Spanking Blog: Adult Erotic Spanking At Its Best

Sometimes when I read about the adventures of Library Girl and Matt, I want to get up and sweep my apartment for video bugs. That could be my life! Have they been watching? And Matt — he’s me! Only I would know, I think, if I’d ever spanked a former stewardess, and I haven’t.

There’s nothing like a paddling to chase the Grrrs away. At least that’s Matt’s philosophy.

Mine too. Bethie says “Grrr” a lot, if I let her.

“I don’t need a spanking! I want to be Grr. It’s my right to be Grr! Stop interfering…” None of this helped any. I still got spanked, still got my panties pulled down. And because I was being such a grumpuskitty, I got paddled as well.

Well, of course! Beatings will continue until morale improves. I ought to get that as a tatoo, or something. Maybe a tee-shirt?

“Look at that. My butt is all red now.” I’m holding my skirt up, looking at my reflection in the bathroom mirror.

“Where?” Matt walks into the bathroom, trying to look around me. I’m not letting him get anywhere near my bottom again…

“You don’t need to see it – look in the mirror…”

“I’ll look where I want to look…” *sigh* Dragged off to the bed again, to even out the redness. Apparently, he missed a spot.

Two points here. First, an invitation to inspect the “damage” (ha!) is always to be interpreted as a request for more spankings. She’s inviting sympathy (which she should not get) but if she’s playing with her welts or red marks or pink blush or whatever, she’s not ready to stop playing. More spanking is called for.

Second: uneven redness should always be evened up. Asymmetry is a sign of poor craftsmanship. Fortunately, it’s an easy problem to fix.

After lunch, sitting on the sofa. Most of the grumpiness was gone. But…

“I think you need another spanking…”

“No, I don’t… I know I don’t…”

Another spanking, with his hand. A quick one… lots of spanks, fast, and stingy. And then it is over, Matt is hugging me and going out the door, to go back to work.

And I am feeling better.

It’s amazing how much grumpiness can be cured with a few swift whacks. I dunno why it works, but damn! it sure does.

My jaw dropped this morning when I saw my first shoot from Sex And Submission. This brand new site (from the same folks who do the justly famous Hogtied bondage site) is just about the only porn I’ve ever seen to mix spanking, bondage, and hard-core explicit sex into one scene. For years in American porn, sex and bondage together were particularly taboo. Not any more!

Alas, I don’t tend to show the sexually explicit bondage sex stuff on this blog, but even from a demure frontal angle, isn’t this a hot bondage spanking photo? (Yes, her hands are tied behind her back.)

I think I’m really going to enjoy this one.

It seems like we’ve been fighting summer colds and other minor medical complaints for quite awhile, which has kept the spanking to a dull roar. Lack of energy, lack of playfulness, or lack of time, y’all know how it is.

And how it is, of course, is that when the spankings flag, Bethie gets just a wee bit fractious.

Which is why, when she came jumping naked on the bed yesterday for some snuggles after her shower, I had a couple of recent fractiousness episodes fresh in my mind. And then somehow (I forget the details) she said something that caused me to threaten to get up and get my favorite spatula. (It’s big, it’s heavy, it’s made in France.) “No!” she said just a little too sharply. “Not that nasty old thing!”

OK, fine. I’m nothing if not flexible. So I leaped up and got the Cracker Barrel Paddle. Several quick swats with that, and she’s squawking. “No, no, stoppit, stoppit, it’s too much!”

Who’s running this spanking, anyway?

No problem. It’s Brat Loop time!

Dang, that thing is a fine piece of spanking technology. I still haven’t used it with a full arm swing, but the day will come. Yesterday, I swung it hard and fast and repeatedly, but using only elbow and wrist. Bethie stopped squawking and turned her full attention to pounding on the bed with both fists. I had to tease her that it looked like she was trying to flap her wings and take off. Very quickly she was pleading with me to stop, but at least she no longer sounded like she was issuing instructions.

Not quite so quickly, I did stop — it was a pretty short spanking as such things go around here, but an Impression Seemed To Have Been Made. Used lightly, the Brat Loop didn’t make any immediate marks, but there was a substantial heat where it had been landing. After a few minutes, three or four curved puffy welts began to show at the edge of the strike zone.

Bethie spent much of the rest of the afternoon complaining about sore spots, and then pretending to be outraged at my cheerful “Excellent! That was the idea!” style rejoinders. And in between these mock complaints, snuggling up in most friendly fashion.

There’s a certain sort of young lady who likes to be grabbed by the ear and pulled into position for her spanking. But, judging by the expression on her face, Elisabeth Simpson is not such a young lady:

See Also:

• Clutching Her Sore Bottom
• Bath Time Spanking
• The Spanking Diaries of Rosalyn Young

I’ve heard it said that there’s no spanking like the spanking a girl gets from a cowboy. I dunno, maybe it’s even true. Certainly this young lady seems pleased enough:

Does anybody know where this picture comes from? Because I sure as shootin’ don’t!

See Also:

• Spanking Banter In Bad Books

From Jake Bullet comes this account of giving his first OTK spanking:

I first got into BDSM by finding a spanking website at the tender age of 15…in the school computer lab no less. For awhile (read from about 15-17.5 years old), I was into mostly spanking and thought bondage, rope, flogging, needles, etc. were nice, but not my main gig. But while I have fantasized about spanking for years, I’ve never had the chance to give a bare bottom, OTK handspanking. Until last night.

After a little fun negotiation, I stood the Poet up, removed her pants for her, bent her over my knee and fulfilled one of my first fantasies. I was amazed at how great it felt to feel her gently squirm, to rub her warm pink skin, to watch as her very cute butt changed from white to a delightful pink. I mean, it was simple and there was no roleplay or other aspects, but it was really special to me.

Sounds like he had fun!

Bethie posted yesterday about her new present — some pink cuffs and paddles from Westward Bound. No link there, because pleased as we are with the merchandise, my customer experience was very poor.

I was prepared to cut Westward Bound some slack, as they are located in the UK and I know it’s a challenge to deliver merchandise across the Atlantic with any reasonable speed. But this was ridiculous.

Folks, go look at the picture on Bethie’s post — it’s a heart-shaped paddle. I ordered it for a Valentine’s Day present — and got it in June.

January 25: I placed the order. Yes, I know mail from the UK can take more than a month, but I can live with this present being late. And sometimes I have better luck — it might arrive by February 14.

February 12: I received a “courtesy email” telling me that “all is going well with my order” and they will notify me “when your order is in our despatch department.” What the fuck? More than three weeks later and they haven’t even shipped? And no reason offered for the delay? That’s just ridiculous. I appreciate the courtesy email, but I’m gathering that these people aren’t serious about mail order. Whatever has happened to my order, all is not “going well” or it would be in the mail by now.

March 28: Due to circumstances beyond my control, I have to change my mailing address. Still haven’t heard from Westward Bound, and it’s probably too late to charge back the credit card, so I write the order off in my mind.

March 29: With perfect timing, email arrives from Westward Bound telling me my order has been shipped, about nine weeks after I placed it. I attempt to make arrangements to have the package intercepted at the old mailing address, but I don’t have much faith in the arrangements.

June 6: Another email from Westward Bound telling me that my package was returned. No suprise there. The suprise: They’ll be happy to reship, but only if I authorize another seven pounds and 22 pence charge on my credit card to cover the expense. So I wrote back and explained that the package return was due, in large part, to their extreme delay in shipping. I authorized the charge, but explained that I was not happy with their causing me to incur it. (At this point, an outfit concerned with the customer experience would have acknowledged their fault and re-shipped for free.)

June 7: Email from Westward Bound indicates that my package has been reshipped. The shipping charge appears on my credit card: $13.32 at current exchange rates.

June 23: Package arrives at about the usual speed for trans-Atlantic parcels. Note that if they’d shipped when I ordered the merchandise, I’d have had it well before Valentine’s Day.

The strong point about dealing with Westward Bound is that they do a good job with the automated status emails. But actual order fulfillment appears to suck stale donkey brains. More than two full months to ship an order? With no explanation? Simply not reasonable.

The paddle and cuffs, themselves, I’m fairly pleased with. They are pretty and pink and they make Bethie happy. Quality, however, is not extreme, and certainly doesn’t match the premium prices charged by Westward Bound. The paddle has some rough stitching and loose knots on the back, and the cuffs arrived with several small scratches where the pink “leather paint” has already been scratched away exposing the dark leather beneath. Nothing to complain about, but nothing special in the quality department either.

All in all, not a vendor I could recommend in good faith.