises an eyebrow, but his eyes twinkle with amusement. 

"Ok ok, yes, I picked you. Happy?" 

"Quite. Not as happy and zingy as I will be after you'll finish writing twenty-five times, 'I will be grateful and respectful when someone gives me a compliment.'"

"Was there a compliment?" 

"Yes, of course, for your great taste, in picking me." His eyes twinkle again with a kind smile spreading across his lips. 

"Do I still need to write lines for the shirt?" 

"Of course. I do not give away rain cheques for zingy spankings, do I?" 

Goodbye, A to Z challenge! 

X is for Xanadu

The picture is from the show How to build a sex room. The story continues from W is for What You Want. Can't believe it's the last three letters!! 

Of course, Izzie is closing her eyes again. She's probably got all drowsy the moment he pulls out. So much appreciation for his efforts from the mama bear. It's the second time the expression pops up in Nick's head, better to keep it to himself. 

"How do you manage to fall asleep so quickly? Wake up, wake up, sleeping b-b-bear. You need to eat something." 

"Why bear? Because I'm round?" Izzie mumbles with her eyes closed. 

"No, because you're warm and cuddly. Open your eyes." 

"Real bears are not cuddly, they are dangerous." 

"You can be quite dangerous too." 

"Nick, do you know any feel good words that start with X, not E-X, just X?"

"Will Xanadu work?" 

"What is it?" 

"An ideal place, a dream land, heaven, so to speak."

"Like subspace?"

"I guess. What do you need it for, Scrabble, Wordle?"

"My blog." 

"Your what? It will get traced back to you!"

"Nobody even knows that I'm a woman. I pretend to be a fourty-three years old Dom from Georgia with a younger sub."

"Iz, you can't have a blog. It's too dangerous." 

"The IT guys put like fifteen VPNs on my laptop. It's inpenetre- unpene--"

"Impenetrable," quips Nick. 

"Yes, thanks. Speaking of penetratiion, the guys said I can watch five midgets doing it with three-hundred-pound woman all day long, and even they won't be able to trace it." 

"How is that even possible?" 

"Three holes plus two hands, duh!" Izzie rolls her eyes. 

"Not that! What idiot said that to you? Name!" 

Loud knock on the door interrupts their heated bickering. 

"Saved by the bell, that's our breakfast. Put some clothes on, will you?" Nick nudges the door open just enough to take over the tray overflowing with food. 

"What did you order?" Izzie asks, putting on Nick's shirt from last night. 

"Food! You don't think the kitchen knows by now what would you eat on a Saturday morning, almost lunch time? And don't you dare to drop anything on that shirt." 

"Or what?" 

"Or I will go Xanadu on your arse." Empty threats go well with snorts and giggles. 

"Put the tray on the table, it's all too messy to eat in bed." 

Nick stares at two plates with full English breakfast. Same same, but different. While his plate is loaded with the most normal food, in his opinion, eggs, bacon, mushrooms, and beans, with a side plate of toasts, butter, and orange marmelade. Izzie's 

plate is some kind of a parody: the eggs are too runny, sausages are made out of lamb, vegetables represented by the grilled tomatoes, and the carbs... by home fries. That's a new development! 

"You eat real potatoes now? Or these are made out of cauliflower?" Nick oozes with sarcasm. 

"Ha ha! One more word, and say goodbye to your marmalade." She nudges his left knee out to perch on it. 

"Be my guest. You ok?" Nick rubs her bum gingerly and watches if she would wince. Not too much, he breathes out. 

"If you will also feed me," she rests her head on his shoulder, "I will be in the best Xanadu ever." 

W is for What you Want

 

Well. this postcard is the exact opposite of what D/s is about. I guess it will be a correct statement for a F/M relationship. I'm just a sucker for silly postcards, corny t-shirts etc. Anything that has a dad joke feel to it, I have to take a picture.

But, on the other hand, Nick is a bit of a Service Dom, if  we are talking labels, and his and Izzie's relationship is a journey that we get to witness, so Nick is sometimes stuck in this situation. 

We pick up right after U is for Upsy-daisy.

W is for What you Want

Nick doesn't do what he wants. What he wanted was to have a peaceful and quiet evening, and he gets that occasionally, but not because he wants it. What did happen last night was: humiliation, ok, that part was actually orchestrated by him, butt plug, paddling, canning, and eventually lots of fucking in the middle of the night. And now, this morning, a request of a spanking to tears, to which he also obliged.

Right now he's finally doing what he wants, watching Izzie sleeping peacefully in his arms. After he carried her back to bed and put some lotion on her ridiculously red bum. That part was definitely against her will, rubbing on the lotion. This woman do NOT want to heal faster, like he would allow that to happen. Thankfully, after a short fight, Izzie gave up her futule attempt to stop him from lathering her with a soothing goo. 

Exhausted, she drank some lukewarm orange juice through a straw that Nick held for her, asked for the fluffy socks, took a deep breath interrupted by a hiccup, and fell asleep. Just like a Sleeping Beauty. Damn it, Izzie said to never use that expression as it reminds her of the other book and not to Google it either. So far he kept the promise. If that book was too kinky for the beloved, he doesn't need the details.

It looks like she sleeps in the cloud, all wrapped in that huge fluffy duvet she bought for Valentine's, the most ridiculously romantic gift he ever received. This winter every time they made love under this duvet, he thought of it as a magic bubble that separates and protects them from the outside world. No one can ever know of what they do. And under that duvet he felt safe, safer than within the soundproofed walls of this room. 

She didn't notice his boner he was so embarrassed of. Yes, it's just a physical reaction, she has an arse to die for, literally. But there is a right place and time for everything, and after this particular spanking it was not the right thing to do. 

Who knows, when she will wake up, she might be in the mood, and then he's game. If not, he can rub one off without a complaint. She wants him to take without asking, blanket consent and all. Sometimes, in the spur of the moment, when she's a willing rug doll in his arms,  it feels right. But not now. 

 

Izzie stirs in her sleep, and shortly her quick breaths mix with little sobs. "You don't want me anymoooore," she whines. "Because I'm fat and uuuugly."

Nick rolls his eyes, curses under his breath, dives under the duvet, and presses against her back, all at once. "Darling, I will always want you, and we made love, umm, six hours ago." To disregard her latter statement seems like a smart move. 

"Because you were hot and bothered after the spaaanking." She keeps on wailing. 

"I'm hot and bothered now." Oh please, she has a proof lodged against her sore bum.

"But you didn't wake me uuup."

"Ahh! How dare you to suggest such a crime against the princess." Nick huffs, mocking an offense. 

The princess finally turns around, fresh tears trickling down her cheeks. 

"Are you really crying over me not waking you up to fuck?" Nick gasps sarcastically. 

Izzie sticks out her lower lip and nods. 

"Well, we know how to rectify that." One ankle in each hand, he yanks her down from the pillows. "One round, and then breakfast, or you will earn yourself another spanking, Your Highness." Izzie grins with a glee. "Or is that what you want?" 

V is for Vanilla

It's sooo late right now, and I'm writing a post to publish tomorrow morning. So, a cheat day, aka a poem day. 

V is for Vanilla

No one is ever vanilla

Everyone has some sort of kink

Tiny one or the size of Godzilla 

Pause, allow these words to sink

Sleep mask is a makeshift blindfold

Playful swat is an impact play

The Look that will keep you mindful

Strong as leash, be that as it may

Holding wrists is a type of bondage

Roleplay bound are Santa and elf

Naked Red, in Halloween homage, 

Riding Wolfie, is C-M-N-F

Primal is marking and biting

'Not yet' is permission to come

Playing hard or barely acting

Don't you dare to yuck my yum! 

U is for Upsy-daisy

Next installment of the Alphabet Story, happens right after T is for Tears. The picture is from my Duolingo Spanish lesson. 

U is for Upsy-daisy 

Nick waits in silence until the kicking stops and then some. Izzie shifts and wiggles impatiently on his lap, actually on his left knee, or the front leg, as she calls it, reminding of the task at hand. 

She has already softened and eased into a pliable mess. He could have carried her back to bed, made sweet love to her, and call it a day. But she wants more, a total meltdown, a sobbing mess. All he needs is to carry on to that tipping point, to keep calm and carry on. Bloody hell, he's stuck. 

The belt, folded short, is still wrapped around his right hand. Nick taps her bum lightly to show that he's ready. He slides her lightly to the side, so he can wrap his left arm around her shoulders. He looks down again at the pinkened bum dangling between his knees. 

"Vamos," he deciphers a whisper. It's bad, so bad, when she reverts to Spanish. "Azotarme duro, querido." Spank me hard, darling, just like on those shorts she wore in Ibiza. 

Run out of excuses, Nick starts slowly but steady. Izzie stays still through the first few swats. But Nick can't be fooled, he knows that every single one of them stings, especially now, especially after last night. 

Dragging it any longer, he's doing her a disservice. So Nick cranks it up, swinging harder, hitting harder. Through squirming and clenching, through kicking and screaming and bawling, through begging and pleading, he doesn't stop covering every inch of her bottom with punishing stripes. Until Izzie breaks into heavy sobs and never-ending chant of Nicky-please. And then she is motionless again, accepting the blows as they come. 

The execution is over, but she is still shaking in his arms. Nick is not sure, if Izzie can even hear him in this dazed state or comprehend the words. He has so much to tell her, yes, right now. 

"I will be here to catch you, if you stumble. To cheer you up, if you are sad. To pick you up, if you fall, please don't fall, I beg you. To share your joy and your sorrows. To applaud your success. I will be here with you every step of the way." 

At this point Nick can't really tell if the words coming out of his mouth are his own, or he's playing the part. 

"And yes, to remind you and correct you, if you wish me so, as we are in it together, Isabel. Do not hide from me anymore, do not lie to me, that's one thing I will have trouble  forgiving you." 

"Upsy-daisy," she says through the quieting sobs. 

"Beg your pardon?" 

"You say upsy-daisy when you pick me up," she repeats. "You always pick me up and put me together. Upsy-daisy." 

T is for Tears and Taken

 

It's part of the Alphabet story. To read in order start at G is for Going Going Gone, then H, I, L, M, and N. Sorry for juggling a few things during A to Z. The picture is from Wiki. And, it's been a long day for me, so a shorter story today. 

We are picking up after N is for Nothing. Izzie and Nick are in the middle of the morning spanking, my favourite cliffhanger. She asked to spank her to tears. 

"Does it count as tears?" Nick asks a rhetorical question, as he wipes a lonely tear with his thumb.

Izzie shakes her head.

"Alright then." Nick shuffles her over his front leg, readying for his makeshift paddle. He folded the belt so short, that it's no different from a leather paddle. Nick wonders, if it would still count as belting or paddling in Izzie's book. But who really cares, if he was asked to spank her to tears, that's what he will do.

She is definitely still quite sore after yesterday's beating. That's what it is in his mind, no matter how consensual. Brits are more casual with the term, considering spanking a milder counterpart. If there are implements involved, especially cane, no siree, can't call it a spanking. Thankfully, Izzie doesn't object to the word. As long as Nick agrees to inflict it on her, she doesn't really care how he calls it. 

The few swats that he just gave her with his hand warmed her up enough. But he hesitates for another moment, and like on cue, he feels The Kick. Izzie was leaning so tight against him, her pregnant belly to his stomach, that Nick freezes sucker-punched. 

"Nicky, he's fine. If I'm happy, he's happy." Izzie snakes her arm around his neck. 

"You're crying." Nick whispers into the top of her head. 

"Not yet, but you will make me, right?" she tries to lift her head to look up but he presses it harder against his shoulder. 

"Give me a moment, please." 

"Take it, and then take me. That's what I need, to be taken. To break into pieces and rise again, taken." 

Q is for Questions

 

Another snippet from Izzie and Nick verse. 

Q is for Questions 

"Were you spanked as a child?" 

"No, got a lot of yelling. I danced since I was five. I think no one would ever touch me out of  fear of visible bruises or marks." 

"So, when did it start?" 

"My ballet teacher had this vicious bamboo cane that everyone was scared of. We never knew if these stories were true or just stories to keep us in line. Until one day, just before the recital, I could get my plies right, and he told me to stay after.. after." 

"How old were you?" 

"Old enough. It was horrible, but I was more scared that the next day everyone will see the marks. So for the recital I changed the tutu to a long skirt. He said that he will spank me again and cane me for changing the skirt, right after the recital. I don't know how I could dance, knowing of what was coming, but it was my best performance ever. And after..." 

"Are you sure you want to continue?" 

"At first I thought I will die, it was so unbearable, I was still very sore from the spanking he gave me before the recital. And then I reached the point when... I didn't want it to end." 

Nick holds his breath, afraid to interrupt her, but his treacherous hands hug her tighter, and Izzie speaks again. 

"He never touched me again. I turned to Mister Hairbrush, he was very handy and  accommodating, as you can imagine." 

"What about Aldous?" 

"Not today, Nick. Aldous is a bone fide sadist, and I'm not a masochist, not exactly. But I asked Aldous first, not the other way around. That's all you need to know."

O is for Obey Ocean Order Octopus Oblivion

 

Ocean waves mercilessly lap at the shore

Older than life is the ancient rhythm

Only his tongue and

Octopus hands

Order stillness 

Oil made of lavender smells

Of endless summer

Opens my legs fast and hard 

Offers an easy way to

Oblivion

Our bed is the sacred ground

On hands and knees

Obeying  

Only master I got 

Others will not understand

You know I'm a huge sucker for the perfect rhyme, click on the Poems page, if you have any doubts. Just taking a tiny break here. 

N is for Nothing

This story turned into something much longer than I expected, with multiple instalments, starting with the letter G: G is for Going, Going, Gone

"Are you done there yet?" Nick hollers from behind the closed bathroom door.

No, she is not done. In fact, she didn't even start yet, peeing, that is. Izzie still stares at her own reflection in the mirror, a very particular part of the said reflection, her bum, as Nick likes to call it. It's hard to twist her head that way and look over the shoulder, while holding up the pajama top with one hand and touching the almost smooth surface of her butt with the other. Damn it, why is it so smooth? Nick caned her for real last night and paddled with the new leather paddle before that. And nothing! She is still very sore, but there is nothing to show for it, except for two thin red lines.

Nick picks through the door with a peace offering of sorts, the butt plug that he holds by the fox tail end. Izzie disapproves of his cleaning technique, which is leasurely rinsing it in a soapy water. She scrubs her toys with the same vigor the professional chefs clean their kitchen at the end of the service. 

Izzie unscrews the tail and drops the plug in the sink to wash later, turning her attention back to the fading marks. Nick stares at the same spot, except he doesn't need to look at the reflection. With a smug grin, he points with the tail at the lines. 

"Where is the third one?" Nick folded the tail in half like a makeshift feather duster and now tickles her back and butt with it. 

"Ask yourself, the cane master."

"Hey, not too shabby for the first time. See, they are perfectly parallel. Told you, I've been practicing."

"On the pillow?" Izzie squirms away from the tail. The soft fur feels funny on her still sore bottom. 

"Yep, one lucky pillow. Covered in ketchup now."

"Say what?"

"How would I know where exactly they land? I put some ketchup on the cane and, you know..." Nick swooshes through the air with the tail. "Come on, Iz." He adjusts himself impatiently, his sleeping shorts doing little to hide his morning wood. "Will you hurry?"

"Be my guest," she replies with a giggle, for the second time this morning, and waves at the toilet.

Amused by the cheeky suggestion, Nick stares her down, head cocked to the side. "Well, there is always the first," he says as he lifts the toilet seat. "For your eyes only."

Izzie can't take her eyes off the show he puts on for her. Is it the way his cock lays heavily, filling the palm of his hand, the thumb pushing the tip down with the force, or the sound of the loud stream hitting the water, or the foam? She. Is. Staring.

"Ahem!" Nick pulls her out of the daydream, but the show continues with the shaking to the last drop and putting away. 

Pity, she gulps and clenches her butt. Oops, still naked butt. She quickly pulls the pajama shorts up. 

"Not so fast, keep them down." That voice, Izzie sighs but pulls the shorts down, just below the seat spot, and subconsciously flinches again. "Who was that wiggle for, my cock or my hand?"

"Both, sir." Making her cheeks blush became Nick's favourite pastime. Both sets of cheeks.

Nick settles on the edge of the bathtub. "That sir again, I see. And what does my princess desires first, this lovely Saturday morning?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing?" Nick repeats after her.

"Nothing, sir. The princess desires for you to choose."

"Are you sure you're not too sore?" Nick rubs his eyes warily, a telltale sign that he's genuinely concerned.

"I'm sore inside out." Izzie shrugs her shoulders. Duh! 

Nick smirks first, suppressing a mischievous chortle, then burst into a full-blown, snickering, howling peel of laughter. "Sorry, love. I was debating, which apology would insult you more, for wearing you in or out?"

"Is it a joke for you?" Izzie pouts.

"No, love. Last night was no joke, for sure. But I guess I did something right, as you've been all giggly and wiggly this morning."

"I know what I desire." She looks up at him, suddenly all quiet and solemn. "I want you to spank me to tears." She gulps before she repeats with a small correction. "I need you... to spank me to tears."

"Where the fuck did this come from??" He jumps on his feet. 

"Nick!"

"No Nick here. Talk!"

"Nothing!" 

"You don't get to say 'nothing' to me. Not anymore."

"I don't know!" She cries out in a frenzied panic. 

Nick rushes out of the bathroom and comes back with a leather belt in hand. He slams it on the counter and sits back on the bathtub edge. 

"Talk, and I will decide whether to spank you or not." No, she is still frozen in time, staring blankly at the wall. "Come here." Nick pulls her onto his lap, the right hand firmly around her bare butt. Izzie curls under his chin, hiding her face in his chest. Smack! Comes the first encouraging swat. "Talk."

These are the best ones, cuddle and spank, hard and slow. Izzie closes her eyes and waits for the next one, and the next one. The lump in her throat shrivels, ready to break into tiny pieces. 

"I don't want to decide, I don't want to choose." She pauses on the brink of tearing up. and he swats again. "Don't let me choose, not in the bedroom." 

"We're in the bathroom." Smack! One hand pressing her head gently against his shoulder, the other one carries on the onslaught. 

"You know what I meant. Please!" The next swat brings out the first sob and a tear. 

"Here we go. Anything else?" Nick's arms are long enough to reach for the belt on the counter. He wraps it around his fist to shorten it as much as possible. 

"No." She shakes her head, drawing closer into him. "Nothing." 

 

 My lovely readers, how did yo like the ending? What do you think in general, too graphic and too much smut, or crank the heat up?

Sunday's Best

 

The picture is from Men's Health, and the text is from Tumblr. Sunday is a slow day, I thought to share some fun here:

bolognacolonel-deactivated20150

blowjob advice:

make sure beforehand to tap the tip with your finger and say, “is this thing on?”

M is for Morning and Marks and Middle of the night

Morning came too early. Nick woke Izzie up with soft tentative kisses on her naked shoulder and hard erection pressed against the small of her back. So subtle for a Saturday morning! She stretched with gusto and turned around to face a shy smile and a ready to pounce mood. And pounce he did, lips on lips, eagerly pushing his minty tongue in. 

"Didn't you have enough last night, Casanova?" she asks. 

"I did. I wanted to check on your marks but then thought I should kiss you first."

"What a gentleman!"  

"That I am." He pulls away the covers with a flourish, only to discover a pajama-shorts-covered butt. "Ah! Did you put them back without permission? That's a spankable offence."

"Be my guest." She laughs. "I just need to pee first." 

"Though I need to assess the damage."

"Not if it's a spankable offense."

"You minx, you tricked me into a refresher!" Nick shouts to her back, as Izzie giggles on the way to the bathroom. 

She has so many reasons to giggle about. Last night Nick didn't follow on any on his empty threats. He didn't give her the six of the best or draw a five-barred gate as he promised. Gasp! That most dreaded stroke across the first five, crossing the lines, that is considered  a cardinal sin by some and the intentional evil-doing by the others. But none of that happened. 

Last night was a long night. When at last they were done with the talking, and she laid across his lap, he made good on his promise and took out the fox tail butt plug. She squirmed, and he just caressed her bottom in silence. Usually a chatterbox, Nick was done with the words for the night. 

He brought her hand up to kiss her palm, the same way she kissed his a moment ago. He pinned it to the small of her back and held it there, fingers intertwined, his way of saying, I got you. He didn't speak, when he tapped her bottom with that leather paddle, preparing her for the first swat. He didn't say a word, when she thought about Aldous again and clenched her butt. Nick just rested the paddle on her thighs and waited quietly till she relaxed. When she looked again at the cane, resting on top of the armchair in the middle of the room, she shuddered and closed her eyes, Nick turned her head the other way and paused. He paused so many times. He sighed in silence and went on with the paddling, hard measured blows falling, falling, falling. Until she stopped fidgeting and fighting, until her breathing became even, until she gave in. And then he stopped and patted her bottom to let her know that she can get up.

Izzie was thoroughly sore and buzzing with the pain when she got on her feet, and yet she knew that all this paddling was just a preparation for the main event. Nick motioned with his chin to the armchair and helped her to lay in between the armrests. She was comfortable enough, as one can be while awaiting the caning.

Then once more Nick proved how different he was not just from Aldous, but from anyone else. Not that Izzie had ever been spanked by anyone, beside Aldous or Nick. Instead of giving her a dreadful caning, hard strikes that would send her wailing, each and every one of them, no, Nick chose a series of short and fast strokes. Ramping up the intensity little by little, they still stung a lot, pain accumulating fast. But Nick wasn't after teaching her a lesson, or leaving marks that last, or scaring her off with every whooshing sound. It wasn't much worse that the belt, or that butchered attempt with the roses. As she lay there, accepting and grateful for each stroke, it hit her. This caning was to help her let go and move on from all the bad memories of Aldous, the caning included, and come out of it unscarred, both literally and metaphorically.

And then Nick paused and spoke. 

"Three last ones, Iz. These will hurt more." It did hurt much more, her foot left the floor in a kick. Nick gave her enough time to recover and catch her breath. 

"One, thank you, sir." Nick didn't ask to count but he didn't object either. Izzie wanted to signify this moment and didn't know any other way how. 

After the third one, Nick touched her shoulder, and she shook her head. No, she was not ready to get up. She didn't want to get up. Never in her whole life she felt as overwhelmed as in that moment. 

Nick crouched in front of her and lay her head on his shoulder. "I got you. It's over, darling, it's over." He kept repeating again and again. 

Izzie couldn't cry but the relief she felt was incredible. She just held onto him until she felt cold and shivered. Nick carried her to bed and wrapped her in the duvet. She protested because she wanted to feel his skin on hers, Nick quickly undressed and climbed into bed with her. They both felt so drained, they drifted asleep in a matter of minutes, just holding each over.

The Casanova part happened much later, when they both woke up in the middle of the night, Nick looking for water, Izzie for bathroom, both for some food. 

And after, wrapped together in the same duvet, they watched the sunrise.

L is for Licks and Lust

Chronologically, this story follows I is for Izzie's First Caning. Told from Izzie's POV. 

"So, how many licks, how many cane strokes max did Aldous ever give you?" 

A single question, like a tight leash, yanks Izzie out of that sweet submissive state she was already in. 

"Did you have to mention him?" she riles up. "No, no cane." 

It seems like Nick disregards her tantrum. He pulls the fox tail from underneath her top and lets it swing. 

"Lovely! Every time I mention the cane, the tail shakes." Nick bends forward and talks to the tail. "No matter what you say, darling, tonight I will cane you."

"Nicky, please, use whatever you want from that damn box, just not the cane." 

"I will allow 'Nicky' just for once, and indeed, I will use whatever pleases me from the box. And then the cane." 

Now she can feel herself how the tail shakes and brushes against the backs of her legs. 

"You're staring at that damn tail. Can you please take the plug out?" 

"I certainly can, and I will, once I'm done with the questions." He waves her off. "Back to the corner." 

Back to square one and facing the wall, Izzie  leans with the forehead on her fists. 

"Every time I mention Aldous, you clam up. You need to lay the ghost to rest, Iz." Nick follows Izzie to the corner and now talks to her back. "So today, with the help of my little lie detector," he tugs at the fox tail. "And the cane," he taps her cheeks with the cane, and she jerks away. "I will get to the bottom of it. If required, a bright red bottom with some perfectly parallel stripes. Told you, I've been practicing." 

"What do you want me to say?" 

"The truth, mostly."

"After I fell and quit dancing, I felt hollow, there was nothing left." To put her in the corner was a smart move. It felt like a confession, talking without facing him. She forgot about the jitters, the cane, and her bare bum on display. The words just poured out of her with ease. "Aldous was always there. I wanted to replace one pain with another. Once we started with the spankings, we tried everything. And I wanted him to humiliate me. It was easier to take when he called me his little rag doll, his pain slut." 

"One can safely assume that any professionally trained ballerina is, in a sense, a pain slut." The tail twitches. "What, you don't like the word slut?" 

"No, I don't." She shakes her head. 

"Blacklisted. Go on, please."

"Before Aldous, back when I danced, the pain was a necessity, part of the routine. Aldous taught me how to love the pain, to crave it. To crave the humiliation that comes with the spanking. It's different than any other muscle pain. You should try once, just for the experience."

"No, thanks. I would rather observe." Nick purses his lips. 

"Or inflict."

"Yes, or inflict, at your bidding." He confirms with a solemn nod. "The question still stands, how many strokes? What was the worse he ever gave you?" 

"Three sets of twelve."

"Please remind me," Nick pinches the bridge of his nose. "Why is Aldous still alive and at large?" 

"Because you promised me." 

"And why did I do that?" 

"Because I asked you. Nick, he's not a criminal. Yes, he's a sadist, but I consented. Besides, he's the only other person in the world that--" 

"Spanked you?" A bitter question leaves Nick's lips. 

"Understood me. Better than I understood myself." It's not all, but more than enough for one day. There are so many more things she can tell him, but not now. Right now she is relieved and ready, and wants to turn around and be with him, in any way he will decide. Her small breasts, that got so much rounder in the last two months, rise and fall as she breathes deeply.  

"On the scale of one to ten, how badly do you not want me to cane you?" Nick asks a loaded question in a low raspy voice. 

"About four." She can feel Nick somewhere right behind her.

"I can live with four. On the scale of one to ten, how badly do you want me to cane you?"

"Eleven." She blushes at her own confession and at the thought that he can see it. 

"How badly do you want to come right now?" Nick is down to a whisper. 

"Eleven." Lust, oozing with lust. 

"Same here. I would hate to come in my pants. Never happened since I was thirteen."

And then, the voice disappears. Nick moves around the room. She hears the furniture scraping the floor, the swing of the bathroom door, the creak of the towel bar. 

"As much as I want to cane your pristine white bottom, it won't do. Need to prime you first, right?"

"Yes. Can I take off the leggings?"

"You cannot. That's awfully a lot of requests for someone standing in the corner with a bare bottom. Come here."

Izzue finally turns around to face a room. She sees a massive armchair Nick put in the middle, a folded bath towel cushions both wooden armrests, swinging low in the middle like a mini hammock. The cane rests on top the towel. 

"Now, be a doll and choose a paddle. They are all leather." Nick calls to her from the couch. He is perched on the edge, legs wide open and crossed at the ankles, waiting for her. 

All three leather paddles are of a similar size. Izzie picks the heaviest one without giving it much thought and kisses it before she offers it to Nick. He helps Izzie to lie across his lap, the pregnant belly safely locked between his skinny knees. 

He usually turns her head to face him, but not today. Today he wants her to face the room. When he moves to the side all her cascading hair, she can see why. Straight in front of her is the armchair that he prepared for the caning. 

Nick wants her to look at the cane throughout her paddling. One hand rested on her cheek, the other one holds the leather paddle, pressed against the other set of cheeks, he's ready, and so is she. Izzie lifts her head just enough for her lips to catch Nick's fingers for a feather-like kiss. 

"Thank you."

K is for This is Kink

K is for Kink 

I was dying to write a post about this article, since the day I bookmarked it: If I Ever See Another Checklist I Will Scream: An Extremely Thorough Play Checklist 

I think it's a must read not only for kink-minded but vanilla alike. I think your perception of what is kink and what is vanilla will change drastically after reading the whole list.

Let me start from a simple example of how deeply wired perceptions are. How does really physical attraction works? 

H is a regular heterosexual guy, very near and dear to me, with certain likes and dislikes when it comes to the female beauty and body types. If a woman is too skinny, flat chested, so thin that she has a gap between her legs, he is not only find her unattractive, but even ugly. That includes all those gorgeous tall model-type size two women.  Mind you, that's his honest opinion. At first I thought he says that to please me, as I'm definitely not tall, size two etc. But no, he sincerely doesn't get it, that other people consider these women extremely attractive. He doesn't fine them attractive simply because they are not his "type".

Now, that checklist is massive, skim through it as you first read it. Try to count how many things from the list you did, had done to you, like in general, wouldn't mind doing if it will please your partner. Share that number in the comments, please. 

I've been going through this list a few times already, and it amazes me every single time, how many items on the list no one would even consider a kink. In fact, some are not kinks or fetishes at all, like kissing, but all of them have names.

You went to a Halloween party as a Little Red Riding Hood and a Big Bad Wolf, and on the way back home got unexpectedly aroused by your furry partner and want to jump his bones? That's quite a few from the list: animal role play, fur play, clothed male naked female (CMNF, surprisingly not on the list), possible CNC (depending on Wolfie's behavior). 

Morning quickie with a sleeping mask still on? Blindfold. Pinning hands above one's head? Light bondage. Biting the toes? Foot fetish. Biting in general? Primal. 

What is your number? Did you post it in comments? 

My blog is only five months old, and I've been browsing through the kink blogosphere for a few months before I started posting. I read tons of blogs, tons of personal experiences. If I was an observer back then, I was a keen observer. 

Let me tell you one thing I learned. Labels don't mean a thing. There is a reason why so many despise labels. No Venn diagram, with the spanking as a cornerstone of it, will ever define all the possibilities. Labels are boxes. People do not fit in them. 

Every relationship is different. Exceptions are everywhere. I will start from the most extreme ones and work my way to the mildest. 

Masters marry their slaves in romantic ceremonies. Slaves sleep in cages and are used (yes, that's the term) daily, but punishment is extremely rare, and pain is not a goal. Properties are loved and cherished and sometimes served breakfast in bed by their owners. DD/lg (Daddy Dom/little girl) does not necessarily envolve age play. Princesses get spanked too. Though everyone loves plushies and pictures of cute animals. Daily BJs are earned, not asked for. Respect is earned.  

Strictest of D/s doesn't necessarily mean the most severe implements, some submissives just do not have the pain tolerance for that. Some use spanking only for punishment, while being a feminist in real life. 

Some swear by both D/s 24/7 and DD (Domestic Discipline). While generally speaking, those who practice DD usually despise the connection to D/s as it's a part of BDSM. TTWD (That Thing We Do) is used as an umbrella for other than M/F relationships and spanking in general. 

Those who do use spanking as a punishment admit that the reason is a pretend reason (funishment), and it's always serves as a foreplay. Then, there are those who just like the spanking by itself, and are able to separate it from sex completely. 

Bratting can be encouraged and can be frowned upon. Spanking parties are good, but dungeons are bad. Positions as hard limits. Cane is evil but a necessary evil. Wood versus leather, thud versus sting. Belt gets extra love. Of course it hurts, it's supposed to hurt, doesn't mean it shouldn't be comfortable. Bring extra pillows. 

Black and blue is admonished by some, and admired by others. Bruises and marks freak some out, or worn with pride. All shades of red are more than welcomed. 

Now fantasies, that's a creature of its own. Those who do not practice punishment spankings, almost always fantasize about them, sometimes during the spanking. 

But everyone is on the same page about the aftercare. Rubbing, hugs, kisses, sex, chocolate, juice, blankets, plushies, arnica, lotions, more rubbing, and favourite movies. Excellent! 

Don't forget, Doms are people too. With all the insecurities and doubting themselves. Doms also have drops and need aftercare.

We are all a mess, one big sweet hot mess, whether you call it a kink or not.

This is us. 

J is for Jitters or Ode to Cane

J is for Jitters

Jitters, the pre-caning jitters
Shaking tail from the silver fox

He plugged, and soon will hit her

With the cane from mahogany box 

He says it's the best lie detector

When I clench, the pendulum sways

I don't lie to you, my protector 

Only squirm, be that as it may

The jitters that keep me reeling

Wanting scream, fight, come, or break

Into million pieces, are peeling

Layers, onion layers of fake

Vicious bite that sends me to heaven

Stinging ouch that mends my heart

Out of ten, caning is an eleven 

Caning marks are a form of art

Boyish grin worth a candy store

Spreads contagiously, melts my knees

As I quietly kneel on the floor

No more jitters or pleading please

What needs to be done, be done

I'm ready, can't wait no more 

For five parallel lines and one

Right across to settle the score

I is for Izzie's first caning

Well, technically, it's Izzie's first caning at the hands of Nick. Read after G and H posts. I'm giving up on making it a standalone snippet, sorry. Also, trying to fix the confusions from the previous snippets. Thank you for the thoughtful comments! 

Izzie's POV. 

Izzie is not sure how long she's been standing there, nose in the corner, naked bum on display, with a bushy fox tail sticking out of it. She shifts to the side, so she can lean against the wall. Nick won't mind. Her lower back is acting up a bit, arching more with every passing week. 

Her belly grows alright, if you ask her. It's Nick who is freaking out over her not eating enough, not gaining enough weight. She has seen pregnant women whose belly looked like a soccer ball glued to their stomach, otherwise skinny as a stick. 

None of them though were carrying an offspring of a six-foot-three tall giant, like Izzie did. The doctor predicted ten pounds at term, which is a scary number to think of. Maybe subconsciously she is trying to avoid it, the baby growing so big, which is a sick and shitty thing to do to him. Nick says that the baby will grow big regardless, sucking everything he needs out of her. So by not eating well, she's only hurting herself. Which he won't let her. Her safety and her health are the only two punishable offenses they agreed upon many spankings ago. How Nick agreed to spank her pregnant, that's a story for another day, grab your biggest bowl of popcorn first. 

Izzie can hear as Nick moves around the room. He finished his whiskey, the crystal tumbler clanked against the glass tabletop. She can't smell the cigar anymore. Second hand smoking and all, they decided that a few minutes of pure tobacco smoke once in a blue moon will do less harm than whatever she will try to beat the craving. 

"Iz, turn around." Nick calls out from the couch. He changed into his comfy grey sweatpants and a t-shirt he wears at home, no beloved belt in sight. 

He holds a long dark mahogany box, top incrusted with lighter wood in an intricate pattern. "Brilliant, isn't it? Who would ever suspect what I'm hiding in here? And it has a lock." Nick opens the lid with a flourish. "Ta-da! I went on a secret shopping spree. Do you like it?" 

Nick, who fought the longest against any implements, got his own toy chest. A fully stocked toy chest, wide enough and long enough to fit two floggers, red and black, a riding crop, three leather paddles of various shapes, gorgeous leather roses, a razor strap, a short tawse, and... a cane. Izzie notices how the whole collection is conveniently all made out of leather, her choice of material, except, obviously, the Cane. 

"Do you know what goes well with butt plugs? Caning!" Nick exclaims gleefully, like a kid in a candy store. 

"You couldn't hit me with the roses, when we played the Victorian bordello, because, and I quote, they feel too much like a cane in your hand." Izzie clearly doesn't share his sudden enthusiasm, and the plug is doing a poor job in keeping her in a submissive state. "What the fuck is going on, Nick?" 

"Wow! And, it's 'what the fuck is going on, Sir.' That would be six extra."

"Six what?.. Sir." 

"Of the best, of course." Nick digs out the cane from the box. He slides his index finger along the length, admiring it like a precious piece of art. "Didn't you hear me? Plugs and caning go together like water and chocolate." 

"You mean, milk and chocolate." 

"Whatever. Why so glum?" 

"It's a real cane, Nick. It's not a game." 

"I know. I've been practicing." He twirls his fingers in the air in a universal 'turn around, missy' gesture. He folds the tail up and tucks it under the tight top to get it out of the way. 

The soft fur touching her naked skin and the gentle tug of the plug, a combination that... that makes her wanna scream, run, come, and fall into million pieces at his feet, all at once. 

To be continued

H is for Humiliation and Humility

This story happens right after G is for Going Going Gone, but can read as standalone. Warning: graphic details abound. 

H is for Humility and Humiliation

At first, Izzie thought that Nick is putting on a show for her, giving into her humiliation kink. With all the permissions negotiated and granted in advance, taming and taking seems like a scripted game. 

Too powerful in real life, Nick always avoids spilling his innate dominance into their bedroom play. His version of D/s is timid by any standards. Sarcasm and snarly remarks are reserved for the verbal fights only. Nick prides himself for exceptional self-control, but Izzie heard him roar on a few occasions, though never unleashed onto her. 

But today the hand on her throat, not choking, but firm and unyielding, was there to convey a different message. Nick is not putting on a show, but running the show. 

"Which one of your three holes should I use first?" Izzie's full body shudder doesn't go unnoticed. "Is that what you want to hear, sweetheart?" She mumbles incoherently in response. "That was a yes or no question."

"Yes, sir." 

Nick steps away to grab a pillow from the couch and throws it on the floor. "Kneel." 

Izzie lowers her knees on the pillow in front of him and watches mesmerized as Nick unbuckles his belt and pulls it through the loops with a holy whoosh. 

"Don't get your hopes high." He sends the belt flying to the corner, taking down something with it in the process. An eyebrow raised, Nick follows the trajectory, curious if there is broken glass involved. Unbothered, he turns his attention back to Izzie. "No beloved belt for you today, I have something else planned. Lots of new toys. You love toys, right?" 

Izzie pouts at the news that the belt is off the table and shuts her mouth into a thin line, just in time for Nick's dick to touch her lips.

"What, your big mouth is too small for my cock, all of a sudden?" Izzie's jaw drops open, taken off-guard by the unusual obscenity, and Nick doesn't waste any time guiding his cock in. "Hands off!" He doesn't apply any force, god forbid, she is as willing as ever. But there is a new unrelenting determination and tenacity in everything he does today.

"Someone has been too mouthy lately." Nick continues his lecture. "Getting her way too much, talking back, forgetting her place. Someone needs to be taken down a peg or two." One hand in her hair, the other holding her chin, he punctuates the words with deeper thrusts, taking her to the point of gagging and sputtering saliva. "Someone needs to be reminded of who's in charge around here."

Nick withdraws as swiftly as he shoved himself in. 

"Did you lose all your deep-throating skills, darling? Or just out of practice with your loving and caring boyfriend? Talk!" 

"I don't know, Nick!" Berating his loving and caring alter ego was never a good sign. He prefers to be loving and caring, no quote marks required.

He pulls her up on her feet and turns around to pin against the wall. 

"Nick?" Pressing into her back, he whispers in her ear. "Nick is not here. You can scream, no one will hear you. This room is soundproofed, you soundproofed it yourself, how lovely. No one will come to rescue you, damsel in distress. Isn't that what you fantasize about?" He grabs both of her wrists and folds them to rest on the small of her back. "That someone will, um, forcefully take you?"

Nick's hand slides under her skirt and in between her legs. Izzie arches her back and opens her stance wider. He pushes the panties to the side and sinks two fingers in." Hoover Dam! Aren't you happy to see me? Talk!"

"Yes, sir," comes out more like a moan.

"What about the last one?" Nick holds down her shoulder to keep her in place, while he pulls out his fingers, dripping wet up to his knuckles, and slides it over to probe her pink hole with the middle finger. "By the time I will get to this tight spot, your arse will be too raw to notice. So, enjoy now." 

He nudges against the rim till she does open up. She rides his finger almost against her will. They say it about guys that their blood is all drawn south, and they can't think with their brain. That's how she is right now. 

Nick is lying through his teeth. He knows how much Izzie loves anal, how she will squirm, wiggle, thrust back into him, how easy it will be to make her come. But all this dirty talk and humiliation make her arousal to shoot through the roof. 

He pulls the finger out with a pop and brings it to his nose, and then to hers. "Phew! Is that how you get ready for me?" He wipes the fingers with the hem of her dress. 

"Nick! It's my favourite dress!" Izzie yelps with annoyance.

A resounding smack on her bottom, the first one since they got into the bedroom, without a failure, puts her back into the submissive mode. 

"You won't be needing it tonight." He pulls the dress up and over her head, leaving her in panties only. Another yank, and the panties join the dress on the floor. "Go clean yourself up and put on a top and leggings, on bare bottom. Off you go!" Another smack sends her on the way. 

Red from the embarrassment, Izzie scoots to the bathroom. She scrubs herself inside out with a makeshift secret brush that she uses when there is no time for enema. 

Tight top and leggings, that's what Nick wants. Of course, to peel the leggings off just enough to expose her poor butt and thighs only. It's worse than being fully naked, she hates it. But she craves the humiliation that comes with it and loves how well he knows her by now.

She adds the platform heels to her outfit. All white to contrast her soon to be scarlet bottom. And pulls her hair up into a high ponytail, like a good subby that she is supposed to be. 

"Come here." Nick calls her when she reappears in the doorway. 

He takes everything to the next level today, fiddling with a new toy, a foxtail butt plug. The plug itself is a medium size, much smaller than his dick, but, hey, it's stainless steel and probably cold. 

"Do you know what it is?" Nick watches like a hawk when she presses her legs together and clenches her butt in anticipation. 

"A foxtail." 

"No, my dear. It's a reminder of who's in charge here."

He pulls her leggings down, just enough to expose her bottom, and rubs it aimlessly in circles, waiting for her to relax. 

"Bend over." Nick reaches for the lube and spreads it generously on the plug. 

A simple command sends Izzie into a chain of familiar steps: bend, spread, hold. Nick swats her hands away. 

"Did I tell you to spread?" 

"No, sir." Hands fall to the sides. 

"That's right!" Nick accentuates every word with a loud smack. "I. Did not. Tell. You. To spread." He pauses. "You see? You do need a reminder of who's in charge." Her butt swallows a well-lubricated plug like magic. Only the bushy tail treacherously propagates the tiniest movements of her tensed muscles. 

"Corner!" Another command, accompanied by another swat on the already reddening cheek, sends her waddling to her lonely destination, the fox tail swaying from side to side by the force of gravity. Whoever came up with the idea of tail plugs, had a wicked sense of humor. 

Nose to the wall, Izzie can trace everything Nick does by the trail of the sounds. He ventured to the next room to slosh whiskey from to the crystal decanter he picked from the mirrored tray. He slammed back the wooden humidor lid after picking up the cigar. Not too big, as he is not planning to smoke for long. The leather couch creased as he settled back in to admire his work. He clicked the lighter a few times before he got the cigar going. Izzie inhales deeply the pleasant cigar smoke. 

She dares to look over her shoulder. "The fire alarm will go off, just saying." 

"For the life of you, you can't stop." Nick huffs with a relaxed smile but fishes out the phone to send a message to the staff to deactivate the alarm in the bedroom. Izzie grins, and Nick winks back at her. "Nose to the wall, muñequita."

Nick never calls her Spanish pet names, but today that's exactly how she wants to feel, his little doll. Mind reader, he is not, but he repeats, as he takes another puff. 

"Mi muñequita linda."

*mi muñequita linda - my lovely little doll (in Spanish)

G is for Going, Going, Gone

G is for Going, Going, Gone

Nick leans against the edge of the table, palms pressed flat so hard it hurts. Izzie hates when he towers over her like that, but right now that's the least of his concerns. He is still wearing the suit, done for the day, the tie hanging loose. 

Only if he would've changed into sweatpants and a t-shirt on the way here. They would've been cuddling in front of the telly right now. Izzie tucked tight under his chin, hand sliding up and down his chest, saying for the thousandth time how much she likes this softy soft t-shirt. One thing would've lead to another, he would carry her to bed in no time. Would. 

But he ventured on to find Izzie first, before changing out of his suit, and there she was at the long dinner table, poking at the full plate of already cold food. 

It's warm in this room, too warm, as everywhere else on this floor. She is still getting used to the cold East Coast winters, setting the thermostat to some subtropical level with the fireplace on. Of course, she has a summer dress on, yellow with white daisies, and nothing else. Easy access, Nick's lips stretch into a wolfish grin. 

Izzie mentioned once that he should be choosing panties for her, and he joked that he's not ready to take their relationship to the next level and left it at that. He wonders what panties she is wearing right now. Maybe he can give it a try. How long would it take him to choose seven panties for a week in advance, a few minutes? 

"Can you eat a bit more?" Nick asks. 

"I can't." Izzie shakes her head, fidgeting with the fork.

"Do you need an incentive?"

Izzie drops the fork and blushes ever so deeply. Her eyes dart to his and back to the plate. What the fuck did he just say to get this reaction? He would do absolutely anything, get anything in the world for her, if only she would eat more. 

She swallows hard, raises her chin a bit, and looks up, but not all the way up, at his face. She is staring at him, but where? 

Nick knows that look, the hungry look. During his wild college years there were enough of them with that hungry look, licking their lips absent-mindedly, pouting impatiently, while staring at his cock. 

Izzie is so gone by now. Breaths uneven, eyelashes flutter as her stare travels up from where it is and drops back down. Nick straightens his back and hooks the thumbs under the belt. The metal buckle catches the chandelier light. Izzie gulps audibly and turns away. Nick looks down at himself, and it hits him.

"Are you staring at my belt?" She nods in silence. Nick can't admit even to himself, how much it offends him, but he still says it out loud. "You want it more than you want me." 

"No, Nicky, I want it, I need it because you wield it."

"And if I won't?"

"I will just secretly crave it."

"What should I do about it? Don't answer," he holds a hand up. "That was a rhetorical question. The incentive, right?" Izzie nods again. "Will you eat after?" 

"After after." Which means after the spanking, the aftercare, and the fucking. The whole trifecta. 

"If you won't fall asleep," Nick says, because usually she does. She will be fast asleep. 

"You can wake me up," Izzie says without raising her eyes at him. 

Nick circles the table to get behind her chair. Both hands resting on her shoulders, he whispers the forbidden, "Back door?" 

Izzie nods. She does that awfully a lot tonight, nodding. Nick digs his thumbs deeper into the tense muscles, prompting a verbal confirmation. 

"Yes," she squirms from the painful massage and the embarrassment. "Yes to back door."

"Alright, spanky." Nick rubs the spot he just dug in to sooth the pain. "Let's get this show on the road, shall we?" Nick reaches for Izzie's hand to pull her up from the table. 

Since Izzie soundproofed their bedroom, it became their sole spanking destination. Not a long walk from here, but Nick still holds her hand in his. 

Nick nudges the door open to let Izzie through first. Some things never change. One of them are Nick's gentlemanly manners. Bullshit, he's about to cause her pain and make her cry. At her specific request, with her explicit consent. That's what makes this conversation if not normal by other people standards... Wait, it's valid for them, within their rules, their relationship, in their own world, and that's what makes it normal. Nick shakes off the untimely doubts. 

"Were you a good girl today, besides not eating?" He cups Izzie's chin, urging her to look him in the eyes. 

"Yes, I think."

"Why am I tempted to believe it?" 

"Because you want to give me a good girl spanking," she says in a shy whisper. 

"Iz, do you want me to order something else for you for after?"

"No, I'll eat it, I promise. It was tasty, just warm it up."

"Yes, ma'am. That plate though, can't go in the microwave, right?" Nick asks. 

"No, it has metal in the trim, have to transfer onto a regular plate."

"I can do that." Nick lets go of Izzie's hand to deliver a few sharp swats on her bottom, which elicit a high-pitched squeal of excitement. "I'm all about the warming up business today, am I?" 

Posting this story to Saturday Spankings blog (link here) because that's what I do every Saturday.

F is for Fantasy

F is for Fantasy

I think I finally found my groove for the A to Z challenge. I will write what I like writing the most, spanking stories. This one is dialogue-only. Set in Izzie-and-Nick-verse.

“What empanadas will you make? I want the ones with beef, olives, and boiled eggs.” 

“Nick! Is that the only thing you’ve heard, empanadas? No comment on CNC?” 

“Izzie darling, calm down. There is no CNC. Little Red bumped into the Big Bad Wolf in the forest, that’s a scripted roleplay.” 

“Wolfie tied Red to the bed.” 

“To munch on the empanadas in peace. I stand corrected, still scripted roleplay.” 

“Are you hungry? You just finished breakfast.” 

“What’s wrong, Iz?” 

“What if tying me up will still trigger me?” 

“Why do I have to tie you up?” 

“Because I need you to push me. And we never did real bondage. Holding the wrists doesn’t count.”

“We, as in royal we?” 

“Did you have to? No, as in you and me.”

“You and I. Sorry, darling.”

“I will not allow some skanky whore that dared to tie me up to ruin bondage for me!.. What, you are not going to spank me for the skanky whore?”

“Firstly, that’s exactly what she was. Secondly, don’t have time now. But if you insist, add it to the Little Red’s rap sheet.” 

“Nick, I can’t wait for so long.”

“Wait, when is this unfortunate encounter supposed to happen?” 

“As soon as your wolf costume will arrive.” 

“My what?” 

“You heard me. That’s for CMNF and furries, two more off the list.”

“There is a list...”

“Of course, there is a list! You said we can explore my deranged fantasies within a safe roleplay setup.”

“I didn’t call them deranged.”

“Perverted?”

“No way I said it.”

“Ah! Unconventional, that’s it.”

“Izzie, the queen of all kinks. I should start playing the lottery. Please write it down for the next time, I compared meeting you with winning a lottery. Not drawing the short straw or being luckless. Winning.”

“Yeah, especially, getting me pregnant part.”

“I meant the whole package, Iz. What should I do that you will finally believe that I’m in, for better or worse? Speaking of which, when are we getting married?”

“Are you asking me?”

“Whom else should I ask?”

“Soon. If you will let me fuck you in the wolf costume.”

“That language! Little Red will have a sore bum to match her name.”

“It was a verb!”

“Sure, if you say so.”

E is for Enter

E is for Enter

Some smut fiction with a half-ass spanking and a splash of D/s. Again, in first person. You've been warned. 

"May I enter?" Nick grazes my earlobe, suppressing a giggle. 

A bit late for that question, as Nick is already on his way in. Curled behind me, one leg wedged in between mine, propped on the elbow, perfectly aligned. He is ready to sink in, to bottom out. Jam it, no, that's too rough, Nick doesn't jam. Penetrate, no, to clinical. Enter, that's the perfect word, enter. 

Since Nick discovered that the word 'enter' is giving me major hots, every day is a field day. Any knock on the door is greeted by a cheerful "Enter!" from Nick and a sideway dirty glance with a wink at me.

It all started a few nights ago, when Nick came home way past midnight, after one of his charity events. I wonder how many skimpily dressed young things circled around and rubbed against him there, he was properly hot and bothered when he crawled into bed. And let out a loud huff, because he thought I was asleep. Fair enough, I was indeed half asleep, so I mumbled, "Go ahead, Nicky." 

To which Nicky responded with reaching for all the familiar buttons to get me going. No, I was not in the mood, so I swatted his hand and repeated, "Don't bother with me, just go ahead." 

"Hall pass?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Please, don't keep the score."

"You're the league champion, I'm barely hanging there. I always keep the score." 

"Then stop. Can you please just fuck me?" 

Nick gasped at the obscenity. The duvet went down, the nightie went up. He maneuvered me around, so now he's facing my bum, still covered with panties. 

Taking off my panties is Nick's job and his only. Sometimes he yanks them down, sometimes he makes a show out of it, glacially peeling them off. This time they were off with a lightening speed, accompanied by a thunderous smack. "Language!" 

"It was a verb!" I protested with vehemence. 

"Choose another verb. Five more coming up." 

"Like what, enter?" 

"Count!" Nick paused for my response. "I didn't hear you."

"Ok, I'll count."

"Wrong answer," followed by a smack. Wow, Nick switched to his Dom mood. 

"Yes, sir!"

Counting the remaining five was uneventful. Now I was completely awake, but still not in the mood. Half-ass spanking of a half-asleep woman doesn't get you far, Nick didn't learn that trick yet. 

Covering his lap didn't help, Nick was still hard, if not even harder. I saw it in his flushed face, burning ears, darker than the night eyes. 

"We need to talk, Nick." 

"Right, perfect timing as always." 

Now, the whole concept of taking without giving, even temporarily, is foreign to Nick. The thought of completely taking over the control in the bedroom doesn't bode well with him either. So, I tried to explain the simple truth in the most idiotic way. 

"Look, in layman's terms, when you feel great, I feel great. When you take me, enter me, I feel great, because it makes you feel great. I don't always need to come to feel great. When you get home late, I want you to wake me up and take me. When you enter me," Nick smirked, but I decided to disregard it for a moment. "It's the best thing in the world. Do you get it, what I mean?"

"Yes," Nick nodded. 

"Yes who?" 

He straightened his back. "Yes, ma'am."  A boyish smile lit up the room. "So, enter, eh?"