Old Spanking Postcard
Spanking was a common theme on old postcards, but many are “comic” scenes of kids getting spanked. Here’s a less-commonly-found postcard image of an adult spanking:
Spanking Blog: Adult Erotic Spanking At Its Best
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Purple Prose in Spanking Fiction
Here’s an example of some extremely florid prose from lesbian spanking fiction:
“I grab the rod. I drag Senta, resisting, along with me, sit down on the sofa, and force her to lie across my lap…. Using force, I maneouver her into a position in which she turns her magnificent woman-bottom to me, my right foot clutches her legs and I clamp them firmly between my thighs…the deep furrow of her bottom is opened as a result of her excitement, revealing the pink hole, with an engaging shamelessness. I fondle it with my finger, and also tenderly visit the blessed valley of Venus…“I reach for the rod. My left hand, however, makes it way along her belly until it reaches the soft mons veneris. My fingers bury themselves in the hot flesh of the vulva and firmly remain there..I swing the rod in a frenzy of sensuality, in a riot of ecstasy…Senta’s body twists and turns frantically. I hear her cry of pleasure, her moaning and wailing. I feel the throbbing of her vulva in my hand, my eyes feast delightfully on her beautiful, shame-red arse, which expands and contracts under my searing blows…”
From Edith Cadivec’s “Eros: The Meaning of My Life”. Reviewed here by Naomi Darvell of Clean Sheets.
Your Daily Politically Correct Spanking Limerick
A PETA protester named Heather
told her master “No toys made of leather!”
As he spanked her cute ass
He said “Don’t worry, lass,
I’ll go buy me a whip made from… pleather.”
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A Literary Spanking
An unfriendly little wager about Hemingway goes badly for one of the wagerers:
Helen’s face was bright red as she reluctantly lay over my lap. “Comfortable?” I asked sarcastically, my hand resting on her bottom. A gasp escaped her as I jerked her skirt up and folded it back over her waist. A small triumphant feeling ran through me as I examined her plump bottom in white cotton panties with stockings. “Stockings without a garter belt?” I mocked, and she shuddered as my hand gently caressed her thighs. “How thoroughly modern of you, Helen, is it the Paris influence?”
“What if my aunt comes down?” she croaked, ignoring my jibe.
“Then it will be very embarrassing for you. Lift up,” I instructed and hooked my fingers in the top of her underwear.
“What are you doing?” Helen shrieked.
“A spanking is not acceptable on underwear, my dear,” I laughed, “it must be received on bare skin, it’s the done thing. Lift up so I can pull down those frightful panties.”
“Catherine,” she moaned in a small protest and I gave her bottom a small slap.
“Up!” The panties came down and I smiled down at her plump white bottom. The first slap caught her by surprise and Helen shrieked. She kicked her feet a little with the second and third slap, her bottom wobbling slightly with the exertion and I admired the red marks my hand had left.
Helen was moaning slightly with the fourth, fifth and sixth slaps, the noise of my palm connecting with her skin loud in the room. Her legs kicked through the seventh and eighth slaps, her breathing loud and ragged and I slowly caressed her burning bottom with my hand.
“I think you’re enjoying this,” I murmured, my hand making little circles on her bare skin. “I think you enjoy being over my knee, your skirt up and panties down. Don’t you?” I demanded in a louder voice, my hand smacking down for the ninth time.
“Yes,” she moaned in a guttural tone, her eyes clenched shut in anticipation of the tenth slap. It was the hardest so far; my hand stung and the noise cracked through the room as Helen stiffened, moaning loudly. In quick succession, I spanked her another five times as she writhed on my lap, small tears rolling down her cheeks as she moaned.
I could smell her arousal; a deep musky perfume hung over us as my finger easily slipped inside her…
From The Hemingway Dialogue by Natalie Nessus.
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The Electric Kool-Aid Spanking Spoon
Here they are: The promised pictures of the Kool-Aid Spanking Spoon from Costco. And get this: the spoon changes color as it warms up.
I bet this would leave some interesting marks if wielded with a sufficiently steady hand….
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Jane’s Calamity
Here’s a neat bit of spanking art from Endart:
College Girls Get the Tawse
A little judicial punishment from the British Isles, as three rowdy young college ladies get the tawse and the cane from an entirely unsympathetic public employee:
I picked up the tawse, and moved to her left side. Holding the handle in my right hand, and the other end in my left, I draw my arms upwards, holding the tawse out before moving my left hand away and arcing it down across the her backside. She yelped — whether through the shock of the blow, or the pain that must by now be starting to radiate out across her behind, I didn’t know. I looked with satisfaction at the red outline that the tawse had formed — perfectly horizontal, right across the centre of her buttocks. Very good, I thought to myself: practice clearly does make perfect.
The other thing about the first stroke, of course, was the impact it would have on those waiting on the other side of the door. Up to that point, they had doubtless been straining to hear the conversation, wondering whether they would be in for a “workshop or a whipping”, as I termed it. Well, they would know now, all right.
I liked to deliver the second and third strokes in quick succession, aiming them directly on top of one another, below the first mark. With young Samantha, these were beauties, and she let out a cry of surprise as the third stroke descended. Her breathing was deep now – trying to keep control; trying not to give in to the ever-increasing pain.
I paused, making sure the effects of the previous strokes had had their full effect, and building the tension in the room as the girl braced herself for the next blow, not sure when it would land. And then: a beauty. Low down. Hard. Very satisfying: I do like the sound of the tawse as it cracks across its target. And a real sob from the young offender, as the blow struck home.
From Serving Her Majesty by Abel Jenkins.
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