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PURPOSE-BUILT FLOGGING HORSES

Whilst there is clearly no need to own specialist spanking furniture, the use of such items can add to the eroticism of the scene and can possess certain advantages over normal conventional pieces of furniture, making it a lot easier to restrain a wriggling, unwilling spankee. Punishment benches or spanking horses often carry built-in restraints in the form of straps to secure the submissive’s legs and arms to the horse. Being restrained can be very arousing for the submissive, but also makes the spanking much safer, especially when using an implement such as a cane. Too much movement might lead to the spankee being hit in the wrong place. All of the parts of a spanking bench have been designed with one thing in mind – maximum access to the posterior. If used for erotic spanking play, they are also designed for the spankee’s comfort with soft padding, so that they can concentrate on the attention their bottom is receiving from the spanker.

Purpose-built punishment benches or horses, well-equipped with straps and shackles, are often in use in modern day BDSM play, as in the example below:

Louis Malteste’s drawing below illustrates a slightly less sophisticated version of a purpose-built horse that might have been used in the past to restrain an unwilling ‘victim’ for punishment. This particular type of horse was designed for the victim to be laid along its narrow length with their legs sitting astride the horse, presumably helping to spread the buttocks wider to receive the strap, cane or birch. 

Here is an edited extract from Rollin Hand’s story ‘The Mills Governess’. This story revolves around an inventor who time travels back to the C19 in order to witness a young lady being chastised. The young lady, Emily, is soundly birched secured over a punishment horse like that shown above by her governess, Miss Harwell, on the orders of her uncle, Cedric. Emily had been discovered ‘cavorting’ with  a stable lad in the hayloft at midnight.

‘At precisely 4:00 on August 24, 1897 Emily was ushered into Cedric’s study escorted by Mrs Carstairs, the housekeeper and Jenny, a young maid. She wore a thin white chemise with drawers underneath. Emily gasped when she entered the study. She had been told what her punishment would be, but the color left her face when her eyes lighted on the punishment horse with buckling straps flanked by a bucket holding several birch rods. The rods were willow, made up of half a dozen slender switches bound by ribbons at the top. 

“Uncle Cedric, please,” pleaded Emily. 

Emily could scarcely believe the horrible fate laid before her. Emily was terrified. She was to be whipped, and the hour of her execution was here. She was helpless. Involuntarily she clenched her buttocks in apprehension….

“As your uncle, Emily, your conduct is my responsibility. You have behaved abominably. Imagine! Cavorting with a stable boy. Can you imagine the disgrace? But you probably never thought of that, did you?” 

Emily hung her head, ashamed. If only… 

“So you will be thrashed by your governess. Thirty Six strokes, delivered with the full force of Miss Harwell’s stout right arm.” 

Emily’s head shot up. So many. It would be unbearable. 

“No…no…” she began to sob. 

“Prepare her,” said Cedric gruffly to Mrs Carstairs.

Mrs Carstairs and Jenny each took an arm. Emily dug her heels into the floor, resisting. “Come along, Miss Emily, your Uncle is right. Come on girl, it’s time.” 

The two servants hoisted Emily astride the punishment horse face down. They buckled her wrists and her legs to the legs. In this position her buttocks jutted prominently, positioned over the horse’s top. Emily squirmed, testing the restraints, but it did no good, it only made her bottom jiggle lewdly. 

Cedric nodded to Miss Harwell and said, “Miss Harwell, please commence with the punishment.” 

Miss Harwell took up a birch rod and swished it experimentally. It made a whining sound. Emily stiffened and looked back, her eyes wild eyed with fear. 

“Face the front please, Emily, and try to conduct yourself with some dignity,” said Miss Harwell as she tucked the birch under her arm. 

She reached for the hem of Emily’s chemise, and grasping it, lifted it up to expose Emily’s lushly rounded bottom clad only in thin drawers. Emily protested this indignity, but then shrieked when Miss Harwell placed her fingers in the drawstring of the drawers and slid them down, baring Emily’s bottom. 

“No, no, please,” wailed Emily in total embarrassment. 

Miss Harwell took her stance to Emily’s right. She carefully measured the birch rod so that the splayed end would fall across both cheeks evenly. Emily flinched as she felt her bottom tapped lightly. Satisfied that her position was correct, she drew back her arm. The birch rod made a whining sound as it descended and a dry thwack! as it landed. Emily screeched in pain. It was worse than any of Miss Harwell’s previous punishments. 

“One”, intoned, Mrs Carstairs.  

Parallel pink lines sprang up on the crowns of Emily’s buttocks where the rod had struck. Emily wriggled and cried out. Miss Harwell lined up the rod again. 

Swiiishh…thwack​!

The impact caused a fleshy ripple of the cheeks of Emily’s rear. 

Another pitiful cry from Emily. “Ouch, please, it hurts so!” 

Swiisshhh…whick​! Another hard swipe from the rod made Emily arch her head back in pain. It must be stinging like hell.

Emily’s hips writhed within her constraints as if this might alleviate the sting. Emily could scarcely believe how much this hurt! Oh, the price of folly! But all the squirming did was make her buttocks jiggle lasciviously. 

Swissshhh….huick​! Number 4.  Another cry from Emily.   

Swiishhh….thwack​! “5”. The pink lines were merging into an overall hot pink hue. 

“Ow! Ow!” she yipped. 

Swiisshhh….huick​!” 6″. Right in the fold at the top of the thighs a tender spot. 

Having found a rhythm, Miss Harwell now started whipping in earnest, delivering a stroke, pausing, then pulling back her arm for the next one. Emily grew more vocal now, yelping as the birch striped her naked buttocks which grew redder with every swish. As the rod landed she would tense and throw her head back. Her bottom jiggled as the rod struck. 

At number 12, Miss Harwell stopped to get another rod. Emily sagged over the horse crying. Emily’s rear was striped red. The birch wasn’t heavy, it was more supple and swishy than anything else, but the cumulative effect felt like bee stings on top of bee stings. 

Miss Harwell was ready to start up again. 

Cedric said, “Please continue. I don’t think you have had nearly enough, Emily.” 

The whipping commenced again, stroke after swishy stroke delivered rhythmically, painting Emily’s buttocks a deeper red and making the girl scream in anguish. 

Emily cried hoarsely, “arrrhhh…ahhh…uhh” at each stroke.

Cedric watched her squirm like she was doing a bottom jiggling dance in tune to the birch that scorched her shapely seat in such a pitiless manner.

Miss Harwell prepared the final rod, shaking the withies to spread them out. As she swooshed it through the air, Cedric could see Emily flinch at the sound. This time she laid them on in hard even strokes. As each swishing stroke struck, Emily cried out in pain and raised up, her buttocks jiggling with the splat of the rod. She was no longer in control of her body but was writhing to the tune of the punishing birch. 

Cedric motioned to Miss Harwell. “Finish it,” he said. 

Miss Harwell nodded and drew back her arm, determined to make the last few memorable. 

Swiisshh….huick​!   

“Arhhh….ah…ah..” bleated Emily. The hardest one yet. She ground her hips against the horse in a slow circular motion. 

Swiishh….thwack​!”34.” Emily’s buttocks bounced lewdly.   

Swiiissshhh….thwick! “35”. Emily humped up and down, in a frenzied motion.  

Swiisshhh….huick​!”36″.  Emily  was sobbing and blubbering in anguish, probably unaware that all thirty six stripes had been delivered. 

Cedric turned to Miss Harwell. “Well done. I think Miss Emily has been appropriately chastised.” 

“Thank you sir,” she replied and placed the rod in the bucket with the other spent birches. 

“Will you ever do anything like this again, Emily?” 

“No, no, oh, no, sir,” blubbed Emily. 

“Release Emily and take her to her room,” said Cedric.’

*****

Here are some other examples of this type of horse. The first is one used in a number of Nu-West films. This particular one shows one of their models, Katy, being whipped whilst firmly strapped down across the horse, her buttocks slightly raised and projecting beyond the end. It looks very comfortable, although I’m sure her bottom didn’t think so!

In this example, a young  lady is severely thrashed with a dressage whip as she straddles a well-padded horse:

Nu-West also often employed a sloping box horse to good effect, perhaps more comfortable than a ‘straddling’ horse:

Here is the same ‘box’ in use in a film called ‘Discipline South African style’. The film was a recreation/reenactment of a supposedly true incident, in which a young Swedish woman was severely caned in the 1950s for violating the country’s racial segregation laws by socializing with a black musician. She is given 24 strokes by a young lady police officer tasked with the job of caning minor offenders. In her three years of service she had apparently delivered 150 canings!

The young Swedish lady and police woman who delivers her caning:

The woman is escorted by another police woman to the box and instructed to raise her dress, lower her knickers and bend over the box:

The assistant police woman then attaches some restraints to her wrists and a strap across the back of her knees:

The other police woman then commences to cane her. The caning is delivered at a steady pace over the course of approximately 3½ minutes

The young lady certainly feels each stroke, kicking her feet and yelling, her eyes wide open in disbelief at the searing sting of the cane! Interestingly, her bottom doesn’t seem to be too heavily marked at the end of her ordeal, so I guess it was just good acting on her behalf?

more to come…