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Here’s another Depuceleur heroine in a spot of whipping trouble! She’s been nabbed by two rough men, strung up by her arms to the limbs of a convenient tree, and is getting her ass flogged rather vigorously. As you might expect, the flogging is just their brutal idea of foreplay:
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They’ve been playing together for a couple of months now. She loves breast spanking (and every other kind, to be honest), while being tightly tied up in good rope bondage always makes her feel safe and well-tended. Deep throat blowjobs, on the other hand, are on her soft-limits list: not an absolute no, these are limits she’s consented to have him push, but so far they haven’t gone there. That all changes tonight:
From this 2008 Sex And Submission shoot, via Kink Prime.
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Not long ago I enjoyed reading the erotic romance Their Treasured Bride by Vanessa Vale. Through a complex set of circumstances, our heroine finds herself quite suddenly married to not one, but two burly cowboys, who enthusiastically intend to share their new bride’s bodily delights between them. But our girl has trauma; she spent a lot of time in a brutal English boarding school, and it’s left her very repressed and uptight. After unpacking her trauma a little bit, they try to reassure her:
“I swear, Rebecca Montgomery McPherson MacDonald, that I willna raise my hand to you in anger. I will nae touch ye in any way that brings ye harm. Only pleasure.” Dash lifted his hand to my cheek and with his thumb, brushed my cheek and pulled me down toward him and kissed me. It was soft and gentle and without any tongue, for which I was surprised and oddly disappointed. He released me and turned me toward Connor.
“No one will raise a hand or a switch or a ruler or a cane to ye again,” Connor growled. “Tis our job to protect ye and take away yer problems.
Not a lot of wiggle room in that promise: “No one will raise a hand… to ye again.”
Yeah, about that:
“Ah, lass, dinna fight us. Dinna fight the your body’s reactions to our touch,” Connor told me as he stroked a hand over my forehead, pushing my hair back from my face.
I opened my eyes and looked down at them. “I…can’t. I can’t like it” Dash frowned and held me in place.
“Why ever not?” he asked. “There’s no shame in finding pleasure in your husbands’ touch.”
I nodded fervently. “Yes. Yes, there is.”
“We’re nae back to the thinking of England, are we?”
“I’m not supposed to like it,” I countered.
Dash’s eyebrows arched up beneath his hair. “Yes, ye are. They were lying to ye.”
“Aren’t ye also supposed to do yer husbands’ bidding?” Connor asked, continuing to stroke the side of my face.
I couldn’t help but nod, for that was what I’d been trained to be: biddable.
“Then ye must do as we say,” Dash told me. “And we are telling you—”
“Giving ye permission,” Connor cut in.
Dash nodded. “—to like it.”
“In fact, if ye dinna let go and give in to us, then you will be disobedient and then I’ll have to take ye over my knee.”
My mouth fell open at his words and I felt a moment of stark fear. “You said you wouldn’t beat me,” I whispered.
Connor slowly shook his head and his eyes stayed heated, not angry. “Beat ye? Never, but dinna think I willna turn ye over my knee for a spanking if ye deserve it.”
Now, I like a good spanking at least as well as the next guy, but this sort of guardhouse lawyering doesn’t set well with me, especially among men who are proud of their honor and prickly about being called on it. At another point in the story, this is them getting all stormy about their honor:
“Ye are safe here, lass.”
“I do not know you, even if you are my husband, and do not know if your words hold truth.”
Mr. McPherson slowly stood at my words, uncoiling to his full height to stand shoulder to shoulder with Connor. “Aye, tis true ye dinna know me, Connor or anyone else here at Bridgewater. We are an honorable group. Connor and I will always tell ye the truth, always do what is in yer best interest whether ye like it or nae. We are honorable men and ye will nae question that again.”
I felt my cheeks flush at the reprimand.
So, how does it go? They’ve threatened her with a spanking in breach of their promise. Do they actually do it? In the end, she gets just one good smack:
I heard her mumble something into the cushion of the couch.
“I have to wonder then, do ye have a headache or are ye lying about that as well.”
She mumbled some more.
Connor spanked her once on the arse, nae too hard, but a bright pink handprint appeared quickly enough.
“You spanked me!” she cried, her head coming up, her hair falling free of the pins.
“Aye, and if ye dinna answer our questions, I will do it again.”
She turned to look at us over her shoulder, her eyes all but brimming with anger and fire. “I do not have a headache.”
I smoothed a hand over the heated spot on her arse and she flinched.
So there you go. “We are honorable men” and “No one will raise a hand to ye” but then a spanking threat and a raised hand followed by a good smack. In the grand scheme of the plot, it’s not very significant; it’s a happily-ever-after story and these men truly cherish her from the first page to the last. I just found it jarring. What do you think? Am I reading too closely?
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When Rachel got in trouble with the stern disciplinarians at Real Spankings, her blue jeans came right down. And that’s when she realized that her sexy little black thong wasn’t going to offer much protection. It doesn’t do any more to ease the pain of a spanking than it does to protect her modesty!
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There used to be a trope in American culture and humor about a young man who gets set up for his first sexual experience by an older relative who takes him to a brothel and pays a sex worker to help him “lose his virginity.” There were in particular endless dirty jokes on this theme, riffing off the extreme contrast between sexual inexperience and its opposite, when these would collide in that proverbial little room with a busy bed. The punchline of a lot of these jokes would often be some jocular tidbit of crass sex advice, often wrong, bad, or unhelpful.
What do those old sex jokes have to do with spanking and caning porn? I’ll tell you: When I saw the beautiful photo below, featuring vivid cane marks pointing directly at our punished model’s ready pussy and ever-so-slightly-gaped anus, I was reminded of those old jokes. In particular, I imagined the lovely tableau as the setting for one of those old jokes. “Just follow the lines, son, and you’ll figure it out quick enough!”
Photo is from a BDSM sex shoot at Kink Prime that we explored in more detail earlier in the month.
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The little bandage on Stevie Rose’s butt makes this caning shoot at Assume The Position just excessively cute.
Poor Stevie. I imagine she still has a very old-fashioned doctor who continues to insist that all of her injections have to go straight into her gluteus maximus. She’s thought about replacing the old pervert, but he’s a dear friend of the family, he’s about eighty years old, and anyway she enjoys letting him think he’s getting away with something. Let him have his thrills, what harm does it do?
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It felt like the hardest spanking she’d ever had. Her disciplinarian told her “next time it will be twice as hard” but surely he was bluffing? She was certain her bottom must be covered with welts and bruises. A harder spanking must be impossible. But, to her dismay, no! Just a nice uniform red blush:
From Real Spankings.
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