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I found three explicit views of a really sore bottom in the free promo photos included with this Whipped Ass shoot. She’s got red stripes and cane cuts and — apparently, judging by her creamy appearance — she’s loving it.
You gotta love visible evidence of female arousal.
Screen captures from the new site Elite Spanking show a spanking furniture innovation that tickles my funny bone. See the hole in the table?
Yup, it’s set up like a pillory, to keep her head down and her bottom in the air:
Fun and funny!
Chross has published the clipping of an Ann Landers advice column from 1960, in which some snoopy sister wants to know what is mentally wrong with her brother-in-law considering that he “finds some phony excuse to spank his wife at least twice a month” and “keeps a ping-pong paddle in the bedroom for this purpose.”
Me, I’m thinking this sounds like good clean fun, and apparently the spanked wife agrees: “My sister says he’s a swell guy and even went so far as to defend him by admitting she usually deserves the spankings.”
Of course good old stick-up-her-ass Ann had her usual judgmental nonsense to reply with, which is why I’m neither quoting nor republishing the column in full. But I did want to show you the quite fun cartoon it was illustrated with:
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I find the artwork very pretty and distinctive on this whipping scene from Usenet:
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It’s been awhile since we’ve blogged spanking links from Violet Blue; she’s hella busy these days and I suspect not getting her bottom properly and regularly tended to. But today she dropped a link to a great Instructable on how to carve the foam off a ping-pong paddle so that you can leave any simple design on somebody’s bottom by simply spanking them:
The instructions are pretty simple. The Spanking Blog summary, in the best internet meme tradition, goes like this:
1) Get paddle.
2) Print art.
3) Tape art to paddle.
4) Cut along lines.
5) Scrape out the foam inside the lines.
6) Spank people.
7) ???
8) Profit!
But of course the Instructables version is more detailed, with handy tips and tricks, and the internet equivalent of Arlo’s 8″x10″ color glossy photographs with the circles and arrows and the paragraph on the back of each one explaining what it was about.
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Once or twice, perhaps, Bethie has been heard to complain “You’re killing me!” when some sensation or other is more intense than she’s happy to bear. At such times, I’ve hastened to reassure her, along the lines of the title of this post. Oddly, she seems to take scant comfort from the reassurance, and generally renews her protests. (For such moments were gags invented.)
A few days ago, whilst skim-reading some tired Victorian romance in which yet another sorry female bottom was being birched until the blood was splashing off the walls (and there are many such tales, which you almost never see here, because neither bloody bottoms, nor yet bloody walls, have any place in my fantastic pantheon), it struck me than in that distant benighted era before the invention of antibiotics, my reassurances would have seemed more hollow. Any break in the skin carried with it risk of fatal infection, then; and so, by operation of statistical chance upon a large number of bloodied bottoms, some poor girl must eventually have met a tragic end as the consequence of a bloody birching.
Thus it is from purely historical interest that I present a confirming verse from Cythera’s Hymnal, printed in London in 1870:
EPITAPH ON A YOUNG LADY WHO WAS BIRCHED TO DEATH
They laid her flat on a goosedown pillow,
And scourged her arse with twigs of willow,
Her bottom so white grew pink, then red,
Then bloody, then raw, and her spirit fled.
I thought it was a pretty good poem for the first three lines, but after that it goes all to hell.
This is a classic Girls Boarding School bedroom spanking scenario:
Of course she tries to clutch at the welts and protect her bottom with her bare hands:
And that, of course, fails to work, just the way you’d expect it to fail. Sore fingers time!
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