A Spanking Good Time
Here I am. Back and well rested. Ha. You can tell I'm lying by the Bad Gal liner smeared raccoon-style around my eyes, can't you? Well, rested or not, I am here to tell you about the fantastic new collection of spanking stories put together by the Lustiest Lady, herself, Rachel Kramer Bussel. I'm thrilled to be in the book with my little kink-fest, Betty Crocker Gone Bad, and I'm also honestly a bit tongue-tied about being the first blogger up on this virtual tour.
I feel as if I should be standing in front of you with a microphone in hand saying, "My name is Alison Tyler, and I am a Spank-o-holic. Don't cure me, please. Don't pity me. Just, um, bend me over and whip off your belt."
I wanted to do more, though. I wanted this to be a celebration—you know, with lots of bum-shaped balloons that people could whack with their open palms, and strumpets in little plaid skirts going around handing out Ping-Pong paddles to anyone in need. In the virtual world, maybe it is. This is a place where you can spank or be spanked. A safe haven for all of those other lost souls who used to spend their free time looking up Spank in the dictionary:
spank–verb (used with object)
1. to strike (a person) with the open hand, a slipper, etc., esp. on the buttocks, as in punishment.
–noun
2. a blow given in spanking; a smart or resounding slap.
Mmmm. What was I saying?
Oh, yes. For years and years I had no idea that I wasn't alone with the desire to be spanked. You know, in Sex Ed classes, the teachers rarely touch on subjects like fetishes and spanking. So it was with relief that I learned I wasn't alone. And not only wasn't I alone, I was part of a great big crowd of people who enjoyed the concept.
You know what I find truly thrilling? The fact that when I first went on ETSY, there were only a few items for sale that dealt with spanking. Now, when you type in SPANK, you come up with 91 different pendants, panties, and pictures. Hooray! We'll take over the world soon, won't we? One bottom at a time. I'm a bit slow to rise this morning, and I am hoping this is coherent. I'd planned on doing a joint post with one of my favorite spanking writers ever, Thomas Roche. I was going to try to create a spanking from two viewpoints—spanker and spankee. But the time got away from me. (And by "time got away from me," I mean, I spent far too many hours looking online for clever illustrations for this post!)
So back to my duty for today. I am spanking off this virtual tour by giving away one (and maybe two) free copies of Spanked! What do you have to do to win? Tell me about your most memorable spanking—where it happened, when, how, with what. (Adult situations only, please. And I'm fine with fantasies, as well. Dom or sub. You decide.) I'll post a winner tomorrow. And don't forget—this tour goes on for a whole month! Tomorrow, check out The Cherry Red Report. And for a full rundown, visit the Spanked blog.XXX,
Alison
P.S. I love the write-up for the recycled Spanking notebook: Disclaimer: This book contains adult language. Sex can result in Pregnancy and or sexually transmitted diseases. This notebook is not meant for those who are easily offended by sex or by those who are offended by any topic related to sex.
posted by Alison Tyler at 6:38 AM
10 Comments:
I LOVE the pendant, and I saw the notebook about a week ago. Immediately I thought of you. :D
Umm, spanking story? Well, I know I have one in me somewhere, but I'm dead exhausted...can I come back when I can form a coherent thought? :P
One summer I worked as a cook's helper at a Christian girls camp. The best part for me as a guy was that after hours I got to hang out with the counsellors. One day both Sally and Beth were turning 18 so we went out to the meadow that evening for some celebratory snapshots. After a few perfunctory poses I challenged the girls to come up with some little scene for me to shoot. It wasn't long before Sally was bent over holding her ankles while Beth swatted away enthusiastically at her jean-clad bottom. In the picture I'm holding now, Beth is smiling. Her arm is a blur. Sally's eyes are closed but her mouth is wide open. You can see she's really feeling it. Three or four swats was all she took before she had to stand up and rub her bottom. Afterwards, when I showed the pictures to Sally and Beth, the girls just smiled; they didn't say much.
Some few weeks later, after camp is over, I call up Sally and visit her at school where she's finishing up some final credits. I'm soon leaving the country for a few months, so there's a poignancy to our goodbye. She follows me to my car, which is down at the far end of the parking lot, away from the street. As we're standing there holding each other, I tell her there's one last thing I'd like to give her to remember me by. She looks into my eyes as if she knows what it's going to be.
I open the car door, sit down on the seat and draw her carefully across my lap. I pet her bottom a little, then slowly raise the back of her little plaid miniskirt and wrap my arm firmly around her waist. Then, aiming for the right balance of sensitivity and realism, I set to work spanking her soft white panties and smooth creamy bottom. I can tell she's trying to keep quiet, but little sounds do escape her mouth, letting me know she's feeling what I'm giving her. But she doesn't protest; she doesn't try to wiggle free.
Finally,19 spanks later, I stop to admire the pink blush I've brought to her cheeks -- what I can see of them at least. And while I'm tempted to take it further, I decide not to push my luck – after all this is a school parking lot. I rearrange her skirt and help her to stand up. Now we're back where we started, except that Sally's face is flushed, her eyes are a little watery, and I can feel a satisfying warmth radiating through her skirt. She's smiling. “So I guess I'd better behave myself while you're away, huh?” she ventures. “I've wanted to do that for a long time”, I confess.. “I know,” she says, kissing me sweetly.
lots of bum-shaped balloons that people could whack with their open palms
Do these really exist? I'd like to fill my ceilings with them like clouds on a spanking-fresh morning.
I married my husband because of spanking. I had gotten into with a previous partner, and the first time my now-hubby and I were fooling around I said, "Promise not to laugh?" and he said, "OK" and I said, "Spank Me." and he said, "Why would I laugh?"
You can see why I had to marry him, right?
>:-)
Yes, I can definitely see why, Suzanne!
XXX,
AT
NORMAL
"I want to see if you're normal first," he says.
"Of course I am."
"No, that's not what I meant. Come here."
He is sitting in a wooden chair with very good posture, both he and the piece of furniture: matching uprights.
I approach him.
"Over my knees, please."
I have no choice, it seems, when it comes to establishing my normality.
I am wearing my "Snow White" underpants. Her disembodied face hovers over my pubic mound. Seven dwarves, in various stages of Dwarfdom, surround her smiling profile like a protective frame.
I place myself over his muscular legs. My skin begins to itch immediately from the wool of his trousers.
His hand pulls Snow White off my behind and lets her slide down my legs until she lies like a pair of loose cuffs at my ankles.
I am totally exposed.
A small jar of Vaseline sits on his desk, near the chair upon which I am most precariously balanced. He pops the lid, thumbs out a glob and then moves his hands to where I cannot see them.
A Vaselined finger enters the bullseye between my buttocks. I quiver. It stirs around for a moment and is then replaced, slowly, by something hard and narrow and slightly cold: a rectal thermometer. My interior greets it like an old friend.
"We need to see if you're normal," he repeats, "and we shall have our answer in a few minutes."
His hands rub my ass while we wait for the mercury to rise. I feel some residue from the ointment as he kneads and strokes my pale smooth curves. He wiggles the glass object piercing me vertically like a flag planted on a mountaintop and I squirm.
"Just making sure it's inserted properly."
"Oh, it feels right in place," I say. I hover in a cloud of heat, emanating from my body like an aura. I also feel warmth and a hardness to my left, his stiff cock straining against his fly buttons.
He follows the tick and the tock and finally I feel the thermometer withdraw in a Vaseline slide.
"Just what I thought," he says in an angry tone.
"What is it??"
"You're sub-normal!"
"Oh, yes, I should have told you. I have a low body temperature. But really, it is still considered normal. I'm OK."
"I don't think so," he says, each word spoken distinctly as if arriving on four separate platters, "but I know how to fix you."
"Oh?" I ask innocently, curious about his antidote to my permanent biological state.
His hand, again, but now hard, fingers together, gliding down in a swoop on my just-massaged rear. My body lurches with the physical contact but his left arm is binding me into place.
He puts a finger back inside me and slides it to and fro, in a kind of tease. He removes it and the hand becomes a soaring bird, landing once more on my flesh. And again, and again and again.
"This will raise you a few degrees. Then you'll be normal."
"I'm glad," I manage between swats. "All I've ever wanted was to be normal."
"I'll get you there," he says, an Indian burn growing with every strike of his palm. "Do not worry." I imagine the form of his hand as a red silhouette across my buttocks, like a bruising shadow play.
The spanking continues. He is controlled in his rhythm and then, every so often, launches into a free-fall. My pussy is wet and I'm afraid its appreciation will drip onto his expensive pinstripes. But, I think to myself, this would likely encourage some form of punishment that would bring me even closer to being "normal."
If he senses my dampness on his trousers he does not let on. I feel the glass object inside me in a repeat performance. He resumes the temperature-wait fondle. His fingertips touch me lightly, almost tickling, his left hand the whole time tethering my warming body.
The device is taken out for the second time and he holds it up for a reading. "Good!" he says. "You're normal. Now you are ready."
"For what?"
"To be fucked."
"Where?"
"I shall determine which part of you needs my medicine. It will be administered in the correct dosage. Trust me, I'm a doctor."
And he is.
I kick Snow White across the room and crawl onto the bed.
Ellaregina, nice to know someone is "normal" around here. Great story!
Anonymous said...
Ellaregina, nice to know someone is "normal" around here. Great story!
Thanks, Anonymous!
Wonderful stories--they belong in a book :-)!
I say Snow White and The Seven Dwarves are perfect to AT's parade.
Tessa
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