Spanking Blog: Adult Erotic Spanking At Its Best

Uh, oh! You’re in trouble now, girl:

You can try begging, but I don’t think it will help!

From the Lupus Spanking (formerly Rigid East) people.

The other day I was looking at a spanking website, written by a man, and it gave me the minor flesh creepies. The topic was the enjoyment the writer got from “improving” young ladies by bringing discipline to their lives. Which is fine and all in a role-playing sense, but this guy seemed to be completely serious. His tone was avuncular (in that bad-uncle-who-never-gets-invited-to-watch-the-kids sense) and his writing was full of diminutives whenever his “girls” were mentioned. They were described as scatterbrained moppets who couldn’t hope to function without his firm hand, paddle, cane, riding-crop, and so forth. He, of course, derived sexual pleasure from their discipline only as a minor secondary benefit; his true joy (he said) lay in giving them the direction and loving attention they needed to get and keep their lives in order. A bleedin’ humanitarian, that’s wot ‘e is.

Me, I call bullshit.

I remember when I was young and trying to figure out sex and kink and all this. And one thing I remember is the rather considerable tension between (on one hand) wanting to do various not-nice things to the young women of my acquaintance, and (on the other hand) my self-image as a nice, decent guy. One way of resolving that tension was to build elaborate fantasy scenarios in which the young women “deserved” their spankings or whatever, or in which the spankings were really for their own good, or were necessary to save a bus full of orphans, or … you get the idea.

Of course, the trouble with such fantasies is that they tend to be wildly implausible, or intellectually dishonest, or both. At the end of the day, it’s really not OK to spank the bay-jeebus out of cute-but-incompetent female burglars, even if they are caught trying to steal insulin from a diabetic nun.

So how to resolve this tension between kinky desires and nice-guy self-image? Eventually, yet well before any delectable young ladies consented to my lustful grasp, I figured out that I couldn’t resolve the tension by finding better excuses to act in kinky ways for the good of all; no, I needed to modify my self-image. In my own mind, I became a nice, decent, kinky guy with a hint of controlled dangerousness (at least when I’m flattering myself). In other words, I decided that (so long as the ladies are willing) I don’t need no steenkin’ excuse to be kinky. Kinky is OK.

And that comfort with the morality and general “okay-ness” of kink is what I found missing on the “improving her life through spankings” website I was reading the other day. But there was more to my discomfort than that. I read a lot of kinky blogs, and I see folks struggling to be comfortable with their kinks all the time. I’m sympathetic or mildly derisive depending on my mood, but I don’t usually have the strong negative reaction I had to Mr. Savior Disciplinarian.

Along comes Bonnie to the rescue. Writing in honor of International Women’s day, she makes mention of

…web sites that portray women as being inherently inferior. Worse yet, we are shown as hopelessly flawed creatures who would be lost but for constant guidance and frequent punishments delivered by men. I find these characterizations offensive and insulting.

I read that and recognized Mr. Savior Disciplinarian. In bending over backwards to find a good-enough excuse to spank women, he apparently convinced himself that they are not really able to manage their own afffairs without his stern-but-loving guidance. In short, he wasn’t acknowledging them as fully-competant adult human beings.

Bonnie writes further:

There are feminists who, with good intentions, lump all women of kink in with the unfortunate oppressed. In their minds, we couldn’t possibly choose this lifestyle without having been coerced, presumably by a man. In its way, this generalization is nearly as objectionable and patronizing. In both cases, other people who claim to understand our interests better than we do ourselves seek to constrain our roles.

I was born female, but I am a spanko by choice. I am empowered to make my own decisions. I freely choose to loan my control to my husband because that kind of play brings us enjoyment and fulfillment. This act doesn’t render me forever inferior. It says nothing about the rightful role of any other woman or man.

Bonnie is, of course, correct. How can someone claim to be a feminist while simultaneously refusing to respect a kinky woman’s capacity to consent?

Here’s a quaint scene of bedroom punishment with a leather strap, viewed from the best possible angle:

From Real Spankings, one of the sites in the Real Spankings Pass family of spanking paysites.

Marcus at A Spanker’s View understands how birthday spankings are supposed to go, and he doesn’t mind doing what’s necessary to make sure his bratgirl gets the memo:

Penny woke up. I hadn’t awakened yet, but Penny was always mischievous. She had lowered the blanket and sheets so that my bare butt was exposed. Then she started to spank me!

Talk about a wake up call!

I was suddenly alert, and moving around to stop that. “What are you doing, wench?”

Brazenly, she announced, “Spanking you! It’s your birthday! I think you get 3* swats this year!”

I grinned. “I think you are right. Crawl over my lap now, Penny.”

“What? No, You get the swats this time. It’s your birthday!”

She was shocked as I pulled her over my naked lap. Her camisole slid up, but her bottom was as bare as it almost always was in bed with me…

I know a few of you more conservative spankos out there don’t play with floggers, or anything else that smacks (heh) of the whips-and-leather BDSM culture. But a lot of you do enjoy floggers. (I know Bethie prefers our flogger to most of our spanking toys, possibly excepting just a few of our friendlier leather paddles. )

So for you flogging fans out there, how would you like having this awesome wood-and-rope flogging frame in your bedroom?

I suppose it’s not everyone’s idea of bedroom decor, but I think it’s highly decorative. (Enhanced, to be sure, by the ample curves of model Sydnee Capri, but unless your decorator is very persuasive and your significant other very understanding, that probably won’t be happening.) You can see it “in action” at Hogtied.com:

And here’s another photo:

I want one.

There’s no question that digital cameras have revolutionized amateur erotic photography. With no developing service in the loop, and no film costs, it’s a lot more fun to snap pictures in the bedroom. Of course, there’s still the trust issue to manage between photographer and model, as shown in this anecdote from Bonnie:

When he decided I had received my fair share of swats, he directed me to stand in the corner. This is not one of our regular rituals. I suppose we’ve done it before as a kind of submissiveness test, but it’s been ages. At this point, I was feeling well spanked and in the mood for almost anything. I would much rather have moved straight to the bed, but for the time being, I was willing to play along.

So there I stood with my nose in the corner and my pants at my ankles. I could tell that Randy was enjoying the view, but this arrangement wasn’t doing much for me. He left the room for a moment with the instruction, “Stay right there.” When he returned, I thought I heard him chuckle. As soon as I turned to see, he commanded me to get my nose back in the corner. I decided the whole business was silly and pointless. Instead of making love, we’re doing what?

Flash!

For a split second, my little corner was brightly illuminated. That mumble-frumble took my picture while I was standing there like that! I totally didn’t know what to say.

Years ago, he took a lot of pictures of me. In those days, we used conventional film that had to be developed in a darkroom. We weren’t about to give those kind of pictures to a commercial service, so we did it ourselves. The funny part was that I knew how to develop photographs and he didn’t. As a result, there were a number of unflattering pictures that simply didn’t turn out. Oh well.

With the digital camera, the game has changed completely. It’s his and he shoots what he likes. I don’t like to have my picture taken, and least of all at a moment like that. He knows this, and until yesterday, had displayed admirable restraint.

I wanted to give Randy a piece of my mind for violating what I thought was an implicit understanding. But I just couldn’t. He was giddy about his digital study in pink. He told me that he was delighted by how well the picture turned out and wanted to show me. Reluctantly, I gazed at the tiny monitor on the back of his camera. Even at two inches square and blurry, I hated it.

“That never goes anywhere!” I insisted.

“Don’t worry. It’s in safe hands.” Cautiously, I believed him. “Until you leave me,” he continued, “Then I’ll post it on Flickr.”

This came to me without attribution. I like the gleam in her eye, and the way he seems to be yelling and carrying on: