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Invidia from The Collar Purple has finally turned her considerable kinky artistic skills toward the production of a short-but-wonderful caning comic called Keiko Gets The Cane. Everyone is instructed to ooh and ahh and rave and sweet-talk Invidia until she produces a sequel. Keiko Gets The Strap, anyone?
As every spanko knows, the inner thighs are very sensitive. Here’s a cartoon to make any subbie cringe:
This is from an old Mutrix publication, and it came with a story line involving an evil governess. The implement of punishment is a whalebone corset stay.
Thanks to a post by The Boss over at The Collar Purple, I’ve discovered Saucy Baggage, a new blog with lots of nice postings about spankings and “bedroom D/s”. (The site has another name, but I’m going with the blogspot URL because I don’t need search engine hits from kids searching for help with their homework.) I like the blog a lot, but I confess I was chuckling at Claire’s outrage:
We had quarreled earlier in the day and the matter was simmering on the back burner. A suddenly tells me to get rid of the sour face. Sour? I thought it was expressionless indifference! No sooner had I muttered some form of disdainful retort than he SLAPPED MY BOTTOM IN THE STREET! This happened once a couple weeks ago, as I mentioned in an earlier post, but then it was late at night, on a dark and deserted street, while tonight we were in full sight of everyone. There is no misunderstanding that public discipline is strictly out of the question. I was and am mortified, he knows it was horrible for me and is pretending it’s no big deal.
Of course it’s no laughing matter if negotiated limits were exceeded, but the way things work around here, that bottom slap would have been more than justified, and the resulting outrage would have been (from my perspective) a bonus. Sour faces, indifference, disdainful retorts — I’m surprised there wasn’t more spanking when she got home!
Dominance, even of a gentle mostly-bedroom variety, isn’t easy to turn off just because people might see. Since Claire does ask for tips, here’s one: If public discipline is to be strictly off limits, perhaps it would be best to be sweet and pleasant while in public? {grin}
I’m looking forward to Claire’s promised thoughts on the continuum between 24/7 vs. bedroom D/s, and on how the two can sometimes blend into each other in subtle ways.
Here’s an absolutely wonderful pair of old “French postcards” found on Usenet. First an overbearing official disturbs a most pleasant dalliance, and commences to write a ticket. If looks could kill, he’d be dead:
But then, it seems, an understanding is reached. “If monsieur wishes, perhaps this matter could be swiftly forgotten? Your trollops, of course, must be punished….”
There simply must be more postcards in this series. If anybody has images of them, I would dearly love to see them.
From Baltazar comes this long post about housework. It’s better than it sounds:
C is currently collared and naked, on her hands and knees, scrubbing the kitchen floor with a scrubbing brush prior to giving it a going over with the mop and floor polish. I’ve told her I’ll be checking up on her and if it’s not done within a certain time limit and to my satisfaction, she’ll be getting spanked.
She asked him to include that sort of thing in their D/s relationship, you see, and he was quick to honor her offer. Why?
I’ve wanted to be dominant and order her to do the odd chore around the house for a while…. That desire goes back some time to before we started out with Domestic Discipline while C was working from home for a while. Basically, it was annoying me then that she wasn’t doing much housekeeping while I was out at work during the day. I know that at the time I wasn’t pulling my weight with the chores and shouldn’t have had any right to be annoyed that she wasn’t doing things, but nonetheless it annoyed me that I couldn’t say anything to her for fear of provoking a major row. So, when we started down the DD & D/s road together, and as a result started to take some pride in the house together again and do the household chores, I fantasised about being be able to order C to do the odd chore – if only because I knew that I wouldn’t have been able to get away with that in the pre-DD days! That desire therefore was very powerful and alluring to me, but I just felt that I needed to wait for C to say she wanted it – just in case.
I know just where Baltazar is coming from on that. Bethie and I don’t call what we have a D/s relationship, but I can (as Baltazar puts it) “get away with” almost anything. For the most part I don’t take advantage of that in the household chores arena, unless you count me swatting her bottom and saying “get in the kitchen and cook me up some breakfast, wench!” after she’s already announced her intention to do just that. (It makes her giggle.) However, I do have one or two pet peeves left over from an old relationship. Yes, friends, I once spent six years living with a garbage hoarder, and I still bear the emotional scars.
The garbage hoarder girl and I had agreed to split up the household chores, and emptying the kitchen garbage can was supposed to be her job. Which she did not do. I was young and stupid and male, so of course it became a matter of principle for me not to do “her” job for her. She thus was free to stuff, compact, pile, perch, and arrange the garbage, until it was a towering mass twice the height of the garbage can, leaning on the adjacent wall for support and oozing food slime down the wall into the baseboard heater. My attempts to deposit garbage “in” this disposal area invariably resulted in something nasty falling on my bare toes, which in turn made me curse and mutter and growl and fume.
Fast forward to the present. Bethie cares more about a clean living space than I do, so it works out that she cheerfully does more housework than me, even though she also works longer hours than I do. Accordingly, I have zero interest in hassling her about housework.
Well, almost zero. But I still feel the programmed urge to get grumpy, when I go to deposit something in the garbage can and it rolls off the top of the pile onto my bare toes. Mostly I fix this by being Johnny-on-the-spot about emptying the garbage can before it gets that bad, but she’s in the kitchen more than me, and she fills it fast, and I won’t see it until I go in there with something to throw away. So I do get my toes slimed from time to time.
Since I refuse to be grumpy at Bethie, the obvious solution is to spank her whenever I get garbage on my toes. (Basic spanko-guy logic.) Haven’t actually done this yet, but I’ve made menacing noises. Right now I’m teasing her about buying a cane with a leather hanging loop, so I can hang it from a hook right on the fridge next to the garbage can, where she’ll see it six inches from her nose as she bends down to over-compress the garbage. Will this help? I doubt it, but it will be fun to hear her “eep” the first time she sees it hanging there.
So what’s my point? Loop back to Baltazar’s post, in which he talks about the fantasy of ordering his wife to do a chore. That’s hot because it used to be, however stupidly, an issue between them, and now it’s not. Likewise, something that used to be (stupidly) an issue for me, now isn’t. By giving me the spanking option, Bethie has utterly disarmed my pointless programmed emotional baggage from a past relationship, and converted it into a trigger for good-natured teasing. Eventually, she may get an extra caning or six, which will be fun for both of us. No wonder I love her so much!
As if the cheese-eating grin weren’t bad enough, check out the sideburns on this guy:
I have got to start a new site for all the goodies I keep finding on vintage.
Sorry for the quiet weekend. But not very sorry. Bethie and I spent it well, and it was good.
For one good reason and another, she hadn’t had a spanking in far too long. She’s always very sweet to me, but somehow manages to be even sweeter when freshly spanked. Saturday was a good day, but too busy for spankings — and we each managed to find time for minor grumpy moments. Sunday, I made time to give her a good spanking first thing — and teased her all day by saying that was just the warmup. Sunday was a great day.
One “Master Blackstar” called up Mistress Matisse to offer her an “affiliation” with his supersecret “House of Blackstar” BDSM organization. But only if, you understand, she allowed him to “check her out more thoroughly.” Complete with a free dungeon tour.
As she puts it: “I live to stick pins in people like this.”
People, it would be a BAD idea to assume she’s speaking metaphorically here. Ill-considered. Unwise. Nope, wouldn’t be prudent at this time. Bad idea. Also: incorrect.
My favorite bit:
I’m betting that “The House Of Blackstar” consists of Ryker — whose real name is probably Eugene — his pet iguana, Frodo, and several plump, shy, “cyber-submissive” girls who live in very small towns at least five hundred miles away from here. Call it a hunch.
Folks, if Mistress Matisse is as talented at up-close-and-personal high-spirits meanness as she is at the printed variety, it’s no mystery why she’s a success at her chosen profession.
This is more catfighting fetish material than spanking, but there’s no ignoring the mighty wallop with that huge vinyl belt to the bare breasts!
I do love some of that black-and-white fetish porn from the 1960s. New enough to be hot instead of quaint, but old enough to be different. This one came in (complete with penciled adult-magazine layout-marking marginalia, not shown) via an eBay auction.
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Tonight I spent a bit of time trawling through the blogs at Bondage.com, looking for spanking goodies. I didn’t find any, but I did find a lot of smart talk about the joys and pains of trying to sift kinky wheat from the chaff in their extensive BDSM personals area. I also found one blog whose author made me laugh aloud: Wax A Chump Like A Candle. IceIceBaby is adept at finding the silver lining:
Single Girl Thrills:
Tonight I learned a new trick.
While pushing the freight elevator doors open, somehow my nipple got caught between the doors. Smashed flat like a pancake. God, glorious pain.
I wonder if my neighbors will wig if I stand out there, shoving the door open & closed with two big plastic tools shoved in me?
Lord’snameinvain, I gotta get a man.
It wasn’t easy, back in the bad old days. This is a July 19, 1885 clipping from an unknown newspaper:
Ill Treatment of a Girl
Lebanon, July 19 — Steward Klein, a stalwart farmer of the Toush Valley, along the Blue Mountains, yesterday unmercifully horsewhipped Sarah Linke, aged 19, a maid employed in his family, beating the girl beneath a willow tree in the rear yard of his premises until she sank writing to the ground and confessed that she had told an untruth.
When Mrs. Klein returned home yesterday she found the house in disorder, the infant neglected and the girl locked in her room. When Sarah was, with difficulty, induced to come out, she said she had taken refuge there to escape Mr. Klein. The latter proved by his son and hired man, however, that he had not left the field during his wife’s absence, and then whipped Sarah until she retracted the charge. Sarah’s father had Klein arrested, but, on learning of the girl’s confession, withdrew the suit and retracted the charge. The girl has disappeared.
Here’s a still from the 1969 movie The Ribald Tales of Robin Hood. Anybody seen this clunker?
Found the photo where I usually do, in the vintage newsgroup on UseNet.
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Here’s a rare (for Spanking Blog) dose of male bottom getting spanked, courtesy of Mistress Matisse:
Milo is quite clear about wanting what I give him. I love that about him. Last night I whipped his butt, hard – it’s so nice of the Universe to be sending me all these boys lately who can really take hard impact play. Both Vermont and Milo take it so sweetly for me, and I so enjoy doing it.
I had Milo bent over at the waist with his arms tied tightly behind his back, which is a tough position in itself. I started with the soft leather floggers, but my sadism rather quickly got the better of me and I switched to the nasty rubber flogger. The tails on that thing are about an eighth of an inch thick – and I don’t mean wide, I mean thick. When they made contact with Milo’s ass – pow! – I could feel the vibration run up my arm and straight down my body to my pussy. Very hot.
Mick and Dee from Luvbight.com emailed me a few months ago about their completely free site that has a ton of excellent bondage photography. Here’s a gallery of Dee with a very-well-spanked ass. Mick explains:
Dee was complaining last week that I hadn’t been “attentive” enough as a dominant. Worse, the last couple of photo sessions we’d done outdoors had not resulted in any mind-blowing orgasms for her.
Mind you she doesn’t ever say things like that…she just pouts slightly. A good dom needs to know his sub, and when in doubt assume that your sub needs a good session.
So this day I woke her up by strapping in her ball gag (that always reduces the complaints), and then I tied her hands behind her back. I ran a rope to the headboard to keep her from sitting up, and frog-tied her legs. Lastly I ran a rope in front of her waist to each post at the foot of the bed to keep her from scooting forward.
Now I had unobstructed access to her beautiful rear end, and I retrieved several favorite toys…the Hitachi “Magic Wand” vibrator, a fur-covered paddle, a Delrin cane, a Rimba hand-shaped paddle, and “Emperor”…her largest vibrating purple dildo.
I used pink nylon cord to tie the vibrator between her legs. Now she could concentrate on her clit while I reddened her ass.
One way you can tell that this is a real session and not a “photo” session is the towels under her crotch. Dee is a squirter, and we have to sleep in this bed, so I have to put a towel down before any extended orgasm sessions.
Yummy!
I just concluded an email exchange with a spanking paysite owner who shall remain nameless. He had a couple sites listed on my spanking directory, and he’d written in asking me to list a third. When I opened his site in a new window, I noticed that it ignored my default new window size and yanked my window to full-screen. Worse yet, in my browser, that means all new windows will open full-screen until I carefully resize a window back to my preferred default smaller size, and then close the window using the menu (rather than clicking the little x as I usually do.) Upon inspection, it became clear that he had a little javascript on all his pages, for the sole purpose of requiring you to view his pages full-screen whether you wanted to, or not.
After he listed the second of his sites, I sent him a polite note asking him to please consider removing the hostile javascript. No answer. When he asked about listing site number three, I inquired again whether he would remove the hostile javascript from his pages. I explained my concerns in greater detail than I’ve done here, being as pleasant and polite as I know how to be.
His response?
I do understand your concerns but it is there for a reason. We get the
majority of our traffic from top lists and I want every visitor to the index
page to be able to automatically see the buttons to the top lists lower down
the index page. I do want to keep this one piece of code as we do not use
any other form of hostile code,popups etc.
In plain English, that means “I don’t mind jerking around your surfers because it helps me get more traffic and make more money.”
Well, fine. But he won’t be making any money off people coming from my sites. Needless to say, we aren’t exchanging links any more.
Bah, I had better stop before I start ranting.
Here’s a very brief bit from a long memoir over at The Orgy, about young lovers learning to enjoy spanking and bondage:
I started rubbing her ass with my hand, occasionally popping a quick slap off. I told Renee that she�d be getting twenty slaps now, and forty more later. She was to count off after every slap.
The first slap came in squarely in the middle of her left cheek, just a little harder than the pops had been. The next slap was on the middle of the right cheek, the same strength. I alternated cheeks, using rather light slaps until both cheeks were slightly pink. There were only a few slaps left at this point, and they came in slightly harder, still alternating between her two cheeks.
By about ten Renee was moaning out the numbers rather than saying them, which was pretty much what I’d expected. After the twenty slaps I rolled her over, spread her legs slightly, and slipped a finger inside of her, finding her to be hot and wet, as expected. Her nipples were still rigid, so I took a moment to suck, lick, and nibble on them, slowly fingering her pussy as I did. She was groaning and moaning, and I could have made her come then� but instead I backed off. I was learning that sometimes the scenic route was better.
The Mac technobabble doesn’t mean anything to me, but it doesn’t sound like Hornboy is on the right track here when it comes to teaching it to Violet Blue:
Last night, Hornboy just couldn’t take it anymore. He asked me, “so, have you done any of those OSX tutorials?” I demurred. I rolled onto my stomach, facing away. “You were supposed to work on learning OS ten today.” “Ummm,” I said into a pillow, “I’m working on it.” Firmly: “No you’re not.” Petulantly: “Yes I am!” He pushed up his sleeves and said, “Okay. This is a test. How do you open a file in OS ten?” “Uh — double click on it?” He squeezed my butt and said, “you got lucky that time. How do you organize photos in iPhoto?” Giggling: “You import them?” {spank spank spank} “Wrong!” {spank spank spank} He continued, “How do you minimize your dock?” “In the preferences?!” “Too bad.” {spank spank spank} It was a long night.
At this rate I may never learn OSX.
Greg from Red Hot Video Productions was good enough to send along this great spanking image. He says it came from a postcard sold on eBay:
I like the way she’s tied down, and the vigorous effort the man with the flail is bringing to his work. Thanks, Greg!
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Bad Bad Baby (whose comment on the last post led me to her blog) has a real neat post up about how she learned the downside of giving a smartmouthed “no” to a man who has both a paddle and all the privileges that go along with it:
Monday night at bedtime MrMan informs me that he’s gonna fuck me like i haven’t ever been fucked before. i wasn’t really feelin it…i wasn’t feelin so great. i smartmouthed him and told him basically that i wasn’t gonna let him have it. big mistake.
he had me on my tummy faster than you can say ‘no, please’ proceeded to smack me twice with our new paddle. HARD! i felt tears sting my eyes and i looked at him to see just how serious he was. he wasn’t playing around. i felt myself slipping under and letting go. i relaxed my body because i knew i was going to be punished. he smacked me at least 10 times on each ass cheek until i was just barely breathing. then he made me turn on my back and he smacked me hard on the insides of my thighs. this was a new one for me and it hurt a lot more than i thought it would, but it made me so damn horny! i had this thought in the back of my mind that i wanted him to spank my pussy but i couldn’t really say anything at the time. maybe next time.
he made me turn back onto my stomach and he wouldn’t let me watch what he was doing. he grabbed my panties and ripped them down my body. he told me how i had huge welts on my ass and how he couldn’t wait to fuck me. i waited for another spanking on my ass and i could feel my body tensing up in anticipation. when the paddle came down on the back of my thigh and then quickly to the other thigh i was sure i would cry…but he quickly made me forget that by paddling me hard and fast across the most tender spots on my ass that he had set afire just minutes before.
Now that gives the term “smartass” a whole new connotation! Of course, MrMan got what he wanted. And everybody went to sleep happy.
Poor Vikki. Apparently she doesn’t have anybody to give her a flogging right now, and she sounds like she needs one in the worst way:
I miss the sting of the flogger; while I am far from a pain slut, there was something soothing, challenging, and incredibly fuckably sexy about presenting my ass for a good flogging. Particularly when tied standing up, facing a wall. Soothing, because it was good and solid contact, making me deliciously aware of my body. Challenging, to take the pain and turn it into pleasure, to fight the instincts of my body to curl up on itself and instead work through the pain – like how a good workout feels. And incredibly fuckably sexy, because in spite of what efforts I put forth, I’m deliciously aware that I am naked and they are not, they are watching my body’s reactions to every stroke, and whether I want them to or not, they’re likely aware of just how wet my pussy is getting.
Of course, it’s sexier and hotter still when they pause to slide their fingers into my pussy, just to make sure. Making small comments about how wet I am. The shame and the pain and the contact brings high colour to my cheeks and makes me whimper. Body on fire.
Yup, she needs one all right. But as the rest of her post makes clear, you can’t get what she needs from just any old guy with a flogger.
