Spanking An Express Lane Cheater

Have you ever been frustrated behind some self-entitled person in the express lane at the supermarket who thinks the ten-items limit totally doesn’t apply to them? And of course the cashier never tries to enforce the rules. Here’s one man’s fantasy of how that situation should be dealt with:

I was startled by the appearance of four burly security guard types seemingly materializing from nowhere, two of them pulling the lady out of line in front of my incredulous eyes, the other two seizing the cashier by either elbow.

Accompanying the four guards were two additional security personnel, also in uniforms, perhaps in their mid-twenties, each carrying a wooden paddle. As the guards pulled the customer and the cashier into an open area in front of the check-out lanes, I could hear the frantic protestations of both ‘culprits’.

“How dare you. Let me go. I’ll sue. You can’t do this. What have I done?”

Then, suddenly, a voice over the store’s public address system. “Attention shoppers, you will notice that one of our cashiers and a customer have been taken into our new punishment area. They will be disciplined in a moment, pursuant to a new city ordinance regulating the conduct of supermarket express lanes.

“Parents with small children are advised that, while we encourage your children’s observation of this punishment, as a valuable lesson in proper public conduct, you should understand that these ladies’ discipline will entail severe corporal punishment, specifically the application of a wooden paddle to their bottoms. Further, you should understand that this punishment will be administered on their bare buttocks, City Ordinance 4-7614-B dictating that all such punishments shall be applied in public, in the nude.”

In the nude? Jesus, I sure didn’t want to miss this. My fantasies were finally going to come true. My eyes followed the progress of the security personnel as they hastily stripped each of the women, securing their naked bodies to old fashioned, wooden pillories. A small crowd was gathering around the punishment area as the ‘condemned’ continued their ceaseless crying and begging.

“Please, don’t do this. I’ll never try to sneak into an express line again,” could be heard from the hapless customer. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know that I couldn’t check out this lady at my lane. I’m new and don’t know all of the rules,” was the poor excuse for an excuse that the cashier lamely tried.

Ignoring the pleas of the two women, the guards had finished fixing their wrists and necks into the pillories and secured their ankles to floor moorings, effectively removing any possibility of escape. Their work accomplished, they stepped back as the two ‘spankers’ stepped forward.

The voice on the intercom continued. “While each of the woman that are now pilloried at the front of the store will receive a severe paddling, the customer’s behavior is seen as slightly less reprehensible than that of the cashier. Therefore, the sentence for the customer will be fifty swats of the paddle to her bare buttocks and immediate release; the sentence for our cashier will be fifty swats of the paddle to her bare buttocks, followed by a one-hour display period in the stocks. Customers or store personnel wishing to fondle or abuse the cashier after the completion of her correction are encouraged to do so.

I could feel the front of my trousers tenting in response to my excitement at the spectacle before me and reached into my pocket to surreptitiously stroke my hardening cock, not for a second taking my eyes off of the drama being played out no more than fifty feet away from me.

It became quickly evident that the women’s paddlings were to occur simultaneously when the two ‘executioners’ stepped to the outside of the two pillories, readying their paddle arms, and shifting their feet to find a comfortable, firm stance. The women were both crying, having given up any hope that their lamentations would be to any avail.

Their nude bodies were incredibly erotic, their breasts hanging vertically to the floor, their torsos bent at the waist, with their spines parallel to the floor. Their legs had been spread perhaps three feet apart at the ankle, with the overall effect to be the positioning of their hips probably six inches higher than the crossbar holding their heads and wrists.

Their legs and buttocks quivered as they each presumably contemplated their imminent fate. The ‘icing on the cake’, as it were, was the provocative glimpse of pudenda, framed within the trembling, soft, secret, inner thighs of each penitent. While the cashier’s embarrassment had to be acute, at the gross indignity visited upon her by this outrageous affront, I could only imagine the mortification of the young, nude customer, her body shaven as smoothly and completely in her pubic area and between her legs, as it was beneath her straining arms and down her athletically-slim legs.

She seemed even more nude than the cashier, her labia looking distended and puffy, deliciously obscene in the glaring lights of the store. I think, though, that whatever degree of discomfort her unexpected public nudity was causing her, it was nothing when compared to her apprehension about her paddling.

One of the two paddlers seemed to be senior, judging from his comportment and manner, and it was a nod from him to his partner that began the chilling sound of the paddles’ impacts upon the two naked, gyrating, female bottoms.

Once, twice, three times and four. The paddles fell in perfect syncopation, the resultant, strident cries of the two recipients of their fiery kisses, no less choreographed. The men wielding the paddles worked as a perfectly synchronized pair, their motions metronomic in constancy.

I’d lost count but knew that the women had probably suffered a dozen swats each and my imagination boggled at the thought that they had yet to endure another thirty-five-plus strokes of the paddles’ wrath. The testament to the paddles’ efficacy was evident in the tears falling from the two rueful ladies’ cheeks and the reddened buttocks of both…

From The Supermarket by Dave Wallace.

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Hurting Kiki With The Cane

These pictures are from the recent Paintoy series “Slaves Are Made For Hurting” starring Kiki Sweet:

caning Pain Toy Kiki

kiki gets the cane

caning Kiki's bottom

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Spanksgiving Surprise

spanksgiving-surprise

Yusuf got a Spanksgiving surprise, and there’s a poem about it:

When Yusuf showed up early
At his girlfriend’s home,
He thought he heard the girly
Let out a dreadful moan!

When he rushed to rescue her,
He got a shock, instead:
The redhead and her mother
Kissing, naked, on the bed!

Alright, Mrs. Jenkins,
In light of what I see,
You’ve made me share your daughter,
So she’ll share you with me!

The two are now residing
In Yusuf’s basement shop;
And both of them he’s riding,
While training them, non-stop!

Art and poem by Synthian. Happy Thanksgiving!

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Daddy Needs A New Belt!

My favorite place to order spanking gear has added a new toy I think every spanking couple will want to have. This slapper/strap is styled after a good old-fashioned doubled-over leather belt. Available in black or brown, it’s called Daddy’s Belt and when it comes out, you know for sure that you’re on the naughty list tonight:

Daddy's belt spanking slapper strap

The maker explains:

Show them who’s the Daddy with this original design. A clever twist on the classic punishment belt, this slapper has a traditional belt buckle and loop, and 14 steel rivets holding the ends of the looped strap together as a handle. The strap makes a fear-inducing snap, when grabbed at both ends and quickly straightened. The strap is 1½” wide, and 17″ long in a loop.

daddy's belt spanking strap in brown or black leather

(You can see previous Spanking Blog toy recommendations here.)

A Headmaster’s Liberties

The spanking novel The Headmaster, by William St. Cyr, is the classic tale of a boarding school where the girls sometimes get left too long, until they are all grown up and sexually frustrated, and the headmaster’s capacity to resist temptation has been utterly depleted:

“Erica Schmidt reporting for punishment, Mr. Hopkins!” The words came out slowly and with obvious effort, and it was readily apparent that the attractive teenager who uttered them was having great difficulty retaining her composure.

Seated behind his oversize walnut desk, the Headmaster of Marshall Girl’s Academy did not at first look up from the report he was reading. The office of the chief administrative executive of the exclusive girl’s school located in the north of England was quite austere and not calculated to ease the anxiety of the miscreants who were regularly required to report there for discipline. At the moment, the only relief came from a partially opened window, through which drifted a warm breeze that served as a reminder that the spring of 1939 had been one of the most pleasant in years.

“Mr. Hopkins …” The girl’s words trailed off in despair. The comely eighteen-year-old knew that the wait was deliberate, and designed to increase her apprehension as well as humiliate her. Her hands clutched nervously behind her back, she could barely stand still. Her dark blue eyes constantly darted around the room, anxiously searching for that whippy, pencil-thin cane that she dreaded so much. For some reason which she did not comprehend, the hateful instrument was nowhere in sight. Normally, it was prominently on display.

the headmaster spanking stroke book cover

At last, Mr. Hopkins set aside the report and looked up at the obviously troubled teenager who stood in front of him.

“Let’s face it, Erica,” he said quietly. “With the state of the world being what it is, you’ll go back to Germany this summer and that will be the last we’ll see of each other. So this will probably be the last time you will report to me for punishment.” He hesitated slightly before pronouncing the last word, as if it were not really adequate to describe what was to transpire between them.

“Please, Frank, couldn’t we just skip the punishment part of it,” Erica spoke with obvious distress. “Let me … You know what I like to do for you!”

The Headmaster feigned amused indifference to the young girl’s statement. “That’s surprising,” he remarked with the slightest tinge of sarcasm in his voice. “Particularly considering the offense for which you have been sent here!”

Erica’s face colored visibly at the reference to her misdeed. Frank reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a confidential and quite detailed report from one of the instructresses regarding a Lesbian incident involving Erica and another girl. The two of them had been caught in the ultimate Lesbian embrace, which the Victorian minded authoress of the report had described in highly critical terms but with what might appear to be an unnecessary attention to detail.

“Their knickers were completely removed,” Frank read aloud from the report. “Their gym slips were rolled up above the waist. They were still wearing their garter belts and stockings. The two of them were simultaneously performing a contemptible act with their mouths and tongue, in a pose that is sometimes described as the French position. Both of them were displaying a great deal of emotion.”

Erica wriggled with girlish shame as the details of her misconduct were read out.

“Erica, I must say that I’m shocked to get this type of report about you, of all people,” Frank remarked as he set the report down.

“I’m not a Lesbian,” Erica defended herself heatedly. “And you know it! It’s just that … around here there aren’t many boys, and a girl gets … gets itchy!”

“Yes, of course,” Frank replied dryly. “Your fellow miscreant has already been punished,” he added. “Six of the best!”

His mind flashed back to the incident, which had occurred only an hour before. Attired in a uniform that exactly matched the one that Erica was wearing, the hapless culprit had been obliged to bend over the back of a straight chair until her rounded bottom was higher than the rest of her body. Frank prepared her himself, slowly lifting the hem of her gym slip to reveal the enticing combination of black stocking tops, white thighs, black garter belt and lush feminine bottom encased in tightly stretched black panties. He pulled the panties down all the way to her ankles, catching a brief glimpse of bright pink cuntal lips as the miserable girl attempted to hold her legs as closely together as possible, and allowing his fingers to brush momentarily against the bows of her high-heeled shoes.

The six cuts of the cane had been applied with deliberate slowness, the highly flexible cane cracking like a twig snapping each time it made contact with her tender feminine buttocks. Although the first application of the cane had produced a loud gasp, the stouthearted girl had managed to bear the correction in a relatively stoic manner. Tears were streaming down her eyes, however, when Frank personally replaced her panties for her and allowed her to depart.

“Not the cane!” Erica pleaded, her knees buckling slightly at the thought of that dreaded instrument.

“But for an offense of this type” Frank began.

“Please!” Erica interrupted with great urgency. “Please! I’ll do anything you like! You can degrade me any way you like! Please, but not the cane!” Her pretty face reflected the intense anxiety that she was experiencing.

Frank slowly arose from behind his desk, and placed a straight wooden chair in the middle of the room. Her hands clasped prayerfully in front of her, Erica watched the scene with growing alarm.

“Please, not the cane! Please! I can’t stand it!” she implored, her voice occasionally cracking with emotion. “Please, I’ll do anything! Anything!”

“Very well, Erica,” Frank replied. “You may have a smacking instead of a cane, if you prefer. But in that case you must agree to accept some private, highly intimate punishment from me! Do you agree?”

“Yes!”

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Spanking His Impetuous Wife

Bill spanking his mischievous wife Marie

This is from The Spank Statement, where it bears the caption “Although Marie was fifteen years older than her Bill, he says she was so mischievous he found it necessary to take her over his knee and give her a good spanking.”

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Belt Spanked During A Difficult Week

I agree with J Girl that last week was a difficult week in America. Which makes me all the more delighted to hear that at least she got a good belt spanking out of it:

It was a very difficult week here in America, I think. I knew a lot of people who were hurt. Several reached out to me. Many I knew were angry with one another (and still are).

I stayed out of the fray myself, but by Wednesday night, I was pretty wound up. Jason came home and I muttered under my breath something like, “why don’t these kids throw the damn trash in the barrel instead of beside the barrel?” I was getting snappy and irritable.

He merely did the one-eyebrow raise thing, crooked a finger, and took me in the bedroom. I went a bit reluctantly, because I knew what was coming. Jason and I know each other really well. He knew I was wound up, I know what he does when I’m getting close to the edge, and he was pretty stern-looking. He shut and locked the door, wasted no time in sitting on the edge of the bed, and drew me straight across his knee. Then off came the belt.

The belt is so sexy-scary for me. The jingle, the whoosh, it’s wrapped around his waist and such an icon of discipline… well, off it came. He doubled it over, bared me, and gave me a few really good smacks. Naturally, I protested. It went something like this.

“What did I do? I didn’t break any rules! Oooow!”

“Nope. You didn’t break any rules. And I’m not punishing you. What I am doing is reminding you what happens if you do break a rule, and you’re getting awfully close there.”

A few swats later, and I was subdued and in my submissive place.

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