The Unfairly-Spanked Maid

There’s a charming little interlude near the beginning of Aishling Morgan’s book Maiden that mixes forced masturbation with punishment. A spoiled but sheltered noblewoman gets a new sexual notion from her not-so-sheltered lady’s maid, but obviously isn’t quite sure what to do with it. And we spankos will appreciate what she did next. When in doubt, spank somebody:

When Aisla had hinted to Elethrine of the pleasures of playing with her tuppenny, Elethrine had ordered the poor girl to do it, not believing it was possible. Aisla had protested, but under the threat of a paddling, had agreed. Blushing furiously, the maid had raised her skirts, opened her single pair of drawers, pulled apart her pantalettes to reveal a neat, pale pink tuppenny. With her eyes closed in embarrassment, Aisla had started to rub at the little bump towards the top of the soft pink centre.

As she played, her embarrassment had faded, until she was lying with her thighs spread wide, breathing deeply as her fingers worked in the wet, fleshy folds between her legs. The maid had popped her breasts out of her bodice after a while, feeling them and sighing and arching her body in a pleasure that was obviously no pretence. At the end Aisla had cried out as if in pain and called her mistress’s name, only to revert to coy blushes within the minute.

Elethrine had watched the display with the warmth between her own thighs becoming increasingly urgent. By the end she had felt so discomfited that she had ordered A isla to strip to her underwear and kneel on the bed with her haunches up. Elethrine had then opened the maid’s drawers wide to get at the full breadth of trim bottom. The position had left Aisla’s tuppenny and bottom ring showing, to Elethrine’s delight, and she had taken further pleasure in describing to Aisla how she looked. Elethrine had then beaten the poor maid across her bare buttocks, using a wooden rule, then a hairbrush and finally the thin cane that was kept for her own discipline.

Far from soothing her nerves, the act of beating her maid had only served to heighten Elethrine’s discomfiture. The harder she beat, the worse it had become, until Aisla’s bottom had become the colour of a ripe cherry and the unfortunate maid was crying into a pillow. Finally Elethrine had had to abandon the process and, feeling very odd indeed, had ordered Aisla to draw her a cool bath.

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Spanked With A Big Hairbrush

It might just be incompetence on the part of the artist, but it looks like he’s spanking her with a hairbrush that’s almost as big as his head:

spanked otk with a huge brush

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Mr. Spanky Bear

This latest video from AAA Spanking starts out very promising, with two girls, a pillow fight, easy-access pajamas, and a good ass-reddening hairbrush spanking:

pillow fight in drop-seat pajamas

hairbrush spanking for a girl in pajamas

But the cute-humiliating denoument is almost too precious for words. Instead of corner time, our spanked heroine Alex Reynolds has to pose in the lap of the giant teddy bear for stuffed-animal spanks:

spanked by the big teddy bear

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Crying As She’s Spanked

The authentic look of punished misery on her face is what caught my eye in this hairbrush spanking photo:

black girl spanked to tears with a hairbrush

Turns out this is a shot from the movie Miya’s Severe Hairbrushing, from a spanking video producer (Southeastern Woodshed) that seems to be no longer in business.

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Sophie Spanked With Silver Hairbrush

Here’s another Girls Boarding School classic! The lovely Sophie, getting spanked vigorously with a silver hairbrush:

sophie gets spanked hard on a couch with a silver hairbrush

And here she is with the instrument of her pain:

sophie in tears with the silver hairbrush that made her cry

If you’re not one for subscribing to porn sites like Girls Boarding School where you can see lots more of Sophie, you might enjoy seeing a bit more of her in pay-just-once streaming videos like this one:

a streaming video movie of sophie getting spanked

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A Hairbrush Spanking For Jen

The spanking started with Jen’s plain white panties still on, but how long can that last?

spanking jen over his knee with a hairbrush

Not long, of course! Already they are down around her ankles:

panties come down for Jen\'s hairbrush spanking

Jen\'s hairbrush spanking gets intense

From Real Spankings, almost ten years ago. I remember the video of this spanking being pretty special, too.

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The Hairbrush For Rosaleen

A very nice hairbrush spanking for the one and only Rosaleen Young:

Rosaleen Young hairbrush spanking

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She Asked For 1000 Cane Strokes

Here’s a post in which Bonnie-jo feels rebellious and ends up asking for more than she wanted, but getting less.

First she decided that corner time was not for her:

But I got thirsty, so I walked into the kitchen and turned on the tap, filled up a glass. The sound of the faucet brought him over to me quickly. He was grinning. “What are you–?”

“I was thirsty!!” I defend.

“I can see that,” He smiles, taking the glass from me. He sits down in a folding chair by our table and pulls me over his lap so fast my hands hit the carpet loudly as I slightly catch myself.

The hairbrush connects with my butt fast and hard, and I begin wondering what hurts more, the brush or the bathbrush. He makes me apologize and I do. “When I tell you to stay in the corner, what do you do?” SMACK!
“I stay in the corner.”
“You say in the corner, what?” SMACK SMACK!
“I stay in the corner, Sir.”
“When I tell you to not stamp your feet what do you do?
“I don’t stamp my feet…” SMACK SMACK SMACK!

We went on like this for awhile. And I thought to myself–okay, this is a good hard spanking. I’m done now. He’s done enough. I’ve scratched the itch. I will be good now.

But something inside of me said–No! You need so much more. You need to fight him more. You need to be punished more. You need to resist and be conquered more. And he’s leaving on vacation for awhile and you need to do it now when he’s here.

So I did. I said something saucy, and he quickly grabbed the bathbrush. That hurt, but surprisingly, it didn’t hurt all that much. At one point, he stopped to rub my bottom with one hand, let the bathbrush dangle in the other hand. I could see under the folding chair perfectly from my position, and the dangling bathbrush was just too tempting. So I grabbed it.

We played tug of war for awhile with that, and then he stopped moving. “Get up, Bonnie-jo.” I knew that voice. Something bad was going to happen. So I sent stiff over his lap and didn’t move. “Get up, now.”

“No.” I said.

He pushed me off his lap. It wasn’t a violent push, and it didn’t hurt me because I was trying to cling to him and the fall was a slow one, but all the same, I was surprised.

He went off to search our closet and I knew exactly what for.

He came back with the cane. “Get over the arm of the couch.” This has sort of become our signature caning position–me stretched over the arm of our black leather love seat, my feet on the ground. I absolutely hate it.

“Pleeaase!” I whimpered. “I want to stay on the bed! Please, please, please can you do it on the bed?”

“No. Get over the couch. Now!”

He actually hadn’t caned me for weeks and weeks, and suddenly, I was really scared. The last time I was caned it was for something very serious. And it hurt. It hurt way more than I like remembering.

“I’m staying on the bed.” I said.

“You were starting at only 2 strokes, Bonnie-jo. But I’m upping it now. ”

“I don’t care.”

“12 strokes.”

“I don’t care.”

“24 strokes.”

I grin up at him wickedly, a mixture of fear, resignation, and pure silliness, “How about one thousand, huh? How about that? Think you could do that?” I sound angry and realize I almost am.

“Okay, one thousand.” He says, “Now get on the couch.” I dig my fingers and toes into the bed and stick my bottom out, hoping he gives in. Nope.

He drags me to the couch and pushes me over the arm. “College Guy,” I say desperately, “You can’t cane me a thousand times, I wouldn’t be able to walk.”

“We’ll see how far we get.”

Unfortunately she kept on playing the “I want you to force me” game further than he was willing (or able?) to push it, and their evening ended unhappily and with no actual caning. It’s a dangerous and often destructive game, that “I’m going to keep resisting because I want to be forced even more strongly and more masterfully than he’s ever done it before” maneuver. A good man, however dominant, will calibrate his dominance based on previous negotiation and mutually-understood signals. If he starts getting unfamiliar signals and a novel degree of resistance, he’s unlikely to parse that as “oh, she wants to up the intensity of our game.” Instead, he’s likely to pull back or break out of the game for a reality check.

Trust me ladies, you don’t want a man who won’t do that. If he’s willing to power through all of your resistance no matter how unprecedented it is, what’s going to happen to you in a situation where you did — for some reason — withdraw your consent? Nothing good, I promise.

I know I’ll get angry letters from the “true slave” contingent for saying that, letters from the girls who enjoy the fantasy that they’ve voluntarily given up the power to withdraw their consent. But I believe a good dominant has the obligation — even when playing out that fantasy with someone — to remain alert to the possibility that consent has been withdrawn, even if she’s previously sworn on a stack of bibles that she won’t and that her most earnest desire is to abandon the capacity to do so. No degree of modern consensual slavery can destroy her basic human right to change her mind, and a dominant who doesn’t bear that constantly in mind is at risk of being a dangerous and potentially abusive asshole. Bonnie-jo is lucky her College Guy is sensitive to her changing signals, even if he didn’t parse them “properly” (from her perspective) this time.

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