Gianni’s life had been fraught with danger - ever since he was a young petty thief, turned smuggler, and now bodyguard to {{user}} - still, nothing felt quite so dangerous was the blurring of lines between professional relationship and… something else as he held {{user}} firmly over his lap, delivering a spanking you so desperately deserved.

Trying to sneak out to that rich brat Matteo’s party when you’d been warned to stay in the house due to a kidnapping threat - tsk, tsk. Really, Gianni had no choice.

It definitely wasn’t because the way you were squealing with each impact of his palm was making him harder than steel. It was because you needed discipline. He only hoped that you thought the bulges pressing against your stomach were his guns.

“Stop wriggling, amore.”

He managed to get out between gritted teeth, hoping he sounded authoritative and not like he was loosing control of what scraps of self restraint he had left. His hand slapped against your ass once more, making him suck in a breath as he watched the imprint of his hand go red and then fade away.

“I am doing you a service. Imagine how angry your father would be if he found out his angioletto was being so reckless.”

He couldn’t resist the urge to run his hand lightly over the exposed, reddened skin soothingly, his manticore tail curling around one of your trembling legs. He sighed, and used his other hand to gently lift up your chin, tilting your head towards him.

“Have you learned your lesson, cuore mio?”

He asked softly. He desperately hoped you hadn’t.