The Pain Game
What happens when Victoria Voxxx decides to play The Pain Game with Eli Cross? All kinds of fun, that’s what:
Recently released from Kink.com.
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Spanking Blog: Adult Erotic Spanking At Its Best
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Mable Bites Her Lip
From the way poor Mable is biting her lip during her belt spanking, she knows it’s far from over, even though her poor bottom is showing an awful lot of color:
I wonder what she did to piss off her employer?
From a recent update at Real Spankings.
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Shana’s Behavior: Reformed
I don’t know what Shana did, but the notion is that she’ll be reluctant to do it again soon:
This is from an old Nu-West movie Reform School Girls, and as the still was originally captioned, “Finally, a solution is found for Shana’s out-of-control behavior.”
I wonder what the other girls did?
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Supergirl’s Spanking Humiliation
Supergirl’s visit to Earth was going so well until the incident with the kryptonite butt plug and the exposure wall at the supervillain convention. By the time she got loose, her bottom was super sore!
Artwork is by Mavis.
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A Clamped Pussy And A Spanking
Supposedly this scene from Unrestrained by Joey W. Hill is a punishment for orgasming without permission, but nobody seems very committed to the punishment portion of the bit:
“Come here, woman.”
He bade her stand at the arm of the chair and took the spatula and clip from her. “Spread your legs.”
When she did, he clasped the lips of her sex in firm, sure fingers, compressing them before he opened the three-inch-wide clip and slowly let the jaws come back together, holding on to her clit and labia. The compression was uncomfortable, but it also jammed all those aroused nerves together, making dense sensation arrow up through her core.
“Bend down, toward my lap.”
She did so, and he took hold of her hair, wrapping it around his fist and guiding her all the way down so her mouth was pressed, blissfully, on the straining denim over his erection. She could smell the heavy, musky scent of it, knew he’d likely spilled some milky precum against the fabric of his shorts. She wanted to taste him more than she’d ever wanted to taste anything. His hand tightened in her hair. “Fold your arms beneath your breasts. Press your knees against the side of the chair.”
It put more of her weight forward, so her forehead was pressed to his opposite thigh. Her fingers dug into the chair cushioning as she adjusted her knees so her thighs stayed open.
“Good girl. You learn fast. This will help you remember what happens if you come before your Master orders it.”
The spatula strike made her jerk. He’d said there was a difference between discipline and a punishment for pleasure, but he didn’t seem to hold back on either. Her capacity to absorb the pain seemed greater now, though, her ass lifting toward it, wanting more, even as every strike made her cringe and think, Ow ow ow . . .
He didn’t tell her how many he was going to do this time, and by the time she was trying hard not to writhe, her ass singing with pain, she was about to beg. Her clit was pulsing beneath the hold of that clamp, her pussy tingling. When he dropped the spatula and pulled the clip off, she cried out at the painful rush of blood back to the area. It was mitigated by his touch, the clamp of his fingers over her clit, worrying it, making her hips lift up to him again. Please . . . oh God . . . It feels so good.
He pushed her up, shifted her so she was down on her knees between his feet. She watched with eager desire as he opened his jeans, adjusted them and the boxers beneath enough that he freed his cock, levering it out to stand tall and thick before her gaze. Roy had been a good size, more than capable of filling a woman, and Dale was the same. Her gaze coursed over the thick vein along the base of the shaft, the hint of the heavy ball sac still nested in his shorts.
“Hands behind your back, Athena. You’ll suck me off with your mouth alone.”
She desperately wanted to touch him, learn him with her fingers, but she was starting to understand his diabolical strategy. The tighter he held the reins, the more powerful the wanting became. The more she wanted, the more it turned him on, a closely intertwined strand that drove them both.
Clasping the base of his cock in one hand, he brought her down on him.
Steel and velvet, musk, salt. Lust and heat. She savored that first contact between the cushion of her lip and the broad head, the dampness of his slit. He kept total control of her movements, pushing her down deep on him. He did it slow, so she had time to adjust, but he still went all the way up against her gag reflex, making her fight not to choke.
“Relax your throat. Take all of me. There you go. That’s my sweet girl.”
She sucked that salty-musky taste, reveling in it, and when he let her slide up, she worried his slit with the tip of her tongue, sucked on the ridges of the corona, and then she was pushed down again. She worked within what his grip would allow her, flicking her tongue along his length, sucking on him so hard she hollowed her cheeks as she did it.
“Fuck, you’re good at this. I might keep you on your knees all the time.”
How crazy was it that she loved hearing that? She redoubled her efforts. She wanted him to come in her mouth, wanted to swallow his seed. She was wet and throbbing yet again, ready for another climax. It was exhilarating, terrifying, the way her body responded to this, to him. But would he allow her that? Or would he leave her hot and wanting, because he was immersing her in what it was to be a submissive? His kind of submissive, commanded by the inexorable will of her Master.
His thigh muscles were starting to flex and twitch in that way that told her the climax was close. His grip showed that as well, as if men lost an awareness of their own strength as they reached that crest. Or perhaps they realized getting rougher was something a woman craved, feeling his loss of control in that aggressive power. She sucked and licked even more ardently. She wished her hand was where his was, wrapped around the base of his cock, so she could feel that vein pump when the seed started to come through.
With a groan, he thrust up hard into her mouth. His ejaculation flooded her throat, several long, strong spurts that kept her swallowing frantically, trying to make sure none of it escaped her lips. Her chest heaved with the effort, her throat fighting against that gag reflex.
His animal noises of release kept her working to please him. When his touch finally eased, her scalp was stinging from his grip and her eyes were watering from the effort, but all she wanted to do was keep at it. Instead, she did the next best thing. She started to clean him, licking more gently, absorbing with pleasure the postclimactic shudders of his body, the way his fingers stroked her hair, yet also paused to do short, quick pulls, a pleasurable discomfort to her scalp. Then he had her under the arms, dragging her into his lap to grip her neck and hold her to him for a hard, deep kiss. The zipper of his open jeans bit into her sore ass, his damp cock mashed against her pussy, and she loved it, the visceral, sticky perfection of it all.
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A Lesbian Weed Whipping
I’m not enough of a botanist to know what sort of weedy stems these old-time lesbians are employing for the whipping on this vintage French postcard, but the stems and flowers look somewhat like thistles to me, although not precisely like any of the varieties that grow in my part of North America:
The postcard itself might be from the Biederer/Ostra ouvre, but then again it might not; there were a lot of risque postcard publishers on “the continent” before WWII.
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An Explosion Of Sex Toys
One of my favorite genres of porn is the image — much more likely to be an imaginative artwork than an actual photograph — of a BDSM session or sex scene in progress where it looks like the entire contents of somebody’s sex toy cabinet or adult playtime duffle bag has exploded all over the bedroom or the dungeon, as the case may be. And then, when you take a second look, you realize there are so many cast-aside whips, paddles, sensation toys, restraints, bottles of lube, half-burnt candles, clamps, plugs, dildos, sounds, and other devious instruments of pleasure that whoever planned this happy event must surely have stopped off at an adult shop on their way to the tryst, because nobody’s in-house assortment of sex toys could possibly be that exhaustively complete!
In its most extreme form this sort of image is rare, but in truth I’m a sucker for just about any erotic illustration or photo that gives pride of place to the sex toys, and especially the impact toys, that make all the erotic fun possible. Do I have a little bit of a toy fetish? I suppose I might!
Almost as much fun is the before-the-action version in which all the sex toys are carefully arranged in a meticulous array around the object of one’s affections. Everything in its place, all objects of fun convenient to the grasping hand of an avid lover. Under no circumstances are we going to interrupt the festivities to go rummage in the cupboard or fumble in the bag under the bed! Because that’s no fun for anybody. We’ve all been there, and it kills the moment. A creative lover gets his or her shit together well in advance.
Depending on the amount of compulsive obsession in play, these scenes may or may not have a much smaller number of sex toys in play, but what they might lack in sheer number of toys, they can make up for in well-organized style. Sometimes it even appears that the position of each toy in the scene has been curated as carefully as the limbs of a bonsai tree, so much so that you can tell what toy is in use by the missing-tooth gap in the tableau.
There’s also a sub-variant where the used sex toys (and the happy recipient of all that attention) are arranged with precision at the end of the scene, as if for a trophy photograph. Perhaps this is the sexual equivalent of snapshotting your dinner table for Instagram, but after you’ve enjoyed your meal?
Image credits: The kneeling leashed and clamped blonde (upper image) is by Punchdrunkey. The kneeling submissive surrounded by sticky sex toys (lower image) is by アヌリタ (Anurita).
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