Spanking Blog: Adult Erotic Spanking At Its Best

Here’s a very authentic facial reaction shot of a female miscreant who looks extremely sorry indeed:

That’s Ellie Mayes of Spanking Mags caught in mid-scream there. She’s a very naughty girl, it turns out, so much so that if you look at the gallery you’ll find her holding her cute-but-sore bottom cheeks apart and winking her rosebud at you.

Nice to see Annie and Robert getting up to their old tricks again. It seemed Annie earned 33 spankings on 33 subsequent days, and one of them went like this:

Day Three, 6:30AM:

“Turn over,” I think I hear inserted into my dream. “Turn over.” There it is again. Then I feel his hand pressing my shoulder towards the mattress (I’m a side-sleeper) and another, “C’mon, baby, turn over.”

“Why?” I utter through my sleep drool.

“For your spanking.” Well, OF COURSE.

“Now? Can I pee first?” I ask, somewhat desperately.

“Are you going to wet the bed if I say no?”

“Probably.”

“Go.”

Actually, there was no probably about it. That matter addressed, I headed back to bed to meet my fate while thinking, “it is waaay too early for this shit”.

Robert had already placed a pillow for me to lie across, my still-tender-from-the-evil-wooden-spoon-spanked-bottom positioned for further abuse… or rather, kind attention from my loving husband. No wait, I was right the first time with “abuse”, it doesn’t graduate to loving attention until at least 10AM.

SMACK! OWWW!

“I know you have a busy day ahead, so I thought you’d appreciate getting this out of the way first thing,” he said in a supportive tone. SMACK!

“OW! Oh, yes, my gratitude simply cannot be articulated…” SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! “OW! OKAY! I deserved that! OOoow!”

Here’s a spanking story that’s funny and serious at the same time. Bethany from the Woodshed Spanking Blog has a problem with smoke detectors, and her Jim has a problem with that. Having once been a volunteer fireman, I have to side with Jim:

So – set the scene in your mind. My steaks are burning, two smoke detectors are shrieking into the night so loudly that I’m sure the neighbors will be calling 911, the dogs are barking… and the gun is sitting right there. I mean, come on. It was a no-brainer. I simply picked up the pellet gun, intending to blast the smoke detector in the garage into little (quiet) pieces.

Jim saw me walking into the garage with the pellet gun and immediately became somewhat concerned. (“Somewhat concerned” is a euphemism, unfortunately.) To be more exact, he went ballistic. I guess the sight of one’s wife armed in the house is troubling, or something.

As Jim and I have both implied on this blog before, “real” spankings are mostly a thing of the past for me. But – as I found out last Sunday evening – “mostly” and “completely” are two different things. I was – ahem – relieved of the gun in short order. He then calmly turned off the grill, turned off the two smoke detectors, saved the steaks, got the dogs to shut up (no, he didn’t shoot them) and then took me up to our bed room, where he, also calmly and deliberately, put me over the bed and spanked my bare ass with the paddle he made me when we first met. The one with the waffle pattern.

One forgets, sadly, when one is mostly playing happy little spanky games, how much a REAL spanking hurts. Particularly delivered by a large and angry (though calm) man. And spankings that begin with me not in the frame of mind to receive one can be particularly intense. I mean, friends, look at it from my point of view, OK? What did I really do? What was the ACTUAL crime? I walked from Point A to Point B (about twelve feet) with a gun in my hand. (Which was not loaded, I feel compelled to point out, so my “big plan,” if you can call it that, would not even have worked.) However, this argument really did not cut it with Jim.

So the outcome was that I got spanked, good and hard. He said a lot of things about intent and poor attitude and guns in the house. I came around to his way of thinking eventually, which I will type here for you: smoke detectors are our friends. Smoke detectors save lives. Women who tamper with smoke detectors WILL get their butts busted. And one other thing: Waffle paddles leave waffle patterns on bare skin.

I’m going to violate my usual prohibition against posting YouTube videos in order to share this classic bit of spanking animation:

Thanks to Adele for finding it.

Although it’s not actually a spanking picture (though there is some whipping later in the scene) I just love the look of apprehension on the face of Whipped Ass model Candace Von. She’s looking at the whip and you can just tell she’s thinking “Oh my God, please no, oh my God, this is going to hurt…”

I’ve no wish to offend anyone (at Christmas of all times!) but I don’t mind acknowledging that the tendrils of religion, eroticism, and kink have been entwined by better folk than me, going back for centuries at least, and probably to the very dawn of religion in its most pagan forms. Is there anyone out there so bold as to claim that a painting like this one (William Bouguereau’s 1880 The Flagellation of Christ - larger version here) was, or is, utterly devoid of erotic sensibility?

[crickets]

I didn’t think so.

Merry Christmas, everybody!

But of course sometimes it’s Santa Claus who gets the spanking, especially when she’s cute. I found this picture on Flikr:

Here’s another gem from one of the classic spanking magazines. What a paddle!

There’s a nice authentic look of anguish on the face of the recipient of this vintage OTK hairbrush spanking:

Found in the vintage images newsgroup on Usenet.

See Also:

• Four Spanking Hairbrushes
• Betty Page Gets A Hairbrush Spanking
• Hairbrush Spanking

OK, OK, so everybody knows that lumps of coal are not a clear enough message for the determined bad girl. Indeed, I’ve been somewhat dismayed to find that even a stocking full of switches doesn’t always lead to a year’s good behavior. Nope, sometimes Santa has to abandon mere hints and get right into the business of delivering a nice clear message to naughty girls:

That oughta do it!

This vintage photo of a good brisk whipping with a martinet has the look of the 1980s spanking magazines:

But I found it at the spanking newsgroup on Usenet.

I’m very much enjoying reading A Farmwife With A Twist. Here’s a sample:

I wasn’t being punished last night. J. came back from Michigan and he came to a clean, warm, home, he was happy to be with his wife and daughter, some winterizing I did this past weekend had already made a couple degrees difference in the house, and there was nothing to rebuke me for. Nor was there a need. We were just so happy to be together.

After putting the baby down to sleep, I came downstairs carrying, well, a cane. He smiled mischievously. “What are the rules?” he asked. - “No rules.” - “No rules? Well, then bend over.” He directed me how to bend over with my hands on the coffee table in front of the sofa he was sitting on to provide him with the most comfortable angle.

He began caning me over my blue jeans. It didn’t start out very hard, but the strength increased and so did the pain. I was soon crying out in great discomfort, even though it only landed over my pants. I turned my head and looked at him with the pained expression on my face. I asked him how long he was going to be doing this. “There are no rules,” he said. “Look straight ahead.” He continued in the same fashion. I leaped up to my feet after an especially hard stroke. “Get back into the position,” he commanded, and I submitted, reluctantly. Some more caning followed. Finally, I begged him to stop. “OK”, he said, “5 more. I want you to count.”

It is almost scarier to be caned while counting off every stroke, since I keep thinking about how many more are to come and that the last one is surely going to be excruciating. Somehow, not without some effort, I got to 5.

Next, he instructed me to kneel in front of the sofa and hold my hands out. Now, the thing is, as much as I find the idea of hand caning erotic, I am very afraid of it because it really HURTS….

Cozy!

From the “advice to young ladies” file: If two of you go picnicking with a feller, and you tease him mercilessly because you think “hey, we’re in public, what can he do?”, it’s worth remembering that the woods aren’t really all that public:

Besides which, he may not care.

One of the things I purely love about The Spanking Writers is the way in which Haron so clearly understands her crimes:

And then there was yesterday morning, when I got spanked for - I’m not sure what, but it might have been for the crime of having a bottom, and standing around with only some French knickers on while I was brushing my hair in the morning.

It’s not every woman who understands that sometimes, just having a bottom is a spankable offense.

Anyway, it happened like this:

So, I’m minding my own business (damp hair), when Abel swoops into the bedroom, sees me and says something along the lines of: “Well, if you show off your bottom like that…” He grabs my Mason Pearson hairbrush, pushes me over the bed, and wallops me with it about two dozen times.

It stings. A lot. Hairbrushes tend to.

So that was that: random, unprovoked acts of violence in the home, and he seemed mighty pleased with himself after all that.

As well he might!