Wow…just wow. A fantastic entry from the ‘Person Place and Thing’ Contest. Something about all the gelato talk interspersed with spanking makes it seem even more decadent..
– Dana
Be sure to click ‘Read More’ at the bottom of the visible text to display the full story.
TIZIANA’S ROMAN HURRICANE
Tiziana was excited to be making her visit to Roma, though her husband Massimo had been there several times on business over the past year. But now they were celebrating their honeymoon, having a suite at the Villa Spalletti Trivelli near the famous Fontana di Trevi.
It was a warm spring afternoon and they’d just strolled into the
Gelateria Frigidarium for a smooth, creamy, flavorful Italian ice
cream. Massimo purchased two coppas of Stracciatella, a vanilla gelato laced with chocolate.
They sat watching the parade of Romani coming and going, friends chatting in an animated fashion, featuring many hand gestures which are understandable in any language. Lovers ambled along, hand in hand and Tiziana winked at Massimo.
They made their way to the famous Trevi Fountain and Massimo fished some coins out of his pocket. Tiziana stood with her back to the fountain, launching the first one with her right hand and tossing it over her left shoulder. Two coins are said to lead to a new romance and three will bring marriage or divorce. The second Euro coin landed elegantly in the ornate fountain and Tiziana again winked at Massimo.
He began to blush, knowing what was on the horizon.
As they made their way back to the hotel, a gentle rain began to fall. Caught off-guard and not having an umbrella, Massimo handed a street vendor (known locally as “vu compra’s” since they routinely ask people if they want to buy: “vu compra” in their stilted immigrant Italian) a ten Euro bill in exchange for a bright ombrello blu. He opened the umbrella and shielded his darling Tizi from the gentle rain.
After dodging a few taxis and bicyclists they arrived back at the Villa Spalletti. Massimo shook off the rain from the umbrella and closed it as they found their way to the elevator. Tiziana had gotten the room key from the desk clerk.
Up on the fourth floor, they opened the elevator gate and opened the door leading to the hallway. Massimo closed the elevator and slowly joined his beloved Tiziana down the hall to their suite. “Slowly” because Massimo was certain as to what fate awaited before their dinner at the well-known Mirabelle restaurant on the Via di Porta Pinciana.
Yes, the tossing of the coins into the fountain sealed Massimo’s fate. Tiziana had promised him a “Sculacciata” as they came by train from Firenze earlier that day.
She sat on the edge of the spacious “letto matrimoniale,” a king sized bed with an ornate only-in-Rome headboard with a carving of the Fontana di Trevi. After a moment she directed Massimo to remove his shoes, shirt and slacks. “You know the protocol!” she said in a quiet, but firm voice.
And he did as ordered, hands now behind his back. “Go stand in the corner so I can admire the sight of your lovely ‘culo’.” Tiziana commanded.
His American-styled Jockey briefs she’d purchased on her recent trip to New York were tight on his nether cheeks. His muscular bottom was more delicious to Tiziana than the Stracciatella gelato she’d enjoyed an hour earlier.
“Massimo dear,” she sang out, “Per favore, vieni qui.” And so he stood to he side, his eyes gazing on to her bare legs. She’d pulled her skirt up and he soon was draped over her lap.
She enjoyed running her hand over the smooth cotton briefs which would soon be “half mast” on her dearly beloved. “You know this is something we have to do to keep our marriage strong, Massimo.” Tiziana explained.
“Si, carissima.” he replied.
And soon there was more rain in the forecast. Now Tiziana’s hand showered his quivering bottom with a storm of spanks. Every so often, the downpour would calm down, as she’d soothingly massage his now reddened cheeks. But then another storm would blow in and poor Massimo was kicking his legs in the air, trying to find shelter in the downpour.
Tiziana lifted her right leg over both of his, pinning him more
closely to her lap. Now his scant protection was removed, as she lowered his underpants. “It’s time to get down to business, dear.” she cooed lovingly.
And her hand continued to smack poor Massimo’s naked bottom.
She paused and ordered him back to the corner to, once again, admire her handiwork.
But then she opened her purse and produced a hairbrush, a family heirloom, as it turns out. “My mother used this on me and my sisters,” Tiziana told Massimo. “Now I’m going to introduce you to this.”
Massimo was told to once again “assume the position” and he fell onto her lap, as she draped her left arm over his back and grabbed the hairbrush with her right…and now a storm of hurricane intensity was thundering down on poor Massimo, the waves of the force of the spanking vibrating across his bottom like waves on a lake. He tried to kick his legs, but to no avail.
“You know, dear, this is for both our benefits.” Tiziana intoned.
“It will make our marriage all that much stronger.”
“Si, amore mio.” he managed to reply.
And finally the storm made its way through Room 402 at Villa
Spalletti. Tiziana gently pulled up Massimo’s “mutandine” and
gently massaged his bottom, which was now showing the effects of both thunder and lightning.
“Va bene,” she said. “Let’s go have dinner…you never know what’s for dessert!”
DanaKaneSpanks@gmail.com