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This looks like something from one of the 1970s or 1980s spanking magazines, but I found it buried on my hard drive in an old download folder:
Update: Whoops, this is actually more modern content, from Real Spankings Institute about ten or twelve years ago. Sometimes my guesses are spectacularly wrong…
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We’ve already addressed the judgmental nonsense Ann Landers offered up in response to a marital spanking question in 1960. But by 1974, her sister writing the Dear Abby column had a much better response, if still a bit queasily quick to bring up psychiatry:
Thanks to Madame Spanks for the clipping.
The rough crew at Dofantasy occasionally turn out an entertaining spanking panel:
This one is from Last Mission by Cagri.
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Via Bondage Blog we find this picture of an excellent spanking. Of course, not many spankos have room for such a massive piece of dungeon furniture, but doesn’t it offer some unique possibilities?
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Nice look of pain on the face of this well-paddled girl:
From Clare Fonda Pass via Kinky Delight.
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Apparently you can “play-slap” your boyfriend too many times:
We had just returned from a garage sale from which we had purchased a round, solid wood table for our apartment. College Guy put a pillow on the table, and positioned me against it. “Keep your hands right here, don’t move them, keep your body on the table. Keep your feet down.” He slipped my dress up over my hips, and I gripped the tables edge in my hands and thought that when I purchased the table at the garage sale, I had no idea what a good buy it was.
I lay there quietly, perhaps whimpering a bit. The emotion of the scene was the type I tend to really crave every once in awhile and the type College Guy does not tend to dish out that often. He traced my bottom with the cane, then began tiny test- thwacks with it, not really a teasing action, but more of a sinister one. Like a cat playing with a mouse before he eats it.
The first cane stroke or two were normal. Painful, scary, but not too bad. The truth is, for some reason, ever since we moved in together, the cane had not been hurting like it had in the past, So I wasn’t as horrified as I possibly should have been.
Then, something happened that has never happened before.
He drew back and let that cane rip. It was only one blow, but it hit higher than he has possibly ever hit me before, at the very top of my bottom. It was high, and it hurt. The skin there is somehow so much more sensitive to cane strokes, I guess.
One blow had never hurt me that much before. And I broke my hold on the table and stood up straight for a second. Somehow, though, I didn’t end up sitting on the floor telling him I wanted to be done. The next second I was positioned back on the table (I really can’t remember if I just went back or if he pushed me back down.) But I was sobbing. Sobbing from one cane stroke.
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