Showing posts with label abel. Show all posts
Showing posts with label abel. Show all posts

Wednesday, August 14, 2019

An Introduction to Caning

Caning has become popular lately, thanks to our good friend Ronnie, who sells a high quality product from her blog. For the beginner, a cane is quite a formidable implement. Correct application of the cane is an art, and requires practice.

Abel, the Spanking Writer, has retired his blog, but he once wrote a post about caning that I think is well worth resurrecting. Here is his advice 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!

I encourage you to read the original post here. The comments provide additional advice and are quite informative.

From Hermione's Heart

Tuesday, January 20, 2015

From the Top Shelf - The Spanking Writers

After eight successful and prolific years, Abel Jenkins, one of my favourite bloggers, has decided to close his very popular blog, The Spanking Writers. I will miss his wit, his eloquence, and his descriptions of very hot scenes, both real and imaginary.

I'll share a memory with you about the blog. A few years ago, I was in a training course at work. Of course it was too dangerous to visit a site called "The Spanking Writers" from my office computer, but we were all in a training room, and had special training logons to use, so I figured I wouldn't get caught. Luckily, the blog did not have any NSFW pictures on it; it was strictly text, so I hoped I wouldn't be detected. For the next two days, whenever there was a break, or I finished my task early, I would pop over to TSW and see what was new. I giggled at Abel's replies to the comments and came up with a few witty comments myself.

Abel still has two other sites for you to enjoy. His Tumblr photoblog will remain active, and he will now have more time to devote to writing new stories for his Spanking Stories site. I encourage you to visit one or both, according you your personal preference.

Instead of publishing a story here, Abel has a treat for you. He has put together a book comprising the best of his blog posts, and it's free to download in PDF format here. His book, The Punishment List, is also available to download here. I hope you enjoy them.

Farewell, Abel.

From Hermione's Heart

Monday, January 2, 2012

From the Top Shelf - Abel's Spanking Stories

One of my favourite bloggers, Abel of Spanking Writers fame, has launched a brand new site for his collection of spanking stories. It's beautifully designed by Haron, and a delight to look at. Of course you'll want to read the stories too.

Here is a tantalizing snippet from one of my favourites, Marrakech. It involves a couple on holiday in North Africa, and makes the point that discipline never takes a holiday.

She looked down at the carpet: “I’m in trouble, aren’t I?”

“What do you think?”

She nodded slowly. “But I didn’t mean to….”

The lift doors opened. “You were fooling around, and you broke what was a very beautiful, never mind very expensive vase.”

I ushered her into the empty lift. “So pleeeease tell me: where are we going?”

“For a walk, my dear girl. We have some shopping to do.”

.
.
.

“We’re here.”

Her eyes widened: the leather souk. And the speciality of this first street? As we looked ahead, we saw countless tiny shops, each selling one product: leather belts. Newly-made, hand-crafted leather belts.

She looked up at me, eyes wide. “But…”

“Choose a suitable belt, my dear.”

A panicky look on her face. Questioning, feebly: “Suitable?..”

I nodded, “Suitable.”

She stood by me. I folded my arms: “Well go on. I’ll wait here.”

Slightly panicky, she set off, looking nervously into the first shop. Then on to the next, eyeing up the huge piles of belts hanging from their buckles in the shop entrances. A trader spoke to her, but speaking no French or Arabic, she could not reply; he pointed to me, and she nodded. He, presumably, assessing my waist size; she, presumably, with different thoughts in her mind.

She ran her fingers down some of the leather, then moved on to the next stall, again reviewing the goods. Again she toyed with the belts, before selecting one carefully and disappearing inside. Moments later, she was back at my side, handing over a black plastic bag.

I looked inside, frowning at the lightweight belt she had selected. And closed the bag again, handing it back to her without a word, and shaking my head.

“What?”

“That won’t do. As you well know.”

She looked at me, then turned away, taking the black bag with her, disappearing back into the shop.

And then returning to my side, proffering her purchase for my inspection once more, the thick, well-crafted belt this time meeting the necessary standard.

She huddled into me: “I’m sorry, really I am.”

Placing my hand firmly on her shoulder, I led her forward, along the narrow souk, past the gaze of the merchants, before turning left through an ancient wooden door, into a high-ceiling, brightly-lit alleyway. Once more countless stalls lined each side of the market – this time, the souk specialising in another Moroccan speciality. Her eyes widened as she took in the sight of the slipper souk – each stall displaying hundreds of items of leather footwear.

“The yellow slippers are the traditional ones,” I commented, pointing her in the direction of the first small shop. Eyes wide, she scanned the rows of slippers, then selected a pair, paid hurriedly, and came back to my side.

“Where do you think we should go now?” I asked her.

She looked at me: “Back to the hotel?”

I nodded, putting my arm around her and pulling her to me. As she looked up at me, I asked: “And what is going to happen when we get back to the hotel?”

I'm sure you can guess what happens next, so please go and enjoy the whole story here.

From Hermione's Heart