Spanking Blog: Adult Erotic Spanking At Its Best

There’s really nothing to compare, cuteness-wise, to the concerned brow furrow on the face of a sweet cutie-pie who has just discovered that the big leather spanking paddle really, really hurts:

And then when she says “ouch, stop!” and he doesn’t stop? Pure wounded remonstrance:

Of course, if you look at what the cane and strap have done to her bottom, you can see why she feels modestly put upon.

Pictures courtesy of Spanked Cutie.

See Also:

• Face Of A Spanked Girl
• Pouting From A Spanking
• Unhappy Spankee

This vintage gem featuring the apparent domestic discipline of a big-bootied wife is a classic in the comic spanking postcard genre:

From Spanking Postcard.

See Also:

• Vintage Birching Postcard
• Pretty Girls And The Birch
• Old Spanking Postcard

Whilst rooting through the Spanking Blog archives for another purpose, I discovered a reference to a post on a long-defunct spanking blog called Post Coitum Animal Triste. I decided to check the Internet Archives Wayback Machine to see if the post could still be found. Alas, no. Sadly, only one month’s archive page from that blog appears ever to have been scooped into the spotty memory of that vast but capricious remembering beast.

But that one page had so many gems on it! So I decided to post several vignette-ish excerpts. I trust and hope that Irona, wherever she may be, will not mind.

On safewords:

I don’t have a safeword. In fact, I didn’t even know that such a thing existed until recently. The whole concept of safewords is totally exotic and foreign to me. M listens to what I say and he reads my body language (Ironian dialect). Body language has one enormous advantage over verbal expression: It is 100 % honest. If I tell M that hitting me sharply on the inner thighs and cunt with the riding crop feels “fuckingawfulandIcan’tbearitpleasestop!”, then he does. It is as simple as that. I usually revel in being whacked on my cunt with the crop, but I don’t have a constantly high pain threshold…

On caning and sex in the morning:

I’m a lucky girl, and I enjoy life’s simple pleasures. This morning I woke up as horny as hell and begging for:

One single cane stripe.

One silent, deadly, stinging woosh, perfectly executed and applied to the crest of my buttocks, precisely to the spot where the cane can be balanced without rolling off.

There was a price to pay, however. I was ordered to hold my arms outstretched, palms upward (I was face down on the bed), and M balanced a coin on each fingertip. I was admonished not to let one single coin fall off.

I failed miserably, a little pile of coins jingling on the bed before he’d even touched me. I still got my stripe though :). Then he rolled the tip of the cane back and forth over my clit and it came up glistening.

We collapsed, giggling, and he sucked and fucked me from here to next week.

On loving and whipping:

You order me to my knees, grab hold of my hair, gently but firmly pulling my head back until I am forced to look you in the eye. The love and concern in your expression humble me. You tell me in a stern voice that I have been bad, am to be whipped, and that you may well find it necessary to tie me. Shivers run down my spine. I cannot begin to describe the powerful tide of emotion that rips through me. I am melting.

Tie me, whip me, fuck me.

Above all else - love me.

On spanking and bad television:

I took myself off to bed early to relax and read, but ended up watching TV. M came in, scoffed at my choice of viewing and went out again. When he returned, he asked me what had happened next. I refused to tell him on the grounds of him making derisory remarks about the documentary in question and not being in the slightest bit interested. Big mistake. He grabbed my hairbrush, (would you believe that I was a hairbrush virgin?!), flipped me on to my tummy and walloped the answer out of me. I never knew a hairbrush could sting so bad, and I didn’t hold out for long… Today I woke up sporting a lovely bruise and with the exhilarating realisation:

He spanked me purely because he is in charge and because he can - and I loved every second of it.

On curing bad moods with the strap:

We snuggled, kissed, and he asked me how I thought I should have been dealt with, had we been alone in the house. I mulled this over for a while, but being a truthful and honest sub, I had to admit that I would have benefited greatly from being tied spreadeagled to the bed and whipped steadily and consistently with a strap or the crop on my buttocks, thighs and shoulders until I broke down and cried, releasing all the bad tension and pent up emotions (the firm application of leather to my bottom always induces tears, and I so needed to cry and couldn’t).

“Something to look forward to”, he said, smiling.

On getting spanked with a banana:

Fruit is good for you and very, err, versatile, we all know that, but have you ever been whacked on the derriere with a … banana?!

…

So he came after me, grabbed me by the shoulders (ignoring my cries of “You can’t, don’t you dare, I’m still siiiiiick!”) and pushed me to my knees in front of the sofa, held me down and belted my bum something like 6 or 8 times with said banana (slightly under-ripe and unpeeled). For good measure, he added another dozen or so with the palm of his hand. Then he growled:

“Let that be a lesson to you!” - or words to that effect.

…

The banana (all thud, no sting) survived its ordeal surprisingly unscathed (!), and my beloved proceeded to peel and eat it. I just hope he doesn’t make a habit of eating our toys.

On submissive talents:

My talents as a submissive are sadly lacking. M disagrees — he finds my raw need and willingness to perform oral sex on him when I’ve been ordered to my knees quite sweet.

On behavioral correction:

A direct impact on my bottom has a direct impact on my behaviour. I have pondered on this aspect of my psyche since my relationship with M developed it’s new dynamic, and I am still in the dark. Even years of therapy haven’t produced an answer. So much for therapy.

…

The short, sharp shock treatment works. Much wriggling, howling, rolling on to my back and being ordered back on to my tum later, I have learned my lesson. It definitely falls into the “don’t try this out at home, folks” category.

On submissive blowjobs:

I ask permission to lick your swollen cock, you stroke my hair, tilt my chin up with your hand, give me that intense look that dissolves any remnant of resistance I may still possess.

“Ask me again, nicely.”

“Please sir, oh please let me suck your cock, sir”.

The tip of my tongue flicks gently over the tip of your cock, laps round the shaft, up and down, returning to the tip to torment you. The salty, earthy and at the same time deliciously sweet pre cum trickles over my lips and down my chin. You are moaning hard and fast now, and my mouth, pussy, tits, bum cheeks are throbbing with anticipation. You raise me to my feet, motioning me to bend over the arm of the sofa. Of course, this can mean two things: I am in for a sound thrashing with the belt you discarded minutes before, and/or you will enter me from behind. Whip me and then mount me? Mount me and then whip me?

Putting this together makes me nostalgic for the first crop of spanking blogs that followed this one in 2003 and 2004 and 2005, most of them now long gone but for short snippets and broken links in my archives. Blogs vanish for many reasons, and I know that sometimes (only sometimes!) the reasons include wanting to take down the material. But in all the other cases (owner got bored, lost the man she was blogging about and with and so ran out of new material, forgot to pay the hosting bill, lost the domain name, whatever) it’s a loss to us all that those posts are no longer on the web.

Which brings me to an offer I’ve been meaning to make for some time. Did you ever write a spanking blog (or, really, any sort of kinky adult blog) that you wish was still on the web? If yes, do you have any sort of archives of your posts, in any electronic format (this includes online archives such as the WayBack machine)? I realize that for a lot of folks, figuring out how to convert old archives in odd formats into new web pages, then finding a stable and secure way of keeping those web pages online, might be too much of a challenge technically or financially. If that describes you, I’m offering to create a permanent archive of your old blog posts for you, and maintain it for free. The hosting costs would be trivial compared to what I’m already spending, and I’d dearly love to see more of the early spanking blogs preserved, than have been. My only requirement would be that you grant me a permanent and irrevocable license to maintain the material on the web; I don’t want to go to all the effort of building a mirror of your old blog, only to have someone ask me to take it down again at a later date.

Even if your archive is incomplete, it doesn’t much matter to me. If you blogged for more than a few months and got links from elsewhere in the spanking blog community, somebody out there is missing you. If there’s any substantial fraction of your work that could be restored permanently to the web, it would be worth doing.

If you’re interested in taking me up on this, get in touch and let me know what you have.

See Also:

• An Ode To The Cane
• And A Spanking For Irona

You know a college girl is worried about her grade when she shows up to negotiate with the prof while wearing a slutty “spank me” schoolgirl outfit that’s five years too young for her:

“Sorry, chickadee, you got a D-minus. I’ve got an Aloe Vera plant could do better. It’s not gonna be quite as easy as just flashing your pretty legs about in a short plaid skirt…”

First the gag to keep her quiet:

Now some rope for her wrists and a bend over the desk for her punishment:

For pictures and video of the bondage blowjob and the helpless anal sex while spread wide in ropes on the professor’s desk, click here. Pictures are courtesy of Sex And Submission.

See Also:

• School Room Paddlings
• Red Spanked Bottom
• Schoolgirl Punishments

In which a self-professed lingerie shopgirl runs a charity spanking booth while dressed as a dominatrix nun, and attracts all sorts of interesting offers as a consequence. There’s just a hint of “OMG, what a bunch of weirdo pervs” in her writing style, but it’s fun nonetheless:

It had started innocently enough: our friend Stacy stopped by Scarlett’s to announce that our friend Jane was organizing an Aids fundraiser. Stacy thought we would want to participate. “I thought this sounded like something you would be interested in doing. Jane thinks so too!”. Jane wanted us to dress as nuns, presiding over a confessional, gamely slapping the wrists of the “sinners”. She also wanted us to find someone who could be a priest. “What is a confessional without a priest?” She gave us a few days to consider. It only took us a few minutes to agree.

“Stacy, tell Jane we are in!”

We spent the next few days discussing our costume options, none of which appeared festive enough to us. Then our friend Susie came by. Susie was a very talented seamstress who made costumes for feature dancers, or well known strippers. A tall limber gymnast, she was also a part time stripper on the side, something her husband seemed to enjoy even more than she did.

“Why don’t you just turn it into a spanking booth and forget the confessional?” she asked.

…

Later that day, Susie stopped by the store with a few sketches of potential costumes… She showed us a sketch of a nun’s costume that looked nothing like the nuns from my former grade school. This habit had a long black skirt with two crotch high slits with black fishnets peeking through the slits. It was topped with a shiny black patent bustier paired with the traditional wimple, something she was very adamant about us wearing. We were shocked and thrilled! This was it! Susie was even more excited than us. “I really didn’t think you would pick this version. I was afraid I’d gone too far!”

A few weeks passed and Susie came by for the initial fittings of our spanking nun costumes. In a word: fabulous! The skirts were formfitting forties style pencil skirts with slits up to *there* on each side. She had taken bustiers from the store and covered them in shiny black vinyl with slightly cone shaped breasts that showed maximum cleavage (something my friends didn’t even know I had…). The wimples were exact replicas in black and white with veils that ended slightly below our shoulders. Susie measured and pinned and promised to have the alterations finished in a few days.

…

As the liquor started to take it’s effects on the crowd our business began to pick up. Soon Denise and I were both too busy spanking our costumed customers to attend to the confessional crowd. We abandoned the confessional to our priest friend. While he smacked wrists with the ruler we were busy spanking bottoms with the riding crop and ping pong paddle. No takers on the bull whip, the wimps! After about an hour of spanking bottoms, a couple dressed as a sexy French maid and chauffeur approached us.

“Hey” he asked “do you spank bare butts?” He bent the sexy maid over, lifted her skirt, exposing her bare bottom.

Denise looked at me, I looked at her and said “I think we’re going to need more liquor for that”. Denise looked at the chauffeur and said “Go get us some shots of tequila and we’ll do it!”

I think Denise thought she had scared them off with her demand of tequila shots but about twenty minutes later the chauffeur and maid returned with four tequila shots. I guess Denise and I weren’t the only ones who needed fortification to do the deed. After clinking glasses, we downed the shots and I said “so what is your weapon of choice?”.

The chauffeur looking at Denise replied “could you do it with your bare hand?”

Denise stared at me shaking her head ever so slightly no.

I shrugged and said “well it is for charity, so yeah, Denise could do that”. Denise shot me a dirty look.

The saucy French maid bent over while the chauffeur flipped up her short black skirt. While about a dozen voyeurs looked on, Denise spanked her on her bare ass. The chauffeur was thrilled, er, maybe excited was a better word. Then the maid paid to have him whipped with the riding crop. The two of them were attracting a lot of attention. Soon we were barraged with requests for spankings, bare assed and clothed, all of which we obliged for charity. We spanked an array of drunk costumed revelers using everything but the dangerous, potentially eye eradicating bull whip. No one, no matter how drunk they were was prepared to face the bull whip.

By the end of the night we had raised more money than any other booth at the fund raiser. We were exhausted! Who knew how hard it was to be a dominatrix spanking nun?

See Also:

• Whipping A Nun
• Priest Spanking Latex Nun
• The Spanking Nun
• Nun Spankings: Losing The Culture War?
• Nun Spanking

Get caught skinny dipping, get a spanking. Simple — but not as simple as it sounds. From Pieces:

I told the giant squid if he didn’t get A/C for the house I was going to trek to northern climes.

“It’s only a few days a year, bambina.”

“I can’t take the heat!” I said a little louder than I normally speak.

“You think this is hot?” he grumbled. “Wait till you feel how hot it’s gonna get on your tush!” This was said in a not-so-nice tone of voice.

“Bully!”

SWAT!

“I’m leaving and spending the next few days in an air conditioned hotel. You can order takeout for you and the pups.”

SWAT!

“You’re staying,” he said with great confidence. “And tonight, we’ll go skinny dipping. Sound good?”

Ohhhhhhh skinny dipping. Our neighbor is out of town and told us to use their pool whenever we wanted to. Very few pools out this way. We had one in Miami when we lived there and used it most of the year. Hmmm… no neighbors, beautiful pool, hot night, skinny dipping. Okey dokey, I can do that.

So… that evening - late - we walked over to the neighbor’s house. The house is surrounded by tall evergreens and it’s very dark so we turned on one outside patio light so we could see where we were. Stripped and jumped into the pool.

Splashing, swimming, teasing, the band is cued to play… and just when things were getting v-e-r-y yummy, a humonguously bright light is turned on and directed at us. I scurried behind the giant squid. A voice says very calmly…

“Is that you, Admiral?”

Apparently, the neighbor on the other side heard us and thought a couple of teenagers were trespassing on the property and called the police.

Honestly…

“Good evening, Officer,” Cowboy says just as calmly, treading water as if he was used to being scrutinized in his birthday suit.

Total frontal nudity! Accckkkkk!

Not wanting to be left out of the fun…

I’m still hiding my naked self behind Cowboy but I yell - “Oh Officer, this big mean man ripped my clothes off!

He tossed me into the pool!

He means to have his way with me!”

Spanked by a Navy SEAL, that’s gotta smart!

See Also:

• Bathing Beauty Spanking
• Beach Spanking
• Spanking The Bathing Beauties

Ah, Janus, that most venerable of spanking magazines. Here’s a school caning story (found at A Taste of The Birch) in which a lucky young man is privileged to witness the vigorous caning of two attractive female classmates. It’s all the sweeter for the justice of the affair, as they had striven most foully to see him caned in just such a fashion, for no better reason than spite:

“Touch your toes girl!”

She was indeed making a fuss, but the Head was certainly on form. He was whacking that yard of swishy rattan down with a vengeance onto a tender target that I guessed had never even been spanked before. Hesitantly Diane bent forward.

“Skirt!”. This time Mr.Thomas made her reach back to flip her own short skirt to the small of her back. How I wished I could have seen the two raised red stripes that must have been adorning that pretty posterior. Her knees were bent this time and she appeared to be trying to lower her bottom out of range.

“Straighten those legs. Now!”

They straightened. Her trembling fingertips stretching to reach her toes.

“If you get up again, Miss Bennett, or if I have to remind you once more of the required position to take a caning, I will get Robertson to hold your hands tightly and put you across the desk for the remaining strokes!”

Oh God, no! I thought. She’ll be bound to detect my excitement - my sweaty hands, my shaking fingers, maybe even see my stiffie…but then there will be the thrill of staring into her eyes as the cane bites and watching the pained contortions on her sexy face.

Tap, tap, tap…SWISH! THWACK! Another squeal after the explosion of sound but the Head’s threat had worked because, although her fingers left her toes and her knees sagged slightly, she did more or less maintain her undignified, submissive position. Within seconds she had regained her posture, even though she was making high-pitched moaning sounds which aroused me considerably.

Tap, tap, tap…SWISH! THWACK!

This time a shrill shriek and a frantic rubbing together of thighs, mobilising her scorched rear into a very erotic side to side wiggle. Her hands made white-knuckled fists then slowly straightened out again. Now she grasped her ankles firmly and braced back her legs.

See Also:

• Religious School Canings
• Caned For Truancy
• Schoolgirl Revenge

Ah, sometimes the old standbys are best. Here a stable girl (no clothes, poor thing) gets bent over a saddle and whipped like the devil by two uniformed men:

From Whipped Women, of course.

See Also:

• Whipping Post Picnic
• Timid Helen
• The Smacking Of Meris

This looks like another one of those scans from the 70s and 80s spanking magazines, somebody’s getting her bottom tanned with a hairbrush in a very sparsely-furnished bedroom:

For some reason the guy strikes me as having a preacher haircut. Pastoral counseling, anyone?

See Also:

• Bethie's New Hairbrush
• Another Hairbrush Spanking
• What, No Hairbrush Spanking?
• The Warming Power Of A Hairbrush Spanking

This is from Sorority Pledge as found on alt.sex.stories:

Sorority girls can do anything they want to pledges, so spontaneous spankings are frequent and commonplace. Luckily for pledges this hazing period lasts only two weeks.

In the evenings,after classes, I’d make Jennifer strip down to her bra and panties or make her wear some equally humiliating outfit while she slaved away at the chores given to pledges. If the assigned chores weren’t satisfactorily completed (which was nearly always) it meant going over the barrel for a spanking.

The “barrel” is a large drum shaped cylinder on short legs with handles and fastening straps. Girls are put naked over the barrel with their ankles strapped in place and their bottoms are in the uppermost position. This is a terrific device for impromptu punishments as well as ceremonial spankings.

An interesting variation on the barrel is one that I used frequently with Jeniffer. I’d make the pledge straddle the device lengthwise as though riding horseback and have her lie forward and hug the barrel to keep from sliding off. This position naturally stretches the bottom good and tight and is extremely embarrassing for the “rider”. I never inflicted any permanent damage to Jennifer. I usually would hand spank her until she’d start crying.

As a deviation of the above sorority practices I’d like to relate the sexiest and most memorable incident of spanking that’s ever happened to me. After a boring day of classes I was itching for some entertainment in the form of spanking Jennifer’s all too appealing bottom. In order to make the experience an intimate and exciting one (for me, anyway) I left word for my little pledge to report directly to my room.

In time the coquettish underling appeared as commanded. Jennifer is a petite little dumpling with rich brown hair shortly bobbed in a becoming hairstyle. The girl was still in her street clothes and carried a handful of books. Faking a truly bitchy mood, I ordered her to lock the door behind her and to strip naked. Knowing the punishment for disobedience to a superior, Jennifer began to instantly undress.

In two minutes she was standing before me in her birthday suit. She was especially nervous and trembling visibly. I told her to bring me the hairbrush from my bureau and to drop face down across my thighs. She did so with a gasp of mixed fear and humiliation. She had never been spanked over my lap like this and was obviously terrified.

I applied the first spank with great vigor, the hairbrush smashed down on one tender bottom cheek. Jennifer flinched. I then announced that she must count aloud each spank and thank me for it.

“SMACK!! One…Oh, t-thank you…SMACK. T-Two. Thank you…” and so on.

This was kept up to my great delight for nearly thirty hair-raising spanks. By now the pledge was crying and stammering, but I didn’t let up. At last the despondent pledge begged for mercy and offered to do anything else rather than have the spanking continue. The girl stimulated my curiosity and I asked her what she’d be willing to do to have me stop spanking her. I was surprised when she offered to lick my toes for an hour.

I was justly intrigued by the depravity of her suggestion. “You’ll have to lick more than just my toes,” I responded.

“All right, anything. ANYTHING!”

See Also:

• Good Hard Sorority Paddling
• Sorority Paddling
• Sorority Spankings

In which a man has a mild conversation with his wife about protocol for office visits:

She flew at him again cursing and flailing him with her tiny fist, she was furious, she began to cry.

Deke grabbed her arms and jerked her across his lap with her derriere pointing skywards. He spanked her little ass good.

She screamed, spit and cursed. One would have through he was killing her, but the employees knew better than to interfere in the boss’s squabbles, and they also knew it was over the beautiful blonde who had been in his office earlier. However, in the minds of his assistants she was getting exactly what she deserved, busting in like this, acting like they didn’t even exist!

Deke asked sternly, “Are you ready to be reasonable about this?”

She screamed, “Wife beater!”

He popped her another resounding slap on her ass and said, “That’s for the profanity, now will you quit?”

She said, “O.K. dammit, I quit, now let me up.”

He slowly released her. She got from his lap rubbing her fanny. “That hurt.”

Deke said, “That’ll teach you to come bursting into my office like an angered pea fowl and falsely accuse me.”

From a 2002 romance called “The Yellow Daffodil”. (Note to the guys: cheesy romances, if you can stomach them, are a wonderful treasure trove of spanking scenes, not to mention detailed scripts for how to act like a 1950s chest-thumping brute while not only getting away with it, but winning fair maiden in the process.)

See Also:

• A Well Deserved Spanking
• Should Wives Be Spanked?

I could be wrong, but I don’t remember ever posting a spanking picture featuring a spankee complete covered in rubber or latex before. Now, courtesy of The Training Of O, I’ve got a caning picture for all you rubber fetishists out there:

More here.

See Also:

• Bondage Girlfriend Cleaning Urinals
• Latex Gloves And Oil Spanking
• Priest Spanking Latex Nun
• "The Age of Duckie Training has Arrived!"

As Bethie will be quick to tell you, any time I pick up a whippy cane or any thin flexible implement, it’s not the strike she worries about, it’s the wrap-around. I think this whipping drawing found via the HQseek spanking porn link list illustrates the extreme case:

See Also:

• Boob Caning Party
• Wet Nipple Spanking
• Chinese Breast Whipping

Another spanking scene from a long-forgotten novel, namely, Theirs Was The Kingdom by one R.F. Delderfield:

“You damned little fool!” he shouted. “That water was deep and you can’t swim a stroke! Don’t you ever use your head, except as a post for silly hats?”

She was half-lying in the two or three inches of water they had shipped and her expression, as she raised her head and stared up at him, with her mouth open and her three-storey-and-basement hat half toppled, would have struck him as comical had he not realised how near she had come to over-setting them in a deep and turbulent patch of water. She said, rising to her knees, “How dare you swear at me! Nobody swore at me before!” And to his extreme irritation, she slapped him across the face with her wet glove.

It was not really a case of consciously following Sir Clive’s hint. The exasperation of months went into his reflex action he threw himself forward grabbed her by the waist, threw her half across his knee, and began to spank her so soundly that her struggles rolled them half out of the boat. Then he loosed his hold of her, so that she pitched half in and half out of shallows where, despite the dry spell, there was still mud in hoof sockets left by the cattle.

I missed this birthday spanking Bonnie got last year. First, a snipped from the beginning:

Whack! Ow! That first swat is harder than I expected.
Whack! My lover’s stiff palm again makes contact with my taut flesh.
Whack! This isn’t quite the birthday spanking I had imagined.
Whack! The readers voted for a hand spanking.
Whack! I figured I would be draped across Randy’s lap.
Whack! I pictured something a bit more intimate. In fact, I envisioned something downright sensual.
Whack! But here I am, standing, bent over in the middle of the bedroom.
Whack! Ouch, Ouch, Ouch!

And then, a snipped from the end:

And then there was one to grow on. Randy retrieved from our closet the dreaded Mother of All Paddles. I figured that accursed plank would have to make an appearance. Though banned as inhumane for everyday spanking activities, Randy still drags it out once each year. That day, it seems, is at hand.

Rather than just getting on with it, Randy felt the need to tease. He rubbed the sanded hardwood against my already toasted cheeks. He tapped a few times before resuming his rubbing.

“All right already!” I moaned. I didn’t really want a gigantic swat, but I was sick of waiting.

BOOM! The sound reverberated off of the walls and the force of the impact nearly pushed me over. I raised myself to a standing position, all the while vigorously rubbing my bare, punished bottom with both hands. That swat hurt even more than I remembered. OK, I was now thoroughly and completely spanked. If last colossal whack was one to grow on, I should soon be an Amazon.

Randy hugged me and again wished me a happy birthday.

A reader emailed me this birthday spanking photo, complete with balloons and cake. Two girls spanking a third:

From Punishment Book:

M has decided that he needs to spank me as close in time to my transgressions as possible. Which means, given my living quarters, that we need a very quiet implement.

Sigh. Show of hands: does anyone know what the quietest spanking implement in the world is?

A wire coat hanger.

That’s right. It hurts like hell but is almost completely silent.

That should do it, all right. Though really, a slim rattan cane is almost as quiet, and I should think it would be a bit more controllable.

I always enjoy the fun-spanking photos featuring pretty girls and inebriated grins:

Via Chross.

Whilst idly perusing the spanking freesites listed at the unfortunately-named Hoes.com Spanking link list, I stumbled over a fine set of wench-whipping pictures featuring nice costumes and a lovely medieval outdoor setting (I’m a sucker for a stone wall):

The picture, it turns out, is from Spanking Server.

In The Decameron (Giovanni Boccaccio, 1353) we read:

Good steed, bad steed, alike need the rowel’s prick,
Good wife, bad wife, alike demand the stick.

See Also:

• Betith The Maidin, Thakketh The Wench
• Spanking In Literature
• Classical Chastisement

She’s just standing there sending a fax, but it doesn’t take an expert in criminal justice to know — just from looking at her! — that she’s guilty. She’s busted and she knows it:

And, she’s getting what’s coming to her:

Pictures are from this Cal-Star Spanking gallery, found at Spank Slaves Spanking TGP.

Someone reminded me of a scene from the novel Tai-Pan by James Clavel, in which our hero rants dramatically at his Chinese slavegirl before whipping her gently-but-dramatically with a fresh bamboo:

Struan realized that it was useless to argue or reason with May-may. You canna treat her as a European, he told himself. Deal with her as through you’re Chinese. But how’s that! I dinna ken. Treat her as a woman, he ordered himself, deciding on a tactic.

He exploded with pretended rage. “You are a miserable slave, by God! And I’ve a mind to sell you into the Street of the Blue Lanterns,” he shouted, naming the worst of the seamen’s streets in Macao, “though who’d want to buy a dirty baggage slave like you I dinna ken. You’re nothing but trouble and I’ve a mind to give you to the lepers. Aye, by God! I paid eight thousand taels of good silver for you, and how dare you make me angry? I was cheated, by God! You’re worthless! Dirty slave–how I’ve put up with you these years I dinna ken!” He shook his fist in her face, and she recoiled. “Am I na good to you? Eh? Generous? Eh? Eh?” he roared, and was pleased to detect fear in her yes. “Well?”

“Yes lord,” she whispered, biting her lips.

“You dare to get clothes made behind my back and dare to wear them wi’out my approval, by God? Well, do you?”

“Yes, lord.”

“I’ll sell you tomorrow. I’ve a mind to throw you out now, you miserable motherless whore! Kowtow! Go on, kowtow, by God!”

She blanched at his fury and kowtowed quickly.

“Now keep kowtowing until I come back!”

He stormed out of the room, and went back into the garden. He jerked out his knife and selected a thin bamboo from a newly planted grove. He cut it and slashed the air and rushed back into the living room.

“Take your clothes off, you miserable slave! I’m going to flog you till my arm hurts!”

Trembling, she stripped. He seized the dress from her hand and threw it aside.

“Lie down there.” He pointed at the ottoman.

She did as he ordered. “Please no to whip me too hard–I’m two months with child.” She buried her head in the ottoman.

Struan wanted to take her in his arms, but he knew that this would make him lose face in front of her. And a whipping was the only way to give her back her dignity.

So he slashed her buttocks with the bamboo. Hard enough to hurt, but not to damage. Soon she was crying out and weeping and squirming, but he kept on. Twice he deliberately missed her and slashed the leather violently, so that the noise was terrifying, for the benefit of Lim Din and Ah Sam who he knew would be listening.

After ten blows he paused and told her to stay where she was, and went over to the brandy bottle. He drank deeply, hurled the bottle against the wall, and resumed the whipping. But always with great care.

Finally he stopped and dragged her up by the hair. “Put on your clothes, your miserable slave!” When she was dressed, he bellowed, “Lim din! Ah Sam!”

They were trembling at the door in an instant.

“Wat for nae tea nae food, you miserable slaves! Get food!”

He hurled the bamboo at the side of the door and turned back to May-may.

“Kowtow, your motherless wreck!”

Aghast at the limitlessness of his fury, she hastily complied.

“Clean yoursel’ and come back here. Thirty seconds or I’ll start all over again!”

Lim Din served the tea and though it was just right, Struan said it was too cold and threw the teapot against the wall. May-may and Lim Din and Ah Sam rushed away and hurried back with more.

The food came with incredible speed also, and Struan allowed himself to be served by May-may. She whimpered with pain and he shouted, “Shut up or I’ll whip you forever!”

Then he fell silent, ominously, and ate, letting the quiet torture them.

“Pick the bamboo up!” He screamed as he finished.

May-may fetched the bamboo and handed it to him. He prodded her in the stomach. “Bed!” he ordered harshly, and Lim Din and Ah Sam fled, secure in the knowledge that the Tai-Pan had forgiven his Tai-tai, who had gained limitless face by enduring his righteous fury.

May-may turned around tearfully and went along the corridor towards her quarters, but he snarled, “My bed, by God!”

See Also:

• Learning To Love The Cane
• Chinese Spanking Statue
• Financial Planning The Chinese Way
• Chinese Breast Whipping
• Decadent Cruelty, Bamboo Cane

Speaking of pilgrims, you know those East Coast tourist traps where they’ll have a colonial village to traipse through, complete with some stocks for you to put your wife in while you take a picture?

I’m just guessing here, but I’m guessing this is some Asian equivalent. These look like tourists, they seem to be having fun, but that horizontal crucifix with the heavy ropes at feet and wrists looks like a very serious spanking bench to me:

Of course, if you’ve ever lived near a tourist destination, fixed facilities for beating the tourists might begin to sound real good to you after awhile.

Ah, Puritans. First persecuted, then become the persecutors, for a time they had an ugly habit of whipping Quakers. And for all their legendary prudishness, they didn’t mind parading naked ladies through the streets as long as there was whipping involved. One Margaret Brewster, on trial for having crashed a Puritan sermon, had the temerity to criticize the Quaker-whipping laws, only to be admonished:

“Margaret Brewster, you are to have your clothes stript off to the middle, and to be tied to a cart’s tail at the South Meeting House, and to be drawn through the town, and to receive twenty stripes upon your naked body.”

Thanks to The Spanking Writers for the link.

I really like this vintage hairbrush spanking photo from Vintage Spank. As always, I’m a sucker for expressive faces: