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I love it when spanking porn producers try to “hint” at the the spanking that’s looming in some unlucky cuteling’s future. The unsubtle forshadowing in this picture from Spanked Cutie made me laugh. As our summer camp girl swigs booze from a hip flask, is that a Prokadima paddle in her hand?
Of course, it’s over the knee for her:
And inevitably, the tears:
This is about how it would go around here if Bethie tried to give me a birthday spanking, though I’m not sure she’d get ten swats in first. From this post on Provocative Persiflage:
So last night, I ended up giving him approximately 10 swift swats to his ass, and he ended up grabbing me, pulling my left leg over his, and holding my wrist so I couldn’t a) cover my ass or b) finger my pussy. And then he delivered the remainder of his birthday spankings to me!
I love when he keeps me bound to him with just his strength. At first I play at pulling away. Just to see if he is paying attention. He is. As he holds my wrist(s) tighter and kisses me deeply at first, then lightly so that I am stretching up toward him to lick his lips, I begin pulling in earnest at my captor’s hands.
I feel his cock rubbing against my naked belly as he leans in and whispers in his sexy, growly voice that I am a very bad girl as he begins spanking me, never lightly, but light enough to warm my flesh. I am moaning and rubbing against him as his hand moves from my cheek to my pussy, spanking it sharply before going back to my ass. My legs part involuntarily, and I begin to beg for his fingers inside me.
He ignores my pleas and continues to spank me. His cock gets so hard that it feels like steel.
The new Sex And Submission site continues to be entertaining. You can predict that a shoot is going to be fun when it starts with a big mean-looking bald dude (Mark Davis) confronting cute young cleaning lady Harmony where she kneels with the pieces of a broken jar in her hands:
You just know she’s going to pay for it with a spanking. And you’ll not be disappointed:
And then she pays a bit more for it (while still tied up) in that other coin that’s universally accepted wherever women have accounts to settle with powerful men. You know the currency I mean: blowjobs!
Her advice on finding kinky people may seem obvious on the surface — it could be boiled down to “get your butt out there” — but it’s still important and righteous advice. This bit from the intro to Mistress Matisse’s column this week gives the flavor:
So, you—or, perhaps, you and your partner—have kinky desires but no idea where to go with them. Here’s how to find out where the other kinky folks are.
If I had anything to add to her advice, it would be a caveat that (as she herself acknowledges) her suggestions are limited in utility for more rural kinky persons. The phrase she uses at one point is “if you live in a reasonably urban area” and the key concept there is “reasonable”. I’ll say what she only hinted at: beyond a certain point, it’s simply not reasonable to pursue kinky interactions in too small a town, or in no town at all. You might get lucky (I did, and I’ve offered advice myself on finding kinky love from the middle of nowhere by online means more useful than the traditional personals sites) but a truly reasonable plan is going to require, eventually, moving to where the kinky people are.
I put it fairly mildly in my advice:
If you get him, you or he will almost certainly end up having to move — but that’s the price you pay for enlisting the awesome power of the internet to fix your love life.
Dan Savage’s recent column collecting advice to young gay people put it a bit more bluntly:
If you live in a little town: Get the fuck out. Move to a big city where there’re lots of people who are gay. You’ll have more dating options, and people will treat you with more respect.
It’s good advice for kinky people, too.
See Also:
Remember the cheesy spanking magazines from the 1970s? The ones with tons of overacting models and almost no actual spanking? This picture from vintage is a classic example of the genre:
I think I need one of those big square paddles, though…
I’ve found what has to be the mildest reaction to a good ginger figging I’ve yet seen. Annie earned herself a punishment paddling and then it went like this:
He fetched the awaiting ginger root from the glass of ice water sitting behind his desk. I felt his cool hand opening my throbbing bottom cheeks knowing what was to come. The icy wet root soon invaded my bumhole. Once deeply implanted to Robert’s satisfaction, he pulled up my shorts and ordered me to sit at his computer and write an essay for him to demonstrate I fully understood what I’d done, the effect it was having and suggestions on how to fix it. I had one hour, no more, no less. At the end of the hour I was to present myself and the essay to him upstairs.
It was a loooong hour. Trying to concentrate with that damned root blazing in my ass is not an easy thing. Then there was the assignment itself. The first two parts were easy….
And that’s the last we hear of the ginger (except when it comes out.) Damn girl! Talk about cool as a cucumber.
Of course in the context of the situation, the ginger was the least of Annie’s worries. But still.
Update: In the comments, Annie has confirmed that the ginger was the least of her worries, but has generously added the missing lurid details. Worth promoting to the main post:
A ginger root plug up one’s backside is distracting in itself, kinda like having a lit sparkler up one’s ass is distracting. Being required to SIT adds a whole ‘nother level of interest. With my cheeks pressed around the root, its fire was extended well beyond its already unholy realm. I squirmed this way, then that way trying to relieve at least one point of contact at any given time, all the while trying to write a coherent essay. Even more difficult, trying to be contrite while doing so. A sizzling ginger root plug has a way of making me just a bit testy… OK, a lot testy, making me less motivated to say “I’m sorry, dear” than express my more sincere sentiment of the moment: “you evil fucknuts, I wanna pull your eyeballs outa your asshole!” Or something like that. A true test of submission.
Then having to walk, then climb stairs, my bottom cheeks not only rubbing against the extended root but moving it around inside, further activating its wicked oozing fire making me clench my teeth to keep from screaming, each step pure torture…
You all know the stories about what the young ladies get up to at that Girls Boarding School. Apparently it’s all true — I mean, would pornography take liberties with the truth? In any case, it hardly matters. Aren’t these girls just as cute as kittens?
Uh, oh, I think they are busted:
This can only lead to tears. Sure enough:
There was a bunch of spanking leading up to that, of course, and some very sore and regretful bottoms.
