Spanking Blog: Adult Erotic Spanking At Its Best

Well, the whipping was not actually ordered, and did not happen. But Queen Victoria wanted to have a notorious suffragette whipped:

“The Queen is most anxious to enlist everyone who can speak or write to join in checking this mad, wicked folly of ‘Woman’s Rights,’ with all its attendant horrors, on which her poor feeble sex is bent, forgetting every sense of womanly feeling and propriety. Lady —– ought to get a GOOD WHIPPING. It is a subject which makes the Queen so furious that she cannot contain herself. God created men and women different–then let them remain each in their own position.”

Thanks to Abel for the historical researches and context he so, er, ably provides.

In which Abel carries out advanced research into the practicality of caning two girls at once. Verdictum: No problem!

Day One of my stay in a spanking household and, as you’d expect, it didn’t take long for the action to commence! My arrival allowed Abel to test a hypothesis which had been exercising his mind recently, and which now allowed him to exercise his arm too: is it possible to cane two girls simultaneously?

Determined to investigate, he had Haron and I lie side by side, bare bottoms snuggled close together, and tapped experimentally with a particularly long cane, selected specially for the purpose… then let fly. Two girls simultaneously yelped! More strokes followed as Abel warmed to his task and persisted in the name of thorough research.

I had ended up furthest away so my near cheek was bearing the brunt for me, whilst Haron’s far cheek bore the force of the cuts for her. We squirmed and squawked our way through eight or so strokes and then he swapped sides, just for a couple to finish.

At which point I concluded that I may’ve had a rough deal, since being the near girl didn’t seem so bad. Or maybe that was just cos I was already well-striped – prettily-striped – by then!

Content with his efforts, Abel allowed us to redress and we walked over to some local friends’ for dinner

I’ve heard it said that the secret to success in life lies in just showing up. From which follows by operation of logic that just being there is almost as important.

A point which Abel has obviously grasped firmly:

“You spanked me last night,” I whined to Abel on the phone as he rode the train to work. “I was falling asleep. I had already fallen asleep! And you spanked me! Really hard! Why?”

“Well,” Abel said pensively. “You were there.”

Apparently that’s the question Abel’s been asking lately, with a supporting “No one will be watching us”:

There is something about this empty road through the fields at the back of our house that whispers to Abel: “Spank your wife, now.”

The emptiness of the road is really open to chance. Plenty of people drive there and back along the unevenly paved track, and it’s a great quiet spot for joggers, dog walkers and riders. But not, as we have often found, at eight o’clock on a Saturday night.

We were at a drinks party at our friends’ house, and I was flagging. We were lazily gearing up for the walk home, when Abel leaned close to my ear and said: “You’re getting your bottom smacked when we’re in the lane.” The promise gave me a pleasant chill, and sure perked me up enough to go looking for my boots and coat. I would normally feel apprehensive about this, but we’d had a few vanilla days before that, and the evening had been mostly vanilla too, so I quite fancied a reminder that I was, in fact, kinky.

There are no streetlights along the road. When we turned into it from the village green, the first few paces were still lit from behind our backs, but all the rest was darkness. The trees ahead were obscuring the lights from our village ahead, and the town that lies across the fields was curtained with mist…

No slouch with rhetorical devices herself, and a dab hand with a simile, Haron nonetheless cracks me up with her description of rhetorical advantage (and ogres):

I let out my breath after the last one and looked at Abel over my shoulder. He had that pensive look again, like an ogre who had just eaten a little girl who wasn’t quite agreeing with his digestion.

“That was five lots of six-of-the-best,” he said. “You know about that schoolgirl who got caned every morning before her lessons? On our blog? If I gave you another dozen, you would have had her whole punishment in one go. I think that would be quite cool.”

I thought that it would be quite a sacrifice for the sake of I wasn’t sure exactly what, but I was the one with an upturned bare bottom, and Abel was the one with the dragon cane, and thus he seemed to be at a rhetorical advantage.

Indeed, the man with the cane always has a rhetorical advantage.

Why do you think they stopped teaching rhetoric in schools at the same time the school cane fell into disfavor? Coincidence? I think not!

One of the things I purely love about The Spanking Writers is the way in which Haron so clearly understands her crimes:

And then there was yesterday morning, when I got spanked for – I’m not sure what, but it might have been for the crime of having a bottom, and standing around with only some French knickers on while I was brushing my hair in the morning.

It’s not every woman who understands that sometimes, just having a bottom is a spankable offense.

Anyway, it happened like this:

So, I’m minding my own business (damp hair), when Abel swoops into the bedroom, sees me and says something along the lines of: “Well, if you show off your bottom like that…” He grabs my Mason Pearson hairbrush, pushes me over the bed, and wallops me with it about two dozen times.

It stings. A lot. Hairbrushes tend to.

So that was that: random, unprovoked acts of violence in the home, and he seemed mighty pleased with himself after all that.

As well he might!

It seems Abel had a dream in which his Haron and a spanko houseguest misbehaved together. A good dream:

We’d just finished eating dinner – a dinner throughout which she and Haron had misbehaved; a stern final warning had been issued, but to no avail. Whether something got broken or spilt I can’t tell you, but the switch flicked: two giggling girls were suddenly still, silent.

“Go to your rooms.”

Serious, worried now as they walked upstairs.

I let them wait. Gave them time to contemplate. Knew that each of my belated footsteps on the stairs would make their heart beat a little faster.

To the study, first, to pick up the cane. Malacca; incredibly flexible; incredibly effective. Then I opened the door to the spare room. Our friend stood up, biting her lip, eyeing the cane. “I shall deal with you in a few minutes. Put on your pyjamas and get ready for bed.”

Next I headed into the main bedroom, where Haron was waiting…