Remember my post arguing that making sure your porn is ethically produced is no harder than doing the same thing for your salad dressing or your cheap manufactured goods? (You’d think this was obvious, but as I documented in that post, some in the rabid anti-porn crowd dispute it.)

Anyway, Evil Porn Werewolf Enslavers Debunked remains one of my favorite pieces on this blog. In support of my argument, I chose some of the scariest Eastern European spanking porn I could find and then did some basic consumer research, quoting spanking model Niki Flynn at length on the professional conditions at a Lupus Pictures porn shoot.

Well, now from Spanking Blog comes a link to spanking model Adele Haze writing on the same topic: Why I Modelled For Lupus Pictures.

This was serious business — you can see her welts here — but she had her reasons:

I don’t process pain as pleasure. I knew my caning would hurt a great deal, possibly more than any of my previous experiences. I did briefly wonder whether, caught up in the moment, I would find pleasure in my real-life flogging in a way I couldn’t enjoy some other girl’s filmed experience — and, pre-empting an upcoming post on the topic, no, I didn’t get any enjoyment out of the pain until it was all over — but, on the whole, I was prepared for a thoroughly uncomfortable several minutes over the famous bench.

And that was OK, because I knew – from studying the films, and from talking to Niki Flynn, who’d gone to that scary place before — that the rest of the shoot would give me the sort of pleasures that would make a few minutes of acute pain worth going through. For somebody who has a separate fetish for artistic suffering, working with a production on the scale of Lupus’s would be worth every stroke.

I had never before worked to a script, and I’d get that. I had never had somebody else think through the costume and make-up for me — I’d get that too, and in the end even the hideous pieces of reformatory wardrobe would turn out charming in their appropriateness. I had never before taken detailed direction, or shot completely — and confusingly — out of sequence, or acted in sets built for the purpose in every small detail; in short, I had never been a part of a spanking shoot run on such a professional level — and I knew that all of these experiences were mine for the taking.

Thanks, Adele, for the eye-opening account!

After some eroticized gardening, Farm Wife Amber moves on to sassing her husband:

And did I mention that beer bottle shoved up my cunt? My husband has this habit of leaving empty beer bottles in his office, and I get mad every single time. One time I emptied one onto his head, even.

When I complained about it one more time last night, he said he leaves them out for me to masturbate with. “Oh yeah?” I said provocatively, dropping my pants and underwear, spreading myself in a chair, and demonstrating exactly what he had described.

I don’t think he’d ever seen a beer bottle so crudely misappropriated, and he was quite fascinated. Sassy, you think?

This song is a song about Alice.

No. Wait. I mean, this post is a post about Hitler’s dick. Not quite the same.

But, the post does come with a soundtrack.

Yours is the dubious obligation of constructing the soundtrack in your mind. Remember The Colonel Bogey March from Bridge On The River Kwai? Good. Whistle a couple of bars quietly to yourself to bring it back to you. Then start again, while reading the words:

Hitler has only got one ball,
Goering has two but very small,
Himmler is somewhat sim’lar,
But poor old Goebbels has no balls at all.

Repeat as needed. Your seven year old son could probably go on for an hour, laughing with glee between repetitions. Even though he’s probably never heard of most of the people whose genitalia he’d be mocking.

OK, enough rambling. Now I have to live up to my title. What, you don’t think I can do it?

Oh ye of little faith! You should know me better than that by now:

No, of course it’s not real. It’s British propaganda. Nobody beats the British at the game of penis propaganda. Not, at least, when they have the balls to actually publish the stuff:

An old army colonel – he had served a lifetime in Poona, an experience which had not failed to leave its mark on him – had found it on the table of my secret printer whom he had visited with a view to acquiring some of our latest philatelic counterfeits. When he saw this particular piece of pornography he was almost beside himself with indignant fury. I did not want to hurt the old man by challenging him to battle over an item of pornography to which in any case I attached no great importance. So I immediately withdrew it. But it was not really all that bad.

The German army’s propaganda unit had been putting out a series of leaflets purporting to expose how the enemy was retouching photographs and faking them to convey untruths. By this time my “Black” printer was an expert at counterfeiting german documents, using the same type, the same paper, and the same size as the German original. So I got him to put the same title on our counterfeit. ” Wie sie falshen”, it said ( How they forge ). Then with a suitable text we exposed a palpable forgery of a Hitler photograph, which we attributed to the despicable treachery of an internal enemy. The genuine original photograph showed Hitler in his usual saluting posture, right arm upraised, his left resting on the buckle of his belt. The forgery however showed a huge penis under his left hand. Our caption read: ” This is a most appalling forgery, Everyone one know the Fuhrer does not possess anything of the kind”. Well, I don’t really blame the old colonel. As pornography this item was not attractive. In fact, it was revolting. All the same, I would have been interested to have seen what effect it had on the German propagandists.

See also Leon Trotsky Whipping Two Nude Girls.

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Sounds to me like somebody’s just itching for a spanking, but hey, maybe that’s just me:

I created a game in my head one day when Gadget was plunging his most needy part inside my most needy bit. I thought,

Men can get so heated when it comes to sex, and I love that. How can I inspire him to become more heated, even if we’re both a little down, and while at the same time, have a little bit of fun?

The game is called The Deprivation Game and is composed of just that, momentary sexual deprivation. When he strives to fuck me ever harder, I thrust down my pelvis so that his energetically pumping cock slips out. His usual reaction is along the lines of,

Oh no please baby, please! No, no, no, please. Please baby.

Accompanied by whimpering, a scrunched up emotional face and phantom fucking, as my strong thighs push down on his, barring access to the bits he wants most to plunge into. His struggle against me can get quite heated at times, and then one of two things happen:

1. Just as he starts to give up and rest his forehead against my shoulder, I slip my hips down agasint him and he slides in, and happily restarts his rhythm against me.

2. Or, (my favorite) he grabs my shoulder and under my neck and pushes down on top of me, conquering my sex with a forceful thrust and begins his pace once again.

Either way its bravo for both of us because the sex continues. Though I’m not a fan of violence or rape, as I’ve been a victim to both, I love how his carnal side comes out in full force. I also love the flip side of it: He becomes a whimpering sex deprived little boy.

So again either way I’m turned on and entertained. Wicked am I.

By all accounts, Seattle’s lucky to have the The Wet Spot, a sex-positive community center that hosts all manner of adult events and classes. But you know, somebody has got to have the keys, and use of the facilities after hours. That somebody, it turns out, is Executive Director Allena Gabosh, who writes on her blog about

…a great evening a few weeks ago with my boy, alex. He’s such a “cat”. Sometimes he’s in the mood, sometimes he’s not. This time he was. His masochist came out to play. At my request he wore sexy disposable clothing and after I tied him up over a spanking bench, I slowly cut off his clothes and bit, licked, spanked and caned each body part that I exposed. And that was just his warm up.

Later I had him on the bondage bed (we were at The Wet Spot after hours.) After beating his ass with his least favorite toy, I turned him over and played with his cock, wrapping it in his favorite leather cock ring and attaching it to my tens unit. Every time I turned up the tens unit he jumped and I sucked and kissed his cock. Pretty soon his pain and pleasure responses became all jumbled up. :) This got me super horny, so I climbed on top of him and he gave me a great orgasm while I continued to torture his penis.

Then the Grand Finale! Two needles through his nipples. Then the best part, cuddling and making him feel good again (he doesn’t like needles).

Hmmm. That was a fun night.

Via the Electrosex Blog.

Because there can never be enough Smurf porn:

From Spanking Blog.

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There’s a stylish spanking blog — not previously linked here by some odd mischance, though I’ve encountered it with pleasure on more than one occasion — called The Spanking Writers, in which Able and Heron recount their spanking lifestyle and share their love of schoolgirl / schoolmaster roleplaying. Fanciful without being fantastic, it’s a very civilized, and very British, read. From New Year’s Eve:

Those of you in the UK may have caught the BBC’s fantastic New Year’s Day production of “Wind in the Willowsâ€?. Fortunately we had glasses of wine to hand when the main characters, plotting a raid to reclaim Toad Hall, armed themselves with staffs and raised a toast:

“To the proper handling of sticks!â€?

Needless to say, we joined in enthusiastically. As a motto for the year ahead, it seemed rather appropriate.

…

My young lady was told that she could choose her cane; she disappeared upstairs, returning with the longest, thickest, heaviest rod in the house — our Singapore rattan, bought more with curiosity than intent. Even the lightest stroke resulted in a spectacular response, and a delightful stripe; the twelfth and hardest engendered a yelp that the crowds in London could surely have heard 200+ miles away!

I mention this now — proof that flattery will get you anywhere, if it’s unexpected and apparently sincere — because I was pleased to note the following among “our festive roundup of our personal 2006 favorites”:

Erotic Site of the Year. As obsessed with spanking as we are, sometimes we peek into other areas of sexuality as well. On those occasions nothing gives us an erotic jolt quite like ErosBlog, with its exploration of humans as sexual beings.

Why, thank you!