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."

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)