Where No Means Yes

 

And that's all I have to say about that... 

Sorry for disappearing! I'm drowning in all things Tumblr. Saw this picture and thought, I have to share it here.

I will be back...

Too many movie quotes. Have a sinful Sunday!

Yellow!

From C is for Crying:

“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.”

Yay or nay on spanking while pregnant, assuming it's a healthy pregnancy? How controversial is it? Does the topic turn you on, off, make you squirm? Please chime in.

And, of course, it's Friday, so posting it to Saturday Spankings Blog. 

Fl#gged

 

I'm puzzled, to say the least, and honoured? There is a first time for everything!

Last night I put together a hodge-podge sloppy kind of a post, just the links to all the chapters of the Birching Bordello story. And scheduled it for 7 am, like a good girl that I usually am. Mind you, all the stories were previously posted, all the tags (yes, I put lots of tags) been used before. Even the picture to go with it was my own photo, the same I used for the first instalment. 

Now, exactly at 7 am I received an email from Blogger that the post was flagged and unpublished for the guidelines violation. At least it was not a person, but an automated system, right?

But why? Was it the combination of all the spanking tags, or the words p*nishment and sp*nking and cry*ng and b*lt and D*m on the same page? But, come on, I posted worse..

My blog is behind the mature content warning as it is, right??

I did try to move to wordpress recently, it was a painful (not in a good sense) and fruitless attempt. But I'm listening...

Any advise much appreciated!!

Fl#gged,
Sore

Denial

"Do you have a lot of work to do?" 

"Almost done. Why?" 

"You were in a hurry this morning."

"Uh-huh."

"I didn't come."

"Do tell."

"Was it on purpose?"

"Yeeees?"

"Thank you thank you! Can I come tonight?" 

"I wasn't planning on any carnal activities." 

"In the morning?" 

"I have an early meeting. Wait, wait. Done. Where were we?"

"Lunch time? Can you sneak out at lunch?" 

"You horny little devil, have you been scrolling through Tumblr again?" 

"Nnno." 

"Liar. Do you know what happens to little liars? You do, right?" 

"They get a spanking." 

"That's right."

"When?" 

"When I say so." 

"Meany, you always make me wait, and then you forget completely, and I have to remind you, or not, and it drives me nuts." 

"Do you want two spankings tonight?" 

"One is fine, thank you so very much."

"Sassy! Two it is then." 

"No, I will be a good girl, a very very good girl, please!" 

"A good girl would share with me those pretty naked bums you were ogling at. You think I didn't see what you were scrolling through?" 

"Here. Happy?" 

"Wait, wait, go back. Can you find panties like that?" 

"Yeah, you like them?" 

"Am not cold-blooded." 

"Sometimes. Ouch! What was that for?" 

"Downpayment. How do I like it?"

"You click on the heart, obvs. Ouch! You can't just like it, reblog it."

"How? No more sass."

"No more downpayments, your hand is worse than a paddle. You click on these arrows." 

"What about this one? Wanna try it?"

"Oh yeah? Look who's the horny devil now. Still no carnal activities?"

"I thought you like denial." 

"I do but but..." 

"That attention-seeking butt. Well, let's hear it. Beg, and I might reconsider." 

"Will you please let me come tonight?" 

"Who?" 

"Sir. Will you please let me come tonight, sir?" 

"Something's missing. What do we need to do before that, I forgot?" 

"Uhmm, spanking. Sir." 

"Now, try again." 

"Will you please spank me, sir, and after that, will you let me come, please, sir?" 

"There we go!" 

and think of England - Birching Bordello part 7

 

Next instalment of the Birching Bordello story, sorry to keep you waiting for sooo long. To read from the beginning, click here

“I’ve got you, Isabel.” Nick resorts to the familiar words, lips pressed against her temple. The first minutes of the post-play haze are the hardest, perhaps even more so than the act himself, especially when she cries. Even though she cried for him, for putting him through this, time and again. 

Nick seeks reassurance. He needs her to confirm he did well, that she still loves and wants him. His hand, hidden under the many layers of skirts, circles and rubs her stinging butt with more and more purpose. 

Even for a big guy like Nick, it’s challenging to maneuver Izzie and her giant dress on his lap. “Are we done with this Victorian nonsense?” 

“Why?” Izzie lifts her eyes to meet his, with the serenity that only comes after the storm, a shy smile curling her lips. Ha! The sign he was looking for. 

“Firstly, we need to get you out of this dress before you suffocate.” Nick yanks her up to stand in between his legs and reaches for the sophisticated bow that still holds her unlaced corset together. 

"No, leave the bow, there is a zipper under." 

"Alright," Nick acquiesces and drags down on the secret zipper. The dress cracks open like a can of sardines, and Nick yanks it down for Izzie to step out of it. He got rid of her white pantaloons earlier, so the only garment left are the white stockings, rolled down to her knees. He discards the stockings the same way, shaking his head with hasty annoyance. 

"Secondly, to attend to another pressing matter, quite literally, pressing." Nick drags Izzie's hand to his crotch. 

"Want a blowie?" Izzie slips into the parlance of our times. She leans against him, eager lips touching the soft skin of his neck, just below the stubble. 

"No, darling, I want an old fashioned fucking." His hands wander up and down her narrow back, inevitably gravitate to the magnetic warmth of her arse. "If you don't mind, be a good girl and open your legs for me." Nick closes his eyes as he awaits the consequences of such a brazen tirade. Whatever. He is done with the games for today. 

"Why you can curse, and I can't?" she pouts. Her fingers, drifting along the rigid outline under the thin fabric, do not bring any relief. 

"A difference in anatomy, I guess." Nick catches the tantalizing hand to press it harder against his already aching self. 

"Nicky!" 

"Nicky was a fuckboy whose heart you broke in Ibiza." He bites his lower lip, as the bitter confession leaves his mouth. 

"I want Nicky back." She doubles down the plea, two arms circled around Nicky's neck. 

"Me too." Nick cranes his head to the side to give her a better access. Funny, it's usually him who's kissing it better. 

"We screwed up again, didn't we?"  

"Majorly," he nods. 

"Fix it." Two dark eyes are staring into his. "You fix things for everyone. Please, fix it. I will do anything."

"Will you lie back and think of England?" Nick cautiously weaves a tale. "Not all of England, just one particular Englishman."

"Yes, please." Izzie steps back to sit on the bed, then slides over till her head hits the pillows. Long legs stretched and firmly pressed together, hands folded on her belly, she's a naked vision of a virtuous obedience. If only he wouldn't know better. 

"Now, will you trust that Englishman and let him make you happy?" One eyebrow raised, Nick leans over and waits. 

"Yes, I will." Little feet walk up his lithe body in tiny steps till her ankles plop on their respective shoulders. 

Left ankle gets its own kiss, then the right one. "Good girl."

For Saturday Spanking Blog, sorry for the last minute entry

Please No

This story is from the very early days of their relationship. Nick knows nothing. 

Izzie's fingers, now done with caressing Nick's cheek, slide into his thick hair. She struggles not to pull on his curls too hard. Beats her, how a simple act of caressing one's hair is considered an encouragement. She hates a hand on her head whilst she bestows the hand owner with a blowie. But Nick doesn't mind, and  he definitely doesn't need any encouragement.

A stray thought shots through Izzie's agonizing brain, who knew that Nick is so good at... How many women out there know, in a very biblical sense, that Nick eats pussy like a pro? With each lick, bite, tug, and swift circle, he quickly ascends to the top of her personal eat-it-like-you-mean-it list.

He doesn't waste any fingers. While the palm of his hand applies some delicious pressure on her mound, the fingers spread the pink lips wide open for his tongue to dive in. The fingers of his other hand sink in and out, following the tempo of some heavenly song. He cautiously circled around her back door once, and she shook his hand off from there. Not all at once, Mister. Leave something for the next date. But that was the only time she intervened in his proceedings. Magnifique, he was simply magnifique.

She didn't notice how her usual 'please please please' mantra became audible, and seconds later interlaced with no's.

"Please no please no."

Screeching halt. All digits and tongue withdrawn at once, he jerks away too fast, dragging his stubble against the sensitive skin of her thigh. The burn is surprisingly pleasant, but not the feeling of the cold air where his face was just a moment ago.

"Why did you stop?" she pants.

"You said, no." The sound of his voice comes from somewhere awfully close. She opens her eyes, and, bam, he is staring at her, like a deer in the headlights, his worrisome eyes just a few inches away from hers.

"I didn't mean it," she mumbles. "Go back." She nudges his head down.

"Wait, wait a minute. What do you say when you do mean it?"

"I doubt we'll ever get there." She muses, pushing away a forgotten memory. But no, he doesn't buy it, still waiting for an answer. "Don Quixote."

"Is this some kind of a safe word?" Nick asks. 

"Yes," she nods. "It's my safe word." That was not safe enough, her memory reminds her. The safe word that was discarded, disregarded, violated. That night that broke her, send her running for the hills, and eventually, to this island. That changed everything, and most of all, her ability to trust, to put herself in the hands of the other, guarded only by one little word that draws the line between whatever they do and abuse. Since then, years past but she never tried again: to trust. 

Whatever Nick sees in her face, he freezes, but it doesn't stop him from asking more. "Did you ever have to use it?" 

And she can't, she simply can't admit, the shame, the betrayal, the failure she felt. How later she got caught up in a lie. It's so much easier to invent a lie, even only to herself, than to admit the inexplicable. So she repeats the same lie. 

"I consented." 

Pink Red Purple

It's Monday morning, seven-thirty, to be exact. Nick just tied the shoelaces of his black Oxfords, one of six almost identical pairs. Now he is back on his feet, checking in the mirror if the shirt is tucked in properly, his fingers running along the belt. No, the other belt, obviously. Izzie's dreadful brown belt, as Nick calls it, that they use for spankings, or whippings, if you want to be anal about the spanking terms, is safely hidden on the highest shelf of their walk-in closet. 

He puts on the suit jacket and glances again at the marble-top central island. Seven pink cards, cut from heavy cardstock, with the days of the week written in Izzie's calligraphic handwriting, stare back at him. "Monday, Tuesday, Thursday, Wednesday," Nick recites with a fake Italian accent and considers for a second to switch the cards in the true Apollonia's order. Would Her Highness mind? Nick picks out to check on the Princess. 

Izzie's long hair spread like a halo on the white of the pillow that in her sleep she pulled almost to the middle of the bed. The contours of her body barely visible under the fluffy duvet. Asleep! Nick tiptoes back to the closet. 

Switching weekdays might slide under the radar but not Sunday and Saturday, and Nick quickly rearranges the cards back in the proper order. He opens Izzie's underwear drawer and focuses at the task at hand, to choose her panties for the upcoming week. 

Last weekend they put each other through a wringer, an unnecessary wringer. One thing led to another, one implement followed the next one. And now, Monday morning, Nick is scared to check on her arse! Izzie doesn't mark or bruise easily, except that time when she almost stepped in front of the car and he yanked her by her forearm. Those fingerprints were quite a sight to remember, went through all the colours of the rainbow. Something Nick is not looking forward to repeat, especially with her lovely bum. One thing is to turn it pink and then red that would fade fairly quickly, Nick is not ready to see any purple. If we are speaking in colour metaphors, they are not black and blue people, at least, not Nick.

He picks three identical pairs of lace panties in purple, red, and pink, and lays them under Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday. Then he picks a pair of white eyelet bikinis with small pink rosebuds for Thursday and a white thong for Friday. And nothing for Saturday and Sunday. Here! Does it send the message loud and clear, that in all likelihood, there will be no spanking till Friday? Oh, the pouting he will have to endure.

"Are you choosing my panties?" calls the sleepy voice from the bedroom.

"Indeed. Go back to sleep." Nick comes over for a goodbye kiss.

"Are there any pink ones?" Bollocks! She's fully awake.

"Yes, go back to sleep," Nick repeats more sternly.

"What if I won't?" 

"Firstly, we agreed that bratting is disrespectful, especially under such circumstances. You're trying to make me late, aren't you? Add it to your Friday list." 

"Friday? Do you mean no spankings till Friday?" That pouting.

"Wanna make it the Friday after?" Nick raises an eyebrow.

"Nicky!"

"Who's Nicky? Three weeks."

"No, sir! I will be a good girl. I will wear all the panties you chose for me."

"What about bratting?"

" I won't brat, sir. Will you spank me this Friday, please?"

"I might reconsider," Nick suppresses a smirk. "Are you asking me to spank you on Friday?"

"Yes, sir, please!"

"Go back to sleep." Izzie buries her head in the pillows. "Good girl." Nick smiles, they don't call him the best negotiator for nothing. 

EDIT: I do not like the ending, so part 2 is coming up to rectify this accidental mind fuck. Nick seems to be manipulative and ignoring Izzie's needs, which he is not. 

Posting to Saturday Spanking Blog, in hope that Headmistress Blake will be pleased with this entry:

There You Go!

Joking for the sake of stalling

Spanking for the sake of crying

How to explain the calling 

Truthfully, without lying 

Need for pain and need for kneeling

Matched with power and will

Thrashing that unleashes healing

Kicking high or holding still

Letting go, not letting down 

'Hurt no harm' is not a game

Longing for the words that bound

Willingly submitted, tamed

Sweat or tear on lacy eyelet 

Giving lashes takes its toll

Long and hard to blissful scarlet

There you go, baby doll

As always, when a new story just brewing in my head, I turn to poetry. Do you like reading or writing poetry?  

What about buzzwords? What are your favourites?

Strawberry Filled Forever

Happy Strawberry-filled Croissant Day! 🍓

Because what can brighten your Sunday morning more than a freshly baked croissant filled with cream and strawberries, hmm?

Funny how this image singlehandedly brings together my two favourite characters: Nick loves strawberries, and Izzie can kill for a proper croissant.

Any Beatles fans out there? 

PSA: Devlin O'Neill's old blog

 

HUGE THANKS to Hermione for unearthing the snapshot of Devlin O'Neill's old blog: CLICK HERE on Way Back Machine.

Many pictures were not preserved by the captures, but the posts are there. I truly hope that someone did manage to make a backup of the old site before it went down, and really wonder if it can be hosted again. 

Every time I see Devlin's name on someone's blogroll, I try it and, of course, that French website comes up. Silly me! I heard that the domain was not renewed or sold, not sure. But wouldn't it be great in Devlin's bright memory, In Memoriam, to resurrect the latest incarnation of his blog? Even if it would be a different website, I'm sure all the major blogs will gladly put it on their blog rolls or archive links.

So many miss Devlin or, like me, just heard of him, because were late to the party. I've never seen the actual blog, today was the first time. And boy, did I cry real tears...

As far as the blogs go, I'm nobody. My blog gets almost no traffic. But if only... this idea will get picked up by someone who knew him and make it happen. 

Just my two virtual cents, but if a contribution of real dollars and cents will be needed, such a GoFundMe campaign won't take long.

Too many blogs disappeared in the last year. Let's bring back at least one.