Spanking Blog: Adult Erotic Spanking At Its Best

Abel wonders: what goes on in the bedroom of vanilla couples?

Allow me to link you to “12 of the best” really good tips for people new to playing with the cane, by Abel. Basic stuff (which is what beginners need), carefully chosen and succinctly expressed. Excellent!

See Also:

• Caning Information

I’m not sure if TV actress Felicity Kendal is or was much known in the US — certainly I’ve never before heard of her, but that’s true of at least ten thousand US TV stars as well, in my case — but I never like to pass up tidbits of celebrity spanking data, knowing as I do that for any known personage with a spanked bottom, there’ll be somebody among my readership who gets a frisson of pleasure from hearing about it. Thanks to The Spanking Writers for pulling this tidbit off their pub shelves:

“I never disobeyed her; no sensible person would dream of questioning her gentle commands. She never raised her voice and there was no hysteria, just quiet control. She rarely lost her temper, and only once did she do so with me, when she took a Mason Pearson hairbrush to my bare bottom. Whatever it was I did, I never did it again.”

I laughed aloud (for you younger readers, that’s how people said “LOL” back in the bad old days) at this anecdote from Abel and Haron’s blissful domesticity:

I’m out in the kitchen making dinner. Abel is on the phone to his mother in the next room, and I can hear him through the door:

“I’d better go, Mum; Haron’s cooking, I need to give her a hand.”

I wonder briefly why he thinks I need help stirring curry that’s come out of a jar; surely I’m not that inept.

Everything is explained when he strides into the room, yanks down my slightly-too-large tracksuit bottoms along with my knickers, and gives me several firm, crisp smacks. I hold on to the stirring spoon to keep myself from ending up face-first in the bubbling curry.

“Is that your understanding of giving me a hand?” I ask, pulling my pants back up.

“Yeah. What, did you think I was going to help you?”

In our house, it’s a matter of having too many robust wooden spoons hanging about in the kitchen (where they don’t attract undue attention the way they would hanging about in the living room). I’ll wander in there when Bethie is cooking, and say “You need any help?”

She’ll look up at me from whatever task she has well in hand, and gaze at me with that facial expression that says in a friendly sort of way “Have you lost your freaking mind?”

“No, dear, I think I’ve got it. Anyway, what would you do?”

At which point I usually grab a handy spoon and smack away at a handy bottom. I get bonus points if it’s a spoon she’s using for food, because apparently butt oil can transmute itself right through two layers of clean cotton.

“Hey, what are you doing, I’m cooking here!”

“And I’m supervising.”

When we travel (which is frequently), Bethie tries to avoid hotel rooms with interconnecting doors. Sometimes when we wind up in such a room, she freaks out and stomps to the front desk to demand a change. More often, she’s just, shall we say, Not Pleased.

We don’t play a lot in hotel rooms, and when we do, her hotel spankings tend to be with the quiet-but-deadly toys, like the little bit of looped rattan that slides so easily into any luggage. Whereas, the spanking toys she tends to like the most are of the loud-and-slappy variety, such as big soft leather straps and paddles (doubtless, if she had her druthers, with bunny ears and fur on ’em, and cute cartoon characters). Although I think her hatred of connecting doors is primarily a security thing — she trusts “solid” walls more than any deadbolt lock ever devised — there’s no doubt sonic transmission is also on her mind.

I guess she just doesn’t want to be the couple in Room 766:

To the German couple in room 766:

Just because the adjoining door separating our rooms is locked, it doesn’t mean that your room is soundproof.

Yes, I have heard the slapping noises at regular intervals over the past 48 hours. Very clearly.

No, I don’t think you’re clapping something on the TV: it’s too regular, too drawn-out, and the plaintive little feminine yelps after each smack leave little to my experienced imagination.

Yes, young lady: when we emerged from our rooms at the same time and found ourselves waiting for the elevator together, I did think you’d look good in school uniform.

And yes, he is a lot older than you, isn’t he?

No, please don’t stop. I’m sure she deserves it.

I’m sure Abel is too much of a gentleman to smirk knowingly in the corridors, but alas not all hotel guests and staff are so understanding.

Ah, Puritans. First persecuted, then become the persecutors, for a time they had an ugly habit of whipping Quakers. And for all their legendary prudishness, they didn’t mind parading naked ladies through the streets as long as there was whipping involved. One Margaret Brewster, on trial for having crashed a Puritan sermon, had the temerity to criticize the Quaker-whipping laws, only to be admonished:

“Margaret Brewster, you are to have your clothes stript off to the middle, and to be tied to a cart’s tail at the South Meeting House, and to be drawn through the town, and to receive twenty stripes upon your naked body.”

Thanks to The Spanking Writers for the link.

Of course some young ladies will say anything to get into the newspapers. So, this is the latest gossipy nugget that prudent folk will disregard:

Last week, it was claimed Prince Harry had spent the night in bed with a blonde barmaid after getting drunk in a sleazy club. Katherine Smith claims the 22-year-old prince took her back to his rented house before dressing in a blue and orange sarong, taking off his underwear and spanking her bottom.

Via The Spanking Writers.

See Also:

• Whipped By The Order Of Queen Victoria
• Royal Spanking Lust
• A Royal Birching, Much Anticipated
• Caning Of British Military Women