"Where have you been?" Izaak barked when I pushed open our hotel room door.
"Bro, relax, you ain't gotta yell."
He stepped closer to me, muscles flexed. "Have you been drinking? What part of 'it's prohibited' did you not understand?"
I yawned a little, about to push past him, but he stopped me. "Yo, it was at one of them international hotels. It's fine, no worries. They said it's legal there."
Without a word, Izaak snatched my upper arm in hand and dragged me to the chair in the corner of the room. He sat and reached for the button on my jeans, having them undone and down to my knees before I had the chance to fight.
"Wait! What the fuck... stop!" I said this as he jerked me over his lap and started spanking my panty-clad bottom. "You can't spank me for this! I didn't do anything wrong!" I kicked and squirmed, trying to block the swats but unable to twist myself in the right position to dodge his painful swats. "For real! Stooopppppp!" I tried to roll off his lap now, only causing him to tighten his grip and the swats to descend more heavily. Tears of frustration streamed down my cheeks as he now tugged my panties down and continued the assault on my backside. I continued trying to free myself from his grip, disappointed (sorta) when he overpowered me and I gave up fighting, submitting to the unfair spanking.
Satisfied at breaking me, Izaak gave me a few final swats to drive the point home, then rested his large hand on my backside. "You are in my country now. You will follow my rules and accept my consequences. I told you that there will be no alcohol consumption and I meant it." Sensing that I wanted to get sassy with him, Izaak gave me another barrage of hard swats, a reminder to stay quiet. When the second round was over, he leaned down, pushing my hair out of my face and forcing my teary eyes to look into his. "Don't think you'll get away with pulling something while we're out together, either. In my culture, women obey men. No one will think anything of it if I give you a good spanking in public."
I shivered at the idea, wondering how serious he was.
There was only one way to find out.
x-x-x-x
The next time I went to the international hotel for a drink, Izaak didn't wait for me to come back. I'm not sure how he knew where to go, but I hadn't even been there an hour when he strode through the door, standing tall and official-looking, pure grumpy FBI agent. And kind of angry-hott. I was a little tipsy.
In one quick motion, he yanked me off the bar stool, almost causing me to fall on my ass (but he had a firm grip on me so I didn't lose balance). His piercing glare made my tummy do flip flops, but I felt brave enough to reach for my drink, not breaking eye contact. Before I could grab ahold of it, Izaak pushed the glass out of my reach, then jerked me back by the hair. It took me by surprise and I let out a yelp causing everyone within hearing distance to turn and look at me.
Izaak gripped my upper arm again and spoke to the bartender in Arabic, paying off the tab as I stood there quietly, stunned into silence (for now). Then he pushed me towards out of the building, onto the moderately busy streets.
"Fuck you, bro!" I yelled.
I didn't say more because I saw his gigantic hand coming towards my cheek, without even time to duck. He popped me so hard that I stumbled back a little, eyes stinging with tears. "Speak respectfully to me," he bellowed.
My heart thudded against my chest, refusing to let me speak. I was torn between wanting to fight him back, and knowing that I would lose because of his physical superiority. And I had nowhere to go in this random country I'd have never visited with Izaak hosting me. But why did he have to be so mean and restrictive?
As he grabbed my upper arm and began dragging me along again, I rubbed my throbbing cheek, noticing that people had definitely seen our interaction and didn't feel sorry for me.
But I still felt sorry for myself and about halfway through our walk to the hotel, finally found the courage to speak up again. "You really didn't have to barge in like that at the bar. I don't see what your issue is with..." I broke off because now he smacked my bottom right there in the middle of the streets! And not just one swat... but like literally stopped, turned me around, and just landed a couple dozen hard and fast spanks.
Clearly he didn't want me to speak, so once he stopped and towered over me, lifting my chin so that my teary eyes looked into his angry eyes. "Do you have more to say?"
"No, Sir..."
Then dragged me the rest of the way to the hotel.
When we arrived, he still didn't want me to speak. "Hands on your head," he ordered. Then he pulled down my pants and panties, having me step out of them. "Fold these up and put them away." I reminded myself not to glare at him as I half-snatched the clothes and saw his eyebrows raise in a "I dare you" kind of way (but not a dare I felt like completing tonight!).
After doing what I was told, Izaak motioned for me to get my hands back on my head, then he walked me to the corner, giving me a painful swat with each step.
Ugh, I hate corner time.
"Put your nose against the wall and stick your butt out." He helped me into position, making me blush because it's not like I couldn't have figured it out on my own without him manipulating my body parts. "Stand there and think about your poor behavior and the severe punishment that awaits you."
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