Spanking Blog: Adult Erotic Spanking At Its Best

Here’s a nice tale of a girl and her idea for an interactive tattoo:

Let me start off with this statement. I like to be spanked. I have always like the feel of it and the warm after-glow of a good spanking on my butt cheeks. It didn’t take me long to convince my boyfriend to give me what I wanted and he even made a little paddle with holes in it (to add to the sting) to use on me when I was “bad”.

It was in looking at a magazine on Tattooing that I got the idea for a very special sort of tattoo. It was inspired by the comment by boyfriend made that he would give me a pair of rosy cheeks just before he gave me a very erotic session followed by some of the best sex I have ever had. It was a picture of a girl with a rose on her butt. If I could have two large, life sized, roses tattooed on my cheeks they might serve as ‘targets’ for spanking.

Then I got another idea. If I had them outlined in blue–they would look like ‘white roses’ on my butt and when he spanked me they would change into pink or red roses giving him added reason to give me the paddling I like so much.

And she goes through with it, too:

As I felt the needles I kept imagining all the spankings I would have in the future. It was a strange feeling — bending over in a tea shirt and thong while the roses went on. The colors were the least painful but by the time I saw them in the mirror I was stunned at how beautiful and erotic they made my rear end look.

I had to call my boyfriend that night to tell him all about my fantasy and the two ‘white’ roses. They healed well, but itched some. There was only a few problems with keeping them clean becase I couldn’t see what I was doing when I cleaned them and put on disinfectant. It wasn’t too easy sitting for three or four days at work. I had a hard time not telling everyone that I had roses on my butt! I did go out and buy a new thong bathing suit so I could show off my works of art in public (if I ever have the guts to do so). Still, the tattoo was much better than the other one I had done in the past.

When my boyfriend came in, I met him at the airport with a dress that had a full skirt and a thong, when we hugged he felt of my butt. I turned right around and raised my skirt to give him a flash of my rosey cheeks. That night he made them very red indeed! Now I am thinking or adding more roses to my collection–maybe I will turn my nipples into rosebuds? Who knows?

See Also:

• Cute Bunny-Spanking Tattoo
• Cute Spanking Tattoo
• The Marking Bikini
• Cropping The Tattooed Lady
• Nice Spanking Tattoo
• Spanking The Tattooed Lady
• Spanking Tattoo

One of my goals for this blog is to rescue little shards of spanking text from obscure corners of the web. There are innumerable little BDSM and spanking sites on the web, but each is small and little-linked-to. In this Google age, that means such are almost impossible to find, especially when they have to compete with stylish porn pages with carefully engineered key words and link structure. Since one of my hobbies is trolling the deep dark web that’s buried beneath the first three hundred search results for any query, it only makes since to share the spanking goodies that turn up down in those depths.

One such find is the little Christmas spanking story from which these paragraphs are borrowed:

She finally brought back the small square paddle that has smooth black leather on one side and a fur-like covering on the other. She then handed me the heavy strap, 14 inches long by 4 inches wide and attached to a wooden handle. It is a wicked, painful device that Mara mostly doesn’t like. I was a little surprised she selected it.

I sat on the chair and pulled my naked slave-girl over my lap so that her head and shoulders reached the side of the mattress. The position left her breasts free for pinching if I so chose. I started with my hand, carefully spreading the red hand marks evenly over her ass cheeks and then the backs of her thighs. I stopped often and fingered her pink parts, testing her reaction to the spanking. The hand spanking increased in intensity until my hand began to hurt. Regardless I kept at it for a while. When her wiggling slowed a bit I switched to the small paddle. Her wiggling immediately increased back to sadist-pleasing levels while my hand stopped stinging. Mara jumped even more when I hit the backs of her thighs with the hard leather. I confess I like it when it’s hard for her to take. I worked her over for about 10 more minutes, spreading the effect around until once again she began to go quiet on me.

I knew she was getting close to getting loopy so I changed to the big strap. I again started lightly but soon was popping her pretty good. I moved her from my lap to face down on the bed so I could have more room to swing the strap and hit my intended target. At this point it was “let the whipping REALLY begin!” The percussion of the strap smacking her ass literally rang in my ears and her whimpers and moans were a sweet melody. I kept the strokes rhythmic for the most part, stopping now and then to rub her red cheeks or stroke her clit.

Checking in with her I said, “Merry Christmas, slave-girl. Is there anything else you would like?”

I knew she was gone when she said, “I would like more, Sir.”

After that, the story gets romantic…or perhaps mushy, depending on your point of view.

This is an excerpt from the novel The Rutledge House Ladies by Lizbeth Dusseau:

“I think you’re drunk!” Robert caught his wife’s wrist as he rose from his chair.

“No, please, darling!” Her voluptuous body still oozed with an alluring charm, which normally delighted Robert German. But since he’d been fuming for nearly two hours, he was much too pissed to let sex get in the way of his plans.

“You’re driving drunk again after your license was suspended,” he reminded her with a lethal glare in his bronze eyes.

“No! I’m not drunk at all,” she swore pleadingly. “Just a glass of wine. Honest.”

“You’ve had a half-dozen if you’ve had one.” He pulled her toward the side of the room, opened one closet door in a long line of whitewashed cabinets, and withdrew a ten-inch paddle from its hook. Veronica immediately tried pulling away from his firm grasp of her hand.

“Honey, I’m sorry. It really wasn’t much.” Her worried eyes pleaded for mercy as she gazed at the dreadful thing. There were ten identical holes drilled through the thick surface making it the worst possible implement he could choose.

“Don’t even try. You’ve made me so angry, there’s no way you’re getting out of this.”

“But, darling, really,” she tugged more without results.

“Don’t fight me,” he said with a steely twist in his delivery. Returning to his chair, he sat at the edge of the seat and upended his wife over his lap. Her pale blue dress was short enough for the hem to ride up high on her fleshy thighs, nearly uncovering his target without any effort on his part. But holding her with a firm left hand at her waist, Robert completely bared her ass with one swipe of his right hand. Once her dress was over her hips, he had only to pull down her tiny black panties.

“Oh, please, darling…” She could sound so terribly desperate.

“It’s useless, babe, your bum’s gonna pay tonight.” He loved that term for the female derriere, just as he loved the look of a bright red behind once it had been vigorously punished. Veronica had a fine ass: round, dimpled at the top, its two broad and fleshy cheeks spread out nicely when she was lying over his lap. Often he could glimpse the sex pouch between her thighs. But now her legs were pressed together tightly as though they were locked in position. He chuckled under his breath knowing that would soon change.

With the paddle gripped tightly in his large palm, Robert raised it to shoulder height. “No!” she cried as the first strike smacked her naked rear. He kept on. “Ouch, no, no.” He was peppering her determinedly, with some strikes brisk and others slow. Some were hard, some harder still, and others deliberately lighter as though he were about to quit. By the time he reached the second round of ten, she was flailing, and crying, and gyrating so madly that he had to pause. “I can’t stand it, please.” Her desperate wail sounded so pitiful.

Veronica hated this paddle — no, hated was not a strong enough word. She loathed it, despised it, wished it off the face of the planet every time she was spanked with the damnable thing. Once she tried swiping it from the closet and disposing of it in the trash. When Robert discovered it there — as though he had some sixth sense clueing him in to her scheme (he never fooled with anything once it was in the dumpster), she got the paddling of her life. He could forgive a lot of things and others he let slide; but this overt rebellion was too deliberate a crime not to punish with a most befitting taste of that drilled wood.

“You can stand a lot more than you think,” Robert scolded. “I’m just getting started and we’re in for a long ride tonight.”

See Also:

• The Black Paddle
• School Room Paddlings
• Double Spanking
• Paddling A Schoolgirl
• Sorority Paddling Story

Debra Hyde at Pursed Lips is such a tease. She sends a yummy spanking stories link as a blogwarming present but she holds back the really good stuff, writing:

“I’ll leave my reddened butt photos for another day. Sharing those would be like sex on the first date.”

Harumph. Well, it wouldn’t do to be too forward I suppose. Thankfully she’s not irredeemably shy; she’s got a web journal with some eye-opening BDSM adventures here. Perhaps someday we’ll entice her to share her reddened butt photos, once we’ve been properly introduced and all.

From Trishymouse’s Journal:

Last night Christopher comes into my bedroom as I sit here in front of my computer. He takes two pillows and places them on the bed, then walks to the coat-tree and removes the cane and stands by my side…waiting. I pause my typing and ask, “What?!” and nervously smile up…way up…at him. He calmly stares at me, and I say, “I have to pee!” and scamper off…

I return, and ask, “What now?” “Get yourself comfortable.” “What are we doing?” “Just get yourself comfortable.” “What are you going to do? Don’t you think I should know?” “A bit of…” (what did he say now…?) “A bit of justice…”

Oh, dear…

I had allowed someone to use me at a recent event I attended alone without…asking. Christopher was not amused.

I bend over, he doesn’t warm me up…not really. Even the smaller strikes HURT. I make many ‘ouches’, and whimpers, and am asked “Why are you crossing your ankles?” and suddenly realize I am, not realizing before, and I respond, “To help cope?” Several tap, tap, taps of the cane, then sudden strikes…OH…MY…GOOOOD I think as I cry out. One strike where the tip land centered catches part of my inner thigh, where I am most sensitive and it’s what I imagine a red hot poker feeling like. I realize as I calm down seconds later, my ass is now warmed, and the next few strikes feel quite different than the first ones. I settle and relax more, and think to myself, “I could really get into an extended session like this…Mmmmmm….”

Mixed fetishes are so much fun. Here’s a kitty spanking for your viewing pleasure. It’s by Pixel and there’s some cool bondage furry art on the same page. As science fiction author Jerry Pournelle is fond of saying, you’ll like this if you like this sort of thing.

From The Jade Pavilion Book II : The Rise of Li Chang, Chapter 24: The Gathering Storm and the Unfolding Lotus, by Boccaccio:

On one memorable night George had commissioned Fatima to perform a belly dance for Ming-tsu and himself that had aroused them both to a fever pitch. But the scantily-clad dancer’s only reward for her efforts was that her luscious legs and athletic abdomen had been subjected to a blistering belly and thigh-switching. By the time they had delivered forty strokes — one for each of Ali Baba’s thieves, George had joked — Ming-tsu and George had reduced a pair of hard-nubbed birch switches — from one of the stately trees on George’s estate — to scarlet-stained shreds.

Fatima had been directed to remove the rest of her scanty garments then, revealing a tantalizing pair of dusky, dark-nippled breasts, and a swarthy triangle of curly pubic tendrils that embellished her private parts most attractively. George Chan had plundered that youthfully tight young pussy then, while Ming-tsu had offered him her delicious breasts to kiss and bite, as she stroked herself in time with his every vigorous thrust.

After George had consummated his lust, Ming-tsu had squatted above the face of the recumbent dark-eyed dancer. When the young houri had balked at inserting her tongue into Ming-tsu’s sensitive slit, Ming-tsu had stepped aside while George ordered the recalcitrant young beauty to pull her marvelously flexible legs up and back onto the wide pillow on which her flowing dark hair rested. Then, while Fatima had held onto her ankles (under threat of additional strokes), George and Ming-tsu had armed themselves with a pair of whippy canes cut from the tough bamboo that grew along the banks of the Yangtze. And they had taken turns applying the punishing rods to the delightfully uptilted buttocks and well-toned thighs of the young dancing girl, until she had screamed her readiness to comply with any of Ming-tsu’s carnal desires, no matter how perverse.