Spanking Porn Pulp
As is not uncommon in vintage badly-made spanking porn, the model with the girl in his lap seems not entirely sure what to do with her:
Spanking Blog: Adult Erotic Spanking At Its Best
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Bethie’s “New” Spanking Undies
Back in March, Bethie wrote:
I’ve just purchased some new fancy underwear that I’ll have to blog about later after I’ve had a chance to put them to good use. I gave Dan a quick preview and he deemed them spank worthy. Wheeee!
Since then, of course, she’s preferred to blog more about her beloved Schnuffel bunnies than she has about the undies. But I found a nice vintage photo that shows the exact sort of undies she’s talking about:
You can see why I might approve.
An Expert With The Belt
Hermione writes at Hermione’s Heart about a belt spanking she recently enjoyed:
Fast forward to the following week, when I was summoned to the bedroom for a spanking. Ron stood at the door, grinning. Pillows were piled at the foot of the bed, and the belt lay beside them, ready for use.
It was my turn to look wide-eyed. What a surprise!
“Oh.” It was all I could manage to say.
“You’re in for a treat. I’m going to use the buckle end.”
He wouldn’t, of course. I burst out laughing and gave him a hug.
…
Ron first positioned me on my knees in front of him so that I could show my enthusiasm for his new-found creativity. After a few minutes he pushed my head away. “We’ll come back to this later.” He helped me to my feet and motioned for me to bend over the foot of the bed.
Ron is an expert with the belt. I think he practises when I’m not around. He has perfected his technique so that he no longer leaves marks on my backside. I found myself standing on tiptoe, arching my back and thrusting my bottom up to meet the leather on its decent. Each time he stopped to rub my reddened cheeks, my heels returned to earth.
When Ron decided my bottom had had enough entertainment, I once more knelt in front of him and finished what I had started earlier. Then we snuggled under the covers and I was well rewarded for my efforts. It was an afternoon to remember.
Be Careful What You Ask For
Apparently last week was the week for people to tell Monk to “bring it on!”
Considering that Monk’s blog was the first place I ever heard the phrase “Go big or go home”, I can only assume that these were people who seriously wanted it brought. As Monk says:
The first one, after saying that, ended up with tits so bruised they did not fit in back in her bra and an ass so crisscrossed with single tail welts she looked like a road map of Nebraska.
When I read this, I had a mental vision of her proudly showing off her welts and saying “That’s nothing! You should see the girl who asked him ‘Is that all you’ve got?'”
The Brutal Dance Teacher
Ballet class started out so innocently. Only the riding crop in the instructor’s hand gave it away:
But the girls, the girls did not satisfy her. Punishment was immediate:
The more they were punished, the worse they got. Before long, they were being forced to strip and hold punishment poses:
And finally, the teacher could take no more. Some brutal bondage exposure, and it’s time for the whip!
The free pictures sadly do not show the best spanking angles. For the juiciest stuff, you’ll really want to join Whipped Ass or at least buy the shoot.
(This blog post is listed on the Spanking You Spanking Toplist.)
See Also:
How To Beat Your Wife
Used to be, you could order a pamphlet:
See Also:
In Which Zille Compliments The Scottish Race
A while ago Zille Defeu got a good spanking (which is not news) and in the course of telling us about it, she had some choice words of respect for the efficiency of the Scots when it comes to punishment implements:
He started pulling a number of tawses out of the drawer. He added two firm leather straps to the mix as well. Gulp.
I … laid down over the side of the bed in my usual spot. He pulled me to him and settled me over one thigh, as he sometimes does, the other leg trapping mine at the calves. My arm nearest him was trapped against his body, and my right arm was bent up on my back and held by his left hand. It’s an optimal position for him because I’m not going anywhere, and he can feel all my squirming. It’s also more intimate and less formal, which is good by me, but it does mean that with the longer toys, the right side of my hip gets more than it’s fair share of the worst part of the blow.
“Oh lord, no warm-up today,” I was thinking in that calm way you get in the midst of a disaster. But he put down the strap he’d picked up, and started spanking me. They weren’t light spanks, but it didn’t unduly distress me (that being one way of putting it!)
Then he went for one of those firm straps, and I thought, “Oh no, here we go—!” but both the firm straps turned out to be, if not friendly and gentle, at least not the sort of pain I can’t manage. The pain built up right quick, to be sure, but I was handling it well.
After he’d given both straps and my bottom a good workout, he put them down and started spanking me again. The spanks were hard and fast, but they were right on my sweet spot, and the exact right intensity and tempo that’s guaranteed to make me orgasm. And I did, delighted that he was gifting me with an orgasm at this stage of the game.
Well, my Master’s not Greek, but I should really beware gifts from him! He shifted me off of his left and onto the bed, stood up, grabbed a tawse, and started in on my bottom.
Yeeeeowch! The Scots are not a race of people who mess about—when they want someone punished, they make proper tools to do it with! I’d had the “warm-up” (my Master’s definition of warm up is somewhat more vigorous than most peoples!) so I was able to breath through the first half of it. But, eventually, there came the stroke that undid me, and as the blows were coming down relentlessly, remorselessly (and other words starting with “r” and ending in “lessly”) I couldn’t regain my masochistic balance, and so ended up yelping, dancing from foot to foot, and finally, crying. He got in a goodly number after the crying started. He used to stop when I started crying, and the fact that he’ll now push me on from there means he trusts me more and expects more from me (and, errr, that he’s been reading this blog and seeing my rather unsubtle hints about wanting more intense beatings).
What can I say? It was pure hotness—and no, I don’t mean how my bottom felt to the touch afterwards! It was just like my fantasies, and I wish that I could cherish the moment when I’m in the moment, the way I do afterwards when I remember it—and when I replay it while masturbating. But, of course, it hurts a wee bit too much to cherish the sensations at the time! The problems of being a masochist!