Spanking Blog: Adult Erotic Spanking At Its Best

In the June 1958 issue of Science Fiction Stories there’s a story called Constabulary Duty by Calvin M. Knox, the entire point of which is to set up a spanking scene as the plot resolution. The hero is a old space cop, and the spankee is the daughter of a rich industrialist who makes sporty spacecraft. Of course the daughter is a joy-riding hellion, and he has to arrest her and take away her space-pilot’s license. She complains, naturally, to Daddy, who owns everything:

O’Reilly went through the sumptuous door into a sumptuous office. D. F. Collins of Collins Spacecraft sat behind a broad mahogany desk. He was a tall, sturdy-looking man in his fifties. He seemed to be scowling.

He said, “Are you Sergeant O’Reilly?”

“T-that’s right.”

“Sit down, Sergeant. I understand you and my daughter had some difficulty earlier today.”

O’Reilly nodded.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Collins said. His voice was an authoritative and commanding one. “She’s always been a headstrong girl, you know. She took private lessons in space-piloting — cost me a fortune — and then demanded her own ship. It had to be a high-acceleration sports model, too. Nothing else would satisfy her.”

“I saw the ship,” O’Reilly said. “It’s really a beauty.” “You took her ticket away, I understand?”

O’Reilly nodded. “You’ll get the full explanation tomorrow, I think. I filed a charge downstairs. Seven major violations and four minor ones, including resisting arrest. But…”

“But what, Sergeant?”

O’Reilly felt driblets of sweat pouring down his beefy face. “Look here, Mr. Collins. I used to be a space pilot, and it isn’t my fault I’m a traffic cop now. I’m too old for space, according to the medics. But I know what my job is and my job was to bring your daughter down from space fast before she did some serious damage. So I did it. Okay, I know you can pull strings to get her ticket cleared, and I know you can get me booted out of here for arresting her. Why don’t you just say it, then, instead of letting me squirm? Why…”

He stopped. Collins was smiling.

“There seems to be some mistake, Sergeant. I’m not going to pull any strings. You don’t know how happy I am that Melva’s going to be suspended; I only hope it’s a life suspension and not merely a few years. I called you over to congratulate you, that’s all. And to thank you. It’s the first time in twenty- three years that anybody has been able to discipline that girl. And…”

The door flew open.

O’Reilly turned and saw Melva Collins stalk in. She was still dripping wet, and her clothes and hair were soggy. Her long eyelashes were plastered together by water. She looked angry.

“Father!”

Collins looked at her. “You’re supposed to knock before entering, my dear.”

“To the deuce with that. I’ve lost my license! They say they won’t let me space again! And it’s all because of this — this…

“I was just doing my job, Miss,” O’Reilly said.

“You should have heard the things he said to me! And then he refused to let me land my ship, and — oh, I wish I could scratch his eyes out! You’ll have him fired for me, won’t you?”

“No,” Collins said. “I won’t.”

O ’REILLY began to grin.

Somehow, seeing the magnate bearded by his daughter was worth all the boredom of nine months as a traffic cop. He watched the frustrated rage animate the girl’s face as she worked herself up into a tantrum which Collins seemed powerless to control.

The yelling went on for about sixty seconds, at the end of which time O’Reilly turned to Collins and said, “Mr. Collins? May I make an impertinent suggestion?”

“What is it, Sergeant?”

“I think I know what your daughter needs. And it isn’t a pilot’s license.”

“It’s a good sound spanking,” Collins said. “I’ve known that for years.”

“Father! How could you! I…”

“Quiet, Melva.” Collins smiled. “Sergeant, I know it isn’t quite in the vein of a traffic officer’s duties — but perhaps you’d be willing to oblige me? I think she needs it.”

O’Reilly grinned and gave a spaceman’s salute. “Call it corrective discipline, sir. It’s part of a traffic officer’s duties, and I’m willing to oblige.”

“Keep your hands off me, O’Reilly. Don’t come near me! Don’t…”

O’Reilly advanced relentlessly, cornered the kicking girl without much trouble, and bent her over his knee. He paused and looked doubtfully at Collins. The old man was beaming in unmistakable approval.

It’s been a long, tough day, O’Reilly thought. But here’s where I even the score. His arm rose and fell rhythmically.

For once, duty was pleasure for O’Reilly.

See Also:

• Vintage Porn Whipping: Securities Fraud Interrogation
• Belt Spanked By The Police
• Police Whipping
• Spanked By The Cops
• A Brush With The Law

Some 45 years have passed so it’s probably too late, but word has finally reached us here at Spanking Blog of a fellow we would like to congratulate, or perhaps have a beer with. From the pages of the May 1975 issue of Nostalgia Illustrated, come news of one John Brooks, AKA the Spanking Mayor of Chelsea:

John Brooks, the “Spanking Mayor of Chelsea,” recently sued the British newspaper Sunday People for printing a story which called him a “menace to young girls,” saying he had lured them onto his yacht and spanked their bottoms. He sued not because the story wasn’t true, but because he contended the practice did not make him a menace to young girls. And he won.

Assuming — and it must have been true if he won his case — that the young girls in question were not too young to consent to the spankings in question, I can only salute the man for contesting in court the idea that a little friendly yacht-spanking is no menace to anyone!

(Spanking Blog did actually write cover this story once before, but the “Fuck you” essence of Mr. Brook’s defense was not then clear to me.)

See Also:

• A Painful Boat Ride
• Spanking Limerick On A Postcard
• The Spanking Mayor
• "If you haven't got a penny, a halfpenny will do..."

This excerpt is from The Crimson Witch, an old fantasy story by Dean R. Koontz. It’s not usually considered safe to spank a sorceress, but if you come properly prepared, you might get away with it:

She struggled, kicking and hitting and clawing since her magics were no good against him. But he held on, taking her punishment and slowly exerting more and more force to tame her. He was such a powerful man, his arms like cords of wood, his muscles like knotted lengths of steel. He pulled her onto the ground with him, dragging her across his lap. Lifting her robes to bare her smooth and lovely cheeks, he began spanking her.

“Stop it!” she shouted.

He spanked her again.

She caused lightning to strike the peak of his burly head, but her powers were useless against him. The bolt dissipated into brilliant sparks and did not harm him.

He slapped her harder, stinging her with his heavy palm.

She caused a shower of sharp-toothed rodents to descend upon him, but the rodents fled and did not attempt to gnaw his flesh.

She brought heavy rain, but he did not get wet.

She brought hail.

He was not bruised.

He spanked her harder, harder still.

She began to cry.

“Who gave you your immunity?” she howled.

“The Sorceress Kell, a stronger Talented than you,” he grinned, slapping her buttocks again.

She caused boulders to drop upon his head.

The boulders turned to dust and blew away.

“That old bitch!” she moaned of Kell.

“She is a good woman, a good sorceress,” he corrected her, slapping her reddened flesh even harder. “She is wise and all-knowing, not just a temperamental, talented little snot!”

Finally she realized that fighting only brought on more spanking. She went limp and did not try to harm him either with her magics or her feet and hands. When he saw that she was out of reserves and that she had surrendered, he stood, dropping her into the dust, letting her go. She jumped to her feet, spat at him, lifted into the air and sailed quickly out of his reach, constantly muttering the vilest threats she could summon from her throat to her lips.

He stood, laughing.

She hurried away into the wind, lost in the darkness, shrieking curses to the four comers of the night…

As you’ve probably noticed I’ve been dip-netting in the Internet Archive’s collection of old magazines and newspapers for spanking references lately, and I do find some interesting tidbits. Today’s gem is a brief sociological discussion of the BDSM “tart cards” that decorated British phone booths in the 1990s, at least one example of which has been seen before here on Spanking Blog.

Anyway, back in 1993 a dude with a column in a horror magazine (Deathrealm #20) went to Birmingham for a convention and then to London, as one does. A conversation was had about the tart cards:

Back in London, Dave Carson has recovered from his night at the publishers’ launches. We continue our expeditions through phone boxes collecting naughty cards for a projected book. Cards have become extremely rude and most carry illustrations. “19 Year Old Blonde Just out of School Needs Strict Headmaster for a Spanking Good Time.” “Fantasy Fetish Specialist. Little Miss Madam Will Tie & Tease.” “The Magic Touch. Miss Demeanor. A Supreme Wardrobe Mistress.” These dudes really know how to party hearty. Carl Ford resurfaces and sez you phone up for an appointment and forty quid gets you a session. We didn’t ask how he knew, and anyway he sez he’s joined a coven. Proba-bly for forty quid. John Stewart, major British artist, believed dead but on the mend, resurfaced and sez you can make twenty-five quid a day stuffing these cards into phone boxes if you don’t get caught doing it. A long argument continues over various pints; is spanking or getting caned or being tied up or wearing knickers and a suspender belt to be considered a sexual act and therefore prostitution? Carl Ford sez nah, so long as there’s no penetration they can’t bust you. We sink pints and decline to ask how much more he knows.

Can you even have a kinky lesbian hookup without a proper spanking and caning session? I suppose that theoretically you can, but I’m glad that in this case, Mona Wales and Pepper Hart did not:

Photos are from Whipped Ass, a Kink Unlimited channel.

See Also:

• Tiki Bar Spanking
• Spanking Lisa Tiffian
• Playful Lesbian Spanking
• Oh, The Fun You Can Have...
• Cherry Torn Gives A Spanking

When you have a certain sort of spanking fetish, this kind of strictness in the young Frenchwoman who is supposed to be teaching you languages during your year abroad can be very appealing. She “makes you do it” five times in a row! And if you are too reluctant, no doubt she keeps a ruler handy, or perhaps a yardstick for the hardest cases. Or, this being France, perhaps a genuine martinet whip:

Obviously it would not be entirely precise to call this sort of sex education “painless” but the young man in the cartoon does not seem to mind overmuch.

All the artwork in this post, by the way, is by a cartoonist named Di Sano. He is not, I think, a spanking fetishist nor even a fetish artist. But I won’t hold that against him! He still knows how to draw a young lady who needs a spanking, and knows it. This pretty blonde thing is just daring us to put her over our knees, and she’s the kind of minx who thinks she can distract us (somehow) before her bottom ever gets hot enough to hurt. Half the fun, as every good spanko knows, is being getting those panties the rest of the way off her and then becoming her strict tutor while teaching her how very wrong she is:

Which leads me to our next inappropriate blonde. She’s rinsing her panties in a babbling brook and giving Old Man Tree an eyeful in the process, not to mention giving him “spring wood” like he has not had in many long years! Obviously this setup was all a deliberate tease; just look at her shoes. You don’t wear those into the woods unless you have seduction in mind!

I know my Spanking Blog audience and after all these years I feel I know it well. We may indeed have some sympathy for a girl so desperate that she’s willing to seduce and hump a tree, even one that’s admittedly a bit livelier than most. Some days the dating scene can be rough, we get it! But even so, there are standards of propriety to be observed in civilized society. One does not simply stick one’s bare fanny in the air and expect not to be rump-roasted. It is simply not done!

Thus, I can confidently predict, if we were to take a poll of the readership, the sentiment would be broadly in agreement: Old Man Tree should sprout one more lithe and supple limb. It should be a smooth, straight switch, to be applied briskly and serenely to her bottom until all visible surfaces are nicely reddened…

It turns out that previous Robert E. Howard spanking reference in his letters was not a fluke! Risque Stories #4 contains a short story (or something like it) in the form of a fictional letter from “Helen” about an observed spanking, along with an editorial note about Howard’s considerable interest in flagellation porn:

His fiction frequently featured what looked like lesbian flagellation scenes, e.g., in the Conan tales “Xuthal of the Dusk” (published as “The Slithering Shadow”), “Red Nails” and “A Witch Shall Be Born”. The first of these was the cover story for the September 1933 Weird Tales which, thanks to the Brundage whipping scenes, sold unusually well. Not too surprisingly, the recently published list of Howard’s personal library contained several flagellation titles like A History of the Rod, Experiences of Flagellation, and Curiosa of Flagellants and History of Flagellation.

Here’s the Robert E. Howard spanking story:

Miss High-Hat

by Robert E. Howard

Dear Editor:

At the college which I attended a few years ago, there was a girl who can only be described by the term “high hat.” She patronized the rest of us and always had some sneering or belittling remark to make. When anything came up, she always took her share of the pleasure, but always scornfully refused to do her share of the work.

This went on until one day one of the dormitory matrons took a bunch of us girls on an outing into the country a short distance. We all took along food, and when we stopped for lunch, we all helped build a fire and prepare the food. All except Miss High-hat.

The matron was a good woman, but she did insist on obedience. She didn’t like the way the girl was acting, but she didn’t say anything until after the lunch was over and we were all sitting around talking. Then she asked her to do some little task, very politely, and the girl merely curled her lip. The matron repeated the command, sharply, and the girl became extremely impudent. Then the matron broke loose.

“Miss Sauciness,” said she grimly, “what you need is a good bottom-warming and here’s where you get it!”

And she snatched that insolent flapper up, in spite of her protests and struggles, and turned her across her lap. And right there before us all, she jerked up the girl’s dress and took off her drawers. How that flapper screamed and wiggled and kicked! And the matron’s open hand going smack-smack-smack-smack! on her bare seat. And before she stopped Miss Sauciness was crying and begging for mercy and her behind was red at a rose. She apologized to the matron and you never saw such a change in a girl! One of the girls had brought a Kodak along and while the spanking was going on, she took a picture of the whole scene, unbeknownst to the matron.

After that, whenever the girl would start getting high hat, someone would bring out that picture and hold it up where she could see it.

Somehow there is nothing so humiliating and ridiculous as to be spanked before a crowd of the other girls and when she remembered how she looked lying across the matron’s lap exposed so immodestly, while her bare sitting place was being spanked, she realized that she wasn’t so much after all.

She got to be a real nice girl and a good chum, and everybody liked her. That wasn’t the only girl the matron spanked — she was a believer in old time discipline and she took down several pairs of bloomers before the year was over — but the spanking she gave to that girl did more real good than any of them.

Helen

See Also:

• Robert E. Howard On Birthday Spankings