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?" 

D is for the Dreaded D position

Have you read my previous post, C is for Crying and Corner and not the Cane ?? If not, head over there. I think C is for Crying is my best flash fiction so far.

When it comes to spanking, D is a loaded letter. Originally I was planning to write this post as "D is for Doms and DD and Dreaded D position" but then I thought, no, I'm not going to tackle all that in one post, it's ridiculous.

I would rather direct you to the experts on the matter. For all things D/s (Dominance and submission) and DD (Domestic Discipline), my go-to site is Amy Submits. She covers extensively vanilla-to-D/s and new-to-D/s. Lots of articles, personal stories, anecdotes, can browse by tags. Amy answers questions in Asks.

Cherished property is another expert on D/s. I just love her writing, well written, both educational and highly personal.

So, now we are down to:

D is for the Dreaded D position

For a full tutorial, head to Bonnie's Top 20 Spanking Positions.

For those of you in the know, obviously D stands for Diaper. A little while ago, Jean Marie (of Butt Stuff, temporarily offline) and I unilaterally decided NOT to call it that but instead use a more appropriate term. So I came up with Legs up!

D position, or Legs up!, resembles very much the one in the picture: flat on her back with legs up,  but usually the face expression is the one of a dread, not surprise. 

Why? For a few reasons:

It's considered one of the most humiliating positions, because it's childish and more importantly, 

A full eye contact and nowhere to escape from it. Most other positions do not have spanker and spankee facing each other. Staring at the carpet is a part of the lore. 

Even more humiliating if the spanker holds the legs up in the air by the ankles. 

It's one of the most painful positions, because the skin is stretched super taut and everything is fully exposed, all the bits.

Decidedly the most hated position among all spankees, no poll needed.

But hey, it doesn't mean that Legs up! can't be used for fun for all the same reasons: eye contact, legs held up in the air, lying comfortably on the back.

Sore is More here proudly presents a snippet from its own story Legs up! 

Note: Izzie and Nick are in the middle of a roleplay as Muriel the Mermaid and Flynn the Fisherman. Don't forget that Izzie is pregnant, so it's quite a comfortable position for her. I was recently specifically told NOT to Google "pregnant mermaid", apparently it's a thing. Also, I don't usually write in first person, it's so much fun.

“No, no, Muriel. If it’s for me to decide, we’re doing it my way. I want to see your face.” He tips me on my back, wraps one arm around my knees, so conveniently trapped in the tail, and drags me to the edge of the bed. “Legs up! I mean, tail up.”

Glittering tail up in the air, I grin. My bottom, he’s so desperate to get or more like, not to get access to, is still inside the mermaid’s costume with the zipper securely guarded under my back. Quick push to lay me on my side and a tumble with a zipper, he yanks it open down to my knees, like a jar of sardines, folding the fabric back, all my flesh freed up. The tiny bikini in matching colour, only another layer to peel off, Nick is never the one to hesitate. 

I’m burning with anticipation, what cool air, a cold shower won’t cool me down. Nick pulls me further over the edge of the bed, so my bum is all out in the open, not dangling, but ready for his assault, as he puts the tail with my ankles in it on his shoulder. No, not Nick, it's Flynn the Fisherman, my hero, my lover, my protector. I shut my eyes and hold my breath. Action!

Psst! Admit it, you did like the manhandling part, didn't you?

Four letters down, 22 to go!

 

C is for Crying and Corner and not the Cane

C is for Crying 

DEAD DOVE Warning: Do NOT read if spankings, even consensual, are not your cup of tea.

Note: This is not your typical spanking story. Nick is a hesitant Top, guided by a more experienced bottom, Izzie.

“Nick, you bloody bastard, it hurts!” Izzie wiggles and moves away from the belt with every stroke but comes back like a clock. Yet something doesn’t add up.

“It’s supposed to hurt,” deadpans Nick. “Wait, what did you just say?” A flurry of painful strokes lands on her upper thighs, a well-known medicine for cursing.

“It fucking hurts!”

Another long flurry ensues. “Please continue with the cursing. Or shall we start over?” All the rehearsed buzzwords and phrases come out with ease. But, thank fuck, she cannot see his face, because Nick is on the verge of panic.

“Stop it!”

“Colour?” He knows better than to stop. The semaphore system is more for Nick than for Izzie. Green means, don’t you dare to stop spanking no matter what I say. Yellow means he can take a break to talk and then continue the spanking. Red or her safeword means something is really wrong, so, yes, full stop. Needless to say, the only answer he ever heard was green. No matter what.

“Yellow!”

Aghast, Nick chokes on half a sob. “Izzie, my love, what’s wrong?”

“It’s too fast and too much. I can’t let go like that. Not in this position.” Izzie is still bent over, knees on the couch, naked from the waist down. Her face, turned away from him, lies atop of the couch’s back. She spits out the words in a hurry. But all Nick sees is her pregnant belly, hanging there, presumably safe. And her wobbly knees.

“Do... do you want me to build a pillow fort?”

“No, I’m sorry, Nicky.” She sits back on her heels. “What if?” 

“Anything! What do you want to try?”

“Can you sit here on the edge?” 

Nick obliges without a clue what she has on her mind. Izzie scoots to the floor and stands to the right from Nick, staring down at his open knees. And now he gets it! He pulls her gently across, one bony knee wedged underneath her belly, the other right above it. Left arm curls around her waist to keep her in place. She fits, and she’s safe.

“I got you.” Nick rubs her back.

“I know you do, Nicky. Now, long and hard. Make me let go. Make me cry, please.”

C is for Corner 

I posted this limerick before, for all limericks go here. But since the A to Z challenge brings so many new readers, good things are worth repeating twice:

Corner time is a heavy affair
Sighs, regrets, pouts, hiccups to spare
With red bum on display
It's the price one must pay
For the pleasure of poking the bear

C is for not the Cane

On the scale of one to ten, the Cane is eleven. 

You can't be partial when it comes to the Cane. You either love it, hate it, dread it, or all of the above. Those who swear by it, still dread it. 

There is more love for the Cane across the pond due to its former use for corporal punishment.

Caning is considered an art. As any art form it requires plenty of practice.

Cane marks are universally admired, cherished, photographed, posted, and discussed at length. 

Those perfectly parallel crimson welts on someone's otherwise alabaster bottom and thighs cannot be mistaken with anything else. 

And that's all I have to say about Cane!

Now, caning tips from Ronnie of  Heart and Soul, read here. Ronnie doesn't cane, but her husband does. You can also buy them from her website.

C is also for Consent and Cock and another four letter C-word that shan't be mentioned, but seriously, I can't just write one paragraph about Consent!

Three letters down, 23 to go!

B is for Bonnie and Belt and Blogs and Bratting

Ouch! I just realized that the A to Z challenge is for ALL blogs, not just spanko blogs. So, I might get here visitors that have no idea what is this all about. What do I do, change the style, change the theme?

Noooo! The show must go on. I might provide more links for vanilla visitors.

B is for Bonnie (as in My Bottom Smarts)

Because every journey starts with Bonnie. Bonnie started blogging in 2005 and since then has been a godmother for too many blogs throughout the spanko blogosphere. I discovered Bonnie's blog only a few months before she retired (hopefully temporarily, and she will come back to blogging), and around the Love Our Lurkers day, that's end of November. I registered my blog, wrote a heartfelt letter to Bonnie, the very first post on my blog, and wrote a poem dedicated to her called A Bottom Song, which I'm still very fond of.

If you don't know that yet, Bonnie is an expert on all things spanking. Adult consensual spanking, that is, that's the only kind we talk about here, no matter how harsh it seems at times. 

MBS (short for My Bottom Smarts) is linked on virtually every blog throughout the blogosphere, and boy, did I stay in this impossible vast, skillfully crafted, generously shared Body of Knowledge. The tutorials alone, I read at least twice each and most, many times over: the elusive why (my favourite), how to talk to your partner, first spanking, fantasy vs reality, bratting, anticipation, letting go (a gem), implements, rituals, more rituals. When in doubt, read Bonnie's tutorial.

Her site is searchable, so dive in, you will find answers to all your questions. 

B is for Belt

Belt plays a prominent part in so many spanking stories and spanking recollections. But I think the best I ever read was on Enzo's Everyday Spankings. It's usually the removing the belt usually gets all the attention, not putting it back. But not in Enzo's story:

removing the belt:

I explain as I undo the metal buckle and pull off my belt in a single tug. The swish of leather dominates the room. I gather the black cowhide in my hands, turn it once upon itself and snap it with a loud crack to emphasize my statement.

and putting it back after the spanking:

The punisher retreats victorious, guided slowly, weaving in and around before I secure it in place behind temporary bars until it is called upon again.

Brilliant, isn't it?

As a mini-challenge I wrote an Ode to Belt without mentioning the word. Here is a small snippet from the poem Thick Brown Leather:

Of all the things that turn me on
The doubled over all-time winner
Thick brown leather, thanks a ton
Turns us into eternal sinners

If you like to browse the tag cloud on the right, you will see that the Belt tag takes a prominent place there, as it takes appearance in almost every one of my spanking stories. 

Here is a snippet from A Proper Young Lady Shall Never:

“A proper young lady–” he scoffs and withdraws with a growl.

“Shut up,” she cries out at a sudden loss, sensing some further scolding, and then blushes at her own outburst, and he lets it slide for a quick moment.

“– shall never call the gentleman’s cock a dick”, he finishes in his lilted accent, as he puts his cock securely away, behind the buttoned fly of his low-rise jeans. Deliberately slow, inch by inch, he pulls the belt out through the loops, with the holy sound that makes her squirm and rejoice all at once into a full body shudder. A triumphant grin that stretches her lips morphs into a hesitant frown, when she sees him folding the belt in half. With his eyebrow raised in a silent question and an outstretched hand, he waits for her to rise on her feet and put her hand in his, and that’s the only confirmation he needs. 

Taken in hand, the hand that puts her on the right side of the slash, she follows. He leads.

The swift shift in the mood is so palpable; his eyes, kind and playful a few minutes ago, now are flooded with hurt and disappointment. 

B is for Blogs

Blogging is a huge part of the spanko community. Whether on Blogger, WordPress, or Tumblr we support each other with blog rolls or lists of blogs we visit. Thank you, my fellow bloggers! I'm so honoured to be included on your lists!

B is for Bratting

Bratting is exactly what it sounds like, behaving like a spoiled brat, but with an important difference. Bratting essentially exists for the sole purpose of asking for a spanking without asking. And while a playful light bratting by a sub/spankee is usually acceptable, even encouraged, the manipulative kind of bratting is frown upon and even worse, it's considered to take away consent from the Dom/spanker.

As always, Bonnie has a whole tutorial on Bratting. My favourite reason not to brat, from her article, is:  "Why would you enrage a man with a paddle?" Really, why? 

Yay, two letters down, 24 more to go!

A is for Arse and Anticipation and Aftercare

Can't believe it's April already, which means it's time for A to Z challenge, that I so cheekily promised to participate in. And not only that, to stick with the spanking theme. 

So, here we go:

A is for Arse, which a nicer version to say ass, also known as bum, or bottom, or behind, butt, buttocks, buns. Why are there so many words that start with B? There is also rump, rear, tush, seat, booty or bootie (another one that starts with B), keister, tail, cheeks, posterior, fanny. You get the point.

Is there any other part of the body that has so many names? I dare you, try to find a synonym for knee or elbow, even for something bigger, like arm. To think of it, maybe only the other prominent feature of female anatomy or the second part of T&A has many names for it: breasts, boobs, tits, tatas. You know the drill. Still, not as many as so dear to us bottoms.

I like the word arse. It implies something ample, something tangible, something that jiggles on impact, something that bounces when stricken, something that blows your mind. Something that's loud and big, that cannot go unnoticed or be neglected, something majestic. Arse.

A is for Anticipation. Enough said about those butterflies in your stomach whose little wings make you squirm and wiggle and twist and fidget. No fidgeting in the corner! 

Alright, a bit of cheating, I will use snippets from my own stories. This one is about Anticipation, from A Tale As Old As Time:

"So the other tale as old as time is, of course, a spanking story about a girl that did something wrong, felt guilty about it, got caught or confessed. In this case, she just said something wrong, many things in fact. Now she's about to get punished for it, that's the most important part of the tale, about her tail getting blistered. After which her bottom will be bright red and thoroughly sore, but it's all good, forgiven and forgotten. They live happily ever after, also known as HEA, until the next time, which is never too far around the corner.

Sounds familiar? Aren't all spanking stories the same? Aren't all spankings the same in general? They all end up with the same hugs and kisses, preferably with a gentle rub of the said sore bottom, preferably while sitting on his lap. Preferably followed by some passionate lovemaking, soft and gentle, fade to black kind, or rough and hard fucking, with the most lurid graphic details of all orifices involved. Or anything in between really, whatever floats your boat. Different strokes for different folks, they say. Aaand, back to strokes.

No siree, no two spankings are the same. Ever. It's not the number of strokes, or the implements used, or the intensity. Like a tennis match, each spanking is different. Nick won't be pleased with such a comparison, still occasionally jealous of her tennis player of an ex-boyfriend from three years ago. No, not poking the bear. Izzie literally bites her tongue at the thought, while she stares at the wallpapered wall. Yes, Nick put her in the corner, with her leggings and panties bunched around her knees, no less, the hem of her t-shirt hiked up to her waist, alabaster white bum on display. Yes, good guess, before the spanking, Nick never did that before." 

Aaaand...

What's the best part beside the spanking itself? Well, not all spankings are for fun, you know it better than me. But no one can deny the importance of:

A is for Aftercare 

Aftercare can be many things, some as simple as holding close, hugs, kisses, and cuddles. Bonnie wrote a whole tutorial on Aftercare, click here for Aftercare - Bottom Smarts. She has also a tutorial on Anticipation - Bottom Smarts.

Don't forget, that Doms/Tops need aftercare too, especially if they are experiencing a Dom drop. You can search for Dom drop in my stories by clicking on the tag. 

Just curious, does any of you use tags to search for stories? I like that cloud on the right. Kind of shows the things I write more about or more obsessed about.

So, here is a bit of a Dom drop snippet for you from another story, Bloody Green

"Nick hums contentedly their own Bottom Song to the tune of some long-forgotten lullaby, while spreading some cream over her reddened cheeks. But the pause between the chorus lines is getting longer, his hand just hovers over her bum now. Nick, only surviving there, a wind-up toy with no juice left, the last splash of energy spent on moving them back in the bedroom to crash onto the bed.

"It's over, Nicky. It's all good. You did so well. I'm so proud of you." She coos as she strokes his hair, caresses his cheek, his soft stubble, traces his eyebrow.

"We are not normal, aren't we? Isn't it I'm who's supposed to praise you?" he sighs with a little glint, a sure indication that he’s coming back to life."

And another one about Dom drop from  A Proper Young Lady Shall Never 

"He picks her up with ease and carries over to lay on the bed. He falls next to her, and she pulls him closer, murmuring her thanks again and how much she loves him. Him, the monster. How much she wants him, now and always. 

He is drained like he ran a marathon, forehead pressed against her shoulder, her gentle fingers threading through his hair, cooing the words of comfort into his ear. "It's over, it's all good, it's over."

The very last sentence prompted one of the most amazing comments I ever received in my short blogging life, the ones you remember forever. We live and breathe for these moments: 

"That is one of the most beautiful scenes I’ve ever read. I’m here for the raw sexuality, the lust and overpowering passion of our particular kink(s) as much as anyone, but these are the real golden moments. So beautiful!"

And that concludes our first day of challenge. Goodbye, letter A!