Spanking Blog: Adult Erotic Spanking At Its Best

Some candor on whipping, from a woman who wants a whipping now and again:

I have a strong mind and an even stronger will. While I’d been waiting for years for someone who could subdue me, sometimes I wasn’t all that easy to subdue. Even if I wanted to be. Even if I wanted to reach that place of softness, of opening, of letting someone in, I couldn’t necessarily command it into being.

So he’d whip me.

There was an element of ritual to these whippings. A footstool was placed in the middle of his living room that he’d bend me over. I’d be on all fours, with my ass in the air, expectant. Scared. Sometimes the sweat would drip from my armpits, as I knelt poised on the edge of anything-could-happen. I could not move away or flinch or he’d whip me harder. The only recourse I had was acceptance. I could hear the whoosh of the crop through the air and its subsequent sting, slicing my ass, or my upper thighs, would reverberate through my entire body.

…

There is a gift in someone who dares to be so rough with me. Most men would never dare. I need to know that a man will be so bold, that at least he is capable of this sort of wielding. Then I can trust him. The flimsy men, the ones who would never dare to hurt me, to see me flinch, to bend me over and take me anywhere, anytime; I have no use for. Their trepidation is suffocating to me. And reflective of their behavior outside the bedroom. It always is. You can tell a lot about someone by how they fuck: Timid or decisive. Experimental or staid. Hard-driving and fierce or languid and droopy. My selection criteria is all about this crucial element: Can this man take charge? Does he dare?