Spanking Blog: Adult Erotic Spanking At Its Best

So Plum had a good date with a new dom:

There was nothing in the past six months so sexually delicious as the time we’ve spent together so recently, and I am amazed to see how much my pleasure is enhanced not just by being pinched and slappped and treated roughly, but by that sense of ownership, of giving and being used.

Our night together was lovely and long and he’s talented with his hands just in the way I like.
“Would you like to spank me?” I asked (begging in my brain).

“Oh, yes!” he said, and when I obediently bent over, slightly pushing up round bottom up off the bed, he said, “Oh, that looks so submissive, good,” and then he didn’t hold back in caressing my skin with his hands in between ever harder, more forceful splaps.

The sound of his hand on my skin was nothing next to the delicious stinging pain I felt as he rained open handed blows on my backside, hips and legs, and the warmth that spread through my body through the pain. Whe he took one one of his big hands and stuck his thumb right inside me, plugging me at the core as his other hand spanked my ass, it was so good I wanted to moan (and I did.)

As he worked me over, I felt amazingly excited, but I also had the thought going through my head This man understands me, he knows what I want.

“Turn over,” he said, and then, with his big thumb still inside me, he began to bite and tease my breasts, sucking first one nipple, then the other, and then zeroing in on the sensitive nipples with his tongue and his teeth.

“What’s your safeword?”

“Red,” I said, and he nodded and then he bit me, grinding the nipple between his teeth until I saw little stars from the pain at the same time that my pussy tightened, grabbing him so tight he yelped.

We went on like that for a while, his mouth on my breasts and his hands in my cunt, and he pushed me to orgasm again and again, controlling my pleasure just the way I like it, pushed and played and exhausted right to the edge.

I think I came at least six times and I squirted at least three, pouring fluid out of myself again, and again, gushing so plentifully when I thought there would be no more that I almost couldn’t believe it.

“Suck my cock,” he said, and when I kneeled to the task, I had him moaning with pleasure in a way that made me feel great.

I found a wonderful old innocent “garden spanking, with carpet beater” photo over at Vintage Spanking Photos:

See Also:

• Carpet Beater Spanking For The French Maid
• Cleaning Heidi's Carpet
• Big Carpet Beater Spanking
• More Carpet Beater Spanking
• A Carpet Beater For Buns

Somewhere, in some big city, there’s still a few holdouts, kinky people with no internets. There must be, if this artifact of the 1980s still manages to survive:

Found on Flikr.

You have just got to love “blushes in the basement.” Spankarama, baby!

There’s only one reason for that posture and those looks of mischief. “Sir, we’re ready for our spankings!”

Found in the vintage erotica newsgroup on Usenet.

The tireless Debra Hyde, author of the Pursed Lips blog and one of the few kinky bloggers I can think of who has been blogging for much longer than I have, has decided to reinvigorate her blogging style. And to start out the business, she’s written The Perimenopausal Pornographer: Notes From My Spank-o-Files. Which turns out to be a worthy spanking essay for several reasons, starting with the wry acknowledgment of that you don’t necessarily have to be a juicy young thing to enjoy a good spanking:

It was an email like any other, landing as innocuously in my mailbox as those that arrive from various mailing lists, web sites, and on-line pitchmen. But its message was anything but innocent. Blatantly, it blared in spam proclamation, “Young women who need spankings are everywhere – maybe even on your own street!”

I scoffed, of course they’re on my street! Or at least one of them is – me. But then I looked closely at this webcam come-on and one word stuck out at me: Young.

Ah, I see. Youthful, firm butts, soft as a baby’s behind. Rounded muscles, magnificently glutinous, perhaps reaching J-Lo generosity, all unblemished by the march of time.

Well, that excludes me. I’m afraid I fall into the as-yet-undesignated category of “Mothers I’d Love to Spank.” Perhaps even leaning towards grandmother status. Either way, I’m definitely among the “mature,” according to the lexicon of today’s pornographers.

Mature though I am, sometimes I need a spanking every bit as much as those “young girls” purport to, and I’m lucky enough to have a partner who enjoys dispensing the pleasure of pain. When Thomas puts me over his knee and applies the sting of his hand to my naked, trembling rump, slapping me until I’m squirming wildly and begging him to stop, my soul is in nirvana while my body steps one foot into hell. The sting of the human hand against my flesh is far more daunting than you might imagine, far more extreme to me than a whip or quirt or even a cane. Nothing stings as fiercely and, if not for Thomas’ erection pressing into my belly, I’d probably swear off hand spanking entirely.

The essay ranges widely after that, covering wooden spoons, sports bets, canes and decision making, the personal origins of spanking kinks, and even the ever-popular topic of why we like it:

Now, if the wherefores of spanking seem simple for us, the why’s aren’t all that complicated either. Spanking comes down to one thing: erotic pleasure. I love the sensation. I relish how it courses from rump to cunt, how undeniable my lust becomes. Thomas likes the marks, the redness, my squirming reactions, and (when he hits pay dirt) how my cunt plumps, swelling until it looks feverish and ready to burst.

Seriously, read the whole thing.

No slouch with rhetorical devices herself, and a dab hand with a simile, Haron nonetheless cracks me up with her description of rhetorical advantage (and ogres):

I let out my breath after the last one and looked at Abel over my shoulder. He had that pensive look again, like an ogre who had just eaten a little girl who wasn’t quite agreeing with his digestion.

“That was five lots of six-of-the-best,” he said. “You know about that schoolgirl who got caned every morning before her lessons? On our blog? If I gave you another dozen, you would have had her whole punishment in one go. I think that would be quite cool.”

I thought that it would be quite a sacrifice for the sake of I wasn’t sure exactly what, but I was the one with an upturned bare bottom, and Abel was the one with the dragon cane, and thus he seemed to be at a rhetorical advantage.

Indeed, the man with the cane always has a rhetorical advantage.

Why do you think they stopped teaching rhetoric in schools at the same time the school cane fell into disfavor? Coincidence? I think not!

It’s been a long time since I posted anything from Spanked Cutie, but I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist this healthy full-bottomed red glow:

You can see more of this toasted bottom here.