Spanking Blog: Adult Erotic Spanking At Its Best

The vintage spanking erotica never fails to amuse. I like the big smile on the face of the woman with the hairbrush, who is clearly enjoying her work:

Just a friendly little bondage and cropping, right? Right:

But I purely love the tension between those sweet innocent white cotton panties and the rigorous spreader-bars and hoisted-arms tie. We know, because this is a shoot from of Sex And Submission, that in the very next picture her panties will be down on the spreader bar and some guy will be balls-deep inside her. There’s just something special about plain white panties on a girl who’s about to be giving a bondage blowjob.

See Also:

• Mouth Soaping And Bondage Sex
• Hotel Eden From Dofantasy: A Review
• Explicit BDSM Views
• Boning A Criss-Cross Caned Bottom
• Bondage, Spanking, And Sex

I’ve recently been forced (by regular internet outages, bad winter weather, and family obligations that have kept me too much away from Bethie) to stock up on cheap novels that I wouldn’t normally have time for. That’s meant buying “something to read” off of Wal-Mart racks, rather than getting to a real book store and buying stuff more to my tastes. But there’s a silver lining in any cloud. In this case, it’s the following exchange from a cheesy 1980s western called “The Last Mountain Man” by William Johnstone:

In a general store, Preacher sized up the shopkeeper as one of those pinched-mouth Eastern types. Looked like he might be henpecked, too.

…

“Walter!” A shrill voice cut the hot air of the store. “You hurry up now and bring me my tea. Stop loafing about, gossiping like a fisherwoman. Hurry up!

Preacher cringed at the thought of being married to someone who sounded like an angry puma with a thorn in its paw. God! he thought, her voice would chip ice!

“Walter!” the voice squalled from the rear of the store, causing the hair on the back of Preacher’s neck to quiver.

Black hatred flashed across the shopkeeper’s face.

“Git you a strap,” Preacher suggested. “Wear ‘er out a time or two.”

The man sighed. “I have given that some thought, sir. Believe me, I have.”

So, it turns out that bathroom spankings are still popular:

A few years ago he spanked my wet bum. I remember when I was small my Mom was obsessed with me not staying forever in the bath tub – where I would gather all my ships and action figures and small soldiers. Now, my hubby is obsessed with it. I guess they were – and are – scared that I might faint in there or something. Anyway, I got spanked for long baths as an adult. It might have been also my fault, since I insisted on splashing water on his suit… hehe

He counted first. 1…2….3….4….5… Nothing. His wife had no intention in leaving her nice and warm foamy bath. Then he reached out, scooped the wife out, and spanker her wet bum nice and good. That is not the way a bath should end. He could have dried me with a nice fuzzy towel and carried me to bed. That’s the right approach, you see. Instead, he spanked me and asked me to dry myself and go to bed.

From Brat Under Control.

See Also:

• Bathroom Spanking Movie
• A Bath Brush In The Bathroom

It’s a story as old as the spanking fetish: a well-caned girl clutching at the welts on her bottom:

In which Angelbrat pretends she didn’t know she had a spanking coming. Me, I think her fruitless efforts at distraction were perhaps a smidge calculated:

Once upstairs I decided to make an effort to improve my attitude, so I climbed into a hot bath and did a very thorough job of shaving myself in all the important places. When I was finished, I put on some sweet smelling lotion (something I used to do every single day, but somehow fell off of – I’m trying to make it a habit again) and put on pretty panties and a white t-shirt.

I lay down and read for a little bit, then yelled for Nick to come up. He came up within a few minutes, his hands suspiciously behind his back. I tried to ignore this disturbing development, choosing instead to offer him my freshly shaved nether regions. He seemed suitably interested, but when he sat down beside me it turned out to be the other side of me he wanted to see.

After a bit of protesting, I turned over, and immediately tensed when he pinned me to the bed. Never a good sign. It took me a while to figure out just what it was he’d been hiding behind his back, mostly because it was hard to concentrate while he was blistering my bottom with it. It turns out it was a hairbrush, which I figured out about the time it broke across my bare butt. He took up the campaign with his hand, which pretty quickly got old for him (how do you think I felt?) He ordered me to stay put, then got up to find a new implement.

He laid his hands on a wooden spatula that I picked up for a dollar somewhere just because, well, I’m a spanko who likes to shop. Now this thing didn’t look very sturdy. When I bought it it was just for play. Apparently it’s made out of some sort of super wood. He absolutely set me on fire. This was one of the longer spankings I’ve ever had, running somewhere over 500 swats, I think. Right now I have a very sore bottom.

Afterwards there were more pleasant activities to pursue, and a less stressed spirit with which to pursue them. Tonight I feel much better, and very much loved.

Here’s a sweet tale of an innocent first spanking, originally published under the title “First Girlfriend” in Janus magazine, and excerpted therefrom at A Taste Of The Birch. As always, we are indebted to Alex Birch for his tireless transcription from his excellent collection of vintage spanking porn:

It started one afternoon when she turned up in jeans. She began to tickle me, laughing mischievously, wordlessly inviting me to do the same to her. Naturally enough she was more ticklish than I , and was soon convulsed with helpless giggles. I stopped so she started again. This time my retaliation didn’t stop until her pleasure became so intense it actually seemed to hurt her. “Give in?” I asked as I pinned her down.

Suddenly I wanted to hurt her, have her beg for mercy. I wanted to demonstrate power through pain. She was lying on her right side, her right leg straight out and her left leg drawn up so that there was a contrast in the shape of each buttock. The one nearer to me was held in a beautiful long curve, whilst the other bulged at its underside – the tight material of the jeans distorting their overall shape to very pleasing effect. I had both knees pressed down at her waist, between her ribs and hip, and now I began to rock up and down making her gurgle and splutter; my hands free to poke her flesh and fondle and grope her wherever I wished.

For a while I stroked her neck and played with her lovely little breasts, before moving my increasingly urgent attentions lower down. I squeezed and pinched at her right buttock before sensuously running my hand over the arc of her bent left buttock, tracing the centre seam of her jeans with my fingertips where it had sunk deep inside the cleavage of her bottom.

Linda giggled nervously as I did this. Perhaps there was not an entirely pleasant glint in my eyes. The urge to smack my hand down on that left cheek was becoming irresistible. Why should I resist the temptation? There were no constraints to my behaviour. Whatever I did, Linda forgave – enjoyed even. She told me that she endured it only for the kissing and making up afterwards, but she was not entirely convincing.

“I think I’m going to have to smack your arse!,” I announced imperiously.

“Oh, why?” Linda pleaded, her pretty face puzzled yet flushed and very excited.

“Because I want to!”. Linda watched warily, and not a little fascinated as I raised my hand high.

“Don’t.” she whispered, but her voice lacked any conviction.

I leered at her, then smacked my hand down on the exposed target as hard as I could. There was a satisfying loud smack, and my palm stung as I gave her drum-tight buttock a really hard spank. Linda yelped and cried out, “Don’t!” again, in a little whining voice that sounded to me more of an invitation than a protest.

I smacked her there again, and again, and again. Linda whimpered,”Don’t, you’re hurting me,” each time my palm struck her bouncing bottom. I paused, my determination to make the spanking hurt redoubled by the submissiveness of her response.

Suddenly I unleashed a flurry of spanks as hard as I could, so that Linda’s whines turned to high pitched squeals…