Spanking And Humiliation Stories

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Spanking And Humiliation Stories
Married submissive: The love, the kink and the connection.
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These posts are all about spanking. Spanking is something we do quite a bit and really enjoy and this is a collection of real life play, informational pieces and fiction – it’s all about the spanking.
“Go upstairs, take your clothes off and lie on the bed. I want to use the paddle on you.” I do as I am told and wait for him. When he comes in he gets the paddle out of the drawer and I see is not the leather and fur […]
Despite my love for spanking, it is a while since I wrote a spanking story, so here is one just for you. We have just had dinner and I have set down the coffee cups when the conversation turns to spanking. HL asks if Q has ever done it and […]
I mentioned in my post about limits and boundaries that we had been away with friends and had pushed some of the boundaries we previously had with regard to playing with, and in front of, others. Choosing to do this was not a conscious thought; it was more that we […]
When your partner acknowledges their sadistic tendencies, it causes you to think about your own masochistic ones. For me, my true masochism lies in the emotional torment that he can inflict via erotic humiliation. I have written a lot about the way that the thrill of shame works through cognitive […]
“Why?” she giggled, nervously. “Because I want to,” he replied. “And because I have been watching you all night and my fingers are literally tingling to touch you. Also, I think that you need it,” he said, as if it were the most normal thing in the world to have […]
It is early on in our relationship and HL has told me that I have a date for a spank. We have the house to ourselves so he wants to make the most of it. He has gone upstairs to our bedroom and told me to wait 5 minutes before […]
Naughty and Nice is part 2 to This post where Isabelle finds herself over the knee of her husband, receiving her first ever spanking. * * * * * * * She felt his finger press against her hole then and gasped. Was he really going to do what he […]
I am struggling to write about resets. I realise that we have not reset for a long time and that leads me to consider why. It would be good if I could say that it was because things were going so well with our D/s dynamic that it was not […]
Public play is something that we both find quite interesting and therefore, it might seem strange that we have not done more of it. Although we have had a couple of opportunities and have give it a go, it is not something that has become much of a feature of […]
Why Erotic Spanking? We love erotic spanking. I suppose I could ask what’s not to love, but I know that not everyone enjoys it like we do. As you might imagine, within our dynamic HL is the spanker and I am the spanked, but we both enjoy what it gives […]
“I want to spank you.” Giggling, she collapsed onto the bed. “I am serious,” he said, watching her from his chair across the room. She felt her face flush slightly as a wave of heat seemed to crawl upwards from her feet, snaking its way up her body. His words […]
Ceit struggled along the path, careful not to trip on the fallen branches. It was deserted along here which was what she wanted. She was fed up. With them, with him, with everything. She was indignant too. How dare they do this to her? How could they mess things up […]
Ready for some electromagnetic spanking? Draped across your knee, pulled into your magnetic field, I feel your charge. Skirt lifted, knickers lowered, you bring my skin slowly to life as you rub and stroke and nip. You ignite me with your words, rewiring my brain and connecting it, through my […]
A to Z Challenge – S An obvious for S would have to be SUBMISSION but that would mean linking my entire blog really. I have chosen the post The faces of my submission as I think that I have always been aware that there were many different sides to the way I […]
I climb onto the bench and get comfortable. It feels strange but he rubs my back and my bum and bends to whisper in my ear. The voices around about me start to recede and I focus on the closeness of his body. I can feel his warmth and that […]
I have written about spanking before as it is something that I enjoy and is a big part of our dynamic so thought that I would try to put another post together. Hand spanking is my favourite type of impact play and I love nothing more than being bared over […]
I wrote in Spanking Uncovered that sometimes we used spanking for a re-set. By a re-set I mean that we will use it to re-set the dynamic when things have slipped sometimes. This can happen for a variety of reasons from one of us coming out of the correct mindset, to things […]
I posted about The Howler in my post Pleasure from Pain. Looking back I see that was written on the 24th May which seems quite some time ago now. We had a quick try of The Howler once it had been assembled, you may remember that the rubber was a gift […]
There can be a variety of ways to start a schoolgirl scene but on this occasion I am simply instructed to have a bath, prepare myself, and then get changed into the clothes that he will leave outside the bathroom. I love this part of a scene, getting ready; it […]
One of the good things about being 47 is that 47 is a good number for birthday spankings – as I discovered. Of course mine were actually birthday canings (house full of teens as per usual) but I am sure that the overall impact is the same. There is nothing […]
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My parents met while my father was in the army and stationed in Germany. I was born in the US but by the time I was in 5th grade my parents separated. Things got hectic, and my mother and I moved back to Germany and moved in with her brother.
It was a big old house near Berlin and I hated it. I spoke no German and none of my mother’s family spoke English. My uncle Max and his wife Greta had three kids, all older than me – two girls and a boy, who was the oldest.
It wasn’t long before I found out how harsh and mean these people were. I didn’t understand a word they said at the beginning but they would scream at there kids and beat them unmercifully. My Aunt Greta not only smacked the children’s faces but would also spank them not only in front of each other, but also in front of other family members, including me.
Aunt Greta used a strap that I later found out was a razor strop from my uncle’s barber shop. I’m not sure but I think my male cousin was 15 and the two girls 14 and 12, or thereabouts. The first few times they were punished, mother made me leave the room and I only heard their cries. My uncle would strap them sometimes but it was mostly my aunt who beat them.
My mother worked most days and finally one day when she was out my aunt spanked her son in front of me and one of the girls. I had never witnessed corporal punishment before and couldn’t believe it when she made him take off his pants and underwear.
I don’t recall what my cousin was being punished for, but Aunt Greta made him bend over the kitchen table and beat his bare butt with this strap. By the time she was done, his entire rear was red. He was then made to sit at the table, naked from the waist down, for more than an hour.
It wasn’t like this stuff happened all the time, but as time went on I not only saw my male cousin beaten again but also the two girls. Both my aunt and uncle would beat them bare bottom and didn’t seem to care who witnessed it.
The girls were also forced to sit in the chair after their punishments, again with nothing covering their lower body. I felt sorry for them but I have to admit, I enjoyed seeing the girls’ privates. Both of them had pubic hair, and when they were bent over the table I could see not only see their vaginas but also their anus.
My mother did spank me sometimes over the years but never subjected me to that type of humiliation. My aunt and uncle never beat me but had no qualms about me seeing them strap their own children.
The strangest thing was how brutally they were beaten. It had to be embarrassing for them, knowing I was watching, as they were reduced to tears. Even my boy cousin, who was older was completely dominated by his parents.
I was very shy at that time and remember being embarrassed even if the girls saw me in my underwear. I saw all my cousins completely naked many times, but none of them seemed overly embarrassed by it. They also saw me naked sometimes – but by contrast, I was always horrified when they did, even when it was my male cousin or my aunt and uncle. I could never understand how anyone could treat their own kids with such disrespect.
My mother and I lived there for two years until we got our own apartment. During that time, other family members witnessed my cousins being beaten a number of times. It didn’t matter if other family members were there, male or female. My cousins were still forced to to remove their pants and underwear.
They were afforded no modesty whatsoever and would have to sit half naked on that kitchen chair, sometimes with several other relatives nearby. I could see they were humiliated by it and tried their best to cover themselves with their hands. I could also see how much pain they were in and as old as my male cousin was, he still openly cried when he was beaten.
Of course, my mother also saw this happen. I gather she didn’t approve of it but there was little she could do. Actually, my mother and aunt didn’t get along very well and I think that is why we moved when we did.
We came back to New Jersey when I was 18 and over the years I have become closer to my father. Over a recent July 4 holiday I saw one of my girl cousins for the first time in 15 years. She, her husband and kids visited my mother for a few days. She doesn’t speak English well but I was able to talk to her in German.
We never mentioned the beatings she was subjected to but did recall some of the good times we had. I never forget those years I spent at my uncle and aunt’s house – or the terrible way they treated their kids.
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Yes, There Are More Stories — mrstrict1@aol.com
She lies forward over the sodomy stool, feeling its hard surface beneath her, listening to him at her rear, preparing her behind for chastisement. Behind her, methodically opening the flaps of the humiliation gown he’s made her put on, exposing the seat of her pantied bottom to the mirrored walls of the punishment room.
She looks straight ahead as he opens the gown to reveal her behind, her red strapped cheeks clenched tight underneath the sheer white punishment panties he’s exposed. She looks at the mirror in front of her, wondering who’s behind it, looking out at her. Who can see her there in that humiliating posture; already disgraced, with the greatest part of the mortification still to come.
He has the humiliation gown completely opened now, and he pauses to admire the view. Then tells her in a loud voice to reach back and pull her panties down below her buttocks. And then, after she’s done so, after she’s felt him strip her panties off entirely, to move her hands up to spread her cheeks and reveal everything between them.
She complies, knowing that the watchers behind the mirrored wall that faces her backside are enjoying the scene, enjoying her humiliation as she bends forward, her gown opened, her behind displayed. That’s why he’s invited them there, for their enjoyment and her shame. Corrective humiliation, he always calls it; and its effects on her are so drastic that she shudders even when all he does is say the words.
She bends forward, staring at the glass in front of her, at the watchers she presumes are behind it. She’ll never know who they are, how many have come – if indeed there are any there at all. But it doesn’t matter; even if the viewing areas behind the four mirrored walls of punishment room she’s in are empty, her mind tells her that they’re full.
Her mind tells her she’s being watched, and her senses conspire with that conclusion. Her ears prick whenever he stands still for a moment, seeking to hear the hear the telltale sounds of the people behind the two-way mirrors that circle the room. The sound of a throat being cleared? Of a sigh of pleasure as her behind is revealed, the humiliation gown opened, the punishment panties pulled down and off, allowing her to separate her legs wider, spread her cheeks further, present herself with her rectum completely exposed?
Or is it a faint cluck of disapproval at the fact that she’s been allowed to wear panties at all.
She keeps her face tilted up to the mirrored wall in front of her, her eyes towards the glass as she’s been taught, trying not to close them as she puts her hands back to her underpants, drawing them down to expose herself to the people behind the mirror at her rear. Keeps her eyes fixed forward as she feels him removing the panties, as she feels him spreading her legs further, exposing everything between them to the unseen eyes behind the glass.
He had her change into the punishment panties early – earlier than usual – and so it’s a relief to get them down finally, for the thick coating of Vicks he smeared in the seat before having her step into them has stung her strapped behind for several hours.
Vicks in the seat of her panties, stinging her behind. In traditional English correction, salted fat was applied across the red scorched bottomcheeks of a schoolgirl in the final stages of punishment in the headmaster’s study. Salted fat, to make the bottom burn; salted fat, after the strapping, while the girl sobbed over the stool. Salted fat on a strapped schoolgirl bottom, before the sodomy that, from the accounts she’s read, were a regular part of the pedagogical punishments of those long-gone times. Salted fat rubbed into the schoolgirl’s scorched bottom to further increase the sting before her rounded cheeks were spread, her tight anus Vaselined and then penetrated. The headmaster behind her thrusting forward, driving the culprit towards the opened window before her with each entry of the rigid organ into her bowels, with each entry between her martyred cheeks.
Driving the poor girl forward towards the opened window, inching forward with each penetration of her bared behind until, finally, she comes to rest with her face at the sill, her nose pressed to the glass, seeing the freedom outside as her behind is repeatedly impaled by her chastiser’s Vaselined cock.
The girl’s nose to the window, much as her nose is near the mirrored walls of the room. Her eyes to the glass, near the eyes on the other side, looking in.
She’s no schoolgirl, but, like those unfortunate young women of that earlier place and time, early that morning she too had her posterior bared for application of the punishment strap.
Woke that morning with a start, hearing his voice, the cold calmness of it, and all that portended. Woke, dressed, and glumly followed him into his study, where he led her to the old wooden school desk he kept there, made her look at it and endure his lecture as he stripped her panties down. And then, as she pleaded with him, bent her forward over the hard wood, her behind up, her panties neatly arranged below her buttocks to leave her sex and anus bared to his view while he got the strap, while he applied it.
And then, when her kicks and cries and pleas for mercy told her chastiser she could bear no more, she waited like that, buttocks raised and spread. Waited for the application of requisite unguent to the seat of her punishment panties and, inevitably, her strap-scorched flesh. Times change, she thinks, but whether Vicks or salt applied to a punished posterior, the effects are much the same.
As she pulls the punishment panties down, she feels the sudden relief of the cold air of the room blowing across her behind, the relief of the sudden absence of the Vicks in the seat of the underpants against chastised flesh. She knows her bottom glows bright red and shiny before the eyes of the watchers; still, she’ll take the mortification of having it exposed to the pain that the panties brings.
And so she lies there, over the stool, her behind bared, the panties down to her knees, her humiliation gown spread open. Waiting, knowing what’s coming next, anticipating it as much as she despises the feelings that the anticipation bring.
He begins the lecture, idly playing with the lace trim on the gown, with the dainty ties in back that she sewed by hand. The gown was her idea, a feminine variation of the plain hospital jonny he once favored; but she had found too late that the lace trim and other delicate adornments only made the basic function of the gown all the more apparent. Humiliation, pure and simply, the humiliation of having to show your behind, of being unable to conceal it. Of wearing a garment designed solely for exposure and accessibility; purposes that no amount of lace or dainty decoration can alter or abate.
He lectures, and the watchers – if they’re there – stare at her behind through the opened gown, at her white cheeks, at the deep crevice between them, at the occasional glimpses of her fear-clenched rectum that her motions over the stool reveal.
His voice rises and
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