Things that go *WHAP* *SMACK* in the night

FFF#10 at The Daily Toast is based on this picture here and should be a drabble of exactly 100 words.

Hearing heels clicking sharply on polished oak floors, she cautiously opened the door to the empty study to find: nothing. Being alone in the new house – an old Victorian – was making her jumpy. She walked to the window, fingering the horrid blinds. Suddenly, an ice-cold draft: the door slammed shut. Pointed teeth grasped her neck, she screamed as sharp pain repeatedly laced her flesh, strong arms pressing her helplessly against the smooth glass. She frantically thought, ‘they don’t exist! It’s a myth!’ But they did and she was turned that afternoon, forever corrupted, by a paddle wielding Spanko!

Getting past the hurt

An adult story about spanking, read with caution

The sounds had faded, so had the bright red marks. Looking back in the mirror, she cupped her sore cheeks, pulling and twisting for the best view. She avoided her eyes, the shame was still there. That was more painful than a hundred strokes of the cane. Why couldn’t she get past the hurt?

‘Honey, you’ve spent long enough hiding in there. Come out before I put you back over my knee!’

Couples spanking therapy Part #2

Part #1 is here at this link.

An adult story about spanking, read with caution

Dr Discipline had a unique practice. He was a certified Spankologist specializing in couples therapy with an emphasis on D/D and D/s marriages. He could consult with non-married partners, but the bonds of matrimony were vital where spanking was concerned. His latest patients were a married couple in their early forties. Seventeen years together, two children, both worked and both were deeply unhappy. Not uncommon in marriages lacking discipline.

Doctor Discipline: After I sent you home to review last session’s tape, did you talk about what transpired?
Wife: Yes, but I don’t understand why you stopped him from spanking me.
D: Your thoughts?
Husband: I think it’s because I was angry?
D: Correct. Spanking your wife when you are angry is not recommended. Not that you should be calm and distant, but anger, disgust and other strong emotions can cause you to spank her far beyond a reasonable punishment.
W: But I want to be punished! I’m stressed all the time and I do reckless things to get his attention.
H: I don’t mind punishing you, but I’d rather you stop acting out and try talking to me instead. Beating you doesn’t appeal to me. I want your happiness back, not this sulking brat you’ve turned into.
W: I don’t sulk!
H: Bullshit. Every time I ask what’s wrong, you sigh and say ‘nothing’ and then flounce off when I say OK.
W: That’s because you’re supposed to engage me in conversation. I can’t just say what’s wrong, that’s against the female code of ethics.
D: So by treating him with contempt, you are trying to goad him into violence against you?
W: Well… not violence exactly. I need him to be firm, firmer with me. I need him to put me back in my place when I act bratty.
D: Because you’re feeling insecure.
W: Yes. Yes I am. I don’t think I’m worthy of his love anymore.
H: Now that makes me angry. How can you be so dismissive of my love?
W: If you loved me, you’d spank me!

At this point I interjected and suggested they adjourn to the annex and try spanking again. I cautioned them to listen to each other rather than hearing only the inner voice. I watched as he tried to coerce her over his knees, but she resisted. Again, she was pushing his anger button attempting to create a strong reaction. To his credit, he didn’t lose control as previously, but grabbed his wife and threw her over his lap. For the next twenty minutes she squirmed and he wrestled her into submission. He spanked her several hundred times at least, but couldn’t manage to bare her bottom. In the aftermath, I again sent them home with the tape and told them to practice before the next session. I also told the husband to study his wife’s behavior and get to the bottom of her struggles.

Dry mouth and hot bottom

The Sweltering Celt runs Microfantasy Monday and this week for #51 her prompt is fear.

Breath rasped, muffled scrapes, her questing hands tugging at the blindfold. Rapid blinks, dim candlelight, she was surrounded by hard bodies and cruel eyes. He nodded, she obeyed, raised trembling wrists for the shackles. Dry mouth, pounding pulse, the sharp snap of leather woke her senses. Fear always the fear, which is why she begged her Master for this afternoon’s whipping.

For couples seeking spanking

This is not fiction.

For those that believe a M/s or any D/s relationship grows spontaneously, communication is the key in both directions. Anything else is merely abuse. LS

The hardest thing for a dominate male to understand is the female’s desire to submit. In today’s society, a woman who submits is considered weak and a failure. True submission means allowing the needs to surface without guilt and stress. The worst thing women do is to doubt themselves and become bitter and nasty. Every woman is precious and deserves a man who will nurture her dreams and discipline her when she hates her body, her clothes, her hair, etc. LS

With few exceptions it is always the woman who initiates the topic of spankings in a relationship. Many marriages reach a point after 20-30 years when the wife decides she is unhappy. Not necessarily unhappy with her husband, but unhappy with her life. Something is missing.

Spankings fall into several distinct categories:

A. Pleasure
B. Punishment
C. Discipline
D. Play

There is however no clear-cut reason a wife will suddenly – from the male perspective – desire to be spanked. If a man is worth anything as a husband, a father, a lover, then he will react in only one way.

“You want me to beat you?”

Spanking ≠ Abuse

It can obviously. Spousal abuse, rape, murder is an all too often occurrence in all cultures in all countries and physical beating is part of the equation. So for a loving spouse to be asked to spank his previously strong wife is rather frightening.

If your wife asks to be spanked, you will ask why. She may not be able to answer. At the root of her request is a desire to submit coupled with a desire to relinquish responsibility. She trusts you completely, if she didn’t, she would never have dared asked to be spanked. For a woman, being spanked by her dominant partner engenders a sense of peace, calm acceptance of her place in the marriage.

Not at first.

She will fight back. She will demand to back out of the agreement. She will never submit willingly to being punished. But on occasion, as the man, you will have to punish your wife. It will hurt you both, but it must be done in order to move beyond the deed.

Discipline is different. It can be regular maintenance or specific spankings linked to chores, tasks or body image. Discipline is what most women imagine when being spanked by their husbands. They want to be motivated and held accountable for failing. Many women believe they are failures.

Do not let your wife get away with self-hatred. Spank her hard and often until she accepts your unconditional love.

As the husband it is your duty to nurture your wife, not only with love and respect, but with clearly defined structure and consequences. Spanking should always be the last resort, but if needed, then spank with purpose. She cannot be allowed to slid back into unhappiness and depression. Help her grow by warming her bare bottom whenever you decide it’s warranted.

Oral Worship Day

Cross posted at Erotic Flash Fiction for Sunday Oral Worship Day started by Spanky.

“Honey Dew”

red lips pout
glistening with slick dew
thighs flex
aimlessly she gasps
tongue lapping
inhaling her scent
passionate flows of nectar
coat my taste buds
swallowing her lust
her arms trapped by my weight
pausing to suck her clit
wet smacks
on wetter folds
red becomes redder
gasps become screams
wet becomes a torrent
I bend my head
to torment her some more
she cries
I smile
she’s mine

Spanking as stress relief

An adult story about spanking and bad words, read with caution

“Sometimes talking isn’t enough”

Tracy hated her job. She hated her boss, her co-workers and especially the customers! Four years of college down the drain with the recession along with her former boyfriend. He of the ‘I’ll love you forever’ turned into ‘You cashed out your 401k?’ on the way out her front door. Turns out he was only in love with her six-figure salary. The fucker! I’d downsize his cock if it wasn’t so puny already.

“Excuse me?”
“Having a bad day?”

Tracy took a good look at the client. Armani suit, Italian loafers, Liberty tie, Hermes shirt with gold cufflinks: salt-and-pepper hair, fuck!

“How can I help you?”
“Well. You can put away your novel, sit up straight and pay attention when I speak.”
“You do work here? In customer service?”
“Yes… unfortunately.”
“Yes. The pricks.”
“Sorry. I tend to have a potty mouth at ‘inappropriate times’. So my ex always said.”
“And what did your ex do about your proclivity to use inappropriate language?”
“Nothing. Why would he?”
The handsome man nodded thoughtfully as he gazed at her. “Are you happy here?”
“FUCK no! Oops.”
“Are you single?”
Now Tracy became wary. “Why?”
“Because I have a proposition.”
“I find myself in need of a wife. Rather urgently actually. I’m flying to Hong Kong this evening and, it’s rather complicated, I need to be accompanied by my wife. Having never been married, it presents difficulties.”
“And you want me… to pretend to be your wife? We just met two minutes ago and you want me to up and leave everything to fly to Hong Kong tonight?”
“Yes, in five hours to be precise. Minus the time to get married.”
“Can we do that? I mean, just get married?”
“I have some pull I plan on using. So, is that a yes?”
“Hmmm. I didn’t actually get a proposal.”
“I see. Dear… what is your name? Ah, dear Tracy, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”
“For real?”
“Yes, for real. I do, however, feel compelled to warn you, I have zero tolerance for cursing from partners, among other things. As my wife, you will be expected to behave with proper decorum at all times, whether in public or private. I will compensate you for the trip, say, a million dollars and a divorce upon our return in a month.”
“Behave! You want me to behave? You’ve got some nerve! What will you do to me? Scold me and send me to bed without supper?”
“No Tracy. For acting the brat, you will be treated like a brat. Hard bare bottom spankings delivered as needed. Other discipline as well, I run a tight ship and demand compliance.”
“Or else?”
“Or else you’ll be sleeping on your stomach often.”
“Well, since you put your proposal so fucking elegantly, yes… what’s your name? Yes Arthur, I will become your dutiful fucking wife and obey your every fucking whim and cock sucking demands.”
“In that case Tracy, before we leave your former place of employment, bend over your desk, drop your slacks and knickers and accept your punishment for cursing.”
“Yes sir! About fucking time!”

Twisted knickers

FFF#9 at The Daily Toast is based on this picture here and should be a drabble of exactly 100 words.

She writhed and purred on the gray blanket, tempting him to put down the camera. He didn’t, although hard, it was his job. He never played with models, no matter how erotic the photo shot became. The more she pouted, the more he resisted: until her pink lace boy shorts were twisted round her pointed feet. He finally put the camera down. He unbuckled his belt, drawing it sharply through the loops. Her eyes opened in panic at the snap of leather striking the bed. He smiled and drew back his arm, swinging hard at her exposed bottom. Lesson learned.

Spanks Ahoy!

An adult story about spanking, read with caution

Noise travels at night. Even more so over water. It was very distracting for the other yacht owners to hear the steady smacking noise and howls coming from the distant boat. Riff-raff they snorted, probably dropped out of high school.

A few though, mostly women, were intrigued by the noises and vowed to casually swim over to the boat in the morning. It was being neighborly after all, and if the boat’s crew was disturbed: well, it sounded like there was a stiff penalty to pay for curiosity.

A few spouses got lucky that night. They thought it was because their wives were feeling frisky. True, but not for them. The smacking sounds drew them on to multiple orgasms. Sunrise couldn’t come too soon.

Why can’t a woman get a hard spanking?

An adult story about spanking, sex and bad words read with caution

Alison was fed up with feeling sorry for her self. The more blogs she read, the more chat rooms she entered, the angrier she became. What was the matter with those assholes?


Creeps and perverts, creeps and perverts: that’s all I get. Where are all the good men?


“Hi dearie, you called me?”

“Who the fuck are you? How did you get in here? I’m warning you, I have a black belt.”

“Oh I know Allie, your belt collection is kicking! Sorry, I’m your Fairy Spanking Queen and I’m here for your makeover!”

“Makeover? Damn, I knew I should’ve snorted less blow.”

“Thanks Allie, but I only let men blow me. I am a Queen.”

“I noticed. Why are you here? Wait: don’t tell me… my makeover. I’ll bite”

“Oooh you are kinky Allie. We’re gonna get along famously! As your Fairy Spanking Queen, it’s my task to turn you into a Dom magnet. All those strong, ripped, hard men will be panting to get your panties down and blister your butt. Is it hot in here or is it just me? Does this dress make me look fat? I’ve never liked ruffles, but, union dress code and all that.”

“This is too bizarre. How exactly are you going to make me over into a Dom magnet? Haven’t all the good ones already got their hands full?”

“Sadly Allie, you are correct. They do have their hands and whips and paddles full dealing with all the bratty girls. That’s why, we are making you over into a power woman.”

“A power woman? Padded shoulders and pouffy hair? No thanks.”

“No silly Allie. A power woman! A woman who can stride up to the chosen Dom, tell him you need a long hard spanking: then turn and walk away. Any Dom worth the title will follow you anywhere.”

“And then…”

“And then, thanks to your makeover, pour moi cherie, you lead him back here, perform a strip tease, ending with being bent over this chair. Implements readily at hand.”

“No sex?”

“No sex Allie, but lots of swats. My guarantee.”

“Where do I sign up?”

Do spankings improve your complexion?

An adult story about spanking, read with caution

Such strange thoughts chase through your mind when bent over waiting for the first blow. No matter how many times your butt has been blistered, every spanking is different. Whether a good girl, maintenance, discipline, punishment, role-play, therapy or any other type of spanking, the mental aspect determines the effectiveness. Sure it’s your bottom bearing the swats, but it’s your Dom toying with your mind that makes the scene fly. [I mean scene as in personal scene not professional scene.]

Thus the questions in a submissive mind long before the spanking actually begins. Sure a spanking hurts, most of the time very badly, but the mental torture lovingly applied by a cruel Master is so delicious. It makes the nerves jangle, the adrenaline pump and when the bottom is bared to the implement of correction, the mind has become numb, except for those pesky questions.

Do spankings improve your complexion?
How often do birds eat?
If we had roast last night, how many sandwiches can I make?
How long to teach that damned pig to fly?

The links need oiling

FFF#8 at The Daily Toast is based on this picture here and should be a drabble of exactly 100 words.

Cold steel lay heavy across her back. The links from her collar fell through the crease of her puckered bottom. She hold been instructed to keep the dense weight at the end off the ground as long as possible. When, not if, she faltered, her whipping would begin. Twenty people had paid handsomely to spank her bottom, all of them strangers. She shivered in the chill night air, the low murmur of voices placing bets on her submission to the inevitable. Although blindfolded, she sensed when her Master drew near. He whispered in her ear, “Make me proud Little Filly.”

Spanking is a national pastime

An adult story about spanking, read with caution

And it’s one,
three strikes
you’re sore
on your

If there is in fact a ‘National Pastime” I am convinced it is spanking.

‘Welcome everyone to this beautiful Saturday afternoon at Memorial Park. Today we have a monumental clash between the Swat Masters and the Scarlet Tanagers. Both are currently undefeated in the ASL, [American Spanking League] and the Swat Masters are defending champions. We expect an epic battle today going down to the very last spank.”

“I agree Kurt 100%. This titanic tilt today is the premier paddling possible in this short spanking season. The athletes are warmed-up and are eager to swing the lumber for the fences.”

“A good crowd on hand today, I estimate about 30,000 jammed into this stadium. There’s a ballot initiative forthcoming asking for public funds to construct a new venue. I’m not sure the community wants to pay higher taxes.”

“I think given the quality of the home-standing side, the overflowing crowds and the media coverage, building a larger arena is a no-brainer, a homerun, a humdinger of a great idea.”

“Thanks Stewart. The introductions are over and the players are assuming the positions. A brief explanation if you are tuning in to the ASL for the first time. Each team has nine players; one at a time bends over home plate and the opposing pitcher delivers strikes and balls. In this case, he/she doesn’t throw from the windup, he/she stands behind the behind of the batter and whacks them with a wooden paddle.”

“That’s correct Kurt. As with baseball three strikes and the batter is out. A strike is when the batter lets go of the ankles. A ball is when the paddle blow fails to make the batter unclasp. So a total of three paddles up to seven will be given per batter.”

“And after three outs, the teams switch sides. As you can imagine, playing a full nine innings is plenty painful for these athletes. Being in the nude certainly doesn’t help.”

“Of course all teams can field no more than four men at a time, I hear there’s a long waiting list to join the ASL.”

“For men?”

“No Kurt, for women! They can’t wait to get drafted in the fantasy leagues.”

Couples Spanking therapy Part 1

An adult story about spanking, read with caution

Dr Discipline had a unique practice. He was a certified Spankologist specializing in couples therapy with an emphasis on D/D and D/s marriages. He could consult with non-married partners, but the bonds of matrimony were vital where spanking was concerned. His latest patients were a married couple in their early forties. Seventeen years together, two children, both worked and both were deeply unhappy. Not uncommon in marriages lacking discipline.

Husband: I don’t understand my wife’s obsession with spanking!
Wife: It’s not an obsession and if you cared about me you’d listen instead of judging!
Husband: It’s sick wanting to be hit.
Doctor: Why do you believe it is sick to hit your wife?
H: I’m not an abuser. Men who batter their partners should be locked up for life.
W: I’m not asking to be beaten. All I want is to be spanked once in awhile.
D: Is that really true?
H & W: No.
D: What is your desire then?
W: I want to submit to my husband. I want him to be in charge. I want him to discipline with spankings instead of treating me with contempt and cold silence.
H: Well if you didn’t keep doing such stupid things I wouldn’t be so angry with you!
W: I’m trying to get your attention moron! If you weren’t such a wimp, you’d have whipped my ass a long time ago!
H: I hate when you put me down, I’m your husband bitch, not some pansy on TV.
W: Then prove it… wuss.
D: Do you believe by goading your husband into striking you, it will solve your communication problems?
W: It’d be a start at least. Prove he’s a man.
H: If I spanked you now, the way I feel, I don’t think I’d stop. I want to hurt you so bad.
W: I’m not afraid of pain.
D: Then what makes you afraid?
W: Losing him. I’ve already lost his respect, his friendship. I’m terrified he doesn’t love me anymore.
H: Don’t cry. I haven’t stopped loving you. I just… I can’t understand how spanking you, is going to improve our marriage.
D: Would you both be willing to try? Here, under my professional supervision?
W: Yes. That’s why I insisted we see you.
H: As long as she’s clothed.
W: It has to be bare bottom. We talked about this. He’s a doctor.
H: Fine.

At this point in the procedure the patients sign the spanking waiver while I set up the annex for the discipline session. It is a small room, large enough for table, armless padded chair and loveseat. I also provide all the implements, tissues, lotion etc. The walls are cushioned and soundproof. At one end is a one-way mirror behind which I monitor and record the session for the patients to take home and study. This particular couple had much anger and required multiple sessions before they could finish spanking for more than a few minutes. He spanked her too soft at this first session and she responded by accusing him of sabotaging the therapy. When he snatched up a hairbrush and walloped her rapidly, I was forced to call a halt to the session. Both of them were very upset, not at each other, but at me. I explained why I’d stopped and sent them home to review the tape. Their next session went better.

Butt that’s so gross!

An adult story about analingus, please read with caution

For Slave sephani and her post with funny cartoon.

He was an unabashed ass-man. Face was fine, breasts ho-hum but give him a plump, round ass, and he’d feast all day. Women though who tolerated his fetish, let alone wanted to be ass eaten were very hard to find. ‘That’s gross! I shit there!’ were the outraged responses from every female he ever dated. Never mind that most of them loved his face in their wet snatches, try and slide his lips down an inch and all hell would break loose.

Then along came the Texas Pistol. Petite, caramel skin, dirty mouth with a mind to match. She loved everything ass, from hard anal to even harder spanking. But most of all, she loved his tongue in her ass. That first swipe was always a surprise, no matter how often he licked her anus, it felt so taboo. The thought of shitting and having him clean her up sent her right over the edge every time.

For him, her scent was intoxicating. Sharp, sweet and bitter at the same time, the odor was overwhelmingly her own. Intimacy in the most primitive form. Face down or legs to her shoulders, when he settled in at her anal opening, he drooled at the sight of the wrinkled folds waiting to be washed by his mouth. The rubbery feel, almost like chewing gum, the slick natural secretions and the pinching tightness, combined with the taste: Pure ambrosia. But the best part came after a good ass fucking when she could suck his cock, and he could lave her gape. That was a real 69.

Exchanging spanking vows

This week’s Spanko Brunch #195 at Bonnie’s blog, she asks a general question about acceptance.

What do think the future holds for spanking and spanking enthusiasts? Can we gain anything approaching mainstream acceptance? Or will we be repressed by waves of political correctness or moral righteousness? Can vanilla society, or at least a majority of the people in it, come to understand that we are sensible, caring, productive citizens? Do you think media might play a role in delivering this message? Can bloggers help? Or will our community be better served by looking inward and supporting our own?

This is my response.

Angelique waited for her new husband to whisk her away from the reception. It had been a traditional wedding, complete with vows, although without the ‘obey’. Angelique fully intended to obey Henri in all things, but her modern friends did not understand her need to willingly submit to her Master. She’d tried, but been ridiculed and mocked when she revealed her love of discipline. The Story of ‘A’ she’d been dubbed and most of her now former friends were long gone from her life.

It was a very special place, an isolated wind swept bluff overlooking the river far below. The land had been in Henri’s family for centuries. Here, over a convenient stump, Angelique received her very first spanking from Henri and had fallen in love with his commanding ways. Now they returned to exchange a second set of vows, vows meaning so much more to them both.

I, Henri Montague, do take Angelique Montague née Molyneux to be my cherished submissive. I promise to love her, to guide her, to support her dreams and to provide discipline whenever needed. She is mine and I will use her freely as I see fit. I promise to listen and to understand her special needs. I will honor her parents and kin. I will respect her body as a temple of Eros and strive to make her sexually satisfied. As Angelique’s Master it is my solemn duty to protect, shield her from harm and spank her firmly when she errs. I swear before God I will keep her heart safe and her soul warm.

I, Angelique Montague née Molyneux, do accept Henri Montague as my cherished Master. I promise to obey him, to love him, to support his dreams and submit to his stern discipline. I am his and I will freely submit to his every desire. I promise to listen and understand his special needs. I will honor his parents and kin. I will respect his body as a shrine of Eros and use all my orifices to keep him sexually satisfied. As Henri’s submissive it is my solemn duty to anticipate, shield him from worry and accept punishment when I err. I swear before God I will keep his heart safe and his soul warm.

Why do brats get all the spanks?

An adult story about spanking, read with caution

Madison Sutton was a brat. Every male who crossed her path melted at her sweet innocent charm. Bad grades? No problem, a flutter of eyelashes was all it took. No car? Even easier, a cuddle on daddy’s lap and the keys were hers. No date? Hello! Short skirt, drop purse, bend way over and thrust. Cha-ching!

Now in her mid-twenties Madison was finally hitting her stride. No need for a job, a rotation of wealthy suitors kept her well in the black. As she got older the stakes got higher and the gifts more extravagant until none of her boy toys remained dangling on her string. Looking in the mirror, Madison saw an old woman where once a vivacious child had played.

Her new plan meant a job? Horrors! She quickly discovered her many talents were useless in the real world which demanded productivity and results. She pawned jewels and furs, her car was repossessed and the landlord wanted the back rent. Before Madison got so desperate as to apply for retail – ugh – she gave her wily ways one last frantic try.

The club was downscale, the clientele more so, but the stiff cover charge was merely a ploy. Her last one hundred dollars went to the bouncer and he sneered as she slid past. She flirted, she pouted, she flashed; she teased all to no avail. The other girls were all prettier, better dressed or younger: mostly all three. Tipsy and depressed she barely stirred when the shadow loomed over her drooping head.

A calloused hand grasped her chin and gently forced her eyes to meet his. A cotton blend work shirt with a name decal! Polyester pleated pants! Steel-toed stained boots! OMG! It’s the blue-collar freak show! Madison was effortlessly lifted off the stool and held suspended in mid-air by a pair of bulging biceps. Her slack expression and blank stare turned to indignation when rough whiskers and beery lips kissed her hard.

She squealed with outrage and demanded to be put back in her proper place. Right now! He smiled and obeyed her. He returned her to her proper place, he sat on her vacated stool, and she continued to dangle above the floor. This time it was over his bulging lap, bottom up, short skirt raised and thong pulled down to her knees. Not even the thumping bass of the techno dance beat could drown out the sharp smacking noises and the even louder hollers for help.

Help came at last. One by one, her late boy toys came by to pay their respects, beating the brat out of Madison once and for all. Her bare bottom was scarlet by the time the last had left and the blue-collar freak show added some pops with a wooden serving tray for good measure. When he finished blasting Madison’s fiery ass, he stood up, slung her over his right shoulder, and slowly walked out, his handiwork visible to all.

Reaching his car, he deposited the sobbing former brat in the back seat on her stomach, drove home and brought her upstairs to his bedroom. Vitamin-E lotion, an ice pack and pillows awaited Madison on the bed. She whimpered softly and acquiesced to his tender ministrations soon turned to hard penetration deep in her wicked bottom.

When he came, she sighed and said, “Honey, that was the best fantasy you’ve ever given me! How on earth did you round up all my late lovers?”

“They all bring their cars to me for service. I got to talking with each one and we finally figured out the spoiled brat was you.”

“That was a long time ago. I’m glad I could still fit in my school uniform. Do you think I could get another lube job?”

“If you use your suction hose, I’ll see what I can get up.”

I thought he said ‘wine’ cellar

FFF#7 at The Daily Toast is based on this picture here and should be a drabble of exactly 100 words.

When he wanted to show me his special collection downstairs, I didn’t realize he meant a ‘whine’ room designed to inflict pain. The coiled whips and wooden paddles hanging on the wall made me gasp with fright, but somehow he convinced me to try it; being bound, breasts exposed for the leather flogger and my mouth the proper height for vigorous use. I was ready and willing to be taken when he said he forgot something important and would be right back. That was over an hour ago. My wrists and knees hurt. Do you think I should be worried?

When good girls go spanking

An adult story about spanking, sex and bad words read with caution

Kim was horny. The kind of horny when you can gnaw wallpaper in frustration. Her current lamented boyfriend was God knows where and quite frankly, even if he was here instead of there, he was useless in bed. So he had a big dick, so what, he couldn’t use it right, in and out and in and out and in and out. Kim usually did sudoku in her head while giving head and the grocery list while he pounded his head in and out and in and out. The only orgasms she ever got were from her vibrator, ‘Lickin’ Larry’ and the anal probe wand that pulsed.

When the knock came on her door, she was surprised. Looking through the peephole, she was worried. Chain on; open just a crack to ask questions. He was lost – he said – seeking a good girl – he said – living in number 483. Not I – she said – I mean I am a good girl – she said – but this is 383. Oh I’m sorry – he said – I answered an ad from a good girl – he said – looking for a spanking. You can advertise – she said – for a spanking? Yes – he said – that’s what I do – he said – I fulfill good girl’s desires to be spanked.

Well – she said – I am a good girl. Are you in need of a spanking – he said – because I am here and you are there. I am in need – she said – of much more than a spanking. I can meet those needs – he said – after a firm bare bottom spanking is given. How much – she said – do you charge for these services? For a good girl – he said – such as your self – he said – the first spanking is free. That is a very good deal – she said – come on in and sample the goodies. Thank you – he said – I shall and I will. What should I call you – she said – a spanker?

Call me – he said – Good Spanks for Good Girls.

One month of spankings

An adult story about spanking, read with caution

Today is the one month blogaversary of “Spank Me Hard! … Please?” I’ve done 31 posts containing over 9,000 words of short stories with a poem or two. In addition, I’ve written over 27,000 words in my novel for a grand total of 36,000 words in the last 30 days about spanking.

Total visits from spankos have been 6,000 with half coming from My Bottom Smarts so a big paddling thank you goes out to Bonnie. I am very grateful for the positive response to my writings and I’m glad so many of you find pleasure in spanking.

“There’s always a reason for spanking”

“Honey? What’s a word beginning with ‘S’ that’s eight letters?”

“What’s the clue?”

“A repetitive motion that creates heat.”

“Hmmmmm. Perhaps a demonstration would jog your memory.”


“That’s four letters my dear, try again.”

One day at spanking camp…

An adult story about spanking, read with caution

Brittany read about the Burgundy Bottoms Camp online and asked her best friend Lisa if she wanted to attend. ‘It says here, attend our summer camp with plenty of fun games, activities and social events. At Burgundy Bottoms we pride ourselves in teaching young adults the art and science of a good spanking. Daily and weekly prizes will be issued based on technique, style, color distribution and overall pain thresholds. This camp will help young men and women to recognize fellow spankos and the various methods of incorporating corporal discipline into their lives for fun, pleasure and even monetary rewards. All implements and instructors will be provided, you only need to bring a deserving bottom and an open mind. All campers will rotate being Tops and Bottoms on a weekly basis thereby ensuring total understanding of the spanking experience. Each camper must submit to at least one session with each implement during the course of the summer. Before practicing on fellow attendees each camper must past a written exam and demonstrate proper form on a counselor. Our staff are all certified and licensed members of ISTU – International Spanking Teachers Union – and are past graduates of Burgundy Bottoms. Don’t let another summer go by with a pale bottom, ditch the sunscreen and grab your ankles instead. You’ll be glad you bent over for your inner spanko.’

What is the perfect bottom type?

An adult story about spanking, read with caution

Theresa handed me a flyer and said, “I think you need this Clara.”
She was my best friend and I’d known here since grade school but we hadn’t seen each other since the wedding two years ago. Now spending the week at our house, I’d thought she was having a great time. I read the flyer in shock.

Domestic Violence Hotline

“What’s this?”
She patted my back gently and said, “I know you’re in denial Clara. I heard what that brute of your husband did to you last night. I could hear your screaming and begging but he didn’t stop! I was about to call the police but I wanted to talk to you first.”
I couldn’t help it; I burst out laughing. Theresa looked hurt and confused when I crumpled up the flyer and tossed it away. “Thanks for the concern, but Kurt doesn’t abuse me. He was only spanking me last night.”
“SPANKING! You’re husband spanks you? That… that is barbaric!”

I spent the next several hours explaining our marriage and the rules I followed with consequences for misbehavior. Theresa grew more agitated with every detail until I was afraid she would pack up and leave. Luckily, Kurt came home unexpectedly early and walked in on her strident denunciation of him. Not even pausing for breath, she laid into my husband calling him ‘wife-beater’ and ‘misogynist asshole’ among the nicest oaths.

“Are you finished Theresa?”
“Well, what my wife and I do in the privacy of our home and marriage in none of your concern. I appreciate your loyalty to my wife and I realize you’ve known her for a long time. But that knowledge should be with the understanding that Clara is a strong woman and would never tolerate abuse from me.”
“It’s barbaric Kurt! How can you even think of spanking your wife?”

Kurt sat down on the couch, patted his lap and I immediately lay across his knees in the very comforting position. Before Theresa could even leave the room, Kurt flipped up my skirt, tugged down my panties and gave me a very firm and very fast hand spanking on my still sore bottom. When he finished – for now – he glanced up at the slack-jawed Theresa and said without a hint of irony, “I spank my wife because she has the perfect bottom type. It’s bare and over my knees.”

Ask me once, ask me twice…

An adult story about spanking, read with caution

This week for Bonnie’s MBS Spanko Brunch #194 she asks this question: Have you or your partner discovered any creative ways to ask for a spanking?

“… and don’t spare the rod”

Anna could have simply asked for a spanking. Leo was, if anything, more than willing to indulge her passion for a sore bottom. But asking was too easy. So was dropping coy hints or licking frosting off a wooden spoon. Printed panties: not very subtle. So what did Anna decide?

Well, each day of the week had a special word. When Anna used that special word, Leo could spank her. To make things interesting, Leo only had thirty minutes to begin the spanking or else he forfeited the chance to spank Anna until the following day.

Anna took advantage of that twist by using the special spanking code word in the most inappropriate places. Having dinner with the in-laws, sitting in church, driving on the interstate just after passing a rest area, Anna was quite creative with her timing.

Leo however rose to the occasion every single time and Anna always had a red sore bottom when returning to the dinner table, the church pew or the passenger seat of the car. The more awkward the timing, the harder Leo would spank. Anna’s ultimate goal was to be spanked in a place she was sure Leo couldn’t carry out the deed.

Turns out the captain of the aircraft was a spanko and when he asked for a vote over the intercom, the majority of the passengers wanted to see and hear Leo do the deed. Anna didn’t know the captain was a college frat buddy of Leo. It was a very long flight for Anna, four hours sitting, minus the thirty-minute spanking observed by all on the plane.

When she used the special code word the next day while sunning at the resort pool, Leo simply rolled her over and ‘touched’ up the parts he’d missed the day before. Her thong bikini matched the color perfectly. ‘Red Bottom Baby’ by Leo.

Thank you to Cultivated Discipline

An adult story about spanking, read with caution

A post called “Ritual and Realities” by Cultivated Discipline. She thanked me for reaching her ‘core’ with my spanking writings and a link to her favorite post of mine ‘I’m gonna whip your ass until I can cook bacon’* explaining that southern style whippings push her many buttons.

“A Yankee Candle in the Delta”

The crik-crik of the rockin’ chair was sweet counterpoint to the tree frogs croakin’ for mates. The summer stars hung low, bright and swollen dipping into oaks festooned with Spanish Moss. Her heels crunched on the gravel, dead giveaway to the lateness past curfew. He was waiting on her, as always, waiting for her to obey. He was going to wait a long, long time for her to knuckle under to his dictates.

“Ye’re late.”
“Ya will be.”
“I said I was sorry!”
“Don’t cha sass me girl.”
“I’m not a child!”
“Yup. Ye’re me wife and I expect better from ya.”
“You can’t treat me like this!”
“Ya, I can and I will until ya lurnt yur lesson.”
“To be your slave?”
“No. Be me partner. A willin’ partner stead of a wicked brat.”
“So… I have a choice now?”
“Yup. Ya can strip here or upstairs.”
“It’s miles to town girl, ain’t nobodsies round here.”
“Are you going to ‘tan me arse’ again?”
“Nope. Ya little girl who done claimin’ to be me wife, she be axing me to tan ‘er arse.”
“Den ya can turn round and walk back ta town and not come back.”
“But I love you!”
“But’cha don’t ‘spect me as yur man.”
“I don’t wanna spanking all the time!”
“Den behave girl, dat’s all, behave.”
“Where’s the fun in that ya pervert.”
“Dat’s me girl.”
“I think I want my whupping out here bent over the railing. Maybe I can drown out those fuckin’ tree frogs this time.”

A fettered soul

FFF#6 at The Daily Toast is based on this picture here and should be a drabble of exactly 100 words.

It was a good dream. A dream unfulfilled. A girlhood dream spent in pink tutus and white tights leading to curtain calls and roses. Talent, dedication, desire; all betrayed by genetics. Too tall, too endowed and too much longing for a dream forever out of reach. Even now as she danced alone in her studio listening to the music, the small girl was reflected in the mirrors. Unaware of adolescence and the havoc hormones would cause, the girl moved en pointe, dreamed of the jeté. Times like these were when the woman most felt the shackles on her balletic soul.