Spanking Blog: Adult Erotic Spanking At Its Best

Here’s a cute spanking panel from an old Teen Comics (#25):

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• Spanked By Superman's Robot
• Lois Lane's Robot Spanking
• Betty Getting Spanked

AccordianGuy tells a long tale of the worst date ever, and yah it was pretty bad. But I was amused by this snippet of first-date conversation:

I suggested that we go next door to Taro Grill, where they placed us in a quiet, out-of-the-way booth. We ordered Amaretto Sours and started trading stories about ourselves. I told her about how I got kicked out of the Yamaha Organ School. In return, she told me about some strange game she and her friends played at the age of thirteen in boarding school: she was the Faerie Queene, but since she was a bad Faerie Queene, she had to submit to many spankings.

“Clearly all the porn flicks that take place in a boarding school have an element of truth to them,” I observed.

Me, I think I would have tried to draw out that bit of conversation, without using phrases that are candidates for “the list” of Fifty Words And Phrases Not To Use On A First Date. Who knows, the whole date might have taken a better turn!

Now here’s a fine piece of cheesy seventies splendor in the grass:

Sing it with me, people: “And that’s the way the teddy bears have their picnic!”

Over on the Spanking Classics story board, which I have linked to before and which has a variety of spanking forums on various topics, a post caught my eye. Seems a lady earned herself a well-deserved spanking with a plastic spoon, which was properly enjoyed by all. And then came bedtime:

When we finally got into bed he was smiling at me, and asked if I’d like him to rub in some cream, which I thought was nice of him, and so he did.

Only it wasn’t the arnica cream it was deep heat balsam rub!!! God that brings up the fire its like you can feel every smack individually! After two minutes I wanted to run to the bathroom to wash it off but I wasn’t allowed!

He put sleep pants on and spooned up to me (so it wouldn’t rub off on him, he got caught like that once before)and hung on so I couldn’t get out — I even tried the “I need to pee” routine and he said fine we’d both go but if I didn’t then maybe we needed to discuss honesty and I didn’t go there. I spent a very uncomfortable night believe me.

Is that evil, or what? “Dear, would you like me to rub some cream in to make it all better?”

Or, at least, that’s what the kinky French call it:

WHAT A GOOD SPANKING WON’T DO
Lavender ice cream only just made up for the bottom-pummelling that is a Cannes spa’s speciality

It was last weekend, as I lay naked and wincing while my bottom was being slapped rather hard by a French therapist, that I began to wonder if I was losing my grip on reality.

It had sounded like such a good idea at the time: not the bottom-slapping, which was a bit of a surprise, but the quick, pre-birthday trip to a new Givenchy spa in Cannes.

I’d been lured there by a friend, Ann, a spa aficionado who claims that the reason French women stay so thin and chic and elegant, despite eating large lunches and three-course dinners most days, is their regular bouts of detoxifying massage therapy.

“That’s why they never have to go to the gym,” she said. “French women don’t sweat, they simply glide about on Chanel high heels, possibly with a small dog in tow, but nothing more onerous than that. Don’t you see?”

And who was I to argue? Croissants, chocolate and no gym: it sounded fab. So off we went to the Hotel Martinez, an Art Deco palace owned by the Taittinger champagne dynasty – where all the stars stay during the Cannes Film Festival.

The food was indeed wonderful – and the spa was, well, where do I begin? The French are far stricter than the English when it comes to health and beauty therapy. Contrary to Ann’s accolades, “no pain, no gain” seems to be the philosophy, combined with a firm emphasis on drainage lymphatique, which sounds like a French plumbing company but is, in fact, their principle tenet of body detoxification/ mortification.

Hence the slapping – not just on the bottom, but around the thighs and stomach; though before the actual smacking commenced, I had to lie on a waterbed, jiggled by jets from beneath (quite nice, actually), followed by the initial lymphatic drainage massage. This was less fierce than the full-blown slapping (more of a sort of pummelling), but vital, according to my Givenchy information brochure, because it “provokes cellular regeneration throughout the body and helps to eliminate toxins, while acting favourably against cellulite, various edemata and the feeling of heaviness in the legs”.

Call me a skeptic, but I think it’s just a fancy excuse to run a kinkster spa. Why not just open up a Russian banya and start flailing away with the birches while you are at it?

I just want to remind everyone that Invidia continues to blog up a storm over at The Collar Purple, and she’s posting a new piece of spanking art almost every day. Here’s the thumbnail of her latest, featuring a genuinely contrite (well, ok, sullen and about to be contrite) schoolgirl stretched over one of those awful metal school desks:

To see the piece in its full sized glory, go visit already! (If you aren’t reading this on July 21/2003, then scroll down for the entry of that date, since there are no permalinks over there as yet. Invidia’s main squeeze and disciplinarian, “The Boss”, is supposedly working on that, but for painfully obvious reasons, she doesn’t nag him. I am laboring under no such constraints.)

Here’s a long tale of a lady who rather foolishly goes to visit a fellow with the intent of being his spanking slave. Predictably she winds up enjoying an implausible sequence of terribly severe spankings, canings, and strappings, intermixed with enemas, butt plugs, and unusual dungeon furniture. One of her master’s favorite toys is a two inch wide rubber monster called the Hyper Strap:

He carefully aimed the strap at the center of her provocatively projecting buns and swung hard. “One!” A river of stinging, burning pain swept across her bottom and seemed to penetrate to her very depths. She shrieked in agony at the intense, searing fire. A faint red stripe the width
of the strap stood out on her buttocks, deepening in color at the point where the end had landed.

He waited for all of thirty seconds between strokes, allowing her to feel the full effect of the dreadful implement. The pain was abating very slowly. “Two!” The Hyper Strap crashed down again, broadening and deepening the hue of the red stripe. She reacted with an even more desperate shriek. Tears came to her eyes and she began to sob. She strained against the bonds, her bottom aching unbearably. The guests smiled.

“Three!” Her sobbing intensified to a continuous intense cry as she struggled and tossed, the red stripe now a deeper hue. “Four!” She was terrified now. The awareness that nothing she could do would make her jutting behind a less attractive target swept over her. She wished she could pass out, but she could not. She had to experience the full impact of the spanking her Master was now deriving such pleasure from giving her. She was crying now as loudly as she could, but the gag muffled the sound. Her Master smiled as He prepared to deliver the final stroke.

“Five!” She could not believe He could hit her even harder, but He did. The broad red stripe now ran from the outside of her left cheek to the outside of her right, lightening only slightly at the curve where the cheeks descended to the rosebud within. The aching, burning, stinging
sensations raged through and across her bottom, the unbearable fire making her feel she was about to burst.

From The Unseen Master by Paul A. [link broken and removed]

See Also:

• Spanked With A Meaty "Thwack!"
• Spanking A Confiscated Twin
• Spanking, With Butt Plug
• Melodramatic About Getting Strapped
• A Turkish Prison Spanking For Librarygirl