The Many Flavors of a Spanking Scene

Spanking scenes, like sex scenes, are often deeply personal and intimate scenes, and they have the true potential of being a novel game-changer. They can advance the plot, have a transformational effect on a major character, or ramp up the sexual tension. 

As a writer, I often read as a writer first and a reader second. So when I come upon a spanking scene, I usually have my observation cap on.

So, because it's time for me to get my feet wet here in Writer's Blogland, I thought it would be fun to come up with a list of the different flavors of spanking scenes.

The Wham Bam

You know what this one is. Emotions! Intensity! Arguing! Maybe our lady friend stomps her foot or throws a glass against the wall, or screams something dire like, “You can't tell me what to do!” or “What are you going to do about it?” or “You're not the boss of me!” which...you know...clearly translates into I need to be spanked now.

“How dare you tell me what to do! You're a big ogre! A big, bossy, swaggering, ogre of a man who thinks he can --”

He crossed the room in two large strides, grasping her firmly by the upper arm. She continued to rant and rave, but he said not a word, as he bent her across his knee and delivered a sharp swat. She howled and twisted but was no match for his vice-like grip.

Here's a quote from “Giving Up,” by Cammie Lynn (one of mine): 

“Enough.” She heard the quiet command in his voice from the doorway, and she spun around to face him. His eyes glowered and his arms were across his chest...

“No. Not enough,” she snapped. 

His eyes narrowed at her and his lips tightened. She bent and picked up the other shoe. She hefted it, glaring at him before she threw it at the closet with all the strength she could muster. “I am sick of being everyone’s servant around here!” She bent to pick up another shoe, and when her arm reeled back to throw it, it was suddenly pinned against her as Jake grabbed her from behind and wrapped his arms around her. She fought against him with all she had, but he was far stronger and he easily overpowered her. It made her even angrier. He held her while she kicked and pushed and screamed.

“Let me go!” she shrieked.

“No. Lacey, stop,” he ordered.

But she was so angry. She knew she was having an all-out tantrum but she felt all her anger, frustration, and pent-up emotions spilling over, and she was powerless to stop. Finally, in one quick and deliberate movement, he bent her against his leg.

Swat!

She felt his palm smack hard against her rear end. It was a sharp, stinging swat, and she immediately felt the fight go out of her. He took her firmly by the arm, marched her over to the bed, and sat her down on his knee.

The brief thought crossed her mind that if her mother had just seen what he did, she’d be calling the police. She pushed the thought out of her mind, and buried her head against his neck as she crumpled against him and felt the tears come. She didn’t feel threatened by him. She wasn’t afraid of him. She had the sudden, overwhelming desire to pour it all out to him.

His hand moved to her jaw and turned her face firmly to his. His eyes were still fiery and his jaw clenched. “Are you done?” he asked evenly.

“I’m sorry, Jake,” she sniffled, and his eyes softened.

The Slow and Sexy

Then you've got the slow and sexy. Phooo-eee these are hot scenes. This scene is slower, typically in a bedroom or similar situation which lends itself to an evening in which a good time will be had by all. There is often a verbal cue or anticipatory build-up, and the heroine finds her heart pounding, palms sweaty, and her girly parts are going all tingly. Forget make-out scenes and second base, peeps. In the spanking world, foreplay doesn't get any better than this. For example...

He sat on the edge of the bed with his arms crossed on his chest, his gaze moving over the length of her body as if undressing her with his eyes.

“Come here,” he ordered, in a low voice. She felt the heat of his words as her feet moved forward of their own accord, her eyes taking in the breadth of his lap.

What would it feel like to be stretched across that lap?

Would he?

Standing just a few inches from him, she was immediately aware of how much bigger he was than her...so much stronger...what would the complete loss of control at his hands feel like? His hands spanned her waist, as he did what she'd been hoping he would. He turned her, bending her across his knee so that her torso lay on the bed and her belly hit his thighs. The blood pounded in her ears, and her nerves were on fire as she felt the warmth of his hand travel to the edge of her skirt.

“What have we here?” he murmured, lifting her skirt. He made a low “tsk” sound, as if chiding her for the flimsy panties she wore under her skirt.

“That's quite a naughty little find under your skirt, little girl,” he said. His hand circled her smooth skin. She panted, in anticipation of what she knew would come.

“You know what happens to naughty girls.”

Though she anticipated the first stinging slap of his large palm on her naked skin, she gasped when his hand descended sharply. She felt the sting, followed by warmth -- oh, how it hurt, but every nerve was on edge, and her desire for him mounted with each stroke of his palm.

The Spanking that Didn't Happen

It's coming! Someone's been naughty, and someone's getting spanked. There's the build up, the anticipation, waiting for the event with baited breath! And then an alarm goes off and our hero has to go to battle, or the phone rings and it's an emergency, someone knocks on the door and our heroine's bottom is saved for the moment. My favorite “spanking that didn't happen” was in R. L. Matthewson's “Perfection.”

"Where's the last slice of ham?" he asked casually as though he weren't currently stalking her around the kitchen island.

She worried her bottom lip as she considered her choices and kept moving her ass away from Trevor, who looked damn determined. That was understandable, she supposed. He was a Bradford she'd just screwed out of food. Her eyes shot to the open kitchen door, but she really didn't think she'd make it there in time and judging by the expression on Trevor's face, he knew it too.

"It's gone," she said, swallowing nervously.

"I see," he said, following her at a leisurely pace. "You gave my ham to the dog, didn't you?"

"Maybe," she mumbled.

Trevor sighed heavily. "I guess there's no choice but to punish you," he said in an offhand tone.

"What do you mean?" she asked, already knowing that he would never hurt her, but really when a man well over six feet tall with an insane amount of muscle says he's going to punish her it's natural to get a little nervous.

He simply shrugged. "I guess I'm going to have to spank your ass."

Zoe blinked and then blinked again before she burst out laughing. "You're kidding, right?" she asked as she slowed her pace so that she could catch her breath.

"I'm afraid not, Zoe," he said, sounding serious, really serious, but she noted the amusement in his eyes and his lips twitching as he stopped on the opposite side of the island. She paused mid-stride and jumped back to what she deemed at that moment was safety, the opposite side of the kitchen island......

Licking her lips nervously, she shot a quick look at the open kitchen door.

"You'll never make it," Trevor said, chuckling.

"We'll just have to see about that, now won't we?" she said, meeting his eyes in a clear challenge as she closed the lid on his cooler.

"Yes, we will," he murmured as he started around the right side of the counter, forcing her to take a step towards the left. He paused and moved to the right and she copied his movements, trying not to giggle as he faked a lunge to the left and made her jump...

He shifted to the left quickly and reached out to grab her, making her squeal excitedly and jump to the right where he was already heading. She tried to turn and run, but he already had his arms around her waist.

"Gotcha," he said, laughing as he pulled her back against him. She tried to squirm out of his hold, but he wasn't having that.

"Take your punishment like a big girl," he teased as he pressed a surprising kiss to her cheek.

"You are not spanking my ass!" she said, trying to squirm out of his grasp.

Trevor sighed long and loud as he dragged her over to her small kitchen table. "I'm afraid you've left me very little choice," he said, sounding both amused and serious as he hooked the leg of a chair with his foot and yanked it forward.

"It was just a slice of ham! If you let me go I'll buy you an entire grinder for lunch," she offered desperately.

"I wish it were that simple," he said, sighing heavily as if what he was about to do truly pained him as he sat down on the chair, pulling her down with him until she somehow found herself lying across his lap on her stomach.

"How in the hell did you just do that?" she asked, impressed that he'd managed to get her on her stomach and over his knee with very little effort or before she even knew what the hell he was doing. When she tried to move off his lap she found it impossible, especially with that huge arm of his lying across her back, preventing her from moving so much as an inch.

"Trevor," she said nervously as he shifted in his chair to get more comfortable and sighed contently.

"I believe I owe your cute little ass a spanking," he murmured...

"Why are you pulling my pants down?" she demanded as she felt her soft plaid pajama pants yanked down below her bottom.

"I believe skin on skin action is more effective, don't you?" he asked as he traced a lazy path around the edge of her panties and in that moment she was glad that she took the extra time this morning to search for the pretty pink panties she bought over the weekend that matched her pajama pants to perfection instead of just grabbing a pair of her old panties from her bureau.

"And I believe letting me up so I can get ready for work would be even better, don't you?" she said, trying to shift to the side in hopes of rolling off his knees so she could make her escape.

"Well, I guess I could do that, but I'm not going to," he mumbled as he absently ran his hand over her bottom almost earning a betraying moan from her.

And then suddenly he remembers they vowed they were going to take a break from sex, and drops her like a sack of potatoes before they can't stop themselves. (This is such a fun read, by the way.)

The Very Serious Disciplinary Scene

I must confess, these scenes are ones I sometimes like even more than the erotic ones. There is no sex. This is not play. The heroine did something deserving of punishment, and our hero is going to make damn sure she knows her behavior is unacceptable. 

Here's a preview excerpt from one of my paranormals. 

Jackson could not believe what he was seeing. No way. No friggin' way was she going directly against an explicit command. And right in front of his brothers! He'd flown back quietly, eager to be home to her sooner than he'd anticipated. Shit was going down, and he wanted to make sure she was safe, and ready for what was brewing. Wyeth, Carson, and Bison joined him.

Wyeth looked amused. Carson looked sternly at both of them. Leah looked at Camira apologetically. And Bison gave Jackson a look that could not be misconstrued.

You know what to do.

Hell, yeah, he knew what he had to do. He needed no reminder.

“Camira,” he said, the deep sternness in his voice barely tempering his anger. “What do you think you're doing?”

She looked up at him, wide-eyed.

“I...didn't know...” she began.

“I'd be home so soon?”

She bit her lip. Enough with this already. She shot a glare at Leah, as he took her firmly by the hand and marched so quickly to the stairs to the Sanctuary she trotted to keep up with him. He toyed with the idea of lifting her and flying to their room, but decided the walk of shame would increase her trepidation.

“Jackson! Jackson, what are you doing? I didn't mean to...I know I went against what you said, but I...ohhhh...are you angry with me?”

She didn't know by now how much he expected her to obey him? Well she sure as hell would when he was finished.

He said nothing as he marched her through the double doors and toward the hallway that led to their bedroom.

“Jackson, I'm sorry!” she wailed. He held on tightly to her hand, fairly pushed her into the room, shut and locked the door behind them.

Oh, she would be.

Still, he said nothing. He'd never felt such a strong desire to punish her. He'd never been truly angry when he disciplined her. Now, it felt so imperative he could think of nothing else. He felt the anger, his justifiable need to discipline her for deliberate disobedience. How could she put herself at risk like that? How could she?

Still holding onto her tightly, he pulled out the straight-backed desk chair from his desk, the feet scraping along the floor. He sat, and yanked her bodily across his knees.

“Jackson! No, no, please don't, I --” she began, silenced as he pulled down her pants and bared her to him. She was beautiful, but he could think of nothing else but turning her ass bright red, teaching her to obey him, his duty and obligation his only goal. He hated her pleading, and he knew she was scared by his anger. He took a deep breath. He would not wait to punish her until he was calm. But he would be sure he was in control.

Still, she screamed at the first searing smack of his hand on her naked skin.

He lifted his hand again, and even in his anger he was conscious of his power and how easily he could hurt her. He would only hurt her enough to give her a stinging bottom that would remind her of obedience to him every time she sat the next few days – and damn it, keep her safe – but he would never do lasting harm. Even in his fury, he knew he would not, could not harm her.

“Don't....you....ever....disobey...me,” he growled, punctuating every word with a sound, stinging smack of his hand. “You could've been hurt,” he said with another sharp wallop. “Or worse!” His voice caught on the last word, as he delivered another hard spank. She was sniffling by the fifth swat, twisting, trying to get away from the searing heat of his palm, but he held her in place. When he got to twenty, she lay limp over his lap, sniffling quietly. And just like that, his anger was gone. Completely diffused. He pulled her pants up and swung her out, up in his arms. Her head sank to his chest as she cried.

“I shouldn't have done that,” she whispered. “I'm so sorry...”

~~~~~~~~

And this is really just the beginning.

What are you favorite scenes to write? Which are your favorite to read?