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.