The Spanking Writers

I was reminiscing this morning about a punishment I used to inflict on myself when I was a spanko child with no outlet for my fantasies.

What I did was make myself kneel on a layer of dry peas or bulgar wheat wheat for lengthy stretches of time. This was pretty painful, and worked better than self-spanking, because, once I commited to it, there was no way to make it hurt any less.

Kneeling on hard kernels is a traditional punishment in Eastern Europe, used in schools through the centuries. A few of my university classmates who came from rural parts of Ukraine reported going through it at home as well. I did my best not to show undue interest in the proceedings.

I haven’t encountered kneeling as a traditional part of spanking in the UK – it seems more of a part of a BDSM scene, a sign of submission rather than a gateway to pain.

Do you have an experience in kneeling as punishment? Love it? Hate it? Anything in between?

P.S. As a matter of safety, I need to note that kneeling for longer than about 15 minutes at a time can mess up your knees for a long time. Play safe.

OK, so sometimes one can jump to entirely the wrong conclusion…

I’ve set up a few Google ‘news alerts’, which merrily fill my mailbox every morning with spanking-related items from around the web, The other morning, in came an article about au pairs. The brief synopsis included the following:

Top Ten Mistakes Host Parents Make When Choosing an Au Pair…. “We do not use corporal punishment in our home….”

Oh… my… goodness. My mind filled immediately with thoughts of a young lady, far from home, being chastised for failing to adequately fulfil her au-pairing duties. Lectured about setting a bad example to the children. Warned that such behaviour could not be tolerated. Given the choice of packing her bags and leaving in the morning – or of lowering her jeans and bending over her employer’s lap to receive a hard, prolonged hand spanking.

Actually, the article was more of a warning to parents to make sure that the new au pair wouldn’t resort to handing out spankings (and quite right, too). But I do far prefer my interpretation…

Last night I had my first spanking dream in a very long time, and it was unusually vivid – complete with the sense of touch and smell, which hardly ever happens.

I was in a slavegirl, and I accompanied my mistress to the market. I carried two wicker baskets, which got progressively fuller as we purchased all the things we needed. The mistress had a shopping list, which she went through item by item.

Finally she got to the last line: “Ah, here we go: a kitchen girl. Come along to the slave traders, and hurry up: it’s quite late, all the good ones might be gone.”

We walked across the market to where slaves were being sold, and my mistress picked a girl to work in the kitchens. I watched with interest. As well as the usual inspection, the mistress demanded that the trader gave the girl a few cuts of the whip, to see how well she could take a punishment. I was slightly worried that I would have to take a few strokes as an example, but this didn’t happen.

The dream grew fuzzy after that, but the sights and smells of the market, mixed with the sounds of the cracking whip, stayed with me when I woke up – and still entertain me quite a lot.

Readers who’ve been reading our musings us for some time here at the Spanking Writers might remember the hotel chain which – rather foolishly IMHO – invited visitors to their website to design their own, personalised versions of the commonplace “Do Not Disturb” sign. We had some fun corrupting their idea, although sadly we didn’t win the competition.

Whilst visiting the lovely Emma Jane in Ireland a couple of weeks back, I noticed on an advertising billboard that Heineken have now launched a site that offers similar potential for mischief, by allowing you to design your own beer bottles online.

My little effort can be seen here. I went for a simple warning message on the front – “Drunk Girls Get Spanked” – and a helpful note about the consequences of excessive drinking on the reverse.

The difference between the hoteliers and the brewer is that one can actually order bottles of the beer with one’s own personalised labels. I wonder if they check the phrasing before approving the order?

I’m pondering a series of bottles, to be brought out in sequence over the course of an evening – the first encouraging girls to have a nice evening, the second telling them to be careful how much they drank, the third telling them they’d had enough. The fourth would give them a final warning; the fifth would inform them that they’d be receiving an OTK spanking later; the sixth would confirm that they’d be caned and then grounded for a week.

You can even add photos – pictures of implements, maybe, or of well-spanked bottoms (leaving the drinker in no doubt as to her fate).

This really does have all sorts of potential. Why not create your own designs, and submit them in the comments using the “Share Link” button that Heineken so helpfully provide once you’ve created your messages? We’d love to see your creative efforts.

We’re at a mini kinky gathering at HH’s this weekend. As well as deep, intense play, there’ve been random spankings happening all over the place, and I’ve been variously topping and bottoming through these.

At one point Abel coaxed me into a lovely flogging position: standing up, holding onto two ropes hanging from the ceiling beams.* He found a crop with a very wide slapper, and proceeded to sting me with it on the bottom, back and breasts. I squeaked rather a lot, and everybody present laughed a lot.

When Abel was done, HH picked up the same implement – with a considerably more evil expression on his face. He gave me a few quite sharp flicks on the breasts – harder than any Abel had delivered.

“You’re not yelping for me,” he said petulantly.

“That,” I said, “is because you would enjoy it too much.”

Seriously: I think yelping and crying just encourages some people. Maybe they’re sadists, or something.

*What? Who doesn’t have rope hanging from ceiling beams?

Excuse a moment of historical outrage, but why did Henry VIII have to be such an evil, callous man?

Stuck for something to watch to while away the time in a foreign hotel room the other evening, I flicked through the channels and found the most wonderful period drama. I couldn’t understand a word of the dialogue, the film having been dubbed into the local lingo, so watched in silence as the two quite gorgeous leading ladies pouted their way through (so I guessed) the 16th century.

Things started to take rather a dark turn around ten minutes before the movie’s end, when one of the lasses was led onto a stage in front of the assembled crowd, and a mean-looking chap with a big sword appeared. Yes, dear readers, it was Anne Boleyn, and it was time for the “off with her head” moment.

As the closing credits rolled moments later, I realised I’d been watching “The Other Boleyn Girl”, starring Natalie Portman and Scarlett Johansson. And that’s when I started to dislike old King Harry. For if he’d been somewhat less harsh in his sentence, we’d have seen Ms Portman taken before the onlookers, stripped, tied to the whipping frame and soundly flogged. And instead, he had to go and have her beheaded? It’s really not fair.

I came into the bathroom this morning to find this interesting display:

The ducks and the bath brush are weighing the birches down, obviously. I fear, the innocence of my ducks will never be restored.

The diary of Anna Green Winslow, “A Boston schoolgirl of 1771″, popped up whilst I was browsing Project Gutenberg recently. It contains an interesting little anecdote for those who are fascinated by accounts of historical thrashings:

Dear mamma,

I suppose that you would be glad to hear that Betty Smith who has given you so much trouble, is well & behaves herself well & I should be glad if I could write you so.

But the truth is, no sooner was the 29th Regiment encamp’d upon the common but miss Betty took herself among them (as the Irish say) & there she stay’d with Bill Pinchion & awhile.

The next news of her was, that she was got into gaol for stealing: from whence she was taken to the publick whipping post.

The annotated edition of the book provides some historical context in a footnote:

The large whipping-post painted red stood conspicuously and prominently in the most public street in the town. It was placed in State Street directly under the windows of a great writing school which I frequented, and from them the scholars were indulged in the spectacle of all kinds of punishment suited to harden their hearts and brutalize their feelings.

Here women were taken in a huge cage, in which they were dragged on wheels from prison, and tied to the post with bare backs on which thirty or forty lashes were bestowed…

Oh, those poor scholars, having to watch from the windows at the floggings below! (If ever there was an incentive that could have persuaded me to enroll in a writing school, this would surely have been it!)

Haron reflects about the choice kinky people have to make: to pursue their interests in real life, or to leave them well alone.

Relevant links:

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Informed Consent

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