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There are lots of ways to ask for a spanking. Most are effective. Some are very effective.
Going to a spanking party, offering to give a fellow a head massage, and then getting out your Sharpie for some scalp graffiti?
That’s gotta be “way up there” on the effectiveness scale.
Picture from Zed and Ginger, where there are more pictures to show you just how well it worked.
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Chelsea Girl had some downtime on Memorial Day. So what did she do?
Why, she got a spanking, of course!
Yesterday, Memorial Day, I went to Donny’s apartment late in the afternoon. I had taken the dog to the dog run, I had washed my floors and cleaned the cat’s box. I had showered and eaten and brushed my teeth, I had sent a few emails. I had done a bit of duty to others and to self, and then it was time for me to do my duty to my country and to my cunt. It was time to fuck my boyfriend.
“What would you like?” Donny asks, naked in the orange light of the sun setting.
I want you to spank me, I say.
“What would you like me to spank you with?” He asks. “The new spanker? My hand? The flogger?”
It’s up to you, I say, and I lay prone on his bed, my bare ass raised on a dais of pillows; I imagine its good-natured spread like twin generous helpings of ice cream pooling on the bed.
“Good answer,” Donny says and retrieves the new spanker from his drawer. The new spanker has been sitting in his drawer, unused, bereft and lonely, quiet as an unread Trollope novel, since I bought it for him in April. Made of braided leather cording, it’s a sweet, stingy little whippy thing, just about 10” in length and shaped like an old-fashioned carpet beater. I bought it because I thought that Donny wouldn’t be able to resist its Celtic knotted charm and because I thought it would leave interesting whorls and lines on my vanilla cupcake ass.
Donny kneels on the bed beside me and slowly draws the edge of the spanker down my spine, across the dale of my lower back, up and around the swelling hills of my ass. He curves and swirls the toy across my skin, like he is writing on me in invisible ink, like he is skating across the landscape of my body, like he is authoring my anticipation, which unlike the previous phrases is no simile.
And then, predictably, he strikes me unpredictably,only to return once more to the leather-weight precise pleasure of the spanker’s edge on my skin, drawing lazily, sketching his whim and my desire in freehand on my flesh. He punctuates his work: Smack! Smack! Smack!
“Too hard?” he asks.
No, I said. It isn’t. And it is. It feels like the quintessence of a study in contrasts, this hurtful act of love that gave pleasured pain, this tension between waiting and dread, this starry smack that pops a melting white flash in my brain, this invisible heat that builds with each wanted and feared strike. He tells me that the spanker left whorled red lines, like firecrackers have been caught exploding and held still in time on the white vista of my ass.
Smack! smack!-smack!-smack!-Smack! Donny strikes a series of blows on a small parcel of outer assflesh, each one more stinging than the last. My breath hisses like a punctured tire. He puts the spanker down and tells me to turn over; he pulls me to the side of the bed, props one of my feet on a chair and the other on a chest, and buries his pervert’s mouth and pointy tongue in my pussy. He presses one finger and then two into my pussy, licking each one with a loud ssschluck before each insertion. I ride his mouth and his fingers, willing him to suck my clit like a lemon drop and giving silent gratitude when he does so.
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Why, I do believe somebody has finally succeeded in getting this delinquent young lady’s full attention:
From Girls Boarding School.
So says Valdor at The Spank Statement in his tribute to John Wayne. Of course, he’s talking about the spanking scene in Mclintock:
The entire film centers on the spanking given to Maureen O’Hara as G.W. Mclintock and his firebrand wife battle through their tempestuous relationship. Surely, in terms of production values and epic scale, this is the greatest spanking scene ever filmed.
The build up, as Wayne relentlessly stalks O’ Hara through the town, until eventually she has run out of delaying tactics and hiding places, is as erotically charged as any sex scene in the movies. During the chase O’ Hara gets stripped to her underwear and dunked in water. Finally, with the entire town looking on, G.W. drags his wife into a barn for her comeuppance.
The spanking begins with an upswell of background music. As the wallops commence, the camera cuts to the delighted faces of the witnesses, who almost seem to be in the throes of religious ecstasy.
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So it seems Bonnie from Her Bottom Smarts was just a-sittin’ at her computer minding her own business. Before she knew it she’d sassed her husband, almost as if she were looking for a spanking:
Then I uttered the fateful words. “So what are you going to do about it?” I meant it to be funny, and perhaps it was, but it was also precisely the wrong thing to say if I had any desire to avoid a first class bun warming.
Randy left the room, only to return a few moments later carrying the dogleg brush. I swallowed hard when I saw what he was holding. This was sure to be serious. He told me to get up. When I did, he sat in my chair and quickly pulled me down across his lap.
Many spanking photos depict the spanker seated in a straight, armless chair while his spankee is over his lap balanced on her fingers and toes. What they don’t show is how uncomfortable and precarious this position can be.
As soon as the brush impacted against the seat of my canvas shorts for the first time, my level of discomfort rose considerably. Randy usually spanks on the bare. But on those rare occasions when he leaves my target covered, he feels the need to compensate for the extra padding by holding nothing back. My shorts and underwear offered minimal protection against the deluge of heavy swats that now rained down upon my poor bottom.
Randy spanked hard and fast, wielding the fierce punishment brush with a skill gained through years of experience. The onslaught was so intense that I could barely catch my breath, let alone yell. Over and over, he aimed squarely for those two spots where I sit down.
The whole thing probably lasted no more than a few minutes. It happened so quickly that the pain is only now starting to fully register. When he lifted me up and set me back on my feet, I was speechless. He told me that he had a couple of errands to run and that he would return to finish with me later. He kissed me and then he was gone.
Bethie’s been busy lately over at Spanking Bethie. Mostly, fondling her toy collection like Scrooge McDuck in his money bin. And doing “everything he used on my butt” collection photos:
Ah, well, at least when she’s photographing the toys, she’s not busy buying more on eBay!
Here are two little bits of spanking artwork for your enjoyment:
