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This pretty whipping scene (with a bit of gentle bondage nastiness being enjoyed against a tree in the background) is clearly an homage to John Willie. It’s from U69 And Her Friend Gwendoline by Wicz.
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Julie is at the state prison farm, and she has angered one of the matrons. Now she’s in for it:
I ain’t going to use no whip on you,” Hazel snickered. “I got me something better. Real humane it is. Take a look at this.”
Julie looked. She had no choice. The supple heavy strap was dangled for her inspection. It was not as frightening a thing as a whip, but she liked not the look of it. It had the appearance of having been much used. It would most certainly hurt.
“Got to look after our gals.” Hazel chuckled.
“Inspectors don’t want no cut skin. This little beauty makes a lovely sound when it connects with a gal’s rump.”
The word ‘Inspector’ gave Julie a faint hope. “But aren’t I supposed to have done something bad in order to be punished?” She asked tremulously.
“Oh, but sugar, you have.” Hazel’s voice oozed satisfaction. “Don’t you remember your first order here: to call the Matron and I ‘maam’? You haven’t done it once. You’re too damn anxious to be snotty to think of it.”
Julie quailed. There would always be an answer. She looked at the hard cold eyes surveying her and swallowed apprehensively.
“Paying a bit of attention now, eh.” Hazel had seen the flicker of fear. “Let me tell you something, sugar. You can offer to munch my cunt now until you’re blue in the face and it won’t save you from a single stroke.”
Julie was searching her mind for a plea when the strap struck her across the ripest curve of her bottom. The crack was indeed resounding. It was a frightening sound like a peal of evil laughter to accompany the pain. Despite stoic intent she tugged wildly at her strapped wrists and writhed in anguish.
“Warms you up a bit more than you thought, eh, gal’!”
Hazel delivered another ringing impact, this time across the already wealed shoulders Julie moaned.
“Glad you’ve got a tongue, sugar. I’ll have you screaming in a minute. Try this one.”
When the screams got too hard to contain, Julie pealed them out. Why cherish her misery! It proved nothing. The strap was worse than she had supposed. A quite new and different kind of pain. Each blow sent scorching waves of agony in every direction through her punished flesh. Finally her tongue spoke against her will.
“No more! Oh please not again! Please stop. Ohhhh!”
“Makes a nice introduction to The Farm,” Hazel commented conversationally. She did not even pause. The strap slapped in delight on Julie’s nudity.
“It’s too awful. I can’t bear it.”
“You’re doing fine, sugar.”
The strap splatted where it chose. Held only by her wrists, Julie was able to provide writhings and twistings and the rattle of her ankle chain in a manner deeply gratifying to the woman who strapped her. “Which would you say you prefer, sugar, this or a whip?” Hazel sounded clinically interested.
“I don’t know. I really don’t – oh stop … please!”
“I’d like an answer. For the record, you might say. Fine intelligent gal’ like you ought to come by an opinion. I’ll just keep letting you have it. I don’t mind the work; it’s in a good cause.”
Julie knew there would be no right answer for her.
“The whip is the worst.” she said bleakly, uncertain if she had lied.
“Glad to hear it, gal’. Sort of makes me feel easier about using this strap. I can hack away at you for an hour with a clear conscience.”
The blows continued. The sound of some was as potent as Julie’s scream.
The girl strapped to the cross did not faint.
From Julie by F.E. Campbell.
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He seemed like a nice enough guy when she went home with him. She figured she’d get an avuncular OTK spanking out of the deal. She never figured him for the kind of guy with a whole jail cell setup in his basement, complete with iron bars:
From the cover of Sbarre #32.
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Cassie is pretty enough to have developed a little bit of a spoiled-brat habit when it comes to how she treats the men she dates. Until the fine day when she met a stern fellow who wasn’t putting up with any of her bullshit. Surprise! He’s now her favorite date…
Model is Cassie Lane, photographed by Mattie Klatt, as she appears in the May/June edition of Hustler’s Taboo magazine, which is available in its entirety via Digital Magazine Access when you join the Hustler Network. Available issues date back to 2010, and at least one of their offers has a monthly price point that costs less than the cover price of a single paper magazine.
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Sometimes, for some people, a whole dungeon full of suspension bondage and harsh flogging is just the warm-up event:
From Principle of Pain, a comic by an anonymous artist.
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For some reason he wants an uncomplaining spank-toy. But doesn’t that take away half the fun?
Panels are from Dark Vengeance IV, by Fernando — a Dofantasy bondage/sex comic.
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Arlene has a personal trainer, the best in the business. The problem is, when she slacks off, he gets just a little bit too personal:
“Run from one wall to the next ten times.”
“Gosh! How exciting!” She was in a foul mood, hadn’t been sleeping.
“Just do it,” Oliver said.
“And if I don’t?”
“You’ll get a red hot arse again.”
“Yeah, from you and whose army?”
Squealed as he grabbed hold of her and pinned her arms to her sides.
“You wouldn’t dare!” But he was marching over to the low gym horse. “You haven’t locked the door, idiot!”
“Calling your trainer an idiot earns you extra strokes.”
Strokes not spanks. Arlene swallowed hard. She’d gone too far this time. Now that he was tying her wrists to the gym horse with the plastic bands they used for resistance work, she felt a little scared.
“Not as hard as last time,” she pleaded, as he fastened her legs.
“Much, much harder.”
“But these shorts are thinner!”
“I’m going to thrash you on the bare.”
“You wouldn’t . . .” She felt his hands on her shorts. “Oh please, the embarrassment!”
“You should have thought of that before you were so rude.”
Arlene remembered all the insults she’d thrown at him these past few days, and her buttocks trembled. She shivered with fear and pleasure as he edged her shorts down, cried out as he tugged off the panties beneath. She could feel the garments bunching at her knees – knees that were spreadeagled.
“Right, you bastard – get it over with!” she said.
“Oh, I like to take my time.” Oliver stroked her bare bum over and over. “It’s going to be very sore in a moment, isn’t it, my dear?”
Damn him! She gritted her teeth. Stared straight ahead – not that she had much option! Felt the vulnerability of every fibre of her naked rear.
“We have to teach this bottom manners.” Her trainer went over to the equipment cupboard and came back with a small hard ping-pong bat. “A spanking obviously wasn’t enough,” he added.
“It was! Please – spank me again. Hard as you like!”
“Spanking’s for minor indiscretions. You’d been committing major crimes. I’ll teach you a lesson with this little beauty instead.”
The first whack was measured, as was the second. Arlene started to relax in her bonds a little. The third stroke struck harder, increased the warmth in the helpless cheek.
“Ouch! That really hurt, Cartwright!”
“It wasn’t meant to tickle.”
“I’ll be good!”
He punished on. “By the time I’m finished with you, you’ll be perfect.”
From the story Motivator by Sarah Veitch.
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