After The Wedding, The Honeymoon Caning
I hate to think how many years ago they published Janus #16 (what are they up to now, #167?) but to me, photo stories like The Wedding exemplify the best attributes of the British spanking magazine genre. The story itself is simple, almost spare; the photography is neither explicit nor particularly brutal. But together, the result is (in my opinion, although I know I’m turning into one of those old fogies who is rapidly being left behind in an age when all the cool young people are wanking to tubes full of free movies of people whipping to the blood, spitting on each other, and gagging on cocks) highly erotic.
It starts out so simply:
‘I’m sure it will be much better for waiting for it – and far purer,’ Louise had frequently prattled, bless her, referring to what she saw as his obsession with getting into her knickers. But now, at last, he was about to collect.
‘Now, you did promise to love, honour and obey me,’ he said.
‘Yes, John, of course I did,’ she answered in a minute voice.
‘And were you telling the truth?’
‘Of course I was, darling. You simply don’t know how much I love you.’
He might have said, ‘I’m about to find out,’ but he confined himself to: ‘Good. Now I’m going to test your obedience. And prove to you that in our marriage I am the boss.’
He reinforced this theme with a much harder slap covering both her slender posteriors. Louise jerked, but not as much as she did the next five or six times his hard palm fell. Another thing John didn’t tell her was that he intended to punish her for frustrating him through the long months of their courtship and engagement.
…
He ordered her to remove her shoes and bridal veil beside the opulent double bed, and while her back was turned he took out a thin, crook-handled notched bamboo cane from a suitcase. Louise’s pleading when she saw it was pointless. John commanded her to lie prone on the bed. As she obeyed him the fear in her face was unmistakable. And totally arousing to see.
‘Now darling, brace yourself,’ her master said. ‘The cane isn’t like that little toy strap. It really hurts.’
And with that, he whipped the cane down viciously across her utterly charming derriere. As the rod bit into her flesh a flame of agony lit up her senses and she moaned. A second stroke slashed across her bottom, applied with a cruelty that promised an interesting little punishment to come.
She was sobbing, crying and pleading by the time the next stroke fell, and her buttocks were churning and her body writhing like a girl having sex. In protest she raised one hand to stop him and half slithered off one side of the bed.
‘Oh, I feel so immodest!” she said. ‘And it stings so much!‘
So John allowed her to put on her bridal veil, but that was all…
See Also:
