Spanking Blog: Adult Erotic Spanking At Its Best

An neat little treasure trove of vintage spanking photos was discovered and displayed here [link replaced in 2014 with Internet Archive link] (thanks to Sexoteric for the link). Don’t miss them!

But the gem of the collection has to be this little two page spanking letter from 1957:

Chicago, Illinois, June 22, 1957

Dear John,

Although I can’t write a good letter, this is a note to let you know I’m your little twelve year old spanking girl.

This is what happens: When I have been naughty and am to be spanked, I am to get undressed, put on stockings and high-heeled shoes. If I have been very naughty, you will use that big ruler; not real naughty, the strap (we no longer have a small ruler); just a little naughty, your hand. You will administer ten whacks on each cheek of my hynie.

After you have finished, I am to put my arms around you, kiss you and tell you I love you. I am to show you my pussy, ask you if you don’t think it’s pretty, and tell you it’s all yours.

Some note, huh?

Love,
Cora

Please throw this away.

P.S. I forgot to say: You put me over your knees, and you spank!

Bad John, he didn’t throw Cora’s note away. But then again, would you have?

This spanking scene from Real Spankings rather tickles my fancy. The look on her face is special; it’s as if she can’t decide whether to be astonished by the pain of her spanking, or pissed off about getting spanked:

More here.

See Also:

• A Pretty Grimace
• Bedtime Strapping
• Jessica In Tears
• Nice Spanking Posture
• Spanked And Howling

Here’s a filk song with spanking in it, to the tune of Black Velvet Band, discovered over at Bondage Blog:

So beware all you randy young fellows,
When a lassie takes advantage of ye.
Enjoy it as long as you like, me boys,
Then turn her right over your knee.

From Master Fitz we get an account of how he caned his brat to many tears and orgasms:

I took brat by her lead and led her, still in chains, up to our bedroom. Once I’d swapped my leather cuffs for handcuffs and secured her to the bed, I played with her clit mercilessly, bringing her to such a huge climax that I swear her thrashings could have pulled the rungs right out of our pine headboard.

Then I flipped her over, inserted our largest dildo into her eager pussy and pumped it until she was on the verge of another orgasm. And then the spanking began. I swiftly set up a rhythmic pace, spanking each cheek in turn, reasonably lightly, intending that the repetetive stinging pressure would take her into the pleasure zone – which it did, with a couple of rests while I pumped the dildo into her until she came on it. After a couple of rests, and with her starting to come out with the odd “Ouch”, I increased the tempo, spanking hard and fast on each cheek repetetively – which I know brat finds incredibly uncomfortable.

Her breath started coming in ragged gasps and the “ouches” became more regular. Twice she used our “halfway house” safeword to give herself a break, during which I again pumped the dildo in and out of her gushing pussy, bringing her to a state of almost constant orgasm for the whole of her rest periods.

After maybe ten minutes of this rhythm, I realised to my disappointment that it would probably be beyond my strength to cause enough pain to make her cry with mere spanking, so I decided to switch to the cane.

My brat moaned with resignation when I told her, but as she was once again being fucked, it may have been something else.

I started lightly with the cane – not entirely sure why, I think it may have been some instinct that told me to probe her limits carefully, to not take her directly to whatever place in the serious spanko’s mind where the tears flow like water.

However, it seems that her well punished – an in fact already bruised – bottom wasn’t going to take much more and a few medium strength lashes had her weeping and begging for another rest. I reluctantly went back to hand spanking, but then had a revelation – a moment, it must be said, of clarity.

The reaction I’d seen in my brat when I caned her was exactly the reaction I wanted to see.

I stopped my ministrations with the dildo and informed her I would be going back to the cane and that we were so close to the climax of what we were trying to achieve…

I made her cum a couple more times, failing to leave the dildo inside her as by now she was so completely soaked that it wouldn’t stay put, then I starte in with the cane once more.

Within a couple of strokes I had her telling me it was really bad, then the tears started – and kept on coming.

Fighting with my desire not to hurt her too much, I kept on landing stroke after stroke, listening to her sobs, marvelling as they actually changed from light but strong weeping to deep gasping sobs as the blows kept landing. Eventually I let her rest, kissing her and reassuring her like I had for the last few rest stops. Then I tentatively began pumping the dildo again, wondering what her reaction would be.

The reaction was that she came again immediately, still in tears. I was blown away, and vastly encouraged. By this point, the leaked lubricant from her deeply filled pussy was coating the insides of her thighs maybe halfway to her knees.

I don’t know what effect a good coating of oil has on the feel of a caning. Anybody out there with first-hand experience? But I imagine that oily skin, like wet skin, would intensify the effects. Certainly in this shoot from Sex And Submission, the young lady bent back over the rack/wheel contraption seems to be having an intense experience:

Like heck he’s not:

What happened on Friday was funny. When I put on the schoolgirl uniform, to take the pictures, I had nothing on my mind, except for the pics, like I said. But after I checked them on my computer, Jack started turning off half of the lights in the house and covering the windows. Now, if Jack does that, you know what’s coming…

Fast forwarding…

My panties came down. I was again wearing some thin stupid stuff – I am so dumb! He slapped some more, making me turn left and right, but my hands never left the bed. Then I heard the swish, and his belt came out of his belt loops.

I got ten hard ones. He counted them and had to repeat a couple of strokes, because I was jumping forwards a bit too much – even if after each stroke, I was bringing my butt back for another stroke.

He explained to me calmly that he wasn’t interested in my butt being out of reach, but being presented for his belt in the correct position. He adjusted my position: “This is what I want. Not there, not here, but right *here*. Do you understand?” “Yes, Sir.” “Besides, why do you tense? You said the belt doesn’t hurt, right?” “Yes… but this is different!” Of course it was. I thought it wouldn’t hurt… as usual, I was wrong! But ten finished.

And he went to get the hairbrush. That thing stings! He covered my bum all around with it. He loves catching both cheeks with one hit. He said that. I witnessed it.

When the spanking was done and I was sore, he went for sex. He was damn hard! And he says spanking is not his thing? For God’s sake! If it’s not his thing, why was his gun so fucking loaded?

Good question!

From Brat Under Control.

There’s a funny post over at The Punishment Book in which Haron describes how she got spanked for locking Abel out of their house:

We Punishment Book babes get spanked for a variety of reasons, and some times our misdeeds are pretty contradictory. We simply can’t use each other’s experience for guidance. One day I’ll be spanked for working too hard, and then Mija will be spanked for not working hard enough. One day Sparkle is in trouble for not locking the front door – and guess what I get strapped for next.

Abel arrived home the other night to find the front door latched. He doesn’t like this. I always have the latch on, particularly when it’s almost midnight, and I’m alone in the house, but when he’s due to come home from a trip, I unlatch it before he comes back.

Or anyway, I’m *supposed* to unlatch it. Unless I forget. Or put the latch back on automatically. When this happens, I usually hear a crash as Abel tries to open the door, and then some very bad words when he fails.

Only this time, there was a crash – and complete silence. Bad words were mentally provided by me, because I’d suddenly remembered that last time this happened he’d promised me retribution. I wondered whether it would be safer just to leave him outside, but then figured that at some point I’d have to leave the house to get food and stuff, and by that time he’d be really unhappy, so I sighed and trotted to the door.

[Wise decision. -Ed.]

‘You’ll be spanked for this,’ were his first words.

‘Hello to you too,’ I said. I really wanted to explain to him about serial killers, monsters from the outer space, and maniacs who get into your house *just* as you’re about to have a shower, but thankfully I was too tired to say anything witty, so we just hugged and went to bed.

This could happen at our house. Bethie locks everything. I swear, that woman could be alone in the Space Shuttle in a retrograde polar orbit, and when she climbed into that little sleeping shelf and pulled the curtain closed, she’d try to lock it. She claims it’s to keep the “boogie man” out. If you laugh, she explains in all seriousness that “boogie man” is just shorthand for … well, Haron’s list sounds pretty familiar: serial killers, monsters from the outer space, maniacs, whatever.

Me, I don’t even lock my car unless it’s got something worth stealing inside, which is, generally speaking, never. I’m always going SLAM! against something Bethie’s locked for no obvious reason. But I never thought to spank her for it. Hmmm, nice idea!