Spanking Blog: Adult Erotic Spanking At Its Best

This bit of anime girl-girl whipping art just seemed to cry out for captions:

Large version here. Art found on Usenet.

Although the spankings at The Punishment Book tend to have a disciplinary character, that doesn’t mean they aren’t sometimes just as charged with the sort of fantasy trigger points that tickle many spankos’ erotic buttons. Take this one:

Whatever the reason, I got a bit rambunctious and stuck out my tongue at M and Chris several times. Apparently more than five times.

So M decreed that I was to be hairbrushed. No surprise. But this spanking had a twist: it had to be in front of Chris and sparkle, because they had witnessed my misbehavior. Eep.

All joking aside, I’ve never been punished in front of anyone else before, so this pushed my comfort zone a bit. But as I said, both of them have spanked me and seen me spanked, which made it ok. Standing in front of M while he pulled down my pajama pants and panties was hard, but thankfully I was soon over his lap on the couch and could hide my face. A short warm-up by hand, followed by a sharp, stingy hairbrush, and ending with the dreaded ebony hairbrush. Scolding throughout, of course. About how tongue-sticking-out is not allowed, and even if punishments get postponed, they still happen, and how sorry I was going to be, etc.

I was finally allowed up and permitted to cuddle with M. But not before I repeated (verbatim) the following phrase: “I’m sorry I was such a naughty girl today.” To the audience.

Speaking of said audience, neither of them helped get me out of the spanking at all. I think their sympathy extended to Chris saying, “Well, what did you expect? You’re lucky you didn’t get more,” and sparkle giving me a wan smile and saying she was sorry but she was pretty sure I deserved it.

Of course, that outcome was so likely, you would almost think Iris was asking for it…

Cute college girl public spanking antics never grow old:

Whoops, I got so busy wrapping presents for Bethie that I almost forgot to do a Christmas post! Fortunately the image above popped up on Vintage Spank, so I was able to gank it effortlessly (thanks, guys!) and pass it along to you.

It’s been awhile since we’ve seen a good “Beauty’s Punishment”-style tabletop spanking. This one from Girls Boarding School features a well-belted booty on a huge polished wood table top:

There is of course, much belting:

And the usual pained expressions:

Followed at last, of course, by some unauthorized booty-rubbing:

From my long history of reading spanking blogs, I think the evolution described by Abby from The Little Red Schoolhouse in How I Stopped Worrying and Learned to Love the Cane is actually pretty common:

The cane was once my ultimate squick. As a college girl, encountering my first spanking films and stories online, it was “the thing to be avoided.” Most of my time was spent on Laura’s Spanking Corner, and if a story, even my beloved schoolgirl stories by Mary Catherine and Daria Little, started to become a caning scene, it was the back button for me. My terror was not decreased in my search for free videos and encountering snippets of what was then Rigid East. I remember watching in utter horror as Pavel Šťastný caned a Czech girl strapped to her desk. (I just looked this film up on RGE Films and the girl was Drahuše Brdečková in “From the Headmaster’s Study: A Note for Absence.”) The clip was only 30 seconds and it was far too much for me.

I maintained this squirmishness until my mid-twenties, when I met the man who would become my husband. Flirting in the bookstore in which we both worked, our jokes and teasing comments made it more and more obvious that we were of like minds with the exception that, as we are in most things, we were opposite sides of the same coin. We quickly learned that he was a top and I was a bottom. Then came the terrifying news. I was still afraid of the cane. It was his favorite implement.

He called it the whippy stick. I called it the “No, no, no way in hell am I getting beaten with that stick” stick. He took advantage of our place of employment and special ordered me an early favorite of his, a Blue Moon novel by Richard Manton called Fancy Girl. Rife with delicious punishments, it also included the first caning scene I read in its entirety. I’m still not sure which made me so wet upon reading it–the scene itself, or the knowledge that it was something he wanted to do to me.

So it came to be that he caned me two years before he kissed me. We went on the first of our now many implement shopping trips. At Target, we found a perfectly flat-backed square wooden hairbrush, an item that maintains a place near the bed or the schoolbench to this day. At Home Depot, in the outdoor gardening area, we found a bundle of dried bamboo. Red-faced, I was made to carry it to the cash register. No one could have known that the bamboo canes were to be applied to my bottom rather than a gardening purpose, but one look at my face and I’m sure my excited shame showed through.

The events that transpired back at his house are now a blur of exhaltation and agony. I know he cut the bamboo down to cane-lengths, about a yard long each. I remember the swish as he tested them against the air. I believe that he warmed my bottom with hand and brush before the caning, but what I remember clearly, so clearly, is being told to bend down and touch my ankles–a new position for my limited spanking repertoire. I remember trembling.

He told me to count, and I tried. Each stroke brought a pain so quick and sharp, unlike anything I’d ever felt, that with each stroke, I thought that I would die. Three sets of six. I lost count on the way to six at least once. I’m sure I cried, but the only wetness I now remember is the one between my legs, juices webbing across my thighs…

Here’s an excerpt from Alison Tyler’s blog post about why Christmas is such a great time of year for naughtiness:

I think that Christmastime brings out the naughty side of people. There are so many opportunities to be a bit devious. Holiday parties. Open houses. Dressing rooms at the mall. (Oh, wait. Maybe that’s just me.) Places to wear your slightly risqué outfits. Food and liquor to indulge in. Bosses to kiss under mistletoe.

Now, sure, if you’re like me, you indulge all year long. You find yourself at your boyfriend’s ex-wife’s house, with your skirt up and your knickers down. Down? I mean, you know, gone. You grip onto the counter and listen while the two most dominant people you’ve ever met debate how they might best punish you for your cheeky behavior. And whatever they decide, you understand you will have no say in. But that doesn’t really matter, because whatever they decide will turn you on.

There are wooden spoons nearby.

There is a spatula.

You’ve already been thrashed once today. What will befall your poor bottom now?

But if you’re not like me, and you don’t let loose so often, then the holidays are the perfect excuse. To wear stockings with jingle bells sewn in so that your crush can ask you what’s making music, and you can lift your skirt and show off your garters. And your thighs. And your naked, shaved… Excuse me. What was I saying? Oh, yes, the perfect time to nuzzle up to the office Santa and tell him exactly how bad you’ve been—or how bad you’d like to be.

And she’s right, too. Christmas does bring out the naughty side of the most unlikely people. I was checking out my purchase at a candy store in a square and boring mall in one of the squarest states in America, when some coal-shaped lumps of chocolate caught my eye. The square-looking register clerk, who could pass for one of the youngish grandmothers common in these parts, saw me looking at them, and she said with a minor gleam in her eye: “Those are only for bad girls, you know.”

Me: “Well, in that case, I guess I’ll need two.”

The gleam in her eye gets brighter. “She must be really naughty, then!”

Me, trying to sound weary and resigned: “You have no idea.”

She laughed and took my money.