The Spanking Writers

For the lovers of black humour, we found this comedy sketch on YouTube. Not for the faint of heart!

In my vanilla life (I do have one!), I was interviewed recently for a business magazine. They asked me to complete a short questionnaire for inclusion in a sidebar next to the article. And somehow I rather struggled, as I couldn’t quite respond truthfully. Here’s what I wanted to say:

Nickname(s): “Unstable Abel”

Avocation: Spanking

Favorite Place (and Why): Does The Spanking Writers count as a ‘place’? It certainly feels like a ‘community’, so I hope so. Why? Because I’ve met so many wonderful people there. If not: Scotland Street school museum, Glasgow – because it’s the kinkiest place in the world!

Favorite Hobby/Hobbies: Writing and roleplaying.

Favorite Word: Spanking.

Favorite Smell: Freshly-cut birch.

Favorite Sound: The swish of a cane, just before it makes contact with a girl’s behind.

Favorite Time in History: The early 1800s. (Dear friends invite us to the most wonderful weekend once a year, in which we spend three days dressed in early nineteenth century costumes eating wonderful food and playing Regency-era games!)

Favorite Quote: “Young lady, bend over and touch your toes!”

Future Ambition(s)/Goal(s): To stay close to the wonderful friends I have in the scene, and to make new ones; to continue to write spanking erotica that people love; to start our “spankingcasts” (podcasts) and through them reach out to new folks who may not yet be enjoying, or comfortable with, their kink.

Now, one of the above answers did actually end up in my response. (You’ll have to guess which one). I have no idea whether they’ll use it, but it’s worth a try!

PS ‘avocation’ is such a lovely word: as Wikipedia puts it, “an activity that a person does as a hobby outside their main occupation. There are many examples of people whose profession was the way they made a living, but whose activities outside their workplace were their true passion in life.” Yep, I think that’s me.

In last night’s dream I was starting a new school. An interesting thing about this new school was that they didn’t sort you into forms by age, but had you progress through the forms as you achieved a certain level of knowledge. Every first day of term they would make an announcement of the form lists, and there was a lot of anticipation connected with this.

In my old school, I was supposed to start the 4th form, but in this new school I hoped I would be put in the 3rd. Because the 4th form was when they introduced corporal punishment.

I sat quietly in assembley, new people all around me, and listened to the Headmaster read out the lists. I was not in the 2nd form, but that was expected. Then the 3rd formers’ names were read out… I was not listed there, either. With a sinking heart, I realised that I was being put in the 4th, with its stricter discipline and its cane…

Welcome to e[lust] – your source for sexual intelligence and inspirations of lust from the smartest & sexiest bloggers!

~ This Week’s Top Three Posts ~

This Isn’t Play. . . BDSM and Rape – The very basic principle that we hold so dear in BDSM play, ‘Nothing without consent’ seems to stand in stark contrast to a very common form of play, ‘Rape Play’.

Half-Full – When I get my ass beaten, is it as much for the sensation as it is for the ‘Good girl… I knew you could take that for me.’ that I want so badly at the close of the scene?

House Party Part 2 -His wife walked by at one point and he cryptically asked her to “do what she did to so-and-so earlier”. His wife disappeared behind me, but I felt her hands touching me and his cock as it entered me.

~ e[lust] Editress ~

Backseat Orgasms - We kissed lightly and without focus, both a sensual act and maddening at the same time. More, I needed more. In a blur I was on my knees on the seat, straddling his leg, his mouth latched onto one nipple and his fingers hunting for the key to undoing my dress pants.

~ Featured Post (Lilly’s Pick) ~

Are You Watching Me? – A plan of devious proportions begins to form. Before this is over with, I will have forced you into a corner… forced you to act… forced you to give ME what I want.

See also: Pleasurists #64 and 65 for all your sex toy review needs.

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I ended up hosting a Board meeting for my business at our house last week – the session necessarily being preceded by several days worth of frantic de-kinking. It was only when we sat down to start work that I realised that the ice bucket in the fireplace was filled with birches for the following weekend’s reformatory. Fortunately, my fellow directors must have assumed it was some modernist flower arrangement, so I managed to escape without questionning.

I did struggle to keep a straight face at a couple of points, though. See, I’d fallen heavily whilst running for a tram in the Netherlands a few days before, and was hobbling on a badly sprained, badly bruised ankle.

“You should use arnica for that,” our company chairman helpfully advised.

“Arnica?” I queried. “What’s that?”

And then our finance chap recommended that I should get myself a cane. I mean, what does one say? (“I’ve got about forty upstairs, but none of them’s meant for walking”?)

The vanilla-people-not-quite-getting-it continued in our local supermarket a couple of days later. We were purchasing rather a large quantity of root ginger, for non-cooking use during a weekend away. The young lass on the checkout placed the ginger on the scales, then stopped and looked at us: “What is this?” . Poor, sweet innocent: if only she knew…

One of the things about spanking events that last over a whole weekend is that it’s hard to write a single coherent report of them. Sometimes, it takes only a minute to have an intense kinky experience that feeds your fantasies for months afterwards – and the Victorian reformatory we attended over the weekend (organised by Jessica and her husband) lasted for 48 hours. There were, of course, breaks and stretches of downtime, but I’ve spent most of the weekend in role. Memorable experiences… I’ve had a few.

Here are some highlights.

1. Induction involved surrendering my clothing and lining up for the shower with the other girls, before we were allowed to changed into our freshly-issued reformatory uniforms. There was a big wicker basket in the corridor, and we had to throw all of our everyday clothes there. Colourful fabrics flew into the basket; stockings, black and white, curled together; drawers and slips rested on the top – several girls’ previous lives all mixed in together. We were all thrown into the same basket of the reformatory, and it would be a while before we would be allowed to emerge separately again.

2. We girls spent a fair amount of time cooking meals and cleaning up afterwards. While we worked, the masters sat in their common room, demanding wine or tea or snacks from time to time. We took turns to serve them. I expect they were bored, because every time I went in to serve, they came up with little humiliations to visit upon me. For example, at one point I had to keep walking around the room with a plate of biscuits until I made a round without anyone taking one. Not knowing what would happen each time I knocked on the door of the common room was delicious torture.

3. All girls wore cards around our necks, where we got black marks for specific offences. Five marks for the same offence invited punishment. Begging not to have my card marked didn’t help a single time, but still I begged, and all the masters had a similar smirk as they put down their marks. It was, perhaps, worse than the punishments themselves. (Though not the mouth-soaping for the foul language: that was singularly vile.)

4. We were subject to hourly punishment, unless there was some other event going on. You would have thought that, with so many spankings to deliver, the masters would go easy during each one. Not so: although, perhaps, not the hardest they could give, they spanked firmly, and were most unimpressed with yelping and wriggling. The cumulative effect of this, as well as the individual punishment sessions with each master, was that I reached the state of perpetual soreness by Saturday evening, and was truly struggling to sit down on the hard bench at the table where we took our improving lessons.

5. And then there was my final individual punishment session of the weekend, an appointment with Mr Jenkins…

…but that’s a topic for a separate post. To be continued!

I woke up the other morning to find Cath, who was staying with us, standing next to the bed.

“Morning…” I mumbled, still half asleep.

“Morning! Sleep well?” she replied.

“Very weird dreams…”

“What about?”

“Car parks.”

I went on to explain. The girls from the boarding school had carried out a prank – taking all of the supermarket trolleys from the car park of the local Tesco to a Sainsbury’s a mile or so away, and leaving the Sainsbury’s trolleys lined up neatly outside Tesco. The staff of each company, arriving for work, were looking bemused…

“And did the girls get into trouble?” Cath asked, logically.

“I have no idea,” I replied sadly. “My dream moved straight onto multi-stories.” But in retrospect, I have no doubt that it would have been headmasterial canings all round. And, doubtless, for a considerable number of girls.

We’ve just returned from a weekend at a reformatory (where I was being reformed, and Abel was one of the master’s). My bottom is sensitive to the merest touch, and it’s unusually painful to sit on. I’ll write more about how it got this way as I process my impressions, but I’ll have you know that Abel isn’t in the least sympathetic.

When we came home this morning, I complained about being very sore, particularly after a long drive. Abel’s reaction? He picked up the wooden yardstick that lives in the kitchen.

“Bend over and put your hands on the counter,” he said.

I whimpered and obeyed. Even the motion of bending over was painful, as the seams of my knickers rubbed against my sensitive skin. Abel measured the yardstick against my bottom, and told me to stick it out properly.

I gritted my teeth and whined quietly in anticipation.

The strokes were quick, loud, and smarted a lot. Even though they weren’t that hard. I made no attempt to be brave, and yelped pathetically.

Now I’m sitting on my sore bottom, and wondering how I’m going to take the birching I’ve been promised for tonight…

It was after dinner (lobster ravioli with eel and caviar foam – mmmm!) that I read up on the history of the rather splendid hotel in which I was staying in Utrecht. It seems that it was formerly the city’s court complex – a past that was sure to inspire my creative juices.

I imagined a young woman, freshly sentenced, being led up the stairs that I’d just climbed, and brought into the self-same room. Only in those days, it had been far from the luxurious designer affair in which I was staying: instead, it was bare save for a stout wooden table.

The guard who’d brought her from the courtroom would unlock her handcuffs. The punishment officer would command her to strip and bend over the end of the table, the guard taking up position to hold her firmly by the wrists as the flogging was inflicted – slowly, purposefully, harshly.

And what, pray, of that courtroom downstairs, in which she’d been sentenced? The judge would have paused before condemning her to her fate, and asked her guardian whether he had anything to say in mitigation. But he, the local mayor, would have spoken clearly and solemnly: “I’ve made it very plain that I’m not prepared to tolerate the declining standards of behaviour of our younger residents, your honour. I’ve called publicly for strict measures to be taken, without exception, and I stand by those pronouncements.”

Seems as though we  passed something of a milestone a few minutes ago:

OK, page load stats are misleading – they don’t include the hundreds of folks who read us on RSS, for example, or readers of Abel’s stories page. But 2.5 million hits for a blog that features the written word only, and no naughty pictures, ain’t at all bad! Sorry for the self-c0ngratulatory post, but we’re really happy!

We’d have a little drink to celebrate – had we not already had more than enough for the evening!