Happy International Women’s Day!

To all the women in my life, and every other besides, I hope you had a beautiful day, and that tomorrow will be just as good. Unfortunately, I know that for a lot of people, equality is a distant dream, and that low-level (or not so low, really) day-to-day misogyny is very real. From cat-calling to “jokes” and snide comments, to hearing colleagues talking about not going for a run in the dark, for every man that talks over you or dismisses your questions and concerns just because you have a hysterical set of genitals, there is still a lot to be done.

The irony of talking about it on a blog that is 99% about hitting women is not lost on me, but I hope I make it clear that, to me, spanking, as a fetish, has nothing to do with belittling women. In fact, I hope there is empowerment in choosing when and by whom to be dominated, when to let go and trust another person. I hope also that the knowledge that the game ends when (if) the spankee says so shows who’s really in control 😉

On this day like on any other, I wish that all women around the world got what they deserved one day. And yes, some of you deserve a good spanking. You know who you are!

With love, always,

-Kal

Rent

We were having a conversation about M/F spankings in other parts, so here we go!

Though I personally prefer F/F scenarios, I do try to keep some variety around here ^^

Had fun colouring that bottom, too 😁

Anyway, tell me what you’d like to see in the future!

Once again…

“Hello corner my old friend…” she thought, trying her best to keep her hands where she had been told to put them, over her head. She wanted nothing more than to rub away the burning pain in her bottom, but she knew that in the end, she would only make matters worse for herself. Not that rubbing her red, throbbing bottom would hurt, but the second spanking she would earn by disobeying certainly would.

Of course, he had been right, she had been speeding, and she had flipped the bird at that stupid bi— at that elderly lady in the other car. Yes, the language had been a bit much… And she had told him to shut up too… In fairness, she probably would have deserved for him to tell her to pull over immediately for a spanking in the car, right there, right then. Sometimes, he really didn’t care if people could see… Just to think of it, she was wet again. She certainly didn’t care. Well, she did it was the most humiliating thing she could imagine. But she liked it. And hated it. It was complicated, okay? And anyway, it hadn’t happened. This time.

After the incident. He had been very quiet all the way home. No scolding, no angry voice. She had kept quiet also, trying to concentrate on her driving and not on the thoughts that were racing through her head. Thoughts of her bottom being thoroughly roasted, mostly. Not stopping and being punished right away meant that he wanted to take his time… And teach her a lesson she wouldn’t soon forget…

Of course, that had been exactly what had happened. Once home, he had told her to go wait for him in the bedroom. She knew what it meant and knew better than to argue. Once there, she had stripped down to her t-shirt and panties, as she always did before he punished her. She was used to it, she had to shamefully admit. She rarely went more than a few days without needing what he called “little adjustments”. The punishments, she felt, weren’t little at all. But the punishments, she knew, were deserved, and needed.

He had made her wait what had felt like a lifetime, her bottom seemingly burning in anticipation. Finally, he had come in. She had been waiting, her hands crossed over her belly, head down. She didn’t dare look up until she was told to do so. And when he did, she mustered the little rebellion she still had in her and blew a strand of hair off her face before asking “What took you so long?” in what she hoped was a too-cool-to-care voice. He had not liked it. Not one bit. In fact, he had turned her around, still standing, and landed twenty hard slaps on her barely covered bottom. She had yelped and moaned immediately, a prelude to the concerto of her cries to come.

And crying she did, big, shameful tears between promises of good behaviour and begging for him to stop, begging for the panties not to come down, begging for the ginger not to be used. The wooden bath brush he had brought with him had not gone to waste either, and she could still feel its heavy head falling on her poor little bottom. In reality, the spanking hadn’t lasted that long. Five minutes? Maybe ten? But he had spent at least as much time scolding her in between burst of spanking. And the shame of it had been worse than the pain. But then, he had told her that he loved her, and he had finally given her the kiss and cuddle that she had been craving all day. Had she done it all just because she had felt that he hadn’t paid enough attention to her? Surely, she wasn’t that childish… Surely…

Still, her heart had been as light as her bottom was hot as she had trotted to the corner. She knew that while she was standing there, he was on the bed, reading, and keeping an eye on her while she cooled off. Then, in a while… Well, they were in the bedroom, and she was already half naked so… She was pretty sure of what would happen next. After all, she was used to it.

Nova and Nadleehe

The following is a series of commissioned images and stories that were made over the years… Hopefully, it all reads well together! The commissioner herself is Native American, these are her Original Characters. Enjoy!

“Well, well, well… Look what the cat brought in? What are we going to do with you, young lady?” a feminine voice purred from behind Nova as she woke up. She wanted to answer, to ask a dozen questions, to cry her defiance… but the hard gag in her mouth prevented her. She struggled against the tight ropes binding her to a chair, feeling them bite into her skin. Who was speaking to her? Where was she? She couldn’t remember a thing. The young native tried to look behind her, but there was no-one to be seen.

“I like your legwarmers…” the voice came again. “Very stylish… Are you a Native, then? Never met one before…”

Once more, she turned her head around, trying to see who was talking. The voice had a sing-song quality to it, an accent she hadn’t heard before. Not from around here, then… If only she could remember where she was… Suddenly, she felt someone tugging at the ropes, making sure they were secure, tightening them against her naked arms and denim jacket. She shivered, unsure of whether it was from fear or a tingle of pleasure.

“Better make sure, you know?” the voice said. She felt hands on her shoulders and a voice whisper in her ear, “I wonder what your name is…” Fingers ran up her neck, playfully.

Finally, the woman stepped in the light in front of Nova. Her skin was pale and freckled, her hair a fiery red. “I’m Saoirse,” she said, “and you and I are going to have some fun…”

*Smack!* Another slap landed on her warmed behind, eliciting a muffled moan from behind her ball gag and a jolt of her legs. For an instant, she wanted to put her hand up to cover her exposed cheeks, but thought the better of it. The other girl had been very clear about it. “You are going to take your punishment without complaining,” she had said, sternly. “You know you deserve it!”

And deep down, she did. The previous night had come back to her in fragments. Loud music, lots of drinks… Hopefully nothing more, but enough to have her stumble home in a daze. Well, what she’d thought was home, anyway. She could see why Saoirse had been less than happy when she’d discovered a total stranger had broken into her house, and was now sleeping in her bed. Nova thought back to her waking up, the tight ropes against her skin, the frisson of powerlessness… And the redhead teasing her.

Saoirse had said that she was going to play with her young captive, and, true to her word, play with her she did. *SMACK!* went another one, a little harder, the hand lingering on her bottom a little too long to be solely punitive. Nova could feel tears forming in the corner of her eyes; her bottom felt warm, painful, and yet… She knew the spanking was barely getting started. And, truth be told, she didn’t know whether she wanted it to stop just yet.

*SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!* The slaps were peppering her bottom, coming faster, harder as the punishment went on. In her sing-song accent, Saoirse kept teasing her, lecturing her, tenderly mocking her. She was enjoying herself, Nova thought, enjoying having her at her mercy. She had pulled her jeans down —thankfully keeping her precious legwarmer up— then her panties had followed; before she’d known it, her bottom was bare for Saoirse to admire and punish in equal measure. She felt her other hand holding her firmly in place; she felt the gag in her mouth preventing her from answering; she heard the smile in Saoirse’s voice.

Submissive, humiliated, Nova didn’t know what to do, didn’t know what to think. Was she… Enjoying this? She didn’t even know if that was possible. She had never explored any of her kinks, and yet… First the ropes, now this… Emotions were swirling inside her, each heavy slap falling on her sore cheeks another mix of fear, pain and desire.

*SMACK!* the spanking continued, and with each slap, the promise of lots more to discover.

***

While Saoirse was having her fun with Nova, Nadleehe, who’d been tied up for a while in the room next door, was left with her surprised thoughts…
 “Nova?! Why is she doing in the home of my date? Oh boy!!… Saoirse really took a liking to herif she is spanking her before me!! No wonder she left me for a while saying she was going to her room to get changed for me…. Still can’t believe Nova got mixed up in one of my dates! I’m surely going to hear it from her later!”

Saoirse, having put Nova in the corner with a red bottom, finally came in and said “Well well, Nadleehe, you never told me about your other cute friend before… Love how you both dress alike…. Now, now, don’t feel so jealous, it will be your turn next, sweetie… I picked Nova first since I found her sleeping in my bed! She was asking for it… But I am saving the best for last, you pretty femboy!”

Saoirse, just done spanking Nova, was admiring her handiwork. Nova’s face was as red as her behind, blushing perhaps from the humiliation, or maybe from the realisation that she had… Enjoyed her first spanking?…

“Well, well, Nova,” the redhead said, “Enjoyed your first time being punished? Too shy to admit it, perhaps?…” She passed her nails over the young Native’s spanked bottom and continued, “You’ve got such a cute, soft litte but… I’d love to have more fun with you, but because of you, I’ve kept my actual date waiting for far too long… So back to the chair you go!”

With speed and confidence born of experience, Saoirse tied Nova up to the chair again. “Lucky you, you get to see what I do to your friend here… I guess I should have said that we’d been dating for a while!” She turn to her other guest, tied up to the second chair

“And you, Nadleehe!” she said, “You never told me  you had such a cute friend… Is she from the same tribe as you?”

There only was a muffled answer.

“Silly me, silly me,” Saoirse continued untying Nadleehe but leaving the gag in, “With both of you gagged, it’s probably better to save the questions for later… And better get to the pounding! I hope your little fembutt is as soft as Nova’s…”

She sat down on the chair to which Nadleehe had been tied. “Over the lap you go!” she announced.

As Saoirse pulled down Nadleehe’s pants, the young native’s face got even more red than Nova’s had been. Saoirse soon knew why as she felt their erect cock pressing against her bare leg. She blushed as well.

“My, my!” she said with a smile, “It seems you are getting really excited about your first spanking, aren’t you? And you’re the first femboy I get to spank… Especially one who is Two Spirited… My favourite date for sure…”

She raised her hand, and with a grin, she began to spank…

Premières fois

« Alors, heureuse ?

—Oui oui…

—Bah quoi ? Qu’est-ce qu’il y a ?

—Ben rien, rien…

—J’ai fait comme tu voulais, non ?

—Oui oui…

—Sur les genoux, à la main d’abord…

—Oui, c’était bien…

—Et pas trop fort au début, puis progressivement plus intense.

—Mmmhm, voui.

—Et j’ai gardé ta culotte un peu plus longtemps, t’as vu ?

—Oui, j’ai remarqué…

—Ça prolonge un peu…

—Oui, enfin, t’aimes ça, aussi, Thomas…

—Oui, j’aime bien… Le rouge qui apparait petit à petit quand je la baisse…

—Il est fier…

—Bah oui, non ?

—Sûrement…

—Bah pourquoi t’es pas contente, alors, Julie ?

—J’ai pas dit que j’étais pas contente…

—T’avais dit pas la spatule, alors j’ai fait avec ton petit paddle.

—Ah bah je sais, je le sens encore…

—En cuir, tu préfères, non ?

—Oui oui…

—Ça fait de jolies marques, en plus

—Tu trouves ?

—Ah oui, j’aime beaucoup

—D’accord…

—Bon… C’est les coups sur les cuisses, c’est ça ? C’était trop fort ?

—Ben non, ça change, c’est bien.

—C’était trop long ?

—C’est jamais trop long…

—Trop court ?

—Ben non…

—Trop fort, pass assez ?

—Non, Thomas, d’accord ? C’était bien, exactement comme j’avais demandé.

—Bon, bah je comprends pas.

—Y a rien à comprendre.

—Bah essaye, Julie…

—Bon… C’était… Un peu trop comme je voulais…

—Pardon ?

—Ben c’est pas drôle quand c’est prévisible, quoi. Y a pas de surprise.

—Mais…

—C’est comme voir un film à suspense une seconde fois, c’est moins excitant quand tu sais ce qui va se passer.

—Tu te fiches de moi ?

—Bah non… Ce que j’aime, quand tu me fesses, c’est que c’est toi qui commande, c’est toi qui gères… Si je te dis quoi faire, c’est pas pareil…

—…

—Sois pas fâché, Thomas…

—Chuis pas fâché…

—T’as l’air fâché… Tu veux un bisou ?

—Oui… »

Elle l’embrasse.

« Là, ça va mieux ?

—Moui…

—Bah… Dis-moi, Thomas ? Qu’est ce que tu veux ?

—Je vais te dire ce que je veux… »

Il passe son bras autour d’elle et la bascule sur ses genoux, ses fesses encore rouge, encore nues, bien en évidence.

« On va voir si tu peux prédire ce qui va se passer… »

Alors que la première claque de la seconde fournée s’abat, elle sourit. Il apprend vite, celui-là !

Juste un café

« Un café ?

—Non, merci. 

—T’es sûr ?

—Bah oui, pourquoi ?

—T’as l’air fatigué.

—Ah bah merci, ça fait plaisir.

—Ben les mensonges, c’est non, Thomas, alors je dis la vérité… 

—Ça ne t’oblige pas à dire tout ce qui te passe par la tête…

—Tellement ronchon…

—Mais non, je suis pas ronchon.

—Grognon, alors ?

—Julie, arrête, si je suis grognon ce sera de ta faute.

—Des excuses, toujours des excuses… P’têt que tu devrais prendre un café ?

—Dis, Julie ?

—Oui mon cœur ?

—Tu cherches.

—Non non.

—Tu cherches, c’est pas une question.

—Je cherche rien du tout, je te propose un café.

—C’est quoi cette obsession avec le café, tout à coup ?

—C’est pas un obsession, c’est de la politesse.

—…

—Quoi ?

—Ben je sais pas, Julie, j’attends de savoir.

—Je vois pas comment je pourrais faire une bêtise qui ait un rapport avec le café, hein.

—On ne sait jamais, tu sais toujours me surprendre…

—T’es méchant… Je voulais juste te faire plaisir, je sais que t’adores le café…

—Euh… Oui ?

—Ça te rend de bonne humeur, tout ça…

—Mais encore ?

—Bah ptêt que tu serais moins fâché…

—Et voilà, on y est…

—Bah c’est pas d’ma faute…

—Julie…

—J’ai un peu oublié les impôts…

—Un peu ? On est mi-Novembre !

—J’ai un peu oublié de payer le gaz aussi…

—Julie !

—En fait, j’ai un peu oublié toutes les factures ce mois-ci…

—Tu plaisantes ?

—Bah je pensais les avoir payées, moi… C’pas d’ma faute… »

Il soupire. Il ferme les yeux et se pince l’arête du nez. Elle baisse les yeux et ne dit rien. Déjà qu’il est pas content, elle ne va pas en rajouter. Elle sent déjà un picotement lui démanger le derrière, comme un présentiment. Sauf qu’il n’y a pas besoin d’être voyante pour savoir ce qui va lui arriver. La seule question c’est si ca va être à la brosse ou à la ceinture.

« Vas chercher la brosse… »

Ah bah maintenant, elle sait…

« Celle en bois. »

Rhooo… Elle déteste celle en bois. Elle fait mal, celle-là. Non pas que l’autre caresse comme la brise, mais celle en bois, elle est pas gentille.

« Et prends ton ordi portable aussi, tu vas faire toutes les démarches pendant que je te fesse !

—Euh… tu veux pas un café d’abord ? »

Parfum

Il sent bon. C’est un peu étrange d’y penser maintenant, lovée comme elle est sur ses genoux, la culotte a mi-cuisses, les fesses en feu. Mais il sent bon. Le bruit de sa main s’abattant sur sa croupe emplit le salon, et elle pousse des gémissements de douleur, des petits cris de honte et des murmures de plaisir. Mais c’est à son parfum qu’elle pense. Elle imagine sa peau contre la sienne, quand il lui fera l’amour une fois ses transgressions pardonnées. Elle ne sait même plus ce qu’elle a fait cette fois-ci —il le lui rappellera bientôt, il aime sermonner quand il la punit. Mais après, il la prendra dans se bras, nue, peut-être, et la prendra tout court sur le lit. Ou le canapé. Ou la table de la cuisine. Elle frissonne. Sa peau contre la sienne, sa main dans ses cheveux, son parfum, sa sueur, ses lèvres. Son cul brûle, la main tombe et tombe et tombe. Elle l’imagine la serrant fort. Elle est trempée, elle le sait. Il peut le voir, c’est sûr. Elle aime ça. Elle se cambre, s’offre à ses mains. Elles lui font mal. Elle aime ça. Il sent bon et elle, elle a envie de lui.

Elle sent bon. Elle sent toujours bon, d’ailleurs. Elle sent bon quand il l’embrasse au réveil, elle sent bon quand il rentre le soir, elle sent bon quand elle minaude et se presse contre lui, espérant échapper à sa fessée. Qu’est-ce qu’elle a fait, déjà ? Là, perdu dans le moment, il ne s’en souvient même plus. Ses fesses rebondissent, se serrent et rougissent au fur et à mesure que sa main frappe. Elle sent bon. Son parfum, ses cheveux, son entrejambe qu’elle ne cache plus, toute pudeur oubliée. Il a envie d’elle. Elle mérite sa punition, ça, il le sait, mais une fois pardonnée, il la prendra dans ses bras, nue, peut-être, et la prendra tout court sur le lit. Ou contre le mur. Ou dans la douche. Il la sent frissonner. Il imagine sa main caressant son dos, ses jambes, ses fesses encore brûlantes. Il imagine ses lèvres baisant son cou, la chaleur de sa peau, son parfum, sa chaleur. Elle gémit tandis que sa main tombe. Elle frisonne. De honte ? De plaisir ? Elle est presque à bout, presque pardonnée. Il passe sa main entre ses cuisses. Elle gémit plus fort. Il veut se perdre dans ses bras, dans son parfum. Une dernière claque, un dernier gémissement. Il la relève et l’embrasse, goûtant le sel de ses larmes sur ses lèvres.

Dieu qu’elle sent bon.