Spanking Blog: Adult Erotic Spanking At Its Best

…so use a cane, man!

Well, apparently that’s Master Marcus G’s plan. He writes:

She was on my sofa face down, watching TV, did not even know I was there until I slapped that nice arse, short skirt, NO stockings…. Her look was shock, so she did not know her first comment was MASTER !!!!!!!! She tried to get up, I was not having that, I quite liked her in that position, available and that arse….

And she had been warned she was to get the cane and being a clever Master I had one in the car…. Talk about surprise for a naughty slave. I was OK it did not hurt me one little bit, unlike that hand spanking, that’s twice now I have hurt me spanking her, and she laughs….

Gentlemen, be safe out there!

I had an entertaining conversation with Bethie last night about whether I spank her hard enough. It’s like this, see. She’s a very very good girl during her spankings; she doesn’t reach back with her hands, she doesn’t wiggle around or struggle much, or anything like that. So I like to tease her that I’m obviously not spanking hard enough, because she doesn’t wiggle.

This gets her jumping up and down in protest (which is worth the price of admission right there, let me tell you). Apparently she knew a guy once who was quite demanding about passive-and-compliant behavior during her spankings, so she has been “well trained” as she puts it. I assured her that I was talking about involuntary wiggling; and shared my theory that if I was spanking her right there should be some motion that was beyond her control.

Needless to say, she’s not at all impressed by my theory….

Bandwidth costs being what they are, this might be a good time to point out that I’ve got room in the right bar for several square buttons or vertical banner adds. The space isn’t cheap, but last month the site got more than a quarter of a million page views. A very healthy proportion of which came from search engine traffic. Send me an email if you are interested.

And now to cleanse the visual palette, and to deliver on the earlier tease, this picture of six mini-clothespins nibbling politely at a lovely and oh-so-sensitive nipple:

The fun thing about playing with this particular set of nipples is that when you tease them (by, say, spanking them ever-so-lightly with the cute little six inch leather slapper) their owner frets and complains, just as one might expect. And yet the expression on her face is a huge smile, and the involuntary sounds escaping her mouth sound for all the world like laughter. Fun, I say.

Here’s a cute little flash game. Whip the girl on her tender bits (without getting too repetitive) to get her off. Happy clicking!

Warning: Apparently what I took (with my poor color vision) to be badly drawn welts is actually cartoon blood, making this little game seem much less cute than I thought it was. Sorry!

Update: The first link died, but you can find the game here if you don’t mind a popup or two.

Michelle talks about her morning spanking:

This morning, before work, I was running around the house searching for my shoe when Mike reminded me that it was time for my morning spanking. We do it each morning, more often than not, and it’s gotten to be, I guess, sort of a routine. When we started we said it would be 10 swats. We very rarely stop there though, and I will ask for more if he does for some reason stop at 10.

It’s usually done in the bedroom, before we even get out of bed, but this morning we’d woken late and were preoccupied. I bent over in the living room, over the arm of the couch. He swatted me once, with his hand. Twice. I started feeling the familiar tingly warmth, the centering of my thoughts. Then: oh holy God! Suddenly I was smacked very hard with SOMETHING that was NOT his hand. I jumped up and yelled “What the hell was that?!” I turned to look at him and he was standing there, smirking, with my hairbrush in his hand. “Bend back over, sweetie”, he said. “NO WAY!” I hollered, and ran into the bathroom, locking the door behind me. Once I was safe in there, I did a little dance where I held onto my bum and kind of spun in circles, feeling the pain. What in the world was he thinking??? Mike was on the other side of the door, laughing and entreating me to come out: “Get out here, woman!” “NO! YOU GO AWAY!” “Fine then.” I heard him walk away, and when I emerged he was sitting, sulking, on the sofa (yep, alliteration. Can’t beat it). Okay, he wasn’t sulking, he was getting ready for work. I’m trying to make him look bad here.

I felt badly. I mean, I’ve taken the cane, I’ve taken the belt and the flogger. What was going on with this? Why was it so hard to take a spanking with a hairbrush? I kissed him, apologized, and bent back over, promising I wouldn’t get up until we were finished. I even told him that I would take at least 30 swats with it, even though it hurt me.

He gave me ten, and sent me to work (he’d found my shoe while I was in the washroom), promising that I’d get the rest when I got home.

Usually, by the time I’ve finished my commute into work, the morning spanking is nothing but a pleasant memory. Today I had tangible proof of my spanking for most of the morning, in the form of a very warm, red bum and a couple of little raised welts. I tell you, the meeting I had to sit through was interminable, and only by imagining sitting on nice, cool icebergs did I make it through without jumping up and sitting in the fridge.

And when she got home, they broke a couch….

Belle De Jour got some fancy new sofa cushion covers. Plus a bonus:

The new covers were brought up just after lunch along with detailed instructions on how to put them on and a tool to aid in application.

This tool, it must be said, looks exactly like a paddle.

A very class paddle indeed. Of the same glowing hardwood as the frame of the sofa itself, with a smooth rounded handle mimicking the turned legs of the furniture. A tapering, broad, flat side, apparently for stuffing the cushions in their new skins.

But it doesn’t look anything like an upholstery aid to me. It is, quite frankly, a well-made and extremely horny paddle. It has a leather thong threaded through the handle, for goodness’ sake. And it matches the furniture.

I looked at the paddle, then at the deliveryman. “Do you want this returned when I’m done?”

“What? No, just keep it or chuck it away. We don’t need it back.”

“Thank you.” A more welcome and unexpected gift I haven’t had in ages. It’s as if Valentine’s Day has come early.