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I recognize this vintage spanking photograph as being by Uwe Scheid, whose erotic photos were collected in a Taschen art book a few years back. It’s remarkable for its age, in that it’s got a dynamic (and welts!) that go a long way towards countering that “salon studio” look shared by so much early photography:
From vintage.
Patty’s sense of timing is way better than her sense of self-preservation:
Sunday after supper we played with spanking. I accosted him in the den right after he finished the Quicken chore. What an idiot I am! Who in her right mind would hand a man who has just spent an hour balancing an un-balanceable budget a paddle and offer up her bare ass? Me that’s who. Ok so, maybe I’m not in my right mind.
It could have been worse, I suppose. She could have gone in there after he finished doing his taxes!
Isn’t it fun when spanking is still the new thing? From Sugar Sweets:
Again, I stopped for a moment to wiggle my ass at him, hinting at what I wanted. He licked his middle finger and immediately pressed it against my tight asshole, eager to slip it inside. But I had something different in mind and moved away from his hand. “What would you like me to do?” he whispered as I felt his hard cock lightly kiss the back of my thigh with his pre-cum. I giggled like an embarrassed little schoolgirl. My face still buried in the pillow, I asked him to give me a spanking. I felt like such a naughty girl but my heart raced with excitement, knowing he’d be happy to oblige.
The heat of his flat palm against my backside sent the blood rushing to my pussy. Each slap was louder and harder than the last. I braced myself, making sure I was receiving the full strenth of his hand against my flesh. He started at the roundest part of my cheeks and then his hand gave me a few quick slaps a little further down, almost to my pussy. He knew I liked a gentle smack against my sensitive labia when I was really worked up. I raised my ass even higher.
Did you see this old photograph of the woman getting spanked with an honest-to-goodness oar over at Bondage Blog?
Bethie got a good hard caning today — 21 strong strokes with our basic rattan cane. Earned and deserved, and lots more fun to deliver than they were to receive, I’m sure. She thanked me properly after, too, so it’s been a good day.
Now she’s shifting uneasily from cheek to cheek in her computer chair. She keeps whimpering and I keep chuckling. She wants sympathy and isn’t getting it. Kisses, lotion, rubbing — those she got. But she earned every one of her cane strokes and so her “But it hurts!” just makes me smile.
I believe she’s going to blog about it soon on her blog. But if she doesn’t, you have my encouragement to pester her until she does!
Like a lot of guys, I tend to think a spanking’s not really a spanking unless it’s delivered properly onto a deliciously bare bottom. Sometimes I’ll give Bethie a few whacks when she’s fully dressed, just to see her jump; but it takes a pretty good implement to get any effect.
That said, there’s a certain appeal to tightly stretched denim. Sure, this girl looks like she’s laughing as that big mean paddle is held a quarter inch from her butt:
But it’s a BIG paddle. She’s not laughing now:
More (including her very sore bottom getting the belt) can be seen in this gallery seen on Spank Slaves; photo credits go to Real Spankings, which is part of the Real Spankings Pass family of sites.
It sounds like Librarygirl has developed something of an eBay problem with recidivism issues. Fortunately, Matt has the lexan cure:
“Oh, you forgot.” He was spanking me with his hand, then stopped. “Maybe you need something to help you remember.”
Crap! The new lexan paddle. That thing is truly evil. Even more vile than the rubber loopy. It stings and burns and the sting increases in direct proportion to how long you use it, but not necessarily how hard. So a “light” paddling turns into intense hell in under a minute. And, unlike the rubber loopy or rubber paddle, the sting doesn’t stop when the spanking does. Oh no – the sting lasts long after the spanking is over…
“I don’t need help… I don’t… I hate this thing… stop!” I was kicking and making quite a fuss.
“Maybe tomorrow night you’ll remember to get to bed on time,” he says, smacking lower so he gets the backs of my thighs.
“I’ll remember, I will…!” Anything – just make it stop!
He did, finally. And it took forever for the sting to go away.
Yet another debt we all owe to the clever folks in General Electric’s Engineering Thermoplastics division.