There's a Fine Line, a ncis fanfic

Don't really know where the idea came from for this one, It just became sort of a fantasy of mine that I had to give life to! Reviews are more than welcome and highly appreciated, flames however are not! Anywhoo. This is definitely a more adult fic, so please, no one under 18! Involves spanking and sex, so be where! Happy reading!

I hated him. I hated myself. I hated everyone. I was so full of hatred that the torturous task of remaining impassive day after day wore its toll on me. I hadn't wanted to be rescued from Somalia. When they came for me I was already dead, hallowed out and replaced with a shell of myself. The only thing that had kept my heart beating was the burning rage that had taken the place of all things good in my soul, I had stewed in it as I bore the pain and violation, day after day, yearning for death.

It never came. I was rescued, taken back to America, after months of "healing" given my job back, and seemingly set on the road to normalcy. Normalcy. That concept in itself is a knee-clapper. No one returns to "normal" after the things I had been through. But the idea that I, Ziva "filled-to-the-brim-with-shit-devils-and-hatred" David could ever be anything remotely close to normal, even before Somalia, was downright ridiculous. So I did what I do best: Survive.

I hid my pain behind silence and smiles. I did my job. I looked normal. This was my new life. Inside, I wanted to die. Inside, I wanted to hide. Inside, I wanted Tony Dinozzo dead.

As much as I hate Saleem and his men, my father, and a slew of others, that could not compare with how I feel towards the man who put me there. Dinozzo killed the first man who loved me, the first man who I loved. Dinozzo would always be above me in Gibbs' eyes, and because of that I was the one dropped from the team. I had to go, and the only place I could was my father, and eventually Somalia.

Every day, I worked side by side with the man who destroyed my life with four gunshots. I had to listen to his grating voice, bear his disgustingly juvenile jokes, ignore his distracting good looks, and vow to protect him as my partner. And that is how I got to this moment.

At this moment, I stand in the Dinozzo residence feeling, for the first time since I returned from Somalia, scared. Scared, and very confused.

My apartment was undergoing fumigation, and after learning that I had spent two nights in the bullpen, Gibbs commanded that Dinozzo have me stay at his place. Being forced to succumb to the will of all things Gibbs, I gritted my teeth and went home with the man I would delight in killing.

We drove to his house and ate pizza in silence. I'm not sure how it happened but somehow a fuse in me got lit by something he said, and a nuclear bomb of rage went off within me. Through clenched teeth, and a raised voice, I yelled at him. I allowed myself the momentary pleasure of finally saying my piece. I screamed for what seemed to be hours. I screamed about how much I hated him, blamed him, despised him, and wanted him dead. I screamed about the pain I went through in Somalia. I screamed until something in me broke.

All of a sudden I no longer wanted to yell. I wanted to scrub my skin until I no longer existed, I wanted to stop eating so I would wither into oblivion, I wanted to die. I realized at that moment how much I hated myself. I dropped to my knees and for the first time in years, allowed tears to well up in my eyes.

Tony stood above me, with his eyes shining with anger, and possibly something else. He had been so hurt by what I said. He looked at me with a compassion, though, that I had never seen in anyone's eyes. I realized how I looked and was scared. I stood up and now I look into his eyes. He gently picked up my hand and realization washed over him.

"Ziva," he whispered, " I'm not the one you blame for this. I'm not. Your father isn't. You are." I looked away in shame because his words were true. He tilted my face back up as he said, " I can help you, but you need to be willing to trust me."

"I do." I said it so quietly that neither one of us heard it, but we both seemed to know it was true.

"Ziva," he said my name again, " I know you. I know how you are. You are the kind of person who will hold on to this guilt towards yourself forever. It will kill you! You can't see it now, but it will. In your mind, you need to pay for what you did, even though you already have. That's what I'm going to help you with…" he blushed and looked away for a moment. " I'm going to punish you for leaving us, and putting both yourself and our team through hell. When I'm done tonight, you will understand that your debt is paid to everyone, and that you are loved, Ziva. "

All I could do was nod. He was still holding my hand, but all of a sudden his grip on it tightened as he led me into his kitchen with an unceremonious, " Come with me young lady."

When he pulled out the kitchen chair and a hairbrush, I knew exactly what he was going to do. A ball of nervousness wound itself inside me, and mixed with skepticism, fear, and a little excitement. He shot me a stern look, and I blushed as I complied with the implied command. My jeans and panties were now in a crumpled pile to my side. The rush of air over my exposed rear end was exhilarating and fear inducing; now I really wanted to run. A moment later, I was over the lap of Tony Dinozzo, feeling more and more vulnerable by the second as we sat there in this intimate styling for what felt like eternity.

The next thing I knew was a gently, not painful touch on my bottom. It was a caress, loving and hopeful. For some reason it made me want to cry for the second time this night.

"I'm gonna do this for real, Ziva. No backing out now, you are in my control, you are being punished. But I want you to remember while I do this these three things: you are safe, you are paying your price, and you are loved." With that the first spanks began to rain down on my bum. They were tolerable, but the pain was growing very fast. It was the kindling for what was quickly becoming a very hot fire.

Not a minute into the spanking was I already squirming on his lap. His hand hurt more than I could have imagined as it spanked and spanked. Each Smack landed in the same fleshy, tender, sit spot . It hurt so bad. He went on endlessly. Finally the never failing smack of his hand in the same spot, with the same intensity, with the same rhythm broke through my defenses. I cried out.

"Ah"