In the paperwork Kedrick had been given, explaining the various nuances of his expensive little toy, there had been a section that read a bit like a warning label for a bottle of pills. That particular set of articles had also described the legal requirements for psychological certifications and physical exams, prior to proceeding with the purchase of a nymph. As Kedrick was a man of money, even by the standards of a company with prohibitive price tags, he had not been overly stressed by Greta or the other representatives to read and comply. It would have done both Iris and her master a great service then, if he had. Amongst those scientists who were dutifully keeping track of their earliest creations, there had been enough talk of a "spiral of delusion" for both nymph and customer that cautionary explanations had been included in Iris' accompanying documents.<br/><br/>She, with a mind and desires so intrinsically tied to him, had no option but to slip into the deepest spaces of his most dreamed of realities. It was her purpose to satisfy, and in doing so, she was condemned to let the most convincing illusions blossom. How could she not, when they were her truth? How could he not, also, play along, when her truth was simply the one he'd always wanted? So, Iris, who was presently his Manon, trembled like a pretty little leaf when he explained her failings and touched the soft, round wealth of her indecently presented rump. She took it to heart that she'd done something deeply offensive, and a mixture of dread and delight surged through her veins. It was a shared delight of the maid and  the nymph, one that Kedrick had not needed to invent with much embellishment, and it left her cheeks blushing before they'd even been struck. How lovely it was to anticipate the sting, relief for her minor sins. The gasp that passed her lips when the flat metal piece struck her skin was not so repentant as it ought to have been. She confirmed it on her wet lips when he turned her over, guilty doe eyes and a peeking tongue with lewd intentions.<br/><br/>"Oh, Master," she breathed it with a shudder, adrenaline-spiked trepidation mixed with more eager than she could hide.  Manon had always had a delightfully ideal sort of chest, with enough fullness to be remarkable, but also the practicality to preserve a youthful perkiness. It was a bit as if she'd ordered them with precise design in mind, and they were no less satisfying replicated by the nymph's supple shapes. Soft, pale rounds she'd been unabashed with greeting him with when he woke, and now considered the opportunity of being more suggestive still. The stiff little nipples, as pink as Manon's generous mouth, were happy gossips for her thoughts on a proper spanking. Iris made an expressive 'o' with those lips when he pushed her legs apart. "I'm so sorry," she said, and she might well have been apologizing for her crass body as much as her kitchen mishap. Like it was an appropriate thing to be diligent now,  she held fast to her own thighs, hooking her arms under her knees to keep herself spread for his inspection and punishment. How utterly disgraceful that she could still make such ashamed expressions when her sex was glistening with that inhumanly thick, sweet slick.<br/><br/>Iris made Manon cry in ways the woman would have never admitted she could. The sound echoed of the hushed frenzy he'd peeped on in his chair, drawn out into a desperate little wail as the spatula came down to strike her again. She writhed like she could not have anticipated this outcome, though every move she'd made since he'd thought to strike her had seemed to beg for this progression. "I'm so sorry," she repeated, when he instructed she should start apologizing. "I--" she lost her confession in the hitch of her breath and a cry against his repeated slap that fell to a miserable sort of moan. Her wet cleft twitched against the abuse, spilling more honey offerings to dissuade the suggestion of complaint. "Sorry," she gasped, eyes squeezed shut as she pulled her knees up a little higher. How terrible she was, to present such a swollen clit to such ready abuse. "Please, I deserve a proper reprimand." Manon's practical humility twisted in such eloquently perverse ways when Iris hung it off her tongue.