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In the world of Irving Klaw’s BDSM fetish photographs, being tightly cinched inside a leather sensory-deprivation hood, full-length arm binder, and skin-tight hobble skirt won’t save you from a well-deserved spanking:
No extra charge for the high heels!
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If you’re a young wife with a stern but loving husband, halfway to Oregon on the Oregon Trail in a covered wagon, it’s probably a bad idea to wander away from the wagon train on a rest day to go skinny dipping by yourself. Especially when it’s a repeat offense:
The river made a bend a bit further up and, as she rounded it, she didn’t like the fact that there wasn’t really any space to spread out her wash. It was a beautiful day, the few clouds in the sky were fluffy, reminding her of sheep’s wool. The sound of the water was soothing and the sun had not yet made the day unbearable. She rounded another bend and then another, by removing her boots and stockings and wading into the water to go around a large boulder. She gave a short yelp when she slipped, but regained her balance. Once around the rock, she smiled. A small cove with a level area was the perfect spot.
Anna wrung the last pair of Richard’s trousers out and then shook them. They joined a few other items she’d draped over a tree trunk that had fallen from the bank to lie against the boulder, providing almost a perfect clothes line. Stretching her cramped muscles, caused by all the bending and twisting required to wash their clothes, she looked out over the water. Glancing around, she saw that the boulder — and another, further upstream — shielded her from view. It only took a moment for her to decide that this was the perfect opportunity to take a last bath before their journey resumed. Lord only knew when another river would offer her the chance to get clean.
Leaving her clothes by the boulder, she walked into the water, sighing with pleasure as the cool liquid enveloped her. She dove beneath the surface and swam a little before coming up and turning to float on her back. She giggled as she felt the sun on her naked skin, her nipples puckered by the cold water. Using her arms for balance, she closed her eyes and allowed her mind to drift as she relaxed. A loud splash had her jerking, her legs dropping as she sank. Surfacing, she sputtered as she caught her breath. Large ripples in a circle on the water indicated where a large fish had jumped to catch some insect. Treading water, she moved in a circle and realized that, not only had she practically fallen asleep while floating, the current had carried her beyond the boulder. Blushing furiously, not wanting to think about floating far enough down river to have someone see her, she began to swim. It was harder than she thought as she pulled against the current. By the time she’d passed the boulder and reached shallow enough water in which to stand, she was tired and still hadn’t bathed.
Grabbing the bar of soap, she dove back into the river, where she washed and then stood to soap her hair. It took a long time to wash her hair, it was so thick and she craved for it to be squeaky clean. Working up another lather in her tresses, she smiled and thought about how Richard loved playing with her hair. Sitting naked before him, his hands or the brush stroking through her locks until they were silky smooth, was one of the most wonderful things about being Richard’s wife. Bending over, her back to the beach, her bottom raised, she rinsed out the soap. Straightening, she smiled, feeling completely relaxed for the first time in ages — until she turned around and shrieked. A large shadow moved away from the boulder and she realized someone had been watching her. She covered herself with her hands and looked for her clothing. It was gone! Whimpering, she backed further into the water, looking for a place to flee, dropping beneath the surface when the riverbed disappeared beneath her feet. Surfacing and gasping, she saw the shadow move into the light. Her whimper cut off and she stepped towards him, her smile disappearing as she saw his face. He didn’t look thrilled and was holding her clothes.
“Tell me why, young lady, you think I’d approve of you swimming or bathing alone?”
No, he was definitely not happy. “I’m sorry. I was just so hot and dirty. I was doing the wash…”
“Which you were supposed to be doing where I could see you,” he interrupted. “You didn’t tell anyone, and I mean anyone, where you were going.”
“Richard, you knew I was on the river. You told me to move away so that I didn’t get caught–”
Evidently he didn’t care to hear her excuses, as he interrupted again. “Well, Anna, I’d say you were caught again. You were caught red-handed by your husband in your disobedience. It’s just a damn good thing that I found you and not somebody else. You not only didn’t stay where I could see you, you obviously were too far away to hear us calling for you.”
“Us?” She looked downstream and up, as if expecting to see hordes of people looking for her.
“Yes, us,” he replied, motioning with his hand. “Come out of the water. You will stay right here, and Annabelle, I mean right here, while I go tell Tom to spread the news that you’ve been found. If you move from this spot…” He paused, actually making a mark in the dirt with the heel of his boot, “you’ll regret it.”
She shivered and had to fight the instinct to fling herself in the river and let the current carry her away. The only things that stopped her from doing so was the fact that she was naked and someone would be bound to see her, and the knowledge that if she made another wrong move, her poor bottom would pay an even higher price. Swallowing hard, she walked to him, her eyes downcast.
“Yes, sir, I’ll stay here. May I have my clothes?”
“No, you’ll not be needing them for a while yet. You can stand right here and think about how my catching you red-handed is going to mean you’ll have a very red arse. I’ll be back.”
With that vision in her mind, she watched him walk up the bank and disappear from sight after dropping her clothes into her wash basket.
Shivering, not from the cold but from the knowledge that she had made a bad choice, she attempted to collect herself. It seemed to take forever before she heard rustling in the bushes. For a moment she thought about diving in the river again in case it wasn’t Richard approaching but even as her foot moved, she stopped and planted her heel onto the mark he’d made in the ground.
* * * * *
Richard paused in his return to see his wife start to move but then evidently remember his warning as her foot stilled. As he stood looking at his naughty wife, he knew she had no idea of the picture she’d made while she bathed. The sight of her, a small but perfectly formed woman, naked in the sunlight, the water reflecting around her, coppery hair hanging to her hips, had taken his breath away. He’d actually ached with the thought of another man seeing his wife in all her glory. He’d felt his heart stop at the thought that her life could have been taken or that she could have been raped if found by anyone other than a friend. Knowing she’d not stopped to think a single one of the thoughts he had, he pushed through the remaining bushes to join her.
“Tell me, Annabelle, what would you have done if it hadn’t been me watching you? You have no idea who might be out here. What if some Indian or another man saw you naked and alone? Do you honestly even think about what you do?” He could see her tremble and wasn’t surprised when she took a step backwards for every one he took forward. “Annabelle Rose Andrews, you have got to stop this behavior.” He lifted his hand to halt her when she opened her mouth.
“You know what happens when you put yourself in danger, don’t you?” he went on. He didn’t give her time to answer as he took the final steps towards her. When his hand dropped to his belt buckle, she broke and turned, fleeing towards the water. At the edge, she slipped and fell face forward, her head going under the surface. She came up sputtering and he hauled her out of the river.
“That’s exactly what I mean! You could have hit your head when you fell and drowned. You could have been carried away by the current or snagged in some fallen tree limbs or roots underneath the water. You’ve been told your whole life never to swim alone, so I know this isn’t some new rule you can attempt to claim you didn’t know. You knew damn well not to leave the area where I told you to stay and, young lady, you know your arse is going to pay.” He ignored her tears when she started to cry. Her bottom had been unblemished for weeks. He’d had to swat her a few times, and even spank her, but she hadn’t had a mark on her since the day he’d had to use both her paddle and her strap on her backside. He was fully aware that she knew her bottom would be aching by the time he was done.
“Please don’t spank me, I’m sorry. I should have asked you if I could move, I should have just stayed and washed the clothes. I didn’t think. I know I was wrong, I won’t do it again. Please, Richard, please don’t. I don’t want a spanking. I don’t want to sit on a striped bottom tomorrow.”
He shook his head and led her to a tree at the edge of the beach. “Get your arms around that tree and don’t let go.”
She obeyed and sobbed as he doubled his belt in his hand, securing the buckle in his fist.
“Let’s pray this is the last lesson you’ll need to remind you of the dangers I keep telling you about. You’ll get ten stokes to start, and then you’ll count each stroke and thank me for it. You’ll give me a reason as to why it is dangerous to make the choices you did today. Do not let go of that tree or I will tie your arms to it and we’ll start over. Do you understand me, Annabelle?”
“Yes, sir,” she cried, her arms tightening around the tree.
“Push your arse out and ask me to begin.”
He waited until she lifted her small pale bottom and asked for her whipping. He landed the first stroke against the center of both cheeks, the sharp crack followed by her gasp. Another nine landed, her cries growing louder as color bloomed across her buttocks. Richard gave her a moment to calm before he spoke again. “You’ll begin counting now, and remember what I told you to say.”
Crack! “One, thank you. I could have been taken by a stranger.” Her bottom wagged up and down and he didn’t continue until she stilled and slowly pushed her red rear up and out to him.
Crack! “Two, thank you. I could have fallen and drowned.”
Crack! “Oh, please! Three, thank you. I-I could have gotten hurt and nobody knew where I was.”
Crack! “Richard, please, I’m sorry!” Her arms dropped from their hold, her hands gripping her burning cheeks.
“Hands around the tree, Annabelle. That stroke will be repeated,” he said, lifting the belt and delivering another stroke to her crimson bottom.
Crack! “Five… I mean four, thank you. Someone else could have gotten hurt or lost when looking for me.”
Crack! “Five, thank you.” She paused, her shoulders heaving as she struggled to get herself under control. “I-I could have-have hurt our baby.” This answer was wailed as she broke into harder sobs, the reality of what she had just said searing through her heart.
Richard stepped to her, bending to look into her eyes, which were flooded with tears. “One more, Anna, give me the final reason why.”
She blinked, tears spilling down her cheeks to fall onto her naked breasts, but she nodded and, when he stepped back, she pushed her bottom out.
Crack! “Six, thank you. I could have died.”
“Yes, and then, Anna, my love, I would have wanted to die as well.” He pulled her from the tree and into his arms. He lifted her chin and bent to press his forehead to hers. “I wouldn’t want to live without you, honey. Please, if you learn nothing else, learn that.”
She clung to him as he kissed her. He could feel the wetness on her cheeks as he held her until her trembling stopped. Scooping her into his arms, he walked to the water and set her down. “Go on, let the river cool your arse. I don’t want you to hurt, sweetheart, I just want you to learn.”
She nodded and stepped into the water, kneeling and sitting back on her heels, allowing the cold water to wash the pain away. He stripped and joined her, pulling her into his arms as he walked further out into the river.
“I’m sorry, I swear, I’ll never make you do that again.”
“Thank you,” Richard said, holding her close for a while before releasing her.
They swam together until she began to shiver. He pulled one of the towels from the tree branch and dried her, pleased to see that most of the redness had already gone from her bottom. He combed her hair with his fingers as she sat on his lap. As she leaned against him, his cock stiffened. Turning her to face him, he kissed her softly, his hands cupping her breasts.
“Ride me, wife.”
As she lifted herself and used a hand to guide him inside, he bent and kissed a nipple. She rocked back and forth and up and down his shaft until she was moaning, her cunny tightening in preparation of her explosion.
“Cum with me, husband,” she whispered.
Their moans and gasps filled the area, the lesson given and hopefully remembered as they made gentle love, exploding together, their cries of passion drifting across the rippling water.
From His Passionate Pioneer by Maggie Ryan.
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When he’s had you bent over in the utility closet in the basement for the last twenty minutes and absolutely lit your ass up with the cane, that’s when you know you done fucked up and are in total disgrace. You’ll be lucky to be put to bed without your supper tonight. Given what you did? He might just leave you hogtied beside the washing machines with nothing between you and the damp concrete floor but a single thin blanket:
From Girls Boarding School.
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As we have discussed previously, we can’t routinely rely on Kink.com to include impact play in their kinky photo shoots, but in recent years they have upped their game considerably and it’s much more common than it used to be. This bondage caning is a great example:
Lana Analise is said to be starring here in her first professional BDSM shoot, and they did not go easy on her:
Photos are from Lana the Pain Slut.
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According to a post on ErosBlog, these photos show the legendary fetish photographer and publisher John Willie getting spanked over a woman’s knee:
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Can you handle the pain, friend?
What? You mean you and your buddies don’t have macho contests of pain tolerance?
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Her head is turned toward her disciplinarian with a look of concerned apprehension on her face. This tells me she’s been bent over the punishment sawhorse for a caning on more than one previous occasion. Darling honeybunch, wouldn’t it just be easier to do as you’re told next time?
I don’t know the precise source for this photograph but it is almost certainly one of the classic/vintage British spanking magazines.
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