Spanking Blog Archive for May, 2008
Enforcing The “Bend Over” Position
Bondage Blog has closeups of what looks like a very antique device for keeping someone bent over in spanking position:
Basically two sets of thumbscrews affixed to a forged iron stake, would be very cruel (if cruelly used) but certainly effective!
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Caned? On A Train?
I think we all know where this is going:
We were in Australia, leaving Sydney by train. As we had just been visiting kinky friends there, HH was armed and dangerous. I can’t honestly remember now what it was I did or said (possibly nothing), but HH looked around and commented that the train was virtually empty, that we had the entire carriage to ourselves.
“Don’t even think about it,” I muttered, eyeing my surroundings warily. (Note to bottoms: NEVER say this to a top.)
His eyebrows climbed to his hairline and I saw the gleam in his eye as he stood up slowly to get his case down from the overhead compartment. I looked around frantically. “Someone will come!” I insisted.
And go there it does — thanks, Niki!
Spanked And Squeezed Bottom
Dungeon Spanking Machine
Via the Spank Slaves Blog, we have this exquisite automated dungeon spanking device, which works continuously while our heroine’s leering torturer lazily supervises the punitive operation:
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It’s Risky To Be (Spanking) Frisky
I love the spanking illustration and innuendo (”How To Tame A Shrew”, indeed!) in this advertisement for a “marital tips” pamphlet from one of the old magazines:
You’ve got to love the vague but suggestive copy:
The French have a word for it. In French it’s FOLLIES. And in English it’s MARRIAGE MISCHIEF — a rave hit with either sex, single or married.
Presented here are keyhole showings of marriage, in various stages of doing, undoing, and doing in. Lively numbers to entertain, a Physiology of Folly to wisen you up, and adult cartoons.
It takes all kinds of mix-match to make MARRIAGE MISCHIEF. So unwind and set your sights for a reeling, revealing experience. See the kiss-happy and the slap-happy, the fast and the loose, the antics of the frantic. A “wicked” wedding or anniversary gift. Order on the spree of the moment, keep it for the time of your life!
FEATURES:
- Mother Never Told You
- What Men Want In Their Wives
- The Art of Being A Husband
- The Bridal Bed
- Hazards Of The First Night
- Rough Beginnings of The Honeymoon
- How To Tame A Shrew
- The Wife Of Bath’s Fifth Husband
Plus other insights and hindsights.
The one thing that made me curious was that line about the Wife of Bath’s Fifth Husband. The Wife of Bath is Chaucer of course, but I haven’t read my Chaucer. What suggestive thoughts does this reference allude to, in the mind of a better-read-than-me person?
To the Google-mobile!
Ahh, here it is. Oh, boy.
I think I’d best let The Wife speak for herself — first in Chaucer’s original words and then in a modern English “translation”:
Now of my fifthe housbonde wol I telle.
God lete his soule nevere come in helle!
And yet was he to me the mooste shrewe;
That feele I on my ribbes al by rewe,
And evere shal unto myn endyng day.
But in oure bed he was so fressh and gay,
And therwithal so wel koude he me glose,
Whan that he wolde han my bele chose,
That thogh he hadde me bete on every bon,
He koude wynne agayn my love anon.
I trowe I loved hym best, for that he
Was of his love daungerous to me.
We wommen han if that I shal nat lye,
In this matere a queynte fantasye;
Wayte what thyng we may nat lightly have,
Therafter wol we crie al day and crave.
Forbede us thyng, and that desiren we;
Preesse on us faste, and thanne wol we fle.
With daunger oute we al oure chaffare;
Greet prees at market maketh deere ware,
And to greet cheep is holde at litel prys:
This knoweth every womman that is wys.Modernly:
And now of my fifth husband will I tell.
God grant his soul may never get to Hell!
And yet he was to me most brutal, too;
My ribs yet feel as they were black and blue,
And ever shall, until my dying day.
But in our bed he was so fresh and gay,
And therewithal he could so well impose,
What time he wanted use of my belle chose,
That though he’d beaten me on every bone,
He could re-win my love, and that full soon.
I guess I loved him best of all, for he
Gave of his love most sparingly to me.
We women have, if I am not to lie,
In this love matter, a quaint fantasy;
Look out a thing we may not lightly have,
And after that we’ll cry all day and crave.
Forbid a thing, and that thing covet we;
Press hard upon us, then we turn and flee.
Sparingly offer we our goods, when fair;
Great crowds at market for dearer ware,
And what’s too common brings but little price;
All this knows every woman who is wise.
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Flogging In The Light
I hope, he said with mild sarcasm, this isn’t too far afield for the spanking purists in my readership. I really love this photo from Whipped Ass for its dramatic lighting, the dynamic pose of the woman with the whip, and its contrast with the ever-so-static girl in bondage, who is helpless to do anything but wait for the flogger to fall:
Click the picture to see it full sized. This one is far too nice to view in a mere 320 pixels of width.
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Punished With A Quirt
Recently, it seems, Pandora Blake was (accidentally?) somewhat abusive of her date. Which does not come with the same sort of free pass vanilla women are used to getting for bad dating behavior, not when her date is a leathercrafter and quirt enthusiast!
While I was waiting for him to arrive I felt really anxious. I knew I’d messed up and I didn’t know if he’d still be angry when he got there, and I didn’t know if he’d be the kind of angry that could be resolved in role or if our date was ruined before it started.
Eventually we found each other, and the look in his eye told me everything I needed to know. I was definitely in trouble. But it was the kind of trouble that meant I was going home with him at the end of the evening. I breathed a sigh of relief as I kissed his hand and said I was sorry. “Oh, you will be,” he said, and the threat held just enough of a spark of mischief that I could let go of my guilt. It would be dealt with later and I knew he’d be fair.
…
At one point in the evening he told me to stand with my hands resting on the wall while he used the quirt on me for the first time. I’ve wanted to taste this implement for years. He told me that this is what he’d be using for my punishment later. Twenty hard strokes, one for each minute he was kept waiting at home. I swallowed and looked down, knowing it was fair, frightened and excited but feeling that same security in his authority that was completely relaxing. He flicked the quirt against my shoulders, my back and buttocks, then started wrapping it, lashing my nipples and belly with the leather tips with perfect accuracy. The pain started to mount and each lash was beginning to really hurt. I was squirming in response to the quick, burning strokes and he had to tell me angrily to stay still.
Much later, when it was time for my punishment, I knew it was inevitable and I accepted it. He was gentle and firm and looked deeply into my eyes, checking in and connecting with me before telling me to resume my position against the wall. The whipping was hard and slow. I sobbed my count and my thanks after each stroke. I was quiet at first, concentrating on my breathing and on my count, emptying my mind and accepting the pain. By halfway through it was seriously hurting and I was struggling to stay still. By the end I was screaming before I found the breath to give my count, and afterwards I felt emptied, cleansed, resolved. It was closure, both emotionally and physically. Enough pain for me to really get a grip on, enough for me to feel pushed. I felt like I’d needed it, and in a strange way it was deeply satisfying.
Afterwards I knelt before him and thanked him for my punishment in a much more intimate way. I was very glad to be able to give him some closure in return. Tired and contented, we curled up in each other’s arms and talked quietly as we drifted off to sleep. The sun had come up some time ago.
If you follow the link to see the parts of the tale I did not quote, you’ll also find a bonus — two photos showing some really delicious red stripes.
See Also:
Getting More Sleep Than The Rest Of Us
Abel wonders: what goes on in the bedroom of vanilla couples?
Spanked Until She Cries
It all starts out so innocently. A nice red blush for the beautiful bottom-curves Llela has to display as she’s bent over the bentwood coffee table for a robust hand spanking:
But of course, this is Pain Toy we are talking about, so it must inevitably end in tears. Or, more accurately, descend into tears, about sixty seconds after the singletail whip starts marking breasts:
But not “end in tears”, oh no, because the shoot must go on.
Nell In Bridewell — The Illustrations?
Hey everybody, I’d like to pick your kinky resource knowledge, and crowdsource a search that’s been defeating me. I’m looking for a good online source (or good emailed scans, if somebody has them) of the twelve illustrations (plates) that accompanied early editions of the famous workhouse whippings book, Nell in Bridewell. The bibliographic info I have suggests that the illustrations were published and sold separately from the famous and rare 1900 Charles Carrington edition, but were included in the 1932 facsimile reprint.
The best quality set of scans I’ve seen is here. A couple of these are pretty decent, but I’m looking for better quality scans (some of those are very washed out) and higher resolutions and DPIs if possible, to use for a printed reproduction project (on paper).
If you can help, feel free to leave links in the comments or email me any files you may have. Thanks in advance!
