They were getting ready to go out for dinner. Usually Friday was their date night, but this Friday they were meeting another couple at the restaurant. She would have to tone down her usual flirting while around the others.

He had been watching her get ready. Not blatantly staring, but noticing each step of her process, admiring each item selected, and enjoying it all come together. Just before they left the house he asked her “Are you all ready?”

She paused to think for a moment, then answered. “Yes. Let’s go.”

His smile switched to a more serious look. He cleared his throat and gave her the subtle hand gesture he gave her at the beginning of every date night, a subtle upward flick of his fingers. That’s when she realized her mistake. With an apologetic pout, she reached down and lifted the front hem of her dress. She didn’t have to look down to see it. She knew what she had done wrong. She was still wearing panties.

“We’re meeting others.” She offered innocently. “It’s not a real date night.” She hoped he would be sympathetic to her reasoning.

“The rule is not just for date night.” He explained. “The rule applies to every Friday night.”

His tone was clear. There would be no exception.

She lowered her dress. “I’m sorry, sir.”

The feeling of disappointing him sat heavy with her. She wanted to redeem herself, to show him she could follow the rules.

“What will it be?” he asked, putting the pressure on her to select her punishment.

She was well aware of her options, and since it was going to be a night out in public she could only see one possible path forward without drawing unwanted attention from others.

“I choose the bricks. Sir.” She replied, with a resigned and humbled voice.

“Very well.” He replied “you know where they are.”

She walked to a side table in their entryway. There was a large white porcelain urn sitting on lace doily. It was grandiose and fancy, and looked so expensive that no one ever bothered to lift the lid and look inside. She reached in and scooped up a handful of Legos. He had selected all the pieces in the urn. It was a collection of bright colored bricks, all small in size. They were square and rectangular, with one to four bumps on top. No large, flat, or specialty pieces were included, just basic building bricks.

She replaced the lid and returned to him. She held out her hand full of Lego pieces for him to see. With the other hand she lifted up the front hem of her dress. He hooked a finger inside the waistband of her panties and pulled it way out. Looking inside, her skin disappeared out of sight below the curve of her smooth mons. He picked bricks from her open hand one at a time and dropped them into her panties, making sure they collected as low in the gusset as possible. She counted out loud for each one he dropped inside. “One, two, three,…”

When the last one had landed she announced “Twenty-six. A total of twenty-six, sir. Please make a note of that, sir.” This was her well rehearsed response, and it was delivered with proper obedience. He let her waistband snap back into place, and gave the low lumpy bulge a couple pats with the back of his hand.

With a black pen he wrote a large number 26 on her skin, between her belly button and her waistband.

Years ago, when he first offered her this punishment he explained the rules.

1) As long as the legos stay in her panties she is allowed to adjust them anytime she wants by reaching up under the front of her dress.

2) He would be the one to remove the Legos.

3) At removal they would count the legos, and for each missing piece she would receive 10 spankings.

She had endured the Lego punishment a number of times for a variety of transgressions. The first 10 spankings had been delivered to her bare ass. The second 10 spankings were across her tits. The third 10 were to her inner thighs. She had never lost more than 3 legos in an evening.

Shifting her weight from leg to leg she winced as the small sharp corners settled in against her delicate skin. She knew that standing and walking was not too bad. The real difficulty would occur when she sat down. She would be able to adjust herself when she sat in the car, but at the restaurant she would need to sit and eat dinner without showing signs of discomfort. Only he and she would know of the poking and pinching all over her vulva. Just thinking about the ordeal to come was turning her on. The wetness had begun.