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Right now, this is what he’s growling in her ear: “Darling, we have a choice here. We can do it the hard way, or we can do it the hard way that’s also extra painful for you…”
From The Night Nurse at Kink Prime. This shoot is one of the ones that Kink.com has remastered and re-released, so it’s an interesting opportunity to compare the remastered version (released in April) with the original shoot from 2013.
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I am pretty sure this priest is gonna be in trouble with his bishop when this little escapade comes out:
Artwork is from Dirty Priest by Hawke, for Dofantasy.
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I don’t see the clear Lexan/Plexiglass spanking paddles around much these days, although they were everywhere to be seen when they first hit the market. Clear plastic is an unforgiving material for a paddle, which always made me suspect that the truest fans of the things were spanking pornographers who enjoyed capturing and sharing newly-accessible visuals:
The impact-shot-in-progress seen here is across Jessica’s lovely spankable bottom, in a 2009 shoot at Spanking Teen Jessica.
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Is our man taking off that belt merely to satisfy his obvious and urgent practical need to remove his pants? Or does he plan to lash this helpless heroine’s ruthlessly-exposed pussy with it?
Only the artist, said to be Sebastian Moriarty, knows for sure. Note that Bondage Blog identifies the lady on the bed as everybody’s favorite adventuress, Lara Croft.
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Via ErosBlog, this fine set of promotional photos that feature Raquel Welch doing (or pretending to do) whipping tricks with Ringo Starr as her stunt bottom, in connection with the absolutely bonkers movie The Magic Christian:
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I found this photo in the January 1964 issue of Sultry magazine, as part of a fluffy piece on some cheeky pinup models who took the day boat to Catalina Island for a sun-and-sand shoot. At one point they bent over the rail and showed off so much bare bottom to the other passengers, one would almost think they were looking for a taste of the rope’s end. No word on whether they got it, but we may hope:
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Anybody can write a spanking story full of swooshing and swatting noises, but a good erotic buildup to a spanking scene is a joy to behold, and not such a common one. In this switching story, our heroine is out for a hike that’s turned somewhat naughty:
I’m standing there with my bum, my thighs and my legs all on show to whomsoever might amble past the shelter. The cold air feels like a dank film clinging to my nakedness, and my own moisture is so copious it starts to trickle down my inner thigh.
Sebastian tests me immediately, sticking two fingers peremptorily into my sex from behind. The tips knock against the Chinese balls inside me, and the balls in turn knock the root of my clitoris.
I make a gurgling sound and come a bit, clamping down on him.
“Dirty, undisciplined, intemperate girl,” he hisses in my ear, rummaging around from the front for my clit and when he finds it, giving it a little pinch as it jumps. “You’ll pay for that. I never said you could come, did I?”
“I’m sorry,” I half stammer, half gulp; not feeling the least bit sorry at all. In fact I feel deliciously aglow and proud of myself and happy, and just dying for him to bring it on, and punish me.
He withdraws his fingers, giving the cord of the love balls a little tweak, but not pulling them out. The way they jump inside me makes me squeak, and nearly come again.
“Careful…” he warns, wiping his sticky fingers on my bare bottom. Oh, he’s a prince. “I was going to just spank you, but because you’re so willful I think we need a few refinements, don’t you?”
Whatever, I think, but don’t say so. I’m half off my head already.
“And you’re a horny minx too, aren’t you? I bet you’re wet through.”
I refrain from pointing out that any woman with a tantalizing love toy inside her would be dripping. Not to mention having been kissed to within an inch of her life by the most gorgeous and most kinky man imaginable.
“Tell me. Are you wet?”
I’m quivering all over. He doesn’t shout at me. He doesn’t even sound cross or displeased. But somehow I’m a complete jelly of apprehension.
“Yes. Um… yes, master, I’m very wet.”
“That’s better,” he says, approving the title. “I think we’d better inspect you now, hadn’t we?”
I nod. I can’t speak any more. I feel as if I’m going to explode with excitement and surging lust any second.
Manhandling me, Sebastian makes me lean forward, with my elbows on the low wall, my chin resting on my arms, and my bottom pushed out. Then, with no further ado, he throws my coat up over my back, and reaches around to unfasten my jeans. These, he drags hurriedly all the way down my legs to my ankles, taking my knickers with them.
Fishing around in his pocket, he gives me a baleful glare as I watch him out of the corner of my eye. He’s clearly got some other fiendishness in there that I wasn’t aware of, and it doesn’t surprise me at all when he draws out our favorite set of nipple clamps.
“Oh no,” I gasp, thinking, oh yes.
“Wicked little tart,” he breathes against my neck as he reaches under me, pushing up my sweater and T-shirt right up, out of the way, and then unclipping the front fastening of my bra to free my breasts. My nipples are hard as little stones already, but he plays with them just a bit to be sure.
Then, the next torment begins. He screws first one clip in place then the other, and tears squeeze out of the corners of my eyes. They really hurt, and what’s more, they’re weighted, so they pull on breasts as they dangle. Worse, or perhaps better in a dark twisted way, that pulling sensation seems to drag my clit too.
What a state he’s got me in. Here I am, presented, subjugated for his pleasure with a bare, vulnerable bottom and remorseless nipple clamps plaguing my breasts. I love it, being his “object”, his plaything. My pussy drips. I’m almost ready to come, just from being here.
“Now stay where you are. Don’t move a muscle. And most especially, don’t touch yourself or climax.”
Where’s he going? Where the hell is he going? With a swish of his long dark greatcoat he strides out of the shelter and right out of view.
For a few minutes I’m completely alone. I’m fearful, yet absurdly, even more excited than ever. I imagine people, mainly men, coming along the path, and stopping to stare at my bum, and my breasts, perhaps fondling me. But I can’t do a thing because Sebastian’s told me not to move.
My heart nearly stops when I hear footsteps approaching, but then it speeds up even more when I recognize the tread. He swirls back into the shelter, a couple of freshly pulled and trimmed switches, mini branchlets, in his hands.
“These should do nicely,” he says, sounding pleased with himself as he hefts the instruments of my forthcoming punishment, assessing their weight and flight like the expert he is.
Oh, those are going to smart! He’s a master with any implement, and with his hand, but he’ll really make those beauties fly.
“Have you moved while I was away?” He lays one of the switches across my bottom, just letting it rest there. “Have you fiddled with yourself, you naughty girl?”
I haven’t, but part of me wants to say that I have. I love playing the wicked, helpless, hopeless little strumpet to his stern disciplinarian.
“No matter…” He preempts my answer. “Even if you haven’t done it, you’ve thought about it, and that’s enough. The thought is misbehavior too.” He reaches beneath me, tugging a nipple clip, and making me moan and jiggle my hips; which, of course, makes everything worse than ever, because of what’s inside me. I really am in a terrible, yet wonderful state.
I’m dying to come again.
“Right, that’s it… It’s time to beat the wickedness out of you, you mucky little trollop.” He taps my bottom ever so lightly, as if sighting for the real blows. “Assume a better position. You’re not really trying here. Dish your back and stick your bottom out. Present yourself, woman.”
I do the best I can, but it’s difficult with my panties and jeans around my ankles, and it’s cold too, even though I am burning up with desire.
Ow! Ow! Ow!
While I’m still trying to flex myself into a better shape for him, he lands three hard slashes, right across the crown of both buttocks at once, all parallel. After a split second of shock, they explode in white fire, and I keen out, “Nooo!”
Yes!” he corrects, swishing again, another three…
This is an excerpt from the story The Roses In Your Cheeks by Portia Da Costa, in her collection Delicious Pain.
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