Throwback Thursday Hand Tawsing

Hello spankos! I pulled this short hand tawsing out of the Naughty Abby archives last night so I could post it to Twitter for MC Customs, maker of fine leather tawses, straps, and paddles. This snippet is from "Please Not My Hands," starring Abby, Mr. W, and a heavy tawse we bought for Christmas in 2007 from MC Customs. This video is from spring 2008, happy #throwbackthursday!

Let me know if you like these throwbacks, I'd be happy to grab a few more short scenes from the archive to post here - spanking, caning, strapping - let me know what you'd like to see in the comments! You can also message me on Twitter @AbbyW2007, or email me at abby.schoolhouse@gmail.com. :-)

I'd also like to take this moment to encourage everyone to watch the Picnic at Hanging Rock miniseries on Amazon Prime, starring my beloved Natalie Dormer from The Tudors. (I'm not an Amazon affiliate, I just really enjoyed it and want everyone to check it out.) The series is luscious and dark, punishment and eroticism around every corner. A few weeks back, we enjoyed quite the sexually charged weekend watching it naked in bed. From a fetish standpoint, I would say this is for the schoolgirls crowd. However, it was also a beautifully told and gorgeously filmed piece of art and a compelling mystery.

Rosy Reset Button

Last night, lying in bed exhausted after an unexpected romp with Mr. W, both of us well-medicated and fighting the flu but apparently also horny as hell, I felt giddy. I told him, "I feel like I'm going through puberty again, or I'm a teenager again, or, I don't know. I'm getting turned on by new and different things. I'm having new sensations. It's exciting."

I've found new delights as I build my Twitter feed. I've found myself turned on by things I had not considered, or things I had turned away from in the past. Everything feels new and sexy now; the orgasms are mine for the taking. I am so grateful to the community and to the individuals who are opening my eyes, even after a life of quiet devotion to sex and kink.

We've been talking about switching, something we've very lightly danced around before but never really tried. Now feels right. I've never been more comfortable in my body. I feel strong, I am a goddess and a warrior. I feel like I can channel this intensely feminine power into delivering fleshly delights to Mr. W's body and ecstasy throughout his mind, once I understand how to play his body as he plays mine.

If we'd been healthier, last night could have been the night. As it was, I couldn't resist asking him to lie across my lap as we watched Ripper Street on Netflix, a new favorite. I just meant to relax him, run my hands up and down his back, massage his bottom and the tops of his thighs. I'd spend long minutes running my short nails lightly across his backside, hip to hip, dipping into the crack for extra scritchy-scratches, teasing his skin then massaging deeply into the muscle, grabbing hold of each beautiful buttock at its root, kneading the flesh to coax out any lingering tightness. I just wanted him to be jelly over my lap, so he could rest and not get this flu bug as badly as I did.

Instead, his cock refused to go gently into our good night, so insistent was its firm knocking against the tops of my thighs that eventually I could not ignore its rapping.

"My pussy needs attention," I told him, trying out a more demanding sexual language than I would normally use.

He rolled off me and laid on his back, his ready cock an invitation. I climbed aboard, already so wet that he slid in with almost no friction. I began to grind and he was all mine for a moment. Then, my Daddy said something to his Naughty Daughter, except I hadn't had those characters in mind and it threw me off and I lost my rhythm. We've been pretty consistently playing with the Daddy thing lately, really having fun with it, I will be sharing more of that as well, don't you worry, but I was just in a different mental space last night and I was in charge - until I wasn't.

Mind you, this was two loving married sick people trying to make each other happy and relaxed before getting a good night's rest. I realized that both of us were trying to be in charge to take care of the other one. It wasn't a roleplay crisis, no communication breakdowns here. Just two people doing their best to be sexy for the other. He takes such incredible care of me. I'm really looking forward to a day in the near future when I get to tell him that I'm taking charge, and then I do. 

I stood up and invited him to the space at the end of the bed. I spread my legs wide and put my hands on the floor in front of me. "Why don't you press that rosy little reset button back there?" I said, wiggling my butt back and forth in front of him. I wasn't sure if he'd take that as in invitation to play with my asshole or smack my ass, but as should have been expected, he took it as an invitation to both.

A few good hard spanks to each cheek and an index finger deep inside my asshole later, we were back to fucking, deep and hard and soon I was bending forward into my knees and elbows, animalistically taking his cock from behind. I felt like a tigress about to burst forth from my own skin and I came hard and hard again, a guttural growl deep in my throat turning into a nice sexy cough as we finished.

I am going to warm that man up to a gorgeous pink and then drive his senses into overload with his first real spanking from his Wife and Mistress, Mrs. W. But until then, I am so glad this little Abby has her Mr. W, her husband, her Daddy, her best friend in this amazing smutty life to care of her. 

@AbbyW2007 & Saturday Whiplist

I'm finally on Twitter again! I need to fill up my Twitter feed with spankos in case Armageddon comes, so we can join together and rebuild the world . Can you help?

Follow Me: @AbbyW2007

Follow Mr. W: @MrWilliamsTLRW

As we continue to take pics of our playtime, I'll have bonus photos to post to Twitter, plus some additional fun content when I don't have time for full posts. Plus it's perfect for showing off little finds when we go out spank-tiquing (when we look for pervertibles at antique stores) or smut hunting. I just got the account going again this week, I am fully open to follows and following.

Here's some other stuff going on this weekend. We're calling this the #Whiplist going forward, for any spanking related to-do's! Make your own!

I want to do Brigit Delaney's Erotic Journal Challenge. I discovered it on Twitter and am thrilled that there is something like this going on. I have a terrible head cold, so if I don't make it this week, next week for sure. The challenge this week is: When did you discover your own sexuality? For example, when was the first time you masturbated or realized you could feel physical sexual pleasure? When did you first feel sexual desire? How did you address it?

Mr. W found one lot of 94 vintage erotica paperbacks listed on Craigslist locally and went to pick them up yesterday. Because of my cold, we still haven't gone through them, but I peeked. Hot damn. This one, How to Make a Mini by Don Tattersall, from Continental Classics circa 1968, features quite the set of rules for the students of Institution Ariel: 

"According to the manager's wish, each pupil must have a permanent A to satisfy the master. If she only makes a B, even if she only misses by one or half a point, she has to receive a hand spanking in front of all her classmates. If she makes a C, she is whipped with a cat o'nine tails, under that she receives a poisoned ivy whipping on the cunt or the ass hole. If she has a 6, she will be whipped on the sex, and shall receive an enema of two pints with a normal size nozzle." The rules get more severe from there, including quite a bit of anal punishment along with much spanking. The rest of the book describes the students failing at their grades and getting their ass-centric comeuppance. It is surprisingly dirty in the best way.

Plus I still want to do a write-up of both our Tuesday and Wednesday nights! Here's another shot from Wednesday, shows a little more of that rosy glow, although we do need to look at lighting for future shoots. This is one of the first pics Mr. W took that night so my rear end is still flushed with pain and excitement.

Becoming My Fetish Incarnate

If you're not up for reading - more welty bruisy pics below. But I'd love if you read my love letter to spanking as it slowly begins to consume more and more of my time and life. xoxo, Abby


I am overwhelmed with a renewed sense of desire, as if on the verge of something so illicit and delicious that my skin can barely stand the anticipation. An underlying but constant distraction keeps my mind and nerves abuzz. I get through the day but the thrum in the shadows grows louder and stronger and faster - I have become lust incarnate for a thing I cannot possess.

I crave this thing called Spanking. I want to live inside it, taste it, fuck it, be it, know it like an acolyte knows the meaning behind the meaning behind the meaning of a favorite prayer.

Suddenly I'm writing again. I have ideas for stories. I'm putting together collections. As you know, I've been more comfortable posting photos of myself as well, either spanked or just in celebration of the body and the bottom. Mr. W is working on a number of spanking-related projects that I hope to be sharing with you here soon. We've started going out smut hunting again, and looking for pervertibles, and just being in the mind-space all the time. It's starting to feel like we're always turned on.

For too long, spanking has been a core part of each of our identities, but we haven't allowed it to be front and center. Yet, if you asked each of us privately, it is THE thing that makes us each who we are. And if you asked us together what makes us amazing as a couple, if we were comfortable enough to say so, we'd tell you it's because we not only complement each other's fetish, we ARE each other's fetish. He is my top and everything I would want that to be. I am his bottom.

Starting next week, I've actually adjusted my work schedule so that I have more time to write and play and share all this with the world that knows what I'm talking about. And I want to be an advocate for spanking play! This blog contains eleven years of (on-and-off) writing about understanding why I am like this. I am at long last through with that. I am like this. I think things are about to get really good.

The pic at the top and these here below are from playtime with the strap and cane with Mr. W last night. I wrote the above yesterday but didn't get a chance to post it. Then all this happened. One of my "vignettes" to tell you the dirty details will be coming up in the next few days.

Afterwards, I asked him if he had a favorite moment or part from what we'd just done, but in true brat fashion I was too excited to tell him my favorite to let him answer. "My favorite part," I told him, "was when  you had my in - for lack of a better term - diaper position on the edge of the bed, and the strap really hurt and I started wiggling. You grabbed my legs and did your best to hold me in place, but you let me cry and twist and turn." That twisting and turning resulted in some of the welts you see on my left leg - truly my own misbehaving fault! "There was a moment in there when I realized you were just going to let me cry and squirm and I just let go and existed purely in that moment."

"My favorite moment," he replied, "was that same moment, when I felt you let go."

I'm writing up this last bit early this morning and I have the most delightful shivers. Someone's going in to work wet today.

A Collection of O

 I first read the classic erotic novel The Story of O in the summer of 1999 during hours worked in the basement computer lab of my college library. Obsessed with knowing the thoughts of like-minded readers at the time, I printed out the entirety of Amazon's customer comments on the classic title. I just found the print-outs yesterday while looking for another part of my collection, an article from The New Yorker magazine, that appears below. As for the comments, they are dated March 3 1997 - August 9 1999. I haven't reread them yet, but I can see a follow-up post coming soon if there is anything of interest. Imagine! The thoughts of fellow readers, some surely with a spanking obsession much like ourselves, and the voices they used in 1999! This discovery feels historical. I can't wait to dig through these pieces of internet, literary, and bdsm history.

The article that appears here in 9 photographs (please use the enlarge feature on your device) is also from the basement of my college library. As a bibliophile, I know better than to destroy or steal library property. As a young woman blossoming into her sexual identity, I carefully removed the article from both the magazine and its rightful library home. So spank me. Smiley face!

"The Unmasking of O" by John De St. Jorre delves into the heart and secret life of Dominique Aury, the woman behind the nom de plume Pauline Reage. It also features the art of Guido Crepax from the 1975 graphic novel adaptation of Story of O, which I am regretful is not part of my collection, as it is no longer in print and is now a collector's item in its various printed productions. The article, originally printed in 1994, is worth the read. 

A third piece from my collection that I will share today is a new find. We went out smut hunting yesterday - thrift and used bookstore shopping for treasures, and this was amongst our spoils. The 1959 edition that appears at the top of this post is from another such day of erotic questing. The new one is fantastic! It's a printing from 1967 by Collectors Publications in California, who interestingly claim the motion picture rights on the copyright page (see below). This porn is ours! This one includes a Preface that reads like a carnival barker announcing the prizes that lie within these pages: "THE STORY OF O is a tragic, sick love tale. It is a story of man's inhumanity to man. O does not necessarily typify womankind. What she does epitomize is shown by her name - O, meaning, cipher, zero, NOTHING."  It screams trailer for an exploitation film or circus ringleader announcing the next act. Later editions insist upon a sort of sanctity, a respect to both the woman who wrote it and its place in the annals of erotica. This one delights in its tragic salaciousness.

Also of note is the back panel of the book - an advertisement for the complete collected and unabridged eleven volumes My Secret Life, which many of us know now as a single volume, My Secret Life - An Erotic Diary of Victorian London. I would love to get my hands on these individual volumes! The more erotica on our shelves the better.

Rear View (Backside Selfies)

A naughty woman awaiting her punishment, or a woman at peace in the sunlight. Perhaps both.

My body is a kaleidoscope of lines and curves, its movement feminine and fierce. Turn me one way, I am solitude and silence. Turn me another, I am an unrealized explosion, the quiescent potential of my shoulders and hips no longer able to hide their power with a soft and demure facade.

Sometimes I just want to know what I look like. Every week my body changes. This week it's a little softer, the edges less clean. It's the holidays. I don't worry about it. I'll be back to my gym schedule soon. I'm  watching my body for new lines - like new decorations - new muscles and new definition. I've started taking selfies with a tripod.

For now, I celebrate this version of myself. I will have some spanked photos for you all soon, but I hope you enjoy these "blank canvas" shots as well. I am proud of my body and who I am inside it. 

Dear Dirty Diary #1

Dear Dirty Diary,

I was disappointed that Daddy and his Naughty Daughter didn’t make an appearance last night. We’d had every intention to play those parts to their nastiest and fullest, but instead real life family required our attention. This Naughty Daughter’s spanking was delayed.

Mr. W came up behind me just after I wrote the above paragraph. “I’m starting a new series!” He liked the idea of the Dirty Diary and I had every intention of coming back to write about a fantasy scenario in lieu of the one that did not get a chance to play out last night. But first, we needed to string the lights on the Christmas tree.

Diary, I need to share this with you, even though it has nothing to do with spanking. Every year, Mr. W teases me that there is a Skid Row Christmas album, and every year, for just a moment, I get excited and believe him. They are my favorite hair metal band from the 80's/90's and I inexplicably long for a Christmas album from them. Well this year, he put together a playlist on Spotify for us to listen to while decorating the tree. The first song was nothing I knew. Just as the second song was about to play, he told me to go look at the app. It was “Jingle Bells” by Skid Row. At first it didn’t even register. Then tears came to my eyes. Ridiculous as it seemed, it felt as if he’d found me a Christmas miracle, as if he’d willed it into existence just for me.

We finished the lights and hung our two 2007 commemorative ornaments – we’re coming up on 12 years married next May. Then the plan was to wait for “the kids” (my 23-year old stepson and his girlfriend) to join us for decorating the rest of the tree. However, when the girlfriend got here, they decided to run out for lunch.

“Well,” I said to Mr. W, I can work on my diary entry, or you can spank me and take some photos before they get back.”

You can see which we chose. As he bent me over the chair, he told me, “Sometimes naughty daughters just need a good paddling.”

This Naughty Daughter couldn’t agree more, and can’t wait for the rest of her paddling as soon as there is time to fully punish her on the bare. This paddling, despite the nude photos, was over leggings.

Note on the paddle: A curvaceous and balanced piece designed and crafted by Mr. W, the paddle is knotty alder and is still unfinished. The pain is deep and thuddy, exactly what you imagine for a traditional home or school punishment paddling. It matches my fantasy of how this scene should feel on a very naughty bottom.

A Little Tease

Mr. W teased my bottom with two firm swats of a new walnut paddle he designed and crafted. I don't mark easily. We were in the master bathroom and I watched both our eyes widen in the mirror as these blooms rose upon my backside. I couldn't help but share the tease here in return.

I'm hoping to have smuttier pics and a sexy punishment story to go with it by the end of the weekend.

This paddle is so beautiful - sanded so smoothly that it feels like silk until - smack! - it takes on a new sensation. It's the perfect size for OTK or lap play. I can imagine Mr. W enjoying the wheelbarrow position, the paddle practically bouncing itself back and forth from cheek to cheek.

He knows I'm up for punishment play and a very sore bottom this weekend. The anticipation is distracting me from all other thoughts and activities, so here I am, naughty again, sneaking in a quick post and just a little tease of paddle bruises to come.

An Early Stock-ing Stuffer

Stock-ing stuffer, get it? Because I am stuffed into the stocks! Still dorky after all these years.

We had a delicious first time playing with the stocks. Mr. W built a pillory that allowed us to place the main piece at three different heights (for standing, kneeling on the floor, and lying on a bench at mid-height). We were both overwhelmed with the sexiness of the thing, having both grown-up with fantasies of punished village women of imagined yore, their plump buttocks whipped on the town square for all the world to see, unable to cover their backsides or their faces due to the restraint of the stockades. And yet, Mr. W also made safety and my emotional comfort his first precaution. Much as we both wanted him to thrash my backside and leave me trembling, we played slowly and mostly lightly, ensuring more vicious sessions to come.

The flogger warmed my bottom, back, and thighs as I stood restrained at both wrists and the neck. This was followed by the strap on just my cheeks, bottom to top. He released me then and I allowed myself to fall to my knees, but we skipped the stocks at that height and moved to mid-height and the bench. The bench has been with us throughout our life together as well as our visible spanking life - it features in both Introducing Abby and The Breaking Point, the first and last of the Naughty Abby videos. It was "on set" for Please Not My Hands, right next to the front door and the chair where I received my tawse strokes, and I remember how hard we made love on it after the cameras were off.

Now, I lay upon my belly, legs angled to the ground and resting on my tiptoes, wrists and neck constrained. My hair hung in my face, leaving me feeling hidden and anonymous. From head to toe, I was all too aware of my exposition and it was easy to invite dread into the scene, but Mr. W tickled that same head to toe route with the tips of the flogger, just light wiggles against my body. The hair against my cheeks matched his tickling and my skin lit up, every cell open to sensation.

Just as I was welcoming the teases of leather upon my skin, the deerhide was traded for rattan. The cane cut deep with a thud. A welt rose so quickly that Mr. W's index finger was admiring its width before I caught my breath from the stroke. On to the next stroke and I began to cry. The strokes felt so deep, even though you can see from the photographic evidence that they were just right for easier play. We are still learning what it is like to play with my new shape, with the muscles of new size, with their exposure where there was once layers of thicker flesh. I am still learning what punishment on my new parts feels like. Liquid from both nose and eyes flowed to the carpet and to a support beam that ran across the base of the pillory.

Mr. W set the cane down and stroked my hair, then gently told me to hold on. He returned with tissues and held them to my eyes and nose. Although I was capable of releasing my arms, when he held the tissue to my nose and told me to blow, I blew, fully in his care and control. It was my favorite moment of the scene. It was so intimate, even more-so than the exposure, whipping, and caning of my ass.

We continued with a short caning. I wanted beautiful marks and he gave them to me in just the right proportion. It was just enough that afterwards, as I straddled and rode him on the couch, I whispered, "Next time. More vicious. I want it hard." Hands on my hips, he agreed. "I wanted you to feel comfortable this time. So next time I can beat you terribly." All the good muscles clenched around him. "Yes please," I whispered. Then just, "Yes, yes, yes..."

Shapes of Things to Come

Hey world, just a note to say I'm possibly back but definitely better than ever! I took some time to work on my health and well-being. Check out the butt that comes with a little self love (and a whole lot of squats)! Took this photo last night and knew it was time to pop on here and say hi.

Also, check out what we found and Mr. W refinished. We're playing with this later...