Spanking Blog: Adult Erotic Spanking At Its Best

So, a while back Freya wrote:

He pulled a six foot bullwhip out of a package that arrived in the mail yesterday.

He turns and gives me an evil look and I’m incredulous. “Oh! No fucking way.”

Stalking to me, he circles. “Oh? You don’t get to say no.”

Eyebrows go up. “If you think I’m going to let you use a fucking bullwhip on me you’re out of your mind!”

He teases me for a few hours until he finally tells me he just wanted to fuck with me for a while and he had plans to tie me up with it.

“OH! Well, that’s okay then.” Mmmm, the thought of the leather binding my wrists is quite appealing.

In her comments, I said:

Heh, he’s a devious one. First he’ll get you all in love with the smell and the feel of the braided leather, and get you programmed with erotic associations. Before you know it, you’ll be *asking* him to use it on you “just once, to find out what it feels like.”

Turns out I was too cautious. Eight days later:

The bullwhip came out last night.

I’m on my knees. He’s on the couch, laying on his back and I’m bent over him, his cock sliding in and out of my mouth. His hand is in my hair, guiding my movements. He’s teasing me, fingers in my pussy and then up for a slap of my ass.

He pulls my head back after I’ve slid deep into submission. “Get the whip.”

Not that deep. “Nuh uh.” I shake my head.

He raises an eyebrow at me but says nothing else. That fucking eyebrow!

Okay, so I’m easy. I go and get it and bring it to him and he folds it while I get back to work on his cock and he whips my ass and thighs with it for a bit until I’m moaning and my skin is on fire….

Somebody at Hogtied is an artist with a cane:

“If you have no daughters, give them to your sons, one a penny, two a penny, hot crossed buns!”

So it seems Bonnie got put over the couch back for a good brisk paddling — and whatnot — the other day. It started with pants on, but didn’t end that way:

“Let’s see how we’re doing.” My lover’s tone was now almost comically clinical. Were I not so much in discomfort, I might have giggled. He unbuttoned my jeans and lowered them to the floor. My underwear quickly followed. Randy examined my toasted tail, tracing sore spots with his fingers.

“Very nice.” He said as he began to rub the smooth wooden paddle against my exposed skin. I gasped involuntarily. Soon, he was tapping me with a light but insistent cadence. I fought back the urge to escape. I bravely stayed in position.

Randy derives a special glee from surprising me. What he did next was a truly excellent surprise. Instead of continuing my paddling on the bare, he tossed the implement to the side. His dancing fingertips brought tingles to my lower back, my hips, my throbbing bottom, my thighs, and ultimately, my love canyon. His touch generated shivers of excitement and desire. He made me glad I stayed in place.

He next lowered his own trousers….

This is cute, from Calm Before The Storm:

I met a little girl today…

I had told her that my birthday is coming up soon…

She asked me, “How old are you going to be?”

Preparing myself for an old woman comment, I answered her. “29”

I was not prepared for what she said. Her eyes grew wide and she said, “That means you get 29 spanks.”

How did she know???

Here’s a pretty pair of girls in very practical spanking outfits, complete with glowing red bottoms:

From Lupus Spanking.

I’ll let Librarygirl speak for herself:

You can’t explain it. It happens suddenly. No warning. You get this feeling…this “I-need-a-hard-spanking-now” feeling. Just because.

I was thinking about it all evening.

And she got it, too….

I’ve added a funny new-ish blog (well, it’s almost a blog, all it’s lacking is outbound links of any sort) by SarAdora, who’s perhaps better known for her spanking fiction. She’s married to an admiral with a hard hand, which she clearly enjoys:

It’s only January 4th and I’m already exhausted from being so good. Cowboy says I have another 360+ days to behave. I had no idea they taught squids to count. I always thought “3” was as high as he could go and get the numbers in the right order. When His Holiness and I were first married, he’d count to 3 when he thought I was doing something I shouldn’t be doing. The premise is the parent/child thing. Today’s kids know when mommy or daddy gets to 3, their world is going to come to an end… ergo, a spanking ensues. The first time he did that, I had no idea why he was counting. Nobody ever did that when I was growing up and if they had, we would have laughed. Where I lived, you hit me and I retaliated ten-fold no matter how much bigger you were. Not too many people hit me twice. So… the squid counts to 3 and I hint that 4 is next.

“Then 5, then 6. I think that’s as high as you should go till you practice a little,” I told him.

SWAT!

Truly, the man is sensitive about his counting skills.

Now, on the rare occasion he forgets that counting is something I ignore, and yells “ONE!” I roll my eyes and try not to mutter “Outstanding! Do I have a bid for two? This is a gem, folks. How about the gentleman in the back – did you want to bid again, sir?” Inevitably, I finish my little speech from the “over his shoulder” position and if I’m really feeling like a warrior princess, I still mutter when he upends me.

Silly girl, of course squids can count. They have to be able to count ammo; how else would they know when their magazines are full?