The puffy, ultra-short skirt, held outwards by a stiff, frilly underskirt. The sound of heels on the wooden staircase. The demure expression on her face, determined not to trip and spill the precious cargo.
The warm spice and soft pastry, soaking up the cream. Sugarless tea to offset the intense sweetness.
The criss-cross of the fishnets that hug her thighs and calves.
Her round globes thrust out, awaiting the kiss of crop, flogger and paddles. Her head hung low, fighting the vertigo of looking down from the upstairs gallery.
Knickers, crisp, white and taut against her smooth pudenda.
The blush of her rosy cheeks, warm and ripe from their spanking. The sudden rush and whoosh of orgasms so intense that the linen bears the marks of gush, blood, even pee.
I revel in such memories because we won’t be able to make new ones for a couple of months and more. And I rejoice in the sure and certain knowledge that she’s mine.
Why do so many of us find sexy French maids so utterly irresistible?
What is it about the French maid‘s uniform that has so many of us Tops or Doms reaching for our crops or paddles?
Is it the bell-shaped, prematurely attenuated skirt that skims the thighs and usually the stocking tops? Oh yes, definitely stockings, there will be extra punishment if the wearer has decided to put on pantyhose or tights.
Is it the fact that the underskirt or petticoat forces the skirt to reveal the upper thighs and lower slopes of the bottom cheeks of the wearer? Or is it indeed that postage stamp-sized little apron that is usually positioned so that it covers the wearer’s pudenda?
Is it the possibility of upskirt voyeurism when the maid is on a stepladder, dusting books from the higher shelves?
Is it the generously cleavage-exposing décolletage of the bodice?
If there is a headpiece, does this add to the caricature of the domestic servant of yore presented by this ensemble?
Perhaps it is that there is an immediate assumption of a master or mistress/servant relationship? This is something that implicitly suggests a power exchange, the possibility of needing to correct inappropriate behaviour, which can be attended to simply by having one‘s charge bend forward over a banister, the arm of the sofa or across the knee.
My kitten and I were fortunate enough to be staying on a charming little hotel in the Canary Islands whose waitresses all wore a slightly more conservative version of this outfit. Every time we were served in the dining room or on the terrace, my pulse would race; I would ask the feline one if she could borrow one of these uniforms for a play session in our tastefully appointed suite. No, she couldn’t, she protested: and so my mind turned to having both her and one of the ‘real’ maids bend over the antique dining table in our suite so that I could discipline them both.
There are some other details of the attire that need to be carefully noted: the maid must have her hair up at all times – this not only renders her more attractive, by exposing the nape of her neck, it is a practical, hygiene consideration. She must wear a pair of killer heels so that she totters from one table to another or up and down the stairs.
Stockings – either the traditional variety or hold-ups – are another essential item of apparel. Sheer black will do very nicely but fishnets complement the outfit best.
Your maid must adopt a subservient, eyes downcast demeanour at all times. No request, however unreasonable, should be refused and close attention must be paid to her department. She is wearing that get-up for a reason – the sooner her master finds fault, the sooner the fun can begin.
Unless previously negotiated, knickers are absolutely essential: they must be impractical, lacy, and ridiculously small. If they are tight enough, they will enhance very nicely the pudenda (shaved obviously) of your employee.
Since you have your very own maid on hand, I recommend starting a scene with her serving some sort of light snack and a drink. She will thus be obliged to totter around on her heels while carrying a tray.
How long her knickers stay on is a matter for you and your maid: you can at least begin her punishment with knickers in place and then remove them, or lower them first, as part of the humiliation involved in corporal punishment.
I can’t conceive of a session like this that doesn’t result in some vigorous, sexual activity: now minus her knickers, your maid is readily available; simply by bending her forward you have access to her nether regions. On her knees, she presents a delightful spectacle, ponytail bobbing, as she ministers to your desire for fellatio.
Have her wear her outfit often – And punish her frequently for any misdemeanours, real or imagined.
Back in the bad old days of CP movies – and I still remember visiting shops in Soho, London and buying a really bad copy of a ten minute movie on VHS for the princely sum of £50 – it was all very formulaic.
A young female, dressed in school uniform (although the skirt was always ridiculously and appealingly short), would enter a spartan room and wait nervously. An older adult, usually male, would then enter and admonish her for some minor infraction of the school rules. She would then go over his knee or over the desk and be spanked over her minuscule skirt.
After a while, said skirt would get lifted (to howls of protest) and she would be spanked over her school knickers, although there was a possible variation at this point when the knickers were declared “not regulation” and some extra swats would be added.
Eventually the knickers would come down (usually just the top of the thighs) and she would be spanked and then strapped, paddled or caned ‘on the bare’.
The tearful miscreant would then be dispatched to the corner – skirt up, knickers down – to contemplate her misdemeanours while the camera would zoom in on her blushing posterior, sometimes with a cutaway to her tearful face.
End of movie.
There was always the added excitement of having to wait hours for a clip to download over a dial-up connection and the low resolution image that would flicker across one’s screen; this added to the overall clandestine and illicit nature of indulging one’s kink.
Some producers (and I will refrain from naming names to protect the guilty) would even run the footage from the second camera in a pathetic attempt to lengthen the movie and have you believe that this was an entirely new set of swats. You knew it was the second camera because the white balance was completely different from camera one.
The technical quality was usually beyond the control of the production house, but the lack of creativity certainly was not. It was shockingly bad – and showed nothing but contempt for the audience.
Now, I know there were studios that were producing better material than this – Real Spankings and Strictly English for example – but your run-of-the-mill spanking movie generally had all the charm of a wet November afternoon.
Thankfully, eventually, the sun came out: not only was HD video out there as the default standard (1080p and them 4K) but connection speeds got faster and faster meaning that streaming video became the norm.
At the same time trailblazing producers – and here the lovely Pandora / Blake springs to mind – were reinventing the genre. Feminist porn, high production values, movies with an actual plot or a proper theme, models who obviously engaged and were excited by the reinvention of spanking erotica.
Social media made it easier to engage directly with performers and producers, give them feedback on their excellent work and find out which spanking conventions they would be attending.
I was particularly impressed with Alex Reynolds – not just her amazing, curvy body but also her clever, edgy writing and her obvious enjoyment of the scene.
A couple of years back we even had a play date on one of her trips to the UK. Suffice it to say, I wasn’t disappointed!
This post set out to be a review of a particular set of films about Strictmoor Academy – very authentic, period drama-type films that feature multiple actors in an authentic, academic institutional environment in new England in the late 1950s/early 60s. However, the preamble has gone on for so long that this post will have to stand as it is.
In my next post, I will describe the delights of Strictmoor, and congratulate the production team on a job extremely well done.
Naturally, they get a little cross when people steal their material – having spent countless hours and dollars bringing it to fruition.
There really is no excuse for stealing porn – most of us can afford the modest sums asked to subscribe to various websites. And if you, like me, value the quality of CP erotica, you must realise that you can’t get something for nothing.
One thing that still does irk me a little though is when production houses try to strand their content into various themes (schoolgirl, cheerleader, girl next door and so on) in order to make you subscribe to individual streams; i’d much rather be asked for more money to have access to everything they produce.
That’s one hangover from the bad old days that should be buried with the uninspiring, formulaic old movies.
A smoothly-shaven, clean-smelling, sweet-tasting cunt is one of the greatest delights on the sexual smorgasbord
I’ve already elaborated on my first ever glimpse of a shaven, female pudenda – it was one of those heart stopping moments in childhood when you feel a little hot at the back of the neck and your breathing becomes very shallow. Sexual awakening? I’m not sure it was quite that, but there was something disturbing my hormonal balance for sure.
Apart from the odd glimpse of a female snatch, the rest of my ‘sexual education’, when it came to the object of this man’s desire, was in the adult magazines of the 1970s: Knave, Fiesta, Playboy, Mayfair, the list goes on and on. The fact is, they were mainly filled with young ladies displaying their nakedness thatched with a veritable briar patch of pubic forestry. Usually, there wasn’t even an attempt to tame the growth with trimming or topiary.
My developing sexual tastes always harked back to that very first, that very smooth cunt that had flashed across my vision for a couple of seconds at most.
Now and again, one of the magazines would advertise on its front cover, ‘Shaven Traffic Warden Special’, and I would rush to that photo shoot to see a beautifully bare cunt underneath the traffic warden’s regalia, usually framed by fishnet stockings and suspenders.
Back then, nice girls generally didn’t shave – the most they would do was to ensure that their high cut swimming costumes didn’t reveal their true hair colour. But I remember persuading one or two girlfriends to shave for me, or even – when I was extremely fortunate – to let me shave them.
That was another occasional morsel thrown in my direction from the adult entertainment industry: the odd top shelf magazine would do a photo shoot with one girl shaving another, or perhaps the girl was shaving herself. The before and after pics were a beauty to behold – underneath that ugly duckling of tangled scrub lay a deliciously smooth, puffy pussy in all its swanlike glory.
Gradually, the adult industry started to insist that performers either sported a Brazilian landing strip or went the whole hog and removed everything. Where the adult industry leads, the beauty industry will often follow.
Women were no longer obliged to depilate themselves using a razor and shaving cream: suddenly there was depilatory cream, electrolysis, waxing and, later on, laser hair removal.
I rejoiced in this newfound smoothness – and was pleased to note that I no longer had to persuade a girl to ‘take it all off’, because often it either had been or was so sparse as to require only a brief pass of my razor to finish the job.
I’ve read articles by some feminists who believe that removing a woman’s pubic hair is tantamount to sanctioning paedophilia. Of course everybody is entitled to their opinion and their choice of pubic hair style, but nothing could be further from the truth in my case. The owner of the cunt must be a fully fledged, adult woman giving her consent.
Of course there is an element of age play – be it women dressing up as schoolgirls or submissives shaving their pudendae. I have been delighted to see that more submissives than not will assume that a smooth cunt is a sign of deference.
Just for the record, what exactly are the advantages of going smooth?
It looks beautiful – that delightful little crease that bisects the vulva is there for all to see. Incidentally, I find images that are too gynaecologically detailed to be much less arousing than those that just display the fold and allow the viewer to use their imagination That delicious little cleft shows through much better when hitting by tight (hopefully white) knickers – but don’t call it a cameltoe
3. If your thing is oral sex – giving it to your lady rather than receiving – a completely smooth set of labia is absolutely delightful. It rather puts me in mind of high-quality seafood.
For the cunnilingus recipient, there is an added sensitivity bonus
5. There is certainly a submissive aspect to insisting that it is removed and kept smooth
6. The depilatory process in itself can be enormously arousing – and checking one’s workmanship can only be done with the most sensitive part of the body, the tongue
7. The pussy will smell and taste much fresher and healthier
The adult industry’s influence is now such that – among women of a certain class and region in the UK – pudendal depilation is taken for granted; the new kid on the block is ‘anal bleaching’. This gives the woman a porn star look – doing away with dark coloured skin puckered around the anus.
Now I can’t say that this is ever something that has interested me, but times change, so never say never…