Spanking Blog: Adult Erotic Spanking At Its Best

This is from an 1880s story called Adventures Of A Barmaid:

Here there was a tap at the door of Polly’s apartment.

“Come in,” exclaimed Mrs. Swipes. “Oh, it’s you, Bessie, is it; let me introduce you to our new lady, Miss Polly— ahem, what’s your name, my dear?”

“Never mind that; what will Miss Bessie take to wet the introduction?” said Polly.

“I know what I should like to give her, and that’s a good birch rod on her fat bum, for disturbing our quiet little con-fab,” said Mrs. Swipes.

“Would you, indeed, you dear old girl, you do like to see a rosy bottom, getting redder under your strokes. Stand a bottle of fizz, and I don’t mind lending you my arse for a few minutes, it leads up to such pleasant sensations, and may be a novelty for our new friend Miss Polly. I must apologize for my intrusion; the fact is, I heard your voice in the room, as I was going down stairs to ask if Lord Rodney is coming to supper this evening.”

“Fudge!” exclaimed Mrs. Swipes, “why don’t you honestly say you guessed we’d got a drop of drink. I’ll soon fetch the fizz and take the price out of your arse, my impudent cheeky beauty; although I know you enjoy the touch of the twigs as much as I do the using them, the sight will give Miss Polly here a new sensation, or I’m no judge of character, she looks warm enough for anything!”

“Thank you for the compliment,” replied our heroine. “I own I’m not a lump of ice, but make haste, I’m curious to see the birching!”

The landlady went to the cellar in person, and soon reappeared with a bottle of true Madame Cliquot, in which the three ladies pledged each other “long life and plenty of frig.”

Mrs. Swipes had also brought with her, from the lower regions of the house, a long thin brown paper parcel, from which she unrolled a beautiful little tickle-tail, composed of a few long fine sprigs of birch, handsomely tied up with blue velvet and red silk ribbons at the handle end, whilst the tips of the twigs were so arranged as to spread out and cover a considerable area of any devoted bum they might be applied to.

“Lay me over the end of the sofa, and Miss Polly must hold my hands,” said Bessie, slipping off her dressing gown, which at once revealed that she had only her corset, chemise, and drawers to hide her person, which was set off to the best advantage by pink silk stockings, pretty gold buckled blue garters, and elegant high-heeled French slippers.

“As hard as you like, Swipes, dear, but you know I expect the gamahuche for a wind up at the finish.”

“I’m all there when the tingling cuts make you spend, my darling, I wouldn’t miss sucking up every drop for the world,” replied Mrs. S., taking up the switch, as Bessie kneeled up on the sofa, and gave Polly her hands to hold tight, as she reclined over the round head of that piece of furniture.

The landlady now quickly unbuttoned the band of Bessie’s drawers, pulling them down to her knees, and tucking the tail of the thin cambric chemise out of the way under her corset, both before and behind, so as to give a full view of a truly magnificent white rump, and all the stock-in-trade of a handsome and pretty young whore as one could wish to see.

“I’ll begin as I mean to go on!” said Mrs. Swipes, giving a very spiteful swish to commence with. “How do they feel Bessie, dear?” She followed up with a succession of sharp cuts, which fairly reddened the flesh of her posteriors, and made her writhe under the stinging sensation. Polly could see as she held her hands how her face flushed at the first smart of the rod, then how Bessie squirmed at each cut, getting ever more and more flushed, as she bit her lips to prevent crying out.

Polly could also very well see the reddening surface and rising weals as they appeared under the ruthless and stinging switches of the landlady, whose face flushed with delight as the flagellation proceeded. This made the blood tingle in the veins of our heroine, who quite shivered with emotion, and an indescribable feeling of voluptuous desire.

In about five minutes Miss Jones gave most evident signs of the approaching crisis, she closed her eyes, and hung her head over the end of the sofa, her bottom and thighs fairly quivering with the excess of her emotions, till Mrs. Swipes, throwing aside the now useless birch rod, rushed on her victim with all the energy of an excited tribade, turning the girl over on her back, and burying her face between Miss Bessie’s thighs, as she licked and sucked up every drop of spendings from her victim’s quivering quim, to the great delight and excitement of Miss Polly, who sat down and frigged herself in sympathy at the voluptuous sight.