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You can tell by the determined but also slightly desperate set of her grimace that it’s a very hard hand that’s delivering the spanking Cara is getting in this photograph:
Also, doesn’t that look like the perfect little service table to keep handy? A bit more stable than a stool, fine to keep near your couch and use to set your drink on, but very handy when you need something to bend a wayward girl over for a quick spanking!
Photo is from Realspankings.com.
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In Sex Slave Coed by Robert Vickers (Bondage House 1980), our horny young heroine spies on a cruel professor. He catches her, and punishes her, and makes her like it:
He was standing beside the sofa, a long whip curling and uncurling beside him as he flicked his wrist.
“No!” Manna shrieked. “You can’t do that. You can’t whip me like an animal!”
The whip sang. And when it touched her arm with such an obscenely soft caress she almost fainted dead away. There wasn’t the slightest trace of pain, just surprise. Seeing her stunned expression, the man laughed harshly.
“When I want you to feel pain, you’ll feel real pain. I am the master of pain! And don’t you forget it, slut. Now come here.”
He yanked on the whip handle and the young college student sailed across the room. The leather band had tightened miraculously to the point where it was like a handcuff on her wrist.
She stumbled and fell at his feet. This seemed to please him.
“My shoes are dirty,” he said. “Lick them clean.”
She started to rebel. This wasn’t what she’d come across town for. Then from the corner of her eye she saw the long whip moving slowly back and forth, as if barely restrained and hungering for her blood. She knew he would love to beat her until she was forced to grovel.
Manna wouldn’t give him that pleasure. She licked all the dust from his shoes.
Just as she finished his left shoe, he took a step backwards. She cringed in anticipation of the whip lashing out and dancing across her naked back.
The blow never came. Instead, his voice echoed in her ears, taunting her.
“You didn’t lick fast enough. I gave you your chance to please me and you failed. What should your punishment be?”
Manna didn’t want to answer. But when the whip cracked loudly in the air just above her head, she stammered out, “I… I don’t know, master. Please spare me!”
“Spare you?” he roared. “Of all the ridiculous things! Spare you? I’m going to whip you!”
She felt the sting even as she heard a hard wooden rod whistling through the air. The pain shot into her ass and made her moan. This was too much. She was going to throw off the chain around her neck, get out of the silly garter belt and stockings and leave. But the rod descended on her ass again and again. She tried to roll and avoid the punishment.
The chain fastened to her neck prevented it. And then, when she got to her hands and knees again, she felt the first real pain since she had been in Dr. Nathaniel’s grip…
Here’s the book cover.
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The following story about a Canadian wife spanking story from Winnipeg — and its legal aftermath, and the social dispute that followed — appeared in the Adelaide Chronicle in Australia, on Saturday May 19, 1928:
The text reads:
SPANKED HIS WIFE.
LAW CASE SETS CANADA TALKING.The prairie metropolis in Canada (states the Winnipeg correspondent of the London Daily News) is discussing whether a man should spank his wife. The proprietor of a local music store put his wife across his knee and spanked her because she insisted on going out with other men. She sued him, alleging cruelty and humiliation. Counsel for the wife, one time Solicitor General for Canada, said the husband’s act might have ‘got by’ in the days of the Roman republic. The Magistrate thought there was much virtue, despite its severity, in the Roman code; a little of its application in our modern social sphere would be beneficial, he said. He was obliged by law to convict the husband, but he let him out on suspended sentence. The burden of Winnipeg opinion is against the magistrate. The clergy say the Bible gives the mandate to the husband to beat his wife. One judge says the law forbids him to chastise her. Another member of the bench says he was a very forebearing husband to let her go with a whipping. The women, with one dissentient, say men ‘get away’ with actions they would not allow their wives to do. The dissenting voice, that of Winnipeg’s only woman lawyer, said her profession taught her that many modern women would be much better for an occasional contact with the switch. The controversy is spreading westward.
Winnipeg’s only lady lawyer in those days was kinda fierce: “Many modern women would be much better for an occasional contact with the switch” indeed!
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Bug-eyed monsters and lobster-men are a staple of bad science fiction, but one doesn’t often encounter them giving Earth girls the OTK spankings that we all know Earth girls crave. But this one, drawn by retro Russian pop artist Sveta Shubina, is getting the bug-eyed-monster spanking thing done right:
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Her master is graciously letting her choose a whip for her punishment. But somehow, she doesn’t seem happy about this! Indeed, she seems downright surly about the whole affair:
From Kitan Club.
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Poor Doris is a servant in the House Of Dark Pleasure (Greenleaf Classics 1972), and the mistress of the house is a cruel sadist indeed. Doris knows she’s in serious trouble when the dreaded punishment stool comes out of the closet:
“Fasten her to the punishment stool,” said Mildred, casually.
Doris’s eyes jerked open wide. The stool!
“No!” she screamed, “I won’t do it—no, no, no!”
Mildred lit a cigarette while Mabel dragged the strange stool from its place in the closet.
Doris made a lunge for the door, but George blocked her, regretfully but stolidly. “Relax, Miss Dainton,” he murmured.
Miss Dainton! She felt like laughing hysterically.
They stripped off her skirt, removed her shredded panties then tied her face down over the leather-covered stool. With vicious pleasure, Mabel tightened the straps that held her wrists and ankles in place.
“Get me the strap,” said Mildred, and Doris’s mind careened wildly. It isn’t possible! This can’t be happening to me! I’ve seen this happen to Mabel … but me, Doris, it isn’t real!
“No, no, no!” she screamed. “Stop it—I want to go—I’m not staying here—Yiiiiiiih!” The high sound of fear spiraled from her lips.
“Please, Doris,” said Mildred, patiently, “if you persist in screaming I’ll have to gag your mouth—the sound is hurting my ears!”
“Relax, Miss Dainton,” said George in his level voice.
She screamed again, and the sound seemed to excite Mildred. “See how her bottom squirms each time she screams,” she hissed.
“Is this the right strap, Ma’am?” George asked.
“Yesss,” Mildred hissed. “I don’t want to break the skin — this two-inch width is perfect.”
Petrified with fear, Doris heard the rustle of movement behind her; heard Mabel draw in her breath with an excited sound of anticipation … then the strap whistled through the air. The sharp pain cut through her buttocks, piercing from one sensitive cheek to the other then throbbing all over her bottom.
She screamed again—with rage as well as pain. That they should do this to me!
The strap slashed down again, and she screamed again.
Again, the slap of the leather then the shrill sound from her lips.
“Oh, pleeeeze, ” she moaned, “no more—please!”
Miraculously, the slashing ceased.
“Such soft young flesh,” Mildred whispered; then she felt fingers pinching her bottom, squeezing abused flesh cruelly but sensually and something stiff but narrow stabbed into her anus. “Hot little asshole,” murmured Mildred. “She’s a delicious piece of flesh. How could I ever let her go?”
There was a rustle of movement again, then Mildred snapped, “Is Doctor Basil here yet?”
“Waiting outside, Ma’am,” said George in his deferential voice.
“Have him come in,” Mildred snapped.
Doris heard the sound of the door opening, then Mildred spoke to Mabel. “Get the box from the dresser.”
“Yes, Ma’am,” said Mabel, eagerly, and Doris knew from the tone of the cook’s voice that she was looking forward to jabbing an electrode into her sensitive anus, then sending in searing shocks.
“No,” she moaned, “please, Mildred, not that!”
“Be patient, dear,” said her mistress. “Punishment before pleasure!”
Mabel’s voice was hungry. “Shall I stick it in her, Ma’am?”
“No!” Doris screamed, “oh, no!”
“Proceed, Mabel,” said Mildred, her voice calm, “don’t hurt her more than you have to!”
Doris felt as though her bottom was protruding up to the ceiling; she wanted to draw the cheeks in, contract her buttocks and make her small anus even smaller.
Mabel probed at the wet opening; Doris felt the cool end of the electrode touching the inner tissue, then Mabel stabbed it in, deeply, cruelly.
She screamed again; racked with pain but hopeless.
“Now turn on the current,” said Mildred.
The jolt made her flatten her belly against the leather-covered stool; an agonizing pain spiraled through her anus and into the base of her belly.
“Again,” said Mildred, “just watch the water squirt from her pussy— it’s a most exciting sight!”
The fierce current throbbed through her flesh again, making her squeal with agony, bite at her lips and urinate.
“Just one more,” said Mildred.
This time Doris jerked herself up until only the straps kept her body from twisting off the stool. The shocks throbbed all over her, paralyzing her throat so that she couldn’t even scream any more.
“That’ll be enough,” said Mildred. “We don’t want the poor girl to faint—we have so much more in store for her.” Then she laughed, a sickening sadistic laugh.
“What are you doing?” It was Doctor Marston’s voice.
“Ah, Basil,” said Mildred, “you’ve brought your appliance — your magic box?”
“Yes,” he answered, “but what’re you doing to this poor girl?”
“Make them stop!” Doris screamed. “They’re torturing me, Doctor, make them stop!”
“It’s just an experiment,” said Mildred, coolly, “just like your tests!”
“My tests!” He sounded angry. “Release this young girl immediately — my tests provide pleasure, not pain!”
“That’s why you’re here, Basil; you’re going to provide the pleasure!”
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