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."