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Feet are fun to tickle and play with (especially when they are all tied up securely as in this photo) but for me personally, the bastinado fantasy never did a whole lot. Caning the soles of her feet? You’d need to be more of a foot fetishist than I am. But you have to admit, the aft end of Hogtied.com bondage model Annie Cruz is awfully cute, and the temptation to at least menace those pretty feet with a few light swishes would be hard to avoid:
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If this were a shaggy dog story, it would start: “So these two SCAdians walk into a leather merchant’s shop…”
Well, they do. And they buy a pair of cheap riding crops. Marital hilarity ensues.
Anyway, we got them for a buck each, and were happy they had been so cheap. Maddie was *so* excited, she began slapping almost anything within reach with hers. I, being a model of virtue and temperance, did no such thing, and saved it for later use in the list.
On the way home, however, things took an unforseen turn (although it shouldn’t have been unforseen….).
Maddie readily admits that she is the likely culprit for the role of instigator (any memories I had of conversations to the contrary, closer to these events, are surely mistaken…). She began slapping me in the arm and leg as I was driving. Of course, both of us were still in garb, and had our crops in our belts, so the weapons were still close at hand. I defended myself as best I could.
I need to explain that Maddie has two simple rules for these fights, should you take a shot that hurts: You’re a pu$$y if you look at it, and you’re a pu$$y if you rub it. Only the head was off-target.
There was NO holding back. These blows were *whistling*. They were little riding crops, and we could generate some serious velocity, even in the close quarters of a van’s front passenger cabin. They were going, ‘whoo – THWACK’! with each blow. Especially if you snapped it a little at the end. We even found we could get little combos going – bicep/thigh, hand/forearm, etc. And of course, were laughing like a couple of loons the entire time.
So there we were, going 70 down the highway, flailing away at each other. Both of us were too stubborn to admit that any of the blows *might* have hurt, and to either look at it or rub it was to concede defeat. So we kept upping the calibration. Two stubborn, competitive people with riding crops make a bad combination.
We finally ‘negotiated’ a cease-fire, and of course neither side was willing to admit defeat, so we both could claim victory, or at least a tie.
After we got home. we found we were *covered* in welts.
It doesn’t matter how you do it, as long as you and your spouse spend quality time together. Ahh, mawwige….
70 MPH? Ulp! Kiddies, don’t try this at home! Closed track, professional drivers only.
For a first OTK spanking, this tale of latex gloves, spanking, baby oil, and “whatnot” is amazingly adventurous and hot:
So I came downstairs after J and he was sitting on the sofa, there was a bottle of baby oil on the table. Oh a massage I thought- nice. He was sitting on his hands and told me to come and stand in front of him. I did and he pulled out his hands to reveal latex gloves :-). He then patted his knee and told me to lay over them. So I did thinking he was going to massage my hip as it had been very painful all day.
The next thing I yelp out loud as his hand comes down hard on my arse! He gives me a really hard thorough spanking! I cry out again and again but he doesn’t stop. He continues smacking the same spot over and over. My feet and fingers can only just touch the floor. This is the first over the knee spanking I have ever had. I haven’t even been naughty!
After a while I start to feel a change in myself, as my tension is released and I sink into the spanking. It hurts, really hurts and i can feel the burn. Jeremy tells me my bottom is very red and asks me if I’m enjoying it. i tell him yes I am but that it really hurts. ‘Good’, he says!
He seems to know to keep going, to attend to my bottom with the required amount of spanks and with enough pain to take me to where I need to be. After a long while he stops and I feel the cool softness of the oil being poured onto my bottom. It stings! he rubs it in, round and around my buttocks, gradually getting firmer. It hurts where he pinches and probes on the very sore spot but this only adds to my now great need!
His fingers dip down and find my pussy, he grabs it whole in his hands and rubs it hard and fast. He is rough then gentle. His fingers covered in gloves and oil slide into my very wet cunt. It is so good. I moan and lift my arse as best I can towards him. He takes a buttock in each hand and spreads me wide. In thie position i am embarrased. Being over his knee and then having him spank me was embarrasing no matter how much I wanted it or enjoyed it and now having him open my arse like this causes me to blush deepply. I feel very much controlled. His fingers go back inside me and I explode on them.
From Getting Wet.
I’m not really much of a Madonna fan, and in any case Madonna-in-fetish-gear is hardly breaking news in this millenium. But I like this photo of Madonna with riding crop, from a recent (?) concert in Montreal:
Bethie and I don’t often get too deep into non-spanking BDSM stuff — we like a little bondage, and as she’s posted recently, we’re finding that she responds extremely well indeed to various misreatments of her nipples — but that doesn’t mean we don’t have and play with quite a few toys. (On the contrary, we have so many that we had to buy a special BDSM toybag just to stow them in.) One of my favorite threats — favorite because she’s highly motivated to persuade me not to follow through — is to put aligator clips on her various tender bits. Behold the innocuous alligator clip, otherwise known as the Great White Shark of the nipple clip ecosystem:
They bother Bethie — things with teeth, doncha know — so we haven’t played with them…yet. (She loves that word “yet”.)
I first came across the erotic purposing of these delightful little beasts in a Blue Moon spanking novel, perhaps by Richard Manton. It was some manor-full-of-slavegirls scenario, in which one young miss had been insufficiently willing; she found herself tied in a vulnerable and exposed position with large alligator clips on all her tenderest bits, and told to call through the house for her master when she was ready to be pleasing. So of course for some hours servants and all were treated to her voluable pleas and assurances that she’d do anything — anything! — if only her master would come and remove the clips.
Back here in the real world, we encounter Anissa forced to find her best professional voice while in a similar, if rather less contrived, predicament:
My day went on much like usual in some aspects. I spent a full day working on office work… payroll, other accounting work… dealing with business calls. But I also spent my day in high heels and nylons and nothing else as far as clothing goes. I wore the posture collar while I made His lunch. I was hobbled with ankle cuffs and chain between them that wasn’t even a foot long. I spoke on the phone with clients while my clit was clamped with one of those nasty little alligator clamps. Every time He found need to make a correction in my work… I was reminded to perform to perfection with a trip bent over His desk for a taste of His cane. Either He was even more exacting that usual or I was making a lot of mistakes because I was seemed to spend a lot of time today with my nose pressed to wood. The harder I seemed to try… the more mistakes He would find. The more time I spent over His desk. Tonight my ass is well marked, welted and feeling oh-so tender.
And it makes me so fucking excited.
No need to clean your glasses; I did indeed write “Bethany”, not “Bethie”. It’s my great pleasure to report that Bethany (once a Spanking Blog advertiser and for many years the driving force behind the acclaimed Bethany’s Woodshed family of spanking sites) and her man Jim have resolved to make better use of their Woodshed Spanking Blog. Jim wrote:
The blog had become just another ad vehicle, and that’s not what blogs are for. That has stopped.
As the Internet has become fiercely competitive, we have maintained a tremendously loyal following, I believe because we are the real article—a couple that lives DD every day and makes it work to give us a satisfying marriage. We want our blog to reflect that, and to help us connect with our customers—no, not customers—friends—who have made Bethany’s and our many other Websites so wildly successful.
Which I find inspirational myself, and it’s a sentiment I hope you’ll soon see reflected (to an extent) here on Spanking Blog. I love my advertisers and I’m not ashamed of them, nor am I getting rid of them; indeed, without them, we wouldn’t have most of the yummy spanking pictures that get posted here, nor would I have the time and energy to keep up the blog. But I freely admit that I post too many pictures, because pictures are easy, while writing a good blog post isn’t. I’ve been doing this spanking blog thing for years, and it’s not always easy to stay inspired. Jim’s post has helped.
But hey, this is a song about Alice… or, rather, this is a blog post about Jim and Bethany, who announced their good intentions on July 26, and then — for three weeks as Jim reckons — it was pretty much the sound of crickets. Bethany picks up the tale (or should I say tail?):
Last night as I drove home, the phone rang. Jim got right to the point. “Why haven’t you posted anything new to the blog? I just looked at it. We said we were going to change the direction three weeks ago.”
OK, Jim and I have been together six years now. You’d think I’d have learned a few things in that time – but unfortunately, there are moments – like that one – when I am most definitely NOT the brightest bulb on the Christmas tree. A wise woman would have admitted her mistake and gone on. Or at least “pretended” to not have “realized” just how long it had been. I didn’t take either of these paths. Oh no. I argued with him. “It hasn’t been three weeks,” I asserted. “It’s only been two weeks and umm… four days.”
Bethie does this too — when she’s guilty, she’ll try to argue an insignificant detail as if it were the charge-in-chief. “I did not stick my tongue out at you six times last week, I’m sure it was no more than four!” Always makes me laugh, especially when there’s a full and adequate confession wrapped up in her argumentative denial. But back to Bethany and Jim, picking up after she’s gotten home:
“Now, you and I are going to have a little talk.” He yanks my pants down – a really bad sign, because if we’re even semi “playing” he’ll make me do it. Not tonight. Just get at the butt in question (mine) as quickly as possible. His hand in the middle of my back, the cool wood of the brush on my skin. Every time I’m in this position for real, I wonder WHY IN GOD’S NAME did I ever think this was in good idea. No answer is forthcoming.
“Didn’t we say three weeks ago that we were going to change the direction of the blog and start posting DD material regularly?”
SMACK
No warm up, nothing. Just that unbelievably “traditional” (that’s a synonym for horrible, by the way) hairbrush cracking against my skin, which was NOT as numb as I had thought, by the way.
I howled, and in that instant, gained at least a bit of wisdom – I would refrain from pointing out again that it had only been two weeks and four days.
“Yes.”
“And why hasn’t it been done?”
SMACK
I’ve never understood why he asks a question and then smacks me. Does he want an answer or not? A few times when we were first together, I had the temerity to point out this inconsistency to him. No more. Low percentage game.
As soon as I can catch my breath: “I don’t know. No excuses. I just kept putting it off. I just didn’t know… how to start.”
As soon as I said THAT, I regretted it because I knew what his answer would be – and he did not disappoint. “So consider this my contribution to the blog THIS is how you’re going to start.”
…
So spank he did. I don’ t know how many I got – probably not all that many – because he’s well aware the hairbrush is nothing to fool around with. But it was enough… A lot of women say that they can’t cry when they’re spanked – or do so only rarely. Not me. I’m boo-hooing before ten whacks – and sobbing by twenty. He probably stopped after about twenty five moderately hard cracks, which is quite a spanking with a wooden hairbrush. My ass was on fire.
He stood me up and looked me right in the eye. “So, first thing in the morning you’re going to write about this. Exactly this. About how you came home, and got turned over the sofa, and got your ass busted. And why.”
And she did, and they all lived happily ever after. What a good start on the new direction for their blog!
See what happens when you give a spanko girl a fancy digital camera? She sets up a spanking Yoda:
If I were a paranoid man, I’d worry I was being mocked. Perhaps I shouldn’t have croaked “Catch you, I shall. A spanking you will get….”