This is a rare sentiment for me; breast punishment is not an especial fetish of mine, nor do I usually have strongly lustful thoughts about unknown internet women. But upon seeing this random kinky photograph of a large-breasted model doing pet/humiliation play, the thought crossed my mind in a flash that I might pay irresponsibly large sums of cash (which I do not in fact actually possess) for the opportunity to lay just three brisk strokes with a cane across these amazing breasts:
Sadly, I don’t have and can’t seem to readily find a source for these images, although they are associated with the metadata (perhaps a movie or porn shoot id) “HUM160123tigerr”.
In this photo from 2016, Mabel is a new spanking model for Real Spankings and she is obviously proud to have survived her first spanking shoot for them and signed the ceremonial paddle:
Longtime Spanking Blog readers will perhaps have noticed the lack of commentary here about the recent tech trend incorporating developments in generative AI that allows all manner of machine-generated media to be created from simple text prompts. Mostly, my silence is because I am officially an olde farte, raised in the school of “it’s better to be thought a fool than to open your mouth and remove all doubt.” Whereof ye know little, speak less, and all that. But when a recent banner advertiser here on the blog invited me to look at their erotic story generator, well, that was an opportunity to learn more. So, here we are.
NSFW Story Generator bills itself as “an AI-powered erotic story generator that crafts tales tailored to your fantasies.” At first impression, at least, it does precisely what it says on the tin.
The story generator itself is pretty easy to use. Right on the front page you’re greeted with prompts inviting you to select from four levels of explicitness between mild and extreme, and then choose a narrative style, a theme, and a tone. You also get an open input box to offer custom story details.
I requested an explicit third-person narrative in the “BDSM — Discipline” theme. For an environment, I wanted “Modern Setting — Office” and I requested a dominant tone. In the custom story details box, I added “Ditzy secretary receives a severe caning from her dominant boss. She cries, but secretly likes it.”
Submitting these details won me a second page of options, where I got to enter some details about Holly, my main character, a lonely single woman who harbors secret submissive fantasies:
There was opportunity to input details about a secondary character, too — you can see that the entry form has a scrollbar. I entered some details about Damian, Holly’s boss, as a secondary character, but none of these were reflected in the generated story. I haven’t played with an LLM/AI tool or toy yet that didn’t have its quirks; usually it takes a few tries to figure out what kind of prompts work best.
At last, I pressed the “Generate Story” button. Alas, woe, generatio interuptus! The site chooses this moment to enforce a detailed registration, demanding an age, name, username, password, and functioning email. Following which the story data input pages are presented again. Your previous inputs are preserved, but you are offered additional choices, like whether to generate a short (1500 words) or long (4,000 words) story. And then, finally, your story can be generated.
I’ll let you judge for yourself what you think of the story. I feel like it works in a way that I didn’t expect but falls short in a different way. What I didn’t expect is that it would so properly capture the tropes of a caning story. I deliberately fed it a stereotyped setting for a caning scene, and it perfectly generated a caning story that respects those tropes. Whereas we’re all familiar with mainstream porn that tries to do a spanking scene and gets it hilariously wrong, because pornographers who aren’t spanking fetishists don’t know or don’t understand spanking tropes, and thus mishandle or omit them entirely.
The disappointing part is harder to put my finger on. My impression of AI-generated art generally is that it’s an averaging machine, a reducer-to-the-mean. When reading any story I’m looking for a uniqueness-of-voice that helps me connect to the characters, and I expect that to be a heavy lift for any AI story generator. Nothing in this generated text has changed that opinion/prejudice/expectation.
If you’re keen to experiment with this tool/toy, understand that when you register you’ll receive just one free credit, which is consumed the first time you hit the “generate story” button. If you want to explore further, you’ll have to start buying credits. They cost between 24 and 37 cents per credit, depending on how many you buy at one time. None of which should be surprising if you follow tech news. All of this AI stuff runs on the most expensive high-end computers that guzzle prodigious quantities of electricity.
Before he got too involved, he took a piece of slim rope and put it through the holes at the end of the clothespins, lacing them together and pulling them towards each other. Ahhhhhh. Another groan of misery. Music to his ears. Then he tied the whole contraption to an eyehook on the pole, lifting and suspending her breasts by the clamps on her nipples while she whimpered and cried.
In the spirit of starting easily, Joseph looked down at the tray of tools and selected a slim plastic rod that looked very much like a conductor’s baton. Tying her titties back allowed him unrestricted access to a very neglected area of her breasts – the tender undersides. This was where he began to strike – short, sharp snaps of his wrist that left thinnish weals, reminding him of the pattern the switch had made on her bottom. Ignoring all of the useless sounds emanating from behind her headgear, he lost himself in whipping that magnificent pair with total abandon until the shy, vulnerable area was alive with red and pink trails. On occasion, he had missed his intended target and snapped the rod down onto a clothespin, or even once the bit of nipple flesh just beneath the jaws of the clamp, making his woman keen again as loudly as she could, tears splashing down from her chin to wet those ripe, hanging melons.
By the time he finished, the undersides of both titties were alive with angry red lines, looking very sore and swollen. Joseph was extremely satisfied with his work. He put the baton down, and retied the rope that had been tied high on the pole. Instead, he pulled the rope that was still laced through the end of the clothespins down, forcing her nipples to point downwards as he threaded the rope between her pussy lips, making very sure that there was a rough piece of rope on either side of her already engorged clitty, then down over the entrance to her cunt, and then up in back over her little flowered hole, to be tied off very tautly to the pole.
Now every time Prima moved, the rope rubbed against both sides of the nub between her legs. She was mortified! And with the way he wielded that thin stick, there was no way in hell that she wouldn’t try to move somehow.
Joseph sighed contentedly as he once again stood in front of Prima, baton in hand. “You are very, very wet, my girl. One would think that, despite all your moans and groans and screams and tears, that you enjoyed this.” He had put the baton under his arm to hold it and was busily twisting the clothespins in place. “You can wail all you like, Katherine . . . well, as much as your head harness will allow. No one will help you. No one is going to save you from this. And as much as it’s going to hurt you – and it will hurt a lot – you’re pussy’s gonna end up drenched as usual and ready to be fucked by me, your owner. Which is how it should be. For a virgin, I got myself quite a hot slut.”
He brought the stick down smartly on the tops of both breasts at once, then set about searing each one individually for a while, occasionally bringing the unforgiving rod down on top of each clothespin. Joseph laid into her breasts with a vengeance, smacking them until their swollen skin was fit to burst with the mass of flaming welts he’d created. Throwing the baton aside, he untied the rope that held pulled the clamps down and threw it to one side, grasped a breast roughly in each hand, crushing them and pressing them together, rubbing the marks he’d caused over the last half hour, jiggling those tortured little berries of hers good and hard. He was about ready to explode without even having touched himself.
Berlin has long been famous as the kind of place where you can get anything, for a price. Apparently, it’s true. Got a bratty sub with a filthy mouth who laughs at your worst punishments, and curses you between giggles? There’s a pro domme in Berlin who can sort your sub out with an extremely thorough mouthsoaping punishment:
This model, and her bountiful breasts, remind me a lot of Ashley Renee. But I’m sometimes accused of being face-blind, and my breast identification skills are no better than any other man’s:
I don’t have a source for this tit-whipping .gif; like so many others, it did its time on the porn tumblrs, but attributions were sparse, and none have survived that I can find.
My relationship with Bethie has always been much more of a lighthearted BDSM frolic than a serious domestic discipline situation, but we’ve definitely borrowed domestic discipline tropes when it suited us. Many years ago I got “almost gleeful” about caning her ass when she ran our shared vehicle completely out of fuel, after she’d ignored many fruitless nags about not running it below a quarter of a tank. And you know what? That hasn’t been a problem between us ever again. (These days I do try to make sure she never sees a gas gauge low enough to need filling, but that’s another story.)
Recently I’ve been reading a lot of BDSM fiction, including several domestic discipline novels where the spouses involved got a whole lot more Tarzan-and-Jane about their marital roles than would ever work for me/her/us. This whole preface is about me explaining that I’m not an evangelist for domestic discipline, but I do understand its appeal and I do think there are categories of marital strife that it’s super-efficient at resolving. The little video snippet below of a wife who ran the family ride dead dry and is now laughing at her spouse’s frustration for the whole internet to enjoy? It gives my spanking hand a powerful twitch, and I cannot lie about that. That man’s blood pressure would be so much lower if he just took six breaths, and smiled, and said “Honey, we’ll talk about this tonight after the kids go to bed.”
I am not providing a link for several reasons, including that the video source is ephemeral anyway, and that people following such a link and leaving comments there could stir up drama with the people in the video and hurt their feelings, which I don’t want.
