New Year’s Eve

Well, what a year it’s been! Can’t say it’s been a blast, but it’s been a lot more bearable thanks to you all. So thank you all for your support, your comments, your messages, or just your simple visits! It means the world to me that people keep enjoying what I do ^^

I’m leaving you with a little tease before we go into the new year… I believe that art should always try and provoke some emotion in the viewer… So I hope this will do just that 


 Ain’t she cocky?


Elle fait la moue et se tortille devant le miroir.

«Mais oui, t’es belle, Julie…


–Bah si…

–Forcément, tu dis ça, t’as pas l’choix…

–J’ai le choix, et t’es belle.


–Je te le dis tous les jours…

–Oui mais à force… J’y crois plus, c’est l’effet de répétition, tu vois ?

–Ah… Donc si je te dis tous les jours que t’es moche…

–Pfff, t’es vraiment nul…»

Elle prend sa poitrine dans ses mains.

«Et mes seins, ils sont comment ?

–Ils sont… très bien ? C’est quoi cette question ?

–Et mon cul ?

–Elles sont parfaites, tes fesses, Julie; tu sais bien que j’adore tes fesses…


–Tu veux juste des compliments ?

–S’ils sont sincères…


Elle fait la moue et fronce les sourcils.

«T’es vraiment, vraiment nul…

–Et toi t’es vraiment, vraiment belle, alors arrête de t’en faire comme ça…


–Bon, il y a bien un petit truc…

–Je le savais ! Tu me trouves dégoûtante…

–Mais non, c’est pas grand chose…

–Quoi, vas-y, dis ?

–Bah tes fesses…»

Elle le regarde. Il la regarde. Elle lève les yeux au ciel.

«Elles sont un peu trop blanches, c’est ça ?


–Elles seraient mieux avec un peu de rouge ?

–Beaucoup de rouge ?

–Ah oui ?

–Je t’assure…

–Je vois… Et tu crois que ça va se faire tout seul, ça ?

–Non, mais si tu viens par ici, je vais t’aider…

Une demi-heure plus tard, elle se tortille de nouveau devant le miroir, regardant par dessus son épaule. Il avait raison, le saligaud, c’est beaucoup mieux avec du rouge…


I don’t tend to stray far away from spanking on this blog, but I thought some variety might be nice from time to time… That, and I love maids 😉

Maybe it would be fun to highlight another fetish besides spanking every month? I don’t know what people would make of that. Let me know, and feel free to offer suggestions!

Anyway, there have been a lot of pictures lately, but stories will be back soon, I promise!

Adven 21 – A Perfect Evening

When he came home, I thought we would have the most perfect evening. We had said we were going to put the tree up that night, something I’d been looking forward to for weeks in this bleakest of years. I had put mulled wine to warm up on the stove, Christmas music was playing…

But the minute he passed the door, everything seemed to go wrong. Well, I say passed the door… I had left my keys in it, locked, and he had to bang on the door for five minutes before I heard him, busy as I was bellowing Christmas songs from the kitchen. Mortified, blushing and looking down, I let him take his coat and shoes off before starting to apologise as best I could. He didn’t let me finish, dismissing me with a wave, and my heart sank.

Sheepishly, I followed him to the living-room where I’d laid out the tree and the many boxes of decorations that we have accumulated over the years. I was ready to put a silly Christmas film on and forget the door incident. But he sighed.

‘Are we doing this tonight?’ he asked, clearly not up for it.

I looked down. ‘Well, we’d said we…’

‘I know, I know, fine…’ he said. My eyes were down, but I could feel his eyes rolling.

‘Did you have a bad day?’ I asked, gently.

‘No, I’m fine, just tired’ was all he said.

Suddenly, I remembered the wine on the stove. ‘Shit!’ I said and ran over there. As I’d feared, it had started to boil. Not a tragedy, in the grand scheme of things, but still… One more thing that wasn’t going right.

‘Can you grab me a beer while you’re in there?’ he called from the living-room. With a sigh, I served a single mugful of mulled wine and got him a beer.

When I came back to the living-room, the tree was up, bare as it was. He was rummaging around in one of the boxes, looking for something. I set the drinks on the table. Well, I tried to. I tripped on a bunch of lights and everything went crashing to the floor, lights, drinks and all. He jumped and took my hand, genuinely worried.

‘Are you okay?’

I sighed.

‘It’s not the evening I wanted…’

‘It’s all right,’ he said, ‘just pick a movie, I’ll get a mop, yeah? Then we can decorate, wrap presents, and it’ll all be okay.’

I wiped tears from my eyes and nodded. He went to get a mop, and I started browsing. Maybe things would be fine after all.

‘Honey?’ he called from the kitchen, ‘What’s in the oven?’

The oven? I thought. The oven. Fuck! The oatmeal cookies I had made were probably completely burnt… I rushed to the oven and, sure enough, smoke billowed out when I opened the door. I bit my lip, and felt tears running down my cheeks.

‘Honey?’ he asked. ‘Are you sure everything’s all right?’

‘No…’ I managed in a tearful little voice, ‘It’s really not…’

‘They’re just cookies, my love, it doesn’t matter…’

‘It’s…’ I started, hesitating, then everything came out at once, ‘It’s everything, it’s covid, it’s not seeing family this year, then the door, and you’re mad about the tree and I burnt the cookies and spilled the wine and…

He shushed me gently and took me in his big, bear arms. I cried my eyes out in his chest. His hand came up to stroke my hair and slowly, I calmed down.

‘Tell me what you need…’ he said.

‘I… I feel so bad, about everything…’

‘Honey… It’s okay…’

‘No… Will you… Will you spank me? And then we can start over…’

‘A nice, cathartic spanking?’

‘Yes… I want to be over your knees… I want to let go… Please?’

Gently, carefully, he took my hand and led me to a chair in the kitchen, where he sat down. I took my jeans down. He was smiling up at me. I blushed. Lovingly, he put me down over his knees, and I abandoned myself to his embrace, to his loving discipline. Despite the pain, I smiled as the guilt left me with each slap of his hand.

Once it was all over, and my tears were exhausted, we decorated the tree, drinking freshly made mugs of mulled wine; we watched a silly Christmas film just like I wanted, and nibbled on burnt cookies while laughing at each other’s awful Christmas pun. All the while, my bottom was burning, and I loved him all the more for it.