Political Spanking Cartoon With Jesus Watching
This is from a page with a political point I haven’t tried to figure out. But it’s got a nice spanking cartoon, with Jesus and Condi Rice watching:

This is from a page with a political point I haven’t tried to figure out. But it’s got a nice spanking cartoon, with Jesus and Condi Rice watching:

Adele Haze has just published an interview with Bailey, who is a very popular spanking model for Real Spankings and related sites. Here’s Bailey explaining how modeling for spanking movies can sometimes interfere with her private spanking life:
Shooting every week means I have to take certain things into consideration before playing with anyone else. It isn’t the end of the world if I show up to a shoot with marks from a play encounter, but it isn’t really encouraged either. It can be hard to find the right time to play at the intensity that I’d like if I know I have a shoot coming up. Often the result is that I simply don’t get to play. If I do play with someone I find myself saying, “Remember I have to shoot…” In addition to avoiding marks, I am frequently sore. It can be hard to get up for a hard spanking at home when I am still feeling the effects off my last shoot. However even with these considerations I think I enjoy plenty of spankings privately.
And here’s Bailey bent over a school desk:
I don’t believe in invidious comparisons as a rule; I like the look of bottoms and they are all attractive. But if they had a “prettiest bottom about to be caned” competition, you’d have to admit this would be a worthy entrant:
There’s a companion photo where she’s clutching her sore cheeks with such vigor that she’s parted them, exposing her anal rosebud as if to offer it to the viewer:
See Also:
This is never a good idea, but it’s often fun:
Up a tree or in the Rott kennel? Which is safer?
I go for the tree and am almost high enough to be out of his reach when he yanks on the bottom of my pajamas! DIRTY POOL!
My jammies come down! He laughs. I am mortified and I tell him he’d better eat out for the rest of the week.
“How dare you!” I yell.
“Easily,” he laughs.
“There are laws against this,” I tell him.
“Not in my house,” the giant squid retorts and a couple of hard swats later, covers my bare bottom with his excessively large paw… er, hand… and we go back into the house.
Unfortunately, I still have the sniffles.
“Where were we?” he asks as he gives me one of those smug male grins.
Bonnie has the best adventures:
Randy began to applaud. He was clearly delighted by my striptease. Finally, I had for once turned the tables, or so I thought.
“That was excellent, Bon! Now let’s see you bend over this stool.”
Nearly breathless and fresh out of better ideas, I did as he asked. I placed my belly on the cold vinyl that coated the top step. Once I was in position, Randy produced my leather cuffs and slipped them onto my two wrists and two ankles. Designed as they are for restraint, each cuff has a small ring to allow attachment of a cord. Randy, of course, had other ideas. He grabbed a roll of grey duct tape from the top of his dresser (now, is that the sign of a real man or what?). He proceeded to fasten each cuff to a leg of the step stool by winding the tape around both cuff and leg. This had to have been the hard way, but it was effective enough. I was bound in place, fully exposed, and unable to move.
I mentally prepared myself for my spanking. It would hurt without a doubt, but it would be wonderful at the same time. At least I hoped it would. I was completely unready for the next sensation. Rather than a hot smack, I felt a cold finger, coated with lubricant, probing my rear orifice. In and out, around and around, he spread the viscous goo. Next, my Prince Charming began to insert a rubber plug. Slowly at first, he pushed, twisted, and pumped until it was in place. I can’t say it was particularly comfortable, but I sufficiently aroused by now to care only slightly.
As I was settling in with the idea of my most private place being thoroughly violated, the spanking began. Randy used a short leather strap to warm up my cheeks. It left a burning sensation with every stroke. When he decided I had enough of that, he switched to a wooden hairbrush. When vigorously applied to flesh of my posterior, it burned too, but in a deeper, more intense, longer lasting fashion. At one point, I recall Randy holding the brush in one hand and the end of the butt plug in the other. The sensations associated with being spanked and penetrated at the same time were so overwhelming that he had to steady the step stool to prevent it from tipping over from my rocking gyrations.
After many hard swats, my man finally decided I had been adequately spanked. He dropped the brush and walked around in front of me. He knelt down and gently kissed me. When he stood again, he lowered his pants and pulled out his weapon. “Open up,” he directed. I leaned my head back to accept his gift. I kissed, licked, and sucked his rod…
How did it go in the Rubaiyat? “A skein of rope, a leather strap, and thou…” Yeah, that’s it:

“Paradise enow”, indeed. From Sex And Submission.
It’s not nice to lie to your children, but I suppose it’s often expedient. Case in point from The Spanking Writers:
Said parents were away when we first visited their house. Son sits us down, disappears to fetch drinks. And our eyes simultaneously come to rest on the huge plant pot in the corner of the living room.
We wandered over, as if in shock: yes, it was stashed with the most impressive collection of crook-handled school canes that I have ever seen: junior, senior, in every conceivable degree of whippiness.
Our friend came back in. “Camel whips,” he explained. “Dad collected them when he lived in the Middle East.”
We – just – managed to surpress our giggles.