Spanking Blog: Adult Erotic Spanking At Its Best

So it seems Natty was getting a perfectly good multi-implement spanking, when she saw something so distracting it totally took her mind off the cane whipping into her bottom:

He started out with some good hand spanks to warm up. Then moved to the strap. After one cheek got a disproportionate number of smacks, he’d move to the other side of the bed and make sure the other cheek got its fair share. The whacks hurt, but didn’t quite feel as overwhelming as before.

But it was during the caning that I realized my pain threshold had come back up. He was slicing away and at one point I realized there was something black on my clean, white sheet. For a moment I became totally transfixed by what turned out to be some sort of lint, oblivious to the fact that a stingy, whippy rattan cane was searing my ass.

What is it with women and lint? I’ve never caught Bethie obsessing over lint during a spanking (and a good thing too, for her bottom — “What, I don’t have your full attention? I can work on that”) but she can and will zero in on a speck of lint from thirty feet away during what was otherwise a perfectly good conversation, and run away to capture and exterminate it. Me, I’m a typical man, I generally don’t even see minor household debris unless it’s big enough to trip over, and even then there’s a subconscious assessment of “do I need to pick it up or is it sufficiently out of the way?” (This is why socks get left scattered around — it’s not because we can’t see them as some women hypothesize, it’s just that we don’t understand why they are a problem. When we need ’em, they’ll be right there, handy.) Anyway, when Bethie cries “Lint!” as if she were yelling “Tarantula in the toilet!” it never fails to leave me bemused.