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He’s got his girls mostly naked, tightly tape gagged, bound hand and foot, and he’s looming over them with a long narrow leather strap. I know I overuse this joke, but nonetheless: date night seems to be going pretty well!
From the cover of The Erotic Cinema #1.
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These are from a photo series (perhaps originally published in one of the Blushes supplements) starring a blonde and a brunette getting hand spanked and caned in an old-fashioned schoolroom by a very formal British educator.
I could not actually find the original scans in full; these pics are all floating around the web individually and generally in very small and degraded condition. These are not the only images in the set but they are a representative sample. Click the pic above to see them in a slightly larger format.
Update: Someone in email rightly points out that at least two of these photos are not from the same photoset as the others. Despite being in the same classroom, the disciplinarian in two cases sports some extravagant facial hair that’s not present in the rest of the photos. Perhaps you remember those old “spot the changed details” puzzles they used to publish in magazines for children? Yeah, I was bad at those.
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I don’t know if this unhappy young lady was already in tears from a spanking before the mouth soaping part of her punishment began. It’s possible she dislikes the taste of soap even more than most punishees. Or maybe she actually feels bad about her misdeeds? It does happen, sometimes:
From Northern Spanking.
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In African Agony by John “JJ” Argus, Sarah has arrived rather informally via rubber boat on an African shore and her informal immigration interview isn’t going very well for her:
Umbwatha stepped over to her, glowering, then looked down at her breasts. He prodded one with his stick, then slipped the stick beneath, lifting the breast up slightly.
“You are very well constructed,” he observed. “You wear little clothing. You are of poor morals. All English girls are, and you come to seduce my soldiers.”
“N-N-No,” she gulped.
“I think yes.”
“Please, w-we just… our boat just…”
He spoke to one of the other men, who hurried behind her, then gripped her long hair and yanked back hard. Sara screamed, her scalp stinging like a thousand small pins were being jammed into it. She did not even see Umbwatha take a half step back and then bring his arm down heavily, the stick slicing down onto her taut right breast.
She felt the impact, which was light, then the stinging pain a moment later. She screamed again.
“Stop! Please! No! Please don’t hurt me!” she shrieked.
Umbwatha’s eyes heated and he swung the stick again, cracking it down on the girl’s left breast. He watched the soft flesh jiggle under the impact, and a thin red line appearing as he drew his arm back.
“You must speak respectfully to me,” Umbwatha said, slashing the stick across her right breast again.
“We do not like your whoring ways here in Shankali. We punish those who violate our borders.”
The stick whipped down again, snapping like an adder, cutting across Sara’s soft breasts repeatedly as she sobbed piteously and begged him to stop.
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Remember the three caned women rubbing their bottoms on a vintage postcard that I posted back in 2017?
Well, here’s another card from the same set, showing the caning that had the ladies self-soothing their burning hemispheres:
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This is said to be a Parisian sex worker in the 1930s. Perhaps she agreed to go on a picnic excursion? I’m pretty sure her pretty ass is about to get some stripes:
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Blindfolded and gagged and tied as she is, all she can do is take the severe martinet whipping, and (presumably) whimper a lot:
Artwork is by Hanz Kovacq.
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