The Spanking Writers

Abel’s been shopping for implements on his US trip. He wouldn’t say what he bought, and only teased, and hinted, and promised a tasting menu of everything at once, as soon as I got home.

His grand idea for the event was that I would receive a number of smacks with an implement, and then blog my impressions right away. He prepared the computer and the implements (I still had no idea what they were, and even how many of them he’d bought) and told me to bare my bottom and get over his knee.

The resulting review is below, underneath the picture of the whole lot. (There were six, by the way, and I was sentenced to six strokes with each.) The reviews got shorter as my distress grew, but I decided not to expand them, and post the authentic first impressions just as they’d been typed up.

The Josephine (aka the leather mini carpet beater thingy) - was used OTK. Stings like the devil, but used lightly would be quite pleasant and sensual. I wish.

Rope paddle - I was bending over the bed for this. There was a weird scratchy sensation when it touched my bum, and it’s a stingy little bastard. Leaves a lasting burn.

The Grand Josephine (aka the big huge carpet beater) - used while I was kneeling on the bed on all fours. Felt like a fist punching your bum. Even a light tapping produces overwhelming pain. Really thuddy. Probably my favourite of the lot, if only Abel could bring himself to use it even lighter.

Plastic cane - used touching toes. I safeworded after 3 strokes. Feels more like a knife, never again.

Loopy whip - also used touching toes. Just really stings, a pretty scary implement.

The rope and suede flogger - used lying flat on the bed. Heavy, soft, delicious, though can be stingy if used harder. More a reward than a punishment implement. And it’s so pretty!

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After my return from a month’s exile, it didn’t take Abel too long to remind me that life isn’t all shopping trips and drinks in the pub. No sooner than we made it back from the airport and had some food, he innocently said:

“Do you like my new belt?”

I looked. And closed my eyes, to see if the monstrosity would go away if I blinked. And then I looked again. The belt was still there: the thickest, widest strip of leather I’ve ever seen, liberally decorated with massive metal studs. With a belt like that, Abel would have been welcome at a hard rock festival. He was clearly delighted at having sneaked in a purchase like that while I wasn’t looking.

I honestly told him that the belt suited him very much. And that I was sure it was purely decorative.

For a short while I even believed it to be so. He sat on the bed and invited me over his lap, he reminded me what a spanking felt like. (A note, in case I ever actually forget: at first it feels kind of warm and lovely, and then he gets into the swing of things, at which point it hurts like hell and you begin to wonder what you’re doing in the same room as this monster, never mind being married to him.)

After my bottom felt like I had accidentally sat on a bee hive, Abel sternly ordered me to bend over the bed. I cautiously looked around the room, wondering whether he’d brought anything from home to use on me, and saw to my dismay that he’d picked up the monster belt.

He considerately folded it the soft side out, with the metal bits safely covered up, and asked me how many strokes I thought were appropriate for the occasion. I bit my tongue on “none,” and suggested six. And you know what? Even folded - and even used quite lightly - that belt is a good candidate for a charity give-away some time when Abel isn’t looking. I did get one really hard stroke - the final one, aimed across the tops of my thighs - and it made me question whether I was still into spanking at all.

Five minutes later, however, the sharp pain turned into a comfortable glow, the smacks turned into hugs, and I knew I was home again.

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The Times Argus reports a recent visit from 21 Mississippi school students to Cabot School in Vermont.

The southern guests explained that they “can be paddled for a list of offenses that include talking back, picking up a piece of paper without permission and being tardy three times… The assistant principal administers the paddling, which is done in the presence of a teacher.”

No particular surprise there. But I was taken aback when the article explained that:

The wooden paddles are about 1 inch thick, 5 inches wide and 18 inches long – excluding the handle – and have 24 holes. They are often made by students in the building trades classes, sometimes in exchange for privileges such as hall passes.

Made by students?! I wonder whether “go and fetch the paddle” ever morphs into “go and make a paddle”? (Haron: did you do woodwork at school, my dear?).

Do students facing punishment ever recognise the paddle that’s about to make its mark (”hey, I made that”)? Do they do mail order? What would happen to a group of girls caught deliberately making a batch of paddles out of lighter wood, cutting it thinner, maybe even scoring a fault into the wood to make sure it broke when used?

And was the Mississippi group polite enough to bring a hand-crafted gift with them, to be presented to the Vermont principal? Made of especially thick, extra-dense wood…

By the way. it is said that, “When the Mississippi students first met their Vermont counterparts last year, they were amazed to learn that Vermont students are not given paddlings.” Indeed. But apparently the Vermont group will be on their very best behaviour when undertaking a return visit to their new friends in Mississippi.

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When Abel and I are apart, we email - as much as my currently dying laptop and his travels allow. This morning, I got a following report about his day:

Went to the top two fetish shops which had some superb stuff in them - prepare to go owwww when you get home.

Even now, I can feel my bottom clench in anticipation. I catch myself guessing. He’s in America, so it won’t be a cane. (They’re a bother to fly transatlantic, anyway.) There’s a carousel of straps, paddles, crops, quirts, floggers and all things whippy and stingy dancing before my eyes.

He said “owwww” like that, with four “w”s, I wonder if that’s significant - that the implement in question is less fierce than one that would merit five “w”s, but more severe than one that just makes you go “oww”?

…One week of separation down, three still to go.

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Personally, I don’t think tops need any ideas. They are too creative by half. However, the following passage from a vanilla craft blog was so cute I’ve decided to risk putting ideas into somebody’s dangerous head:

Uncle David was in high school already and he had regaled us with stories of the electric paddle kept in the principal’s office. I had visions of an electric ceiling fan-like contraption into which a child would be strapped and the beating would commence! Rachel reassured me that he was only pretending - but I still spent first grade being VERY good! I didn’t want to take any chances! Hmmm… I wonder if my boys would fall for the electric paddle story?

by Naomi, to whom I don’t link
to avoid freaking her out

Actually, I’ve just remembered that our friend Domino owns an electric fly-swat, which she calls a “sub swat”. So somebody has obviously had the idea already…

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We had guests for dinner, so Abel made a pie.

It tasted delicious, too. But frankly, with design like that, it didn’t need to.

P.S. I helped. I made the letters and the crossed canes.

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One of our occasional commenters here at Spanking Writers wrote to us recently, with a plea. She’d just plucked up the courage to invest in some canes for the first time – and had realised that neither she, nor her husband, actually really knew how to apply a caning safely and effectively. Did I have any advice?

Being keen to ensure that the canes didn’t gather dust in the cupboard for lack of suggestions, I threw together a quick twelve-of-the-best tips for them to consider. I thought it’d be fun to post the list here – and to get others’ comments on technique for newbie caners:

1. Practice first: get used to hitting the target by whacking pillows. (Yes, it may sound silly, but…)

2. Give a warm-up - say an OTK spanking first: it helps to make the cane strokes slightly more bearable (even though some think it’s inauthentic if you’re playing, say, a school scene).

3. Choose the right position. It’s easier to cane accurately, at least if you’re new to it, if the young lady is lying down (perhaps on a bed with a pillow under her hips to lift her bottom up - the top can then stand to the side of the bed). If not, having you bend over something (a chair back, a desk if you have one) is easier than touching-your-toes.

4. Aim at the right spot. Be careful not to whack too high (watch out for the tail bone, particularly) or too low (the crease between the buttocks and thighs is usually seen as a sensible lowest point). Some tops mark the boundaries - the first stroke at the top of the “range”, the second at the bottom, which then it makes it easier to land the remainder on target.

5. Don’t hurry. Twenty seconds or so between strokes is good, to let the impact of the stroke reach its maximum point and level out, before applying the next one.

6. Don’t “wrap”. The worst marks come if the cane tip doesn’t land on the buttocks, but goes right round onto the hips or front of the thighs. Making sure he doesn’t stand too close will help.

7. Don’t be tempted to whack too hard, or too many times, especially the first time. I know I was tempted to give my first spankee 30 of the best. Six, slowly, well-done with cuddles afterwards can be far more intense. And the cane doesn’t need to hit the ceiling on the backswing! (Whilst getting used to wielding the cane, it may also be easier to hold it some way along, thus effectively shortening its length - that can help with accuracy until he’s confident).

8. Close the windows, and put on the TV if you’re at all worried about noise travelling. You want to enjoy it together - not have a worry at the back of your minds about the neighbours hearing and calling the police to rescue the poor woman being beaten next door.

9. Have an appropriate safeword. Sounds obvious, but “no”, “it hurts”, “owwww” and “stoooopppppp” may well come out naturally - yet you may actually be enjoying it (deep down) and wanting the scene to continue. Traffic lights work well (amber = OMG it hurts, so be careful, but keep going; red = stop now).

10. Don’t panic if the odd stroke does go astray. It may well do so - even with experienced players, the odd one does!

11. Have some arnica cream handy (if you can find some), or aloe vera if not, or decent moisturiser if not, and rub it in afterwards.

12. Don’t book a session at the local spa, or in the local swimming pool with vanilla friends, for the following morning! You may have marks that might take a couple of days to fade!

And finally - have fun!

–

So, what d’ya think? Any other advice?

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I didn’t misbehave on the trip to Wales. Well, not much, and certainly not enough to be punished for it.*

I did, however, learn a bit of Welsh from bi-lingual signs. Specifically, now I know that Welsh for “microwave” is “popty ping”.

I did giggle at first when I read that, but then I had an attack of linguistic geekery. Our Welsh hostess explained that “popty” means “oven”, so evidently, when the time came to make up a word for an oven that goes ping, it was conveniently named “oven ping”. Genius.

Imagine, then, making up your own language, and having to name spanking implements. I have several suggestions.

Cane: stick-crack.

Switch: branch-swish.

Paddle: small-oar-crack.

Hairbrush: just hairbrush, duh.

This would work, I think.

Any other suggestions?

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* Seven vodka-lime-and-lemons? What about that?

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The other morning people on the radio were moaning about celebrity endorsement. How it didn’t add anything to the product, other than an extra zero to the price. Is a Jamie Oliver plate better than any other pretty piece of porcelain? Does David Beckham’s name improve an aftershave?

I disagree entirely, and think it’s high time that celebrities began endorsing spanking implements. I would be completely sold on the idea from the word go.

An Alan Rickman cane would endlessly improve our toy chest. Abel suggested a Gordon Ramsay tawse, though I think a David Tennant or a Sean Connery tawse would be preferable.

On the other hand, why not have both? We could have competing celebrity implement brands.
I can’t think of anyone to endorse frat paddles or riding crops. Anybody want to help?

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Christmas finished at the weekend. Because we were away, the exchanging-presents thing didn’t really happen on time this year, and we’ve been swapping away ever since. I’ve rather enjoyed the month-long gift-fest.

We finally caught up with two of our dearest friends on Saturday: presents each way are inevitably kinky. And how they excelled themselves this year: a fabulous leather razor strop, filling an important missing link in my collection of implements.

Inevitably, it was mere moments before Haron was over the side of the settee, the strop proving to be quite as effective as one might hope. (Or, to be more accurate, as I might hope – my young lady’s language made it plain that it was rather too effective when experienced from the receiving end!).

Scenes of fathers despatching daughters to fetch the strop are flooding through my imagination, whilst I try to decide whether I can get away with hanging it in the traditional manner from a hook in the bathroom even when vanilla friends visit…

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