Perception (a punishment spanking)

 

Dead Dove Warning: Pregnant Izzie gets a punishment spanking.

My dear readers, it's been a while since I posted a spanking story. If you can get past the premise, you are in for a treat, I promise. 

Also posted to Saturday Spankings Blog, linked here

Nick positions her in front of the couch arm. "Shorts and knickers off."

"Do it yourself," Izzie growls back.

"I didn't hear you, try again?" It's not the raised eyebrow, not his hands on the hips, not the way he looms over her, all six-foot-three of a menacing presence, but the disappointed look on his face that sharply knocks her down a peg.

"Yes, sir," she responds in a quick whisper.

"Too late." And he does it himself. The shorts and knickers fall on the ground, and she swiftly steps out of them.

The massage block

And then he brings out the New Toy, the pregnancy massage cushion, more like a solid  block with a deep hollow for a belly, that the brochure called, a stomach recess, and two smaller ones for boobs. That "recess" was big enough for any pregnant belly, not just her puny watermelon.

When they got it a few days ago, Nick was thrilled, squealed with excitement. Finally, she was safe and sound in this body armour, best thing since the sliced bread.

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" he asked, still staring at the thing.

"Oh, I'm thinking so many things, my head spins." She couldn’t get her eyes off it.

"No worries, I will always catch you," he grinned. He disappeared in the walk-in closet and shouted from there. "Where did you find it?"

"Google and Amazon, women's two best friends."

"I think you have another best friend." Nick pressed against her from behind. "That can't wait to get reacquainted with you."

Izzie’s hand reached back around his waist and jerked away when met with the soft fabric of Nick’s sweatpants. "It's not there," she exclaimed.

"What's not there?"

"Your belt, numpty."

"I meant my dick," Nick huffed, annoyed and unable to hide his disappointment.

"I meant your belt,” she scoffed. “Why did you change?"

"Because these are comfortable, to start with. Can we be somewhat vanilla for once and play with the new toy?"

Oh, the pleasure of lying down on your stomach again. He laid on top of her for the first time since Ibiza. Really, just laid there, skin to skin, happy.

Now it looks like a full body restraint that will hold her tight in place, locked and loaded. It's all about the perception, they say. One turn of events, and their happy place becomes the chamber of torture. Nick wedges a cushion under the leg end of the massage block to lift it up and level with the couch arm.

"Bend over, Iz," he pats on the couch.

 

Feet off the floor

He helps her to climb over and slide into place, locking her belly and boobs safely in the massage block. But her feet, her feet can't touch the floor anymore. She tries to stand on her tiptoes, looking for purchase, but Nick slides her forward and slaps her thighs hard. Her butt, not fully exposed, is still covered with the hem of his own t-shirt.

 

Hair tie

He puts a pillow under her head. Her hair spills over and cover her face. Like on a cue, the hair tie magically appears in his hand, and he ties her hair in a messy bun, careful not to pull.

"I need to see your face at all times."

"Didn't need the first time," she turns away from him, facing the couch.

"I was an idiot. Turn to me and stay that way." Hand on the back of her neck guides her head to turn his way. "Don't force me to hold you down, because I will."

 

Baby oil

Nick rushes to the bathroom again and brings a bottle of unscented baby oil. Not a game.

"Why?" she jerks off. "It will hurt more."

"I know. Let's speed the things up, shall we?" Finally, he peels back the t-shirt and generously spreads the oil all over her butt and thighs. All his preparations, so clinical, like ticking off the boxes. T minus five. T minus four. It's not a game. T minus three. When he leans over to kiss her temple and brush an escaped curl off her forehead, she starts crying.

"I'm so sorry, Nicky."

"Please don't call me that now."

"I'm so sorry, sir."

"What are you so sorry for?" his voice is shaking. Quiet, broken, like it's him who is about to get spanked, not her.

 

Hairbrush

Nick makes another trip to the bathroom and this time returns with her hairbrush.

"Not the brush," Izzie props on her hands, trying to get up, but the hand on the back of her neck promptly pushes her back.

"You don't get to choose today, unless you want to do it yourself. Do you want to do it yourself?" Nick squats by the couch to be face to face with her.

She vehemently shakes her head, refusing his suggestion. Never. She will take whatever it is, anything he will give her, just not to go back to spanking herself.

"Then it's up to me." A bare hand smack. "Remember?" Smack. "When, how, and for how long." Smack. She squints her eyes with every swat. Nick gets up on his feet and out of her sight. All business now, he switches to the hairbrush. The first few hesitant strokes, clearly too mild, just for him to gauge her reaction, they remind her of the horror of her self-spanking days, the time he caught her up in the bathroom. She squirms from the humiliation and hides her face in the pillow. He pauses and clears his throat, the hairbrush resting on her smarting butt. He waits until she turns his way. He waits by her side until she opens her eyes and looks at him. And that’s the last break that he has given her.

 

The Punishment

Nick picks up the pace and doubles the intensity. The baby oil indeed is doing the trick, it hurts so much more, and besides the first few blows, he didn't start slowly either. In no time her hands, buried under the pillow, dig into the fabric in a futile attempt to stay there and not to fly back to cover her flaming bottom. Uncomfortable enough with her feet off the floor, last thing she needs is her hands pinned down behind her back. Locked in the massage block, she cannot wiggle, so she kicks her feet even more than usual, but today Nick is giving her a few swats on her thighs for every kick.

It seems like it has been going on forever, the relentless fury of deafening, stinging, searing blows, every single one of them biting into her flesh, but probably it wasn't, probably it lasted mere minutes. Time moves differently during spankings.

He stops abruptly. No, she's not ready for this to be over. She did not beg for mercy and didn’t cry. She desperately wants to cry. He gingerly rubs her bum, for which she's grateful, and sinks into the couch next to her head. He strokes her hair in a complete silence. He's definitely not done, it's just a break. The pain settles in, it is everywhere. Her thighs burn like hell. Her butt burns like hell. He has never been so thorough before, covering every inch of her butt and her thighs. He never hit her thighs before. He always jokes that he enjoys her curling on his lap without squirming. But then, he has never punished her before either. Judging by the pain, she is already the brightest shade of pink, maybe a few bruises, where he pounded the same spot over and over again. She wouldn’t dare to lift her head to take a look, not with his hand still raking through her hair. She will not ask. She fell into a habit of speaking only if spoken to during the spankings, like any good girl should. It’s so nice to melt under his hand gently touching her hair, the same hand that just spanked her. She will not ask.

Any other person would think that it was all part of an evil plan, devised long in advance, but Izzie knows him better, Nick never planned to punish her, ever. All this came together, when she forced his hand, while he was walking through the house, he put all he knew together in action. To make the spanking humiliating (because a punishment should be humiliating), uncomfortable (nailed that), effective (he hates doing it), and above all, undeniably safe. To make it memorable and not in a good way, he said it out loud quite a few times already, to make sure that she remembers it long enough and well enough, they don't have to repeat it any time soon, or better ever again.

"We're not done yet. You know that, right?" he finally asks when her breathing slows down to normal. She nods with a tiny sigh of relief. "Colour?"

"Green."

"Good," he exhales. "That was the punishment part. Now, the lesson."

He rises on his feet and unbuckles his belt.

Love Me Tender part 2

For part 1 click here

"It was not a nightmare or a disaster back then. It was what it was, and I didn't want to change it, but I wanted to have it with you. With you." 

Nope, she didn't get the memo. She puts her hand on his shoulder, and he tries to shake it off, but she keeps her hand there. 

"You would never believe that I wanted it, that it was my doing, unless I would put you through it, for which I'm really sorry. I'm truly sorry. Can you hear me?" 

"I can hear you." His voice is low and muffled but clear enough.

Izzie can't see his face now, buried in the pillows, but when he came back, she saw that his eyes were still red and puffy. Nick doesn't cry, period. Except that time after the knee accident, but then again, he was high as a kite, accidentally overdosed. Nick would not cry from pain. He would shut down, collapse, throw up, but not cry. But he did just throw up. Is he in pain and hiding it? 

"I said, I'm sorry," she repeats. Nick's hand snakes out from under the pillow and wraps around her legs. "Aldous didn't speak to me for a week and moved to another bedroom. He would come down for dinner, and we would eat in silence, on our honeymoon." 

Izzie pulls the pillow that covers his head, and he lets her, but promptly turns his head the other way. "So, Nick, if you want to do better, it's your hour to shine. You can take another shower, drink whiskey, have a smoke, scream into the wilderness, but I want you back, preferably soon, with your magic fingers and a dirty story to go with it." She lets her words sink. Nick stirs in silence. "And bring me some strawberries from the fridge on your way back."

This is simple, strawberries, fridge. He can do simple things. Nick takes his sweet time as he stumbles to the kitchen and back. He waits by the bed till she bites into the first one, and the smell, the smell of ripe strawberries and summer reminds him of what he wanted to do for what seems like eternity, to kiss her on the lips. 

"I like when you taste like strawberries." 

"I know." She breaks the kiss. "Go, Nicky, get some fresh air and come back with a story." 

It's not about me, it's not about me, it's not about me. It's about her, and Her Highness gets what Her Highness wants. The princess and the strawberries, I can work with that. 

Izzie smiles at how red his lips are, not just kiss-swollen, but from the strawberry juice he picked from her. In her daze, she watches as he slides down to put his head on her lap and presses his lips, red lips, against the white fabric. There is no way he won't freak out, the second he lifts his head, the second he sees the red stain. Izzie slides her hands under his cheeks to lift his head and asks him to close his eyes, and he does, he does, till she shudders from trying too hard to stay calm. His eyes widen in horror, the same horror as when she screamed from pain, and he immediately came inside her. 

This time he stumbles out of the room in no time, grabbing his jeans from the floor, and into the kitchen. 

"I will change! Nick, come back."  

To be continued.

Sweeter than macarons

Nick shifts on his feet, clearly aware of his shortcomings in the gifts department. Don't get me wrong, he showered Izzie with flowers in all shades of white, her favourite colour, including lotuses from Thailand, flew in macarons from Paris, and bought even more sets of lingerie in white, pink, and lavender, granted the last part was more for him than for her. But last night, when Izzie mentioned that she wants a gift that money can't buy, it was a bit of a short notice.

Now, she was tapping her white pearl nails against an open Valentine card, with four lines in his neat, almost calligraphic handwriting.

Lotus is white
And so is Izzie's skin 
Not where it's tanned
But the parts only I can see. 

Her hand hovers over to the box of macarons in all colours of the rainbow and zooms onto the dark pink one. Nick grins, as she already ate one of those and he kissed her after, tasting of strawberries, his favourite. Now her breath will smell of strawberries again, lovely.

"Hallmark quality?" he sheepishly nods at the card.  

"Please don't quit your day job." Izzie's tongue picks out to lick off the crumbs from the corner of her mouth.

"May I?" Nick gestures at the envelope sealed with red wax that suspiciously looks like the low temperature candles they had fun with last week.

"All yours," Izzie bites her lower lip, suppressing the smug.

Nick breaks the seal, and a single sheet of handmade paper slips out of the envelope. Izzie's handwriting is not as neat as his own, but it's the lines, the burning words that make him stumble and blush.

Sweeter than rainbow macarons
Bitter than darkest chocolate 
Sound that makes me swoon 
Sting that causes to choke on it

Redder than any roses
Thorns peeling layers away
Wonderful metamorphosis 
It's the only way

Laughing at silly jokes
Or biting on pretty please
Squirming under the strokes
Down on hands and knees

Spending the day in harmony
Melting the stubborn guilt
Ruin me, mark me, pound me
This day stays, roses wilt

And without saying a word, Nick obliges. All. Day. Long.

Thick Brown Leather

Here we go, a brand spanking new poem, partially inspired by Erica's recent post, and I threw in some Valentine's vibes. Also with a mini-challenge to write an Ode to Belt without mentioning the word.

Red thornless roses, petals drop
From sheer force of sweetest torture 
The sting, the bite, old chestnut trope
So many other ways to scorch her

The whitest shirt with rolled up sleeves
The snaking through and buckle sound
The darkest eyes that never leave
My face, my heart,  once lost and found

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

The watch is ticking on his wrist
As loud as my heart is leaping 
Competing with the other beast
His arm will yield in nearing whipping

Of all the things that count more
The only one that really matters
To clean the slate, to set the score
And chocolate for quiet after

Love Me Tender

Let' start the Valentine Day week with this throwback to the earlier chapter in Izzie and Nick relationship, when they just started exploring their kinks and roleplay.

When Nick comes back from the bathroom, Izzie is sitting against the headboard, in the same white nightie, now down to her knees, legs stretched and crossed, no doubts, it is his Izzie, somber eyes, tight lips, ready to read him the riot act. Nick falls on the bed, face down in the pillows, if she doesn't get the hint, he pulls another pillow over his head.

Red flags, where do I start? What can go wrong, if you both have some sort of virginity kink to work through and decide to roleplay a do-over of the first time, her first time? Everything! Nick has been with a virgin only once when he was twenty, and she was eighteen, it was not bad, but he could do so much better now, if he could give some advice to his twenty-years-old self. Ha! Right, define 'better'. Nick always knew that something went wrong between Izzie and Aldous on their wedding night. No judgement, but seriously? Then again, she was only twenty, doing only ballet, and that douche Aldous was watching her like a dog and not letting anyone near her since she was sixteen.

Izzie wanted to start everything from scratch, a fresh start. And if it meant to replace Aldous in popping her cherry, Nick is in, pun thoroughly intended. All joking aside, if it would help her to put Thailand behind, he would do anything. Their sex life went back to normal, but she still had her nightmares. and he still hasn’t seen her fully naked, she would always leave something on. He asked her once, if a sleeping mask counts as clothes, she laughed but that was it. He would say and do anything to hear her laugh.

They decided to do it on the weekend, in the most remote chalet in that ski village they both liked. Good choice! Izzie announced it on Tuesday and kicked him out of her bedroom to make sure that by Friday night he will be horny as hell.

When they were finally alone, he didn't even notice when everything went pear-shaped and turned into a shitshow. It was not his Izzie there but her twenty-year-old version, wide eyed, antsy, jittery, restless. That's when Nick asked her to call the whole thing off for the first time. She insisted that they need to consummate their marriage, or it's not real. He wanted to calm her down, but she wouldn't let him talk. It felt like they were in Jumanji, trapped on this giant bed. Her anxiety spread onto him like a wildfire, he was shaking like a leaf, like it was his first time too. They kissed like two horny teenagers, not aware of the existence of the third base. Real Izzie would be soaking wet by then. Young Izzie didn't let him touch her or kiss her anywhere below her waist, let alone undress her.

She asked him to take everything off, and her eyes widened even more, when she looked down, like she'd never seen a naked man before. It was surreal. Her tanned face went pale. He begged her to stop. She asked him to make babies, right now. She laid on her back, pulled the nightie up, and opened her legs. He saw that she still had her panties on. They both blushed as he pushed her knees back together and lifted her bum to slide the panties off. And again, her legs fell open for him.  He knew that Izzie could flex and hold any muscle of her body, but it felt insanely tight. He stopped and asked her, he does not remember what he asked her, but she grabbed his shoulders and demanded not to stop until it's over. And as gently and slowly as he could, he did. Love Me Tender Award of the Year.

He noticed the forgotten bottles of lube and the lavender oil on the nightstand. Izzie never needed lube, they used lubes and oils just for fun. Now he wished he would remember to use it. What if he would pull out and put some, will she notice? It's still unbearably tight. Izzie, that loved rough sex, any sex, was motionless under him. She was quiet at last, and he whispered dirty nothings into her ear. She blushed and finally smiled. She lifted her hips, and he helped her to wrap her legs around him. He kissed her before picking up the pace. He was watching her face, eyes shut tight, mouth open, forming little o's with every shallow thrust. They were doing great, all things considered. He wanted to bite down that lip to stop it from quivering. He leaned forward when she opened her eyes, full of tears she couldn't hold back anymore, and screamed at the top of her lungs, screamed his name, a scream that turned into uncontrollable sobs, and his world turned upside down.

"Nick?" Izzie pulls him back into the present.

How on earth did this happen, how could he misread it so badly, the signs that she was in pain, that quivering lip? Nick presses his hands on top of the pillow that covers his head, an international sign for 'I don't want to hear a word'. But yet she speaks.

For part 2 click here

For Hermione

Limerick #9 - For Hermione

A brilliant blogger named Hermione

Gives shivers to my heart and my knees

Lives north of forty-four

Shovels snow off her door

Between spankings and brunches, oh my oh me

To read all Limericks click here.

Bonnie's Corner

 

Limerick #6 - Corner time (originally written for Hermione's brunch)

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

Bonnie: It's hard to rhyme my name.

Me: Hold my beer...

Limericks #7 and #8 - For Bonnie

Of things that will teach you our Bonnie

None can be described as baloney

Legs up, OTK, 

Hold tight, no escape,

Paddled, belted, and caned, plump or bony

Tutorials, stories, or brunches

No dungeons, no punches or munches

Whether spanko or not

You will end up hot

With smart bottom and panties in bunches 

To read all Limericks click here.

Carpet Beater Bonanza

#3  Carpet Beater

Carpet beater was laying around

For the carpet not bum soft and round

But the schoolgirl she is

White socks, down on her knees

Met its sting with formidable sound

This limerick was inspired by Perfectdt

#4  Adventures

Biting chips is a dangerous venture

You may end up in need of the dentures

But good girl that she is

Fondles still did blow BIKSS

Then she blogged all her recent adventures

And this one by Fondles

#5 Bonanza

JM flew a plane called Bonanza

Where rules are no panties or pants on

With the flick of her heel

She cranked up the thrill

Roger that, either hands off or hands on

Inspired by  Jean Marie

To read all Limericks click here.

Deceits in D.C.

Limerick #2

There is this girl in D.C.

That can't properly sit on her seat

Her boyfriend got fed

Up and painted it red

But... forgave all her silly deceits

P.S. No national monuments, even as phallic as this one, were harmed in the production of this limerick. Picture from Wiki. I can't believe I traveled all over the world but Washington is still on my bucket list.

For Limerick #1 called Mona Lisa Cries click here. Yay or nay on limericks? They are fun to write.

All limericks so far are about Izzie, who else. Head over to My stories if you are new to this blog. 

To read all Limericks click here.

Mona Lisa Cries

There was once a girl from Ibiza

There was nothing else that would please 'er

Than the six of the best

May your hand never rest

Smile for me, plead and cry, Mona Lisa

PS. I swear, I didn't paint her... red 

To read all Limericks click here.