Spanking Blog: Adult Erotic Spanking At Its Best

Claire got herself a computer curfew the other day so she could get her work under control. Then she promptly and knowingly ignored it, leading to predictable results:

Probably those cracks I made last night about him being a lazy dom when baseball was on didn’t help any. [Oh, I’m sure they helped a lot, actually. — Ed.] He ordered me off the chair and over the desk, yanked my panties down, glanced around for a suitable implement, and settled on some flimsy nylon strap to a camera case. Seeing as though that got little more than a smirk out of me, he soon switched to the heavier power cords – quite a different reaction there. Hopping from one foot to the other and yelling, to be precise. I learned they make an intricate pattern on your hindquarters, like a flogger would, though I’ve never experienced a flogger myself. The burn is intense, both hot and cold, deep and enduring. It’s been several hours now and it’s still burning. Without thinking, my hand continues to fly back there for comfort but does not soothe the ongoing sting. In my limited experience so far, there has only been one implement to exceed the pain of camera/computer cords, and that was a (now-retired) antique riding crop: simply unbearable.

Here’s a woman who had fun on her trip to Alaska:

Since I had my birthday while we were on the cruise, Fritz gave me a nice birthday spanking at sea. Anyway, since we happened to be cruising the inner passages (sounds kinky) of Tracy’s Arm, we decided a picture of me in my birthday suit, on my birthday, of my freshly spanked bottom on the balcony would be appropriate.

We certainly do agree.

Found at Alaska Nude.

Patty writes about the birch:

One day, a while back now, on a spanking site I visit, a gentleman named Jim extolled the wonders of a birch one day, and lo and behold my husband (who was already curious) was reading. He made one, and the rest is history….

What a sensuous implement…a thousand stinging nettles in one swishing lick. The sensation is both overwhelming and seductive. It draws me into my body so that I can feel every searing, prickling, burning impact. I dare you to try it with someone you trust.

Hmm. I can see birch trees from my window. Perhaps tomorrow I’ll go for a little walk, and do some collecting.

If you’ve ever surfed the net for spanking pictures, you’ll be familiar with the genre of faux spanking porn. You know what I mean: there’s a cute (or not-so-cute) girl over some guy’s lap, his hand is poised in the air or resting gently on her bottom, and her face wears a bored expression that says “Is this photo shoot ever going to be over?” Typically, too, her bottom shows no sign of ever having been smacked. These photo sets just scream “I couldn’t find a model who would actually agree to be spanked, but the magazine said they needed some spanking content, so maybe this will do.”

Fortunately, these days standards are improving. For instance, you won’t catch the model in a Brutal Spankings video looking looking bored:

Over at A Beginner’s Beginning, Ulorenn learns some things about spanking:

I ended up over his lap, blindfolded and handcuffed and spanked into happy oblivion. I learned several things:

1. Touching apart from the spanking is distracting for me right now, so we’ll have to see how that progresses. It’s so distracting it knocks me right out of my headspace…hmm…

2. I have a very resiliant ass. After being spanked until I had to ask him to stop (which was what he wanted to happen), my ass stayed warm for about 30 minutes before cooling off completely. No marks at all.

3. I make good noises.

4. Spanking superceeds my orgasm. The spanking gave me such an endorphin rush I felt like I’d come. It was lovely.

5. I want more! Mmm…that flogger is just waiting to be broken in.

Number 4 is interesting. I wonder how many of you spanko ladies feel that way?

There’s a new spanking blog on the block. Not many posts yet, but A Creative Spanked Wife looks very promising. Here’s an excerpt from a spanking story Patty posted today:

Eamon turned away to the buffet, and came back with a leather paddle with a thistle embossed on it. He’d bought from a kind gentleman in Kentucky who understood his prickly wife’s needs a little over a year before.

“This should get a good crispy glow going.” He smiled and set about spanking her. The first few spanks hurt until the heat built back up. When the heat returned, the sting of each impact kept an after glow, and the heavy weight of the leather massaged with the give and jiggle of her flesh.

Sheila could tell by the way Eamon crooned as he spanked and watched her bottom respond, that he liked what he saw. That awareness made her smile, and then lift and wiggle her bottom for him. He spanked her harder and a little faster. The spanking covered her whole bottom in a hot, deep red glow.

If you spend much time on spanko discussion boards, you’ll find a lot of women describing variations on this problem, as described to the Love Bites online advice column:

I am a girl who really likes to be spanked. My last boyfriend was really into it and I would get off with him spanking me all the time, but my new fella is not this way inclined at all. I asked him about it and he was like, “No way, I’m not going to hit you, that’s just weird.” I like this guy but I really need to be spanked. How can I convince him this is fun and hot and not weird?

Although Sasha at Love Bites doesn’t have a better solution to this difficult problem than anybody else does, I thought her speculation on one of the reasons a man might feel this way was rather elegant:

S/M is very intricate, and requires a person to look beyond an ethical awareness of violence (and in his case, what human rights activists identify as the most widespread — towards women). Your boyfriend’s aversion to hitting you probably comes from a place of real concern, and may be rooted in a former S/M relationship gone awry, or family violence. Any conscientious man who’s seen his father strike his mother is going to struggle with this.

Of course, it’s also possible the guy is just a tight-assed narrow-minded prick. What sort of mannerless shmendrick tells the new girlfriend her sexual proposal is weird? There have got to be better ways of saying no. Besides, whatever happened to the old “Don’t say no to anything until you’ve tasted a bite of it” principle? I mean, did this man not have a mother to teach him basic manners?

Here’s an illustration by the justly famous Bill Ward, from an old comic (or possibly an illustrated book) called “Torture Manor”. I’ve never been the hugest Bill Ward fan — I find his women sort of angular and drag-queenish, too much of the time — but he’s nonetheless responsible for an impressive body of entertaining fetish art:

This illustration came in via Usenet.

The girl at Red Sneaker Diaries got a memorable spanking:

I remember his hand, grabbing my wrist, pulling me toward him. His grip was firm – strong and definite. Unexpectedly forceful. I resisted slightly, as I had only expected cuddles and kisses and tenderness that evening, and my mind was a bit slow processing what was happening. My resistance was countered with his other hand landing between my shoulder blades. Pressing with definite force, he pulled me toward him as he simultaneously pushed me down onto his lap.

…

I remember how he moved his left hand to my bum and pushed me forward, while lightly stroking my neck and shoulder blades with his right. My nipples hardened in the anticipation – I may have been uncomfortable, awkwardly pressed up against the arm rest, bum wiggling in the air, but I was excited, eagerly anticipating what I thought was to come next. I looked back at him over my shoulder, smiling happily as I saw him looking at me, his hand caressing my elevated bottom.

You’ll have to go read the whole thing, but it ends well:

I remember all this because four days later I still have marks on my bum, and every time I see them in the mirror, I can almost feel that rush of sensation again. If I close my eyes, I can for a brief moment convince myself that my bum is still warm and tender, freshly spanked and in need of caresses.

There’s a long product review of a rubber paddle over at Clean Sheets, and boy do they make it sound like fun:

Finally, I struck downward over the top of her buttocks, in a direction parallel to her legs, whacking the center of each butt-cheek in turn. The paddle’s handle fit my hand comfortably and its natural flex allowed me to inflict a telling impact using mainly my wrist, with minimum arm swing. I alternated this with striking her sweet spot (the center of the lower buttocks just above the thighs), and — instructing her to spread her legs — softly thumping her labia.

Her bottom-cheeks colored deeply and immediately, evidence of one of the striking qualities of rubber: the way it momentarily adheres to the skin during impact, causing burning surface trauma as it departs from its cruel kiss. In contrast to its small size, the black rubber paddle’s half-inch thickness provides sufficient weight to deliver quite a pounding, if your partner likes it hard, while its balance and springiness permit a gentle, tapping rhythm just as easily.

The famous John Willie drew a lot of well-received fetish art, but I’m not sure I’ve posted any of it here before. Now I’ll try to remedy that oversight:

Drawing is from Darkalities.

I don’t much like mushrooms — forced to eat too many as a little kid — but I think I could enjoy this sort of mushroom hunting:

Sunday, M. made sure that we had some serious time off, and took us out for a walk in the woods, on a mostly fruitless mushroom hunt. About twenty minutes in, though, he had me take off all my clothes, keep the backpack on, and carried on as though it was perfectly normal to lead your wife around on a leash, naked, out in the woods. He of course tied me to a tree and gave me a proper birching, which stung and burned like a mother fucker.

And of course there is a picture:

Who knows their old movies? This looks like a publicity shot to me, but it’s a real cute one:

As always, if it’s from a movie, I’d like to know which one.

Well, it was quite a long time ago. According to this article, in 1936 the Auckland Star printed a story about an aviatrix being patronized by the mayor of Auckland, NZ:

On October 16, 1936, the Star’s late edition reported that Jean Batten had “arrived at Mangere aerodrome at 5.05pm after leaving Lympne, Kent, on Monday, October 5, at 4.10am”. Pictures of the arrival showed the aviatrix in her trademark white flying suit.

Brewer Ernest Davis, the mayor of Auckland, called for three cheers, then declared: “I offer a prayer of thankfulness to Almighty God for bringing this young girl safely back to our own country.” This young girl was 26.

“`Words fail me to congratulate you on your wonderful achievement, but,’ the Mayor remarked jokingly, `you are a very naughty girl and you really want a good spanking for giving us such a terrible and anxious time.”‘

I’m surprised she didn’t strangle him on the spot with her natty white silk scarf.

Here’s a spanking magazine cover from 1949:

You have to like the lurid sales copy:

Experiences of corporal punishment — curious tales of ladies and others fond of administering birch discipline and physical pain. For lovers of the unusual.

Another gem from vintage, although I expect it was originally snagged from an eBay auction back before they started hassling erotica sellers.

Alternative post TITLE: “And That is How Pancho Villa Master And I Had Lunch Together.”

Moving rapidly along:

Master came home from work for a late lunch. And to spank me. He had a dentist’s appointment […], wanted a sandwich, and then apparently decided my ass needed to burn. It wasn’t punishment, just a beating because He wanted to smack my ass for a while.

…

I made Him a pastrami and swiss, while naked because it’s a hot July day and nakedness just isn’t sane here in January. A wise Master appreciates opportunity.

…

Then, i laid myself over His lap and He walloped my ass while i struggled to be pliant and good. He was rough but very sensual this time, caressing for long moments over the curve of my ass and down my thigh to the ticklish back of my knee, then slapping me hard where the thigh meets the buttock just as i was sighing with enjoyment at the caress.

He alternately pulled at my hair and then forced my head back down low by pushing me down with a hand at my back. He manhandled, and He didn’t say a word for most of this time. It was half of a normal spanking. He started to let the smacks fall more quickly, but never to the level of intensity it usually becomes.

“Fuckable,” He said, and slid His hand between my thighs to sop at the wetness there. Then He told me He was done and had to get back to work.

Pastrami kisses, because He’s a romantic despite the rough hands.

This has not so much to do with spanking, but it does remind me of the infamous duckie training post. As I was browsing about on a sex toys website, I came upon the Pig Tail Butt Plug:

Isn’t that just the cutest thing you ever saw? The sales copy reads:

Make ’em squeal loud and hard with their new pink pig tail butt plug! It doesn’t get much more humiliating than this.

Now, where did I put my credit card?

See Also:

• Puppy Girls Bite
• Pig Spanking
• Puppy Girl Spanking?
• "The Age of Duckie Training has Arrived!"

Well, that’s my story, and I’m sticking to it.

I’ve been having a little bit of extra fun with Bethie lately. You see, the other night Bethie was reading Lessons Learned and I looked over and noticed her staring for quite some time at this picture. (Yup, the one with the crossed needles through Lisa’s nipples.) Ouch.

So anyway, I was surprised to see Bethie lingering on that picture, since she usually hides her eyes when stuff like that appears on a monitor near her. (Sometimes she does peek between her fingers, though — it’s really cute.) She’s got something of a needle phobia, and neither one of us are much into anything that involves broken skin or the potential for blood. Still, she was looking. I guess it’s because Frank is such an artistic sadist.

Now for my fun. “You know how you are always calling me mean? Look closely at that picture. That is mean. Compared to that, I’m barely even mischievous.” Which is true, more or less (although I do love me my new tenderizing strap).

Call it laying the groundwork. Now, whenever she calls me mean (several times a day, invariably playfully) I say “I’m not mean. Who’s mean?” And I won’t be dissuaded from the line of conversation until she says “Frank.” And then I say “And what does he do that makes him mean?” By this time she’s always trying to change the subject, but I won’t have it; she has to say (usually she chooses a tiny tremulous voice) “He puts needles in Lisa’s nipples.”

For some reason she is amazingly reluctant to play this game, and I usually have to at least threaten to encourage her before she’ll say it. Vide supra “tenderizing strap”.

My plan (which seems to be working) is to associate that vivid mental image with the word “mean” in her mind, so that she can’t call me mean without thinking of those two sharp little needles. Now, when she calls me mean, I can see a little “uh-oh” look cross her face. So I think it’s working.

Thanks, Frank, for serving as a bad example! {grin}

Every male spanko, I’m sure, has a regret about the woman he should have spanked, but didn’t. J at The Orgy certainly does.

Seems that when he was a senior in high school, there was this hot sophomore girlfriend who cheated on him, and confessed. At that moment he held all the power cards in the relationship, and so he guilted her into giving him head to “punish” her.

But what he wishes he’d done is spanked her properly:

It was 1:00 in the morning when she finally finished telling me she’d cheated on me. Instead of both of us getting naked, though, and having oral sex, I now wish I’d done something different.

I wish I’d told her there was something I couldn’t do to repay her while we were in the house – during sex, she was good at keeping quiet, so even when she came, she didn’t wake anyone up. I wish I’d brought her out to my car and hidden us underneath the car cover.

…

I would have brought something with me. While cleaning out my parents’ garage a few months prior to my relationship, I found a couple of huge wooden paddles that went with a swimming-pool game I’d completely forgotten about. I purloined all four of them. I’ve spanked with them, and I’ve tested them on myself.

I would have brought one with me. Jennifer would’ve known what was going on, but she was so desperate to keep the relationship alive and well that she would’ve come with me. Trust me on this.

I would’ve had her take all her clothes off. I could never get enough of the fact that this beautiful woman wanted to be my girlfriend, and I loved seeing her naked. Then I would’ve had her lay across my lap as I sat in the middle of my backseat. I would’ve told her how upset I was. I would’ve chastised her for a few minutes.

Then I would’ve laid into her with the paddle. I would’ve smacked it into her ass over and over. The paddle itself is big enough to cover almost her entire ass, but I would’ve alternated cheeks. I would’ve told her this is what happens when she misbehaves. I would’ve told her I was upset, that cheating is wrong, and that I never would’ve cheated on her. (I didn’t, by the way. Ever.) I would’ve watched under the weak dome light as her ass grew pink, then bright red.

And I would’ve listened to her yelling that she was sorry, that she wouldn’t do it again. I would’ve held her in place with one hand, maybe wrapping my arm around her waist as I whacked her ass over and over.

…

I eventually would’ve stopped when I thought Jennifer had had enough. I would’ve gathered her up into my lap and held her and felt the heat of her ass even through the shorts I was wearing. I would’ve consoled her and comforted her and told her never to cheat on me again, and that I didn’t like to punish her.

Of course, that would’ve been a lie. I love giving spankings. Even when I’m punishing someone, I still enjoy doing it.

After Jennifer had calmed down, I think I would’ve tried to have sex with her. And I’m pretty sure she would’ve assented.

And I would’ve probably come quickly, feeling her scalded ass cheeks against my thighs.

Live and learn, J, live and learn….