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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.
I forgot to mention. A little while ago Vikki wrote: “I’ve finally received the spanking that was so long overdue.”
Couldn’t happen to a more deserving girl!
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Update, many years later. Since her blog is now gone, here’s the whole delightful post, rescued via the Internet Archives:
I’m a naughty, naughty girl.
But I’ve finally received the spanking that was so long overdue. It hasn’t whipped me into obedience, quite yet – but I will say that oh, how I have missed the feel of a big, strong hand connecting with my tender bottom.
The boy knows how to spank. Damn. Shudder.
Perhaps, with due diligence and earnest application of discipline, I will in time become more obedient.
Or not. ;)
Here’s a publicity still of W.C. Fields spanking Gracie Allen with his cane. I don’t know what movie this is from, but it looks entertaining!
Update: Vanilla Spanking resolves a slow dispute in my comments: this is from International House. In a larger version of the photo, you can even see the hand-written label:
