Spanking Blog: Adult Erotic Spanking At Its Best

Someone reminded me of a scene from the novel Tai-Pan by James Clavel, in which our hero rants dramatically at his Chinese slavegirl before whipping her gently-but-dramatically with a fresh bamboo:

Struan realized that it was useless to argue or reason with May-may. You canna treat her as a European, he told himself. Deal with her as through you’re Chinese. But how’s that! I dinna ken. Treat her as a woman, he ordered himself, deciding on a tactic.

He exploded with pretended rage. “You are a miserable slave, by God! And I’ve a mind to sell you into the Street of the Blue Lanterns,” he shouted, naming the worst of the seamen’s streets in Macao, “though who’d want to buy a dirty baggage slave like you I dinna ken. You’re nothing but trouble and I’ve a mind to give you to the lepers. Aye, by God! I paid eight thousand taels of good silver for you, and how dare you make me angry? I was cheated, by God! You’re worthless! Dirty slave–how I’ve put up with you these years I dinna ken!” He shook his fist in her face, and she recoiled. “Am I na good to you? Eh? Generous? Eh? Eh?” he roared, and was pleased to detect fear in her yes. “Well?”

“Yes lord,” she whispered, biting her lips.

“You dare to get clothes made behind my back and dare to wear them wi’out my approval, by God? Well, do you?”

“Yes, lord.”

“I’ll sell you tomorrow. I’ve a mind to throw you out now, you miserable motherless whore! Kowtow! Go on, kowtow, by God!”

She blanched at his fury and kowtowed quickly.

“Now keep kowtowing until I come back!”

He stormed out of the room, and went back into the garden. He jerked out his knife and selected a thin bamboo from a newly planted grove. He cut it and slashed the air and rushed back into the living room.

“Take your clothes off, you miserable slave! I’m going to flog you till my arm hurts!”

Trembling, she stripped. He seized the dress from her hand and threw it aside.

“Lie down there.” He pointed at the ottoman.

She did as he ordered. “Please no to whip me too hard–I’m two months with child.” She buried her head in the ottoman.

Struan wanted to take her in his arms, but he knew that this would make him lose face in front of her. And a whipping was the only way to give her back her dignity.

So he slashed her buttocks with the bamboo. Hard enough to hurt, but not to damage. Soon she was crying out and weeping and squirming, but he kept on. Twice he deliberately missed her and slashed the leather violently, so that the noise was terrifying, for the benefit of Lim Din and Ah Sam who he knew would be listening.

After ten blows he paused and told her to stay where she was, and went over to the brandy bottle. He drank deeply, hurled the bottle against the wall, and resumed the whipping. But always with great care.

Finally he stopped and dragged her up by the hair. “Put on your clothes, your miserable slave!” When she was dressed, he bellowed, “Lim din! Ah Sam!”

They were trembling at the door in an instant.

“Wat for nae tea nae food, you miserable slaves! Get food!”

He hurled the bamboo at the side of the door and turned back to May-may.

“Kowtow, your motherless wreck!”

Aghast at the limitlessness of his fury, she hastily complied.

“Clean yoursel’ and come back here. Thirty seconds or I’ll start all over again!”

Lim Din served the tea and though it was just right, Struan said it was too cold and threw the teapot against the wall. May-may and Lim Din and Ah Sam rushed away and hurried back with more.

The food came with incredible speed also, and Struan allowed himself to be served by May-may. She whimpered with pain and he shouted, “Shut up or I’ll whip you forever!”

Then he fell silent, ominously, and ate, letting the quiet torture them.

“Pick the bamboo up!” He screamed as he finished.

May-may fetched the bamboo and handed it to him. He prodded her in the stomach. “Bed!” he ordered harshly, and Lim Din and Ah Sam fled, secure in the knowledge that the Tai-Pan had forgiven his Tai-tai, who had gained limitless face by enduring his righteous fury.

May-may turned around tearfully and went along the corridor towards her quarters, but he snarled, “My bed, by God!”

See Also:

• Learning To Love The Cane
• Chinese Spanking Statue
• Financial Planning The Chinese Way
• Chinese Breast Whipping
• Decadent Cruelty, Bamboo Cane

Speaking of pilgrims, you know those East Coast tourist traps where they’ll have a colonial village to traipse through, complete with some stocks for you to put your wife in while you take a picture?

I’m just guessing here, but I’m guessing this is some Asian equivalent. These look like tourists, they seem to be having fun, but that horizontal crucifix with the heavy ropes at feet and wrists looks like a very serious spanking bench to me:

Of course, if you’ve ever lived near a tourist destination, fixed facilities for beating the tourists might begin to sound real good to you after awhile.

Ah, Puritans. First persecuted, then become the persecutors, for a time they had an ugly habit of whipping Quakers. And for all their legendary prudishness, they didn’t mind parading naked ladies through the streets as long as there was whipping involved. One Margaret Brewster, on trial for having crashed a Puritan sermon, had the temerity to criticize the Quaker-whipping laws, only to be admonished:

“Margaret Brewster, you are to have your clothes stript off to the middle, and to be tied to a cart’s tail at the South Meeting House, and to be drawn through the town, and to receive twenty stripes upon your naked body.”

Thanks to The Spanking Writers for the link.

I really like this vintage hairbrush spanking photo from Vintage Spank. As always, I’m a sucker for expressive faces:

So, the job interview was promising. But it turned out that pretty “Seven” couldn’t type 70 words a minute the way she claimed she could (or even seven words a minute). And she snotted off when the boss asked for a cup of coffee:

Big mistake.

Fired? Oh, no. More like, indentured.

“Listen to me, you little tramp! From now on, you do what you’re told, when you’re told to do it! And no backtalk!”

And then the floggers came out, just to reinforce the lesson:

From this shoot at Whipped Ass.

See Also:

• Basement Office Desk Spanking
• Summertime At The Doctor's Office
• Too Cute To Spank?
• Secretary Spanked By Vindictive Wife
• Spank the Secretary

More prison spanking, this time from the comfortable realm of fiction, down on The Prison Farm:

“This is what we use for discipline.” Sam, the warden, spoke, as she jumped down from her desk, and walked up and down the line, with a long wooden paddle in her hand. “This is what you can expect if you step out of line.”

“Turn around, Margie, bend over and grab your ankles,” Sam said, tapping the paddle on the palm of her own hand.

Marge looked at her with pleading eyes, then turned and assumed the lewd position. She had to spread her legs in order to grab her ankles, and knew her privates were well exposed from behind.

“This is just an example,” Sam again directed the group. “Now, Margie, you are going to get five swats. I want you to count aloud so we all can hear. If you release the hold on your ankles, we will start over. Is that clear?” Sam asked, while tapping the paddle on the bare bottom.

“Yes. I understand,” Marge answered, breathing heavily. Sam took a few steps back.

“Oh, Margie! We can see EVERYTHING from back here!” Sam chided.

“You know, conjugal visits are not allowed. You sure you can go 18 months without a cock?” Sam mused. “Your pussy looks hungry already!”

The words cut through Marge like a razor. She screwed her eyes shut, knowing of how open she was to all the eyes in the room.

“Hold tight now. You are about to get your first of many prison spankings!” Sam spat, her lips curling in cruelty.

Sam stood back and adjusted her range, then raised the paddle high. With a splat that echoed against the hard painted walls, the paddle cracked into the bare bottom.

“OHHHHHHNE!” Marge gasped, as the horrible sting registered. Jesus! it hurt. She could almost feel it ringing like the echo. Sam smiled.

SPLAT! again in the same place, across both cheeks at the very center. “TWOOOOOOOoooo!” Marge managed to stammer out, as the itchy sting made her knuckles white as she tightly held her ankles.

Sam walked up and down the line of women, watching the looks of terrified horror on their faces. She turned again to Marge. SPLAT! lower down at the tender under curve.

“AAAIIIEEE! THREEEEE!” Marge rhymed and lunged forward some what.

Sam tapped Marge on the ass with her bare hand, kneading one cheek at the center.

“The next one’s going right here,” she pinched the place on the right cheek.

Marge cringed with anticipation. She felt like she was going to throw up.

SPLAT! The paddle hit the mark with deadly accuracy and force. Being so concentrated, the sting felt much worse.

“And the next, right here,” as Sam pinched the left cheek.

SPLAT! Again, the paddle hit its mark and sent a searing message to her brain.

“Margie, you just stay like that now,” Sam tapped her bottom again, “And the rest of you get undressed!”

Some interesting social attitudes on display in this historical account of the 1950s Canadian committee that recommended the abolition of judicial corporal punishment (prison whipping and the use of the infamous Canadian prison strap) in Canada:

Virtually everyone agreed that corporal punishment, if used at all, had to be restricted to cocky young men and male prisoners who became violent or mutinous. No one took seriously the prospect of whipping females, and most found explicit talk about bodies of either gender and punishment vaguely embarrassing. Wardens provided committee members with exhaustive details about the placement of prisoners on strapping tables, their immobilization, and the exposure of their bare flesh. Had sexologists or psychiatrists been called as witnesses, they might have pointed out the voyeuristic and sado-masochistic subtext of such acts. This was precisely the Pandora’s box of barbarous impulses that Joint Committee members preferred to keep tightly lidded.

Titillating notions popped out at several points, but teasing and jokes nervously sublimated them. When the presiding chairman asked William Common why youth gang “molls” were not “spanked” along with their male compatriots, he rattled the prosecutor, provoking him to assert that “assaulting females” was “more or less revolting to the average man.” The Joint Committee’s unofficial gadfly, Harold Winch, punched holes in Common’s chivalrous armor. As he reminded the prosecutor, the “average” man might very well spank his errant daughter when she was naughty. And if legislators were so chivalrous, Winch added, why did they not exempt women from the death penalty? As pointed as this heckling was, it still delicately sidestepped the scandalous prospect of “burly” male guards strapping or paddling women’s bare buttocks.

The Joint Committee members confronted the pornographic qualities of physical punishment again when members debated the prospect of observing an actual whipping. MP Ann Shipley, one of three women on the committee, shocked her fellow members when she argued that watching lashes and whips in action would be more instructive than merely gazing at them and listening to prison officials describe them. The warden of the Kingston penitentiary politely declined her request, protesting that the prospect would be “very embarrassing” (to whom, he did not specify).

See Also:

• Melodramatic About Getting Strapped
• Brutal Judicial Caning
• College Girls Get the Tawse