My favorite flappers in various states of undress #2: Car Girl

 Some 1920s models just stand out as people. Car Girl is one of these.

Here she is trying to replace her car wheel and she looks as if that's exactly what she's trying to do.

Plus she's flashing her stockings and panties.

That strength of personality makes the  picture hotter, more intimate. It feels like a glimpse of something real.

She also embodies something I like about flappers that I've never quite put into an erotic story.

The whole 1920s era feels like one big "First Time" stories, with fresh faced young things going out into the world and doing it, it being everything from embracing independence through to actual sex.

Most of all, though,  I get a kick out of knowing that every single woman in a 1920s photograph is wearing stockings!

Me being me, I also imagine myself into this picture as a chaste slave. I want to kneel at her feet and drag down those loose panties and get my head between those pale thighs...



So Car Girl is very sexy indeed, but also fascinating because of the way her personality shines through the old photos.

I've kept and eye out for pictures of her. For a start I wanted to know what her face looked like.

Imagine my joy when this turned up (left). And, yes, I did google the number plate but couldn't even find a place to look it up!

Having seen her face, and her legs, I wanted to see the rest of her. Joy of joys, there is a companion piece to the hood photograph (right).

What I like about it is that she's kind of glowing - she looks as if she really doesn't care, and enjoys that fact. She also looks intelligent. This is not an airhead.

She also has nice breasts!

Faces in old photos are hard to match up.

However the combination of face and breasts makes me almost certain this is her (left), naked at the beach and again, not really giving a damn.

In fact, it looks to me as if she's rather enjoying herself.

There's one more picture (right( I'd really like to be Car Girl, but it's hard to tell and probably wishful thinking on my side.

First, what is actually a surprisingly rare 1920s picture of a woman masturbating for her own sake, rather than posing artfully and making eye contact with the camera - yes I know it's still a pose, but she's posed as if she isn't posing...

Medium breasts, strong eyebrows, rounded nose... it could be her.

Imagine - in my Femdom Flapper world - being her chaste slave, kneeling patiently in the corner while she pleasures herself...

|Nook|Lulu|Amazon US|Amazon UK|

My favorite flappers in various states of undress #1: Side Parting Girl

...very much the girl next door

There's character in there, and another
ten years will give her an angular  face. 

I think of her as Side Parting Girl. What I like is that she's not particularly pretty; very much the girl next door.

I like it that we have pictures of her in various states of dress and undress.

Was she somebody's girlfriend?

Or did she work in the shop downstairs?

I suspect when she's older, she'll be beautiful. There's character in there, and another ten years will give her an angular  face.

Of course it's the stockings that do it for me! That's one of the reasons I collect images of this particular flapper. More behind the cut...

Why Sex Slave of the Lesbian Flappers?

So here's Mary Nolan...

...and here's Mary Nolan!

I was a sickly child and spent a lot of time off school at a time when daytime programming was whatever old films the BBC could dredge up. So my first crushes were on stars of the 1920s and 30s.

There's something magical about the fashion. The Flappers look as frothy as is possible while still being elegant. The more sober style looks as womanly and very grown up as one could imagine.

And yet, as I later realized, they are all wearing stockings. And, under all those layers, they are still women.

So here's Mary Nolan (source for risque pictures), movie star.

Elegant, with an expression that hints at a forceful personality. We're seeing her through the lens of our time-scope, black and white, untouchable.

If you stripped away the finery...

And yet, she's wearing stockings. They're ALL wearing stockings of course. But she in particular is. Every time you see those slender legs move around onscreen, you know that if you ran your hands up the finely knitted hosiery, you'd find bare thigh.

If you stripped away the finery, you'd find a gloriously naked woman with perspiration and pores and fur and musk!

|Nook|Lulu|Amazon US|Amazon UK|

How I feel about flappers is just an exaggeration of how I feel about women in general.

To me, women are this magical, wonderful miracle.  Primal goddesses veiled by modern clothing.

Now, you don't have sex with a goddess. You worship and serve her. And perhaps, if you are lucky, you get to watch her at her amours, preferably with other goddesses.

Hence the world of the Lesbian Flappers, where all men a chaste slaves, and all women are stocking-wearing lesbians...

Excerpt from my "Sex Slave of the Lesbian Flappers: Seafood"

A world of Lesbian Flappers

The churchyard was home to a whipping horse rather than a post, not that it mattered much. Nearby, there was a bench with a wooden locker attached. Flaking paint spelled out, “HONESTY BOX AND EQUIPMENT”.

“Put my shopping there,” said Lena.

As I put the brown paper bag down on the bench, the locker creaked open. Lena produced a leash and what they call a prod - a disposable hooked dildo.

My buttocks clenched at the sight and I felt a thrill of fear. If she made me ejaculate first, then the whipping was going to really hurt. Bitch! I thought, and tried to hold onto that word.

“Strip off,” she said, not turning away, but not looking at me either. She arranged herself on the bench and stretched out her slender stockinged legs.

The grass looked wet and it was covered in sodden brown leaves. I shifted to the paved path and peeled off my slave livery - footwear, the jacket, the knee britches, the shirt - and folded everything up neatly on top of the shoes.

Now I was naked except for the steel bands around my neck, wrists and ankles, and the chastity cage embedded in my neutered groin.

.. and ignored slaves who
see everything!

A seagull squawked and I felt out-of-place in this ancient churchyard. Sure, if you went inside you’d see icons of the Sun and Moon Goddesses. However, from the outside, the church looked Norman. I could be back home in the Real World.

“Hurry up,” barked Lena.

I scurried over to kneel at her feet. The wet grass was icy on my bare knees.

Lena lent over and clipped the long leash to my collar. She handed me the prod. “Five minutes,” she said, glancing at her watch.

Wincing, I lay back. The thick grass cushioned my spine even as it leached away my body heat. I brought up my knees and reached around with the prod.

The rubber dildo was cold and hard on my anus. Gradually, the soapy surface melted into a lubricant. The dildo slipped into my rectum, inch my inch until I had that glorious prickling sensation of fullness. My cock flexed inside its cage. A sigh escaped my lips.

“In silence,” barked Lena. She was reading a paperback novel, but still had one hand on my leash — without that, my conditioning wouldn’t let me stimulate myself.

I worked the dildo in and out of my ass, aiming it so it did not hit my prostrate. I so wanted to come, but I needed the shield of arousal to cope with the whipping. Even so it was soooo very tempting just to let go. Julia was always lax about sending me to the milking parlor and I had not ejaculated for months.

Birds chirped. Insects buzzed me. Lena turned a page of her book, and the dildo slurped in and out of my ass.

Then there was a creak of hinges. Two women emerged from the church’s side porch; a vamp about Lena’s age in a close fitting flying helmet type hat with a camera about her neck, and Daphne the statuesque artist with her wild blond hair.

The vamp touched Daphne’s shoulder and said, “Just a few pictures. They’d be artistic.”

The girl blushed and squirmed but did not pull away. She pursed her lips, showing off big front teeth. “I…”

I realized that Daphne has somehow shaken off the trashy Felicity, only to snag the attentions of an older woman.

Lena rose from her bench and called across me, “Claudette? What the heck are you doing here?”

The vamp - Claudette - spun on the spot making her long cashmere coat fan out. “Lena! Just taking a holiday! I hear the seafood is good.”

The Amazonian girl glanced at Lena and her face went bright red.

“You’re Daphne Brown,” said Lena. “We met at the station, but we weren’t properly introduced. I’m Lena White.”

“Lena White?” Daphne took a step closer and put a hand to her wide mouth as if shocked at her own forwardness. With her muscular bare legs and sandals, she looked like some kind of wild child. But she had no idea how to move her statuesque body, or how to speak without sounding young and gauche.

I wondered how she would be after a licking or fingering from Lena… A wet pressure built up in my cock. I rolled my head to look at the whipping horse and moved the dildo as slowly as I dared. I must not ejaculate.

“That’s me,” said Lena.

“The… the famous journalist?” said Daphne. Her blue eyes widened. “Are you working on a story?”

Beside her, Claudette frowned. She did not like the competition.

Lena laughed. “Right now, I’m inducting a new slave.”

Daphne’s gaze falls on me. “Oh - I haven’t really seen one of these close up.”

“Be my guest.”

…and there I was curled up obscenely at her feet, caged penis dripping, fucking myself up the ass with a disposable prod. My cheeks burned, my collar constricted my throat. Of its own accord, my hand worked faster making the self-lubricating dildo slurp in my ass as if this could get the experience over with.

The vamp appeared next to her. “You’ll get used to them. Though they have their… uses.”

The blond artist giggled and squirmed. The new position let me see between her muscular legs, right up the skirt of her faded floral dress.

My eyes adjusted to the poor light under her hem. She wasn’t wearing any panties. Glistening inner labia protruded like a sea creature from her ash blond pubic hair. The pink flesh shone wetly like rubies in a darkened room and the some of the curls had been slicked back. Either she had been masturbating, or somebody’s lucky tongue had been at work between those powerful thighs.

Pleasure spiked in my ass. My hand must have drifted, and now the prod bumped my prostrate with every stroke. I was so close… so very close to a real orgasm. Eyes fixed on the blond artist’s pussy, I pounded the dildo into myself. My spine curled. My knees crushed my chest. My face burned. My collar shrank to squeeze my throat and—

—there was a sensation like peeing, and a splatting from my groin.

My leash jerked. “Get up,” ordered Lena. “Dispose of the prod then prepare yourself on the whipping horse.”

I struggled to my feet and felt thick semen drip down my thighs, taking with it the warm cushion of desire that normally shielded me from the worst mistreatment.

I glanced at the whipping horse and shuddered. This was going to hurt.

“Oh,” added Lena. “Get a gag from the equipment box.”

Bitch! I thought.

Read the rest: [Kindle][Kindle UK][Epub][iTunes]

Sex Slave of the Lesbian Flappers "Seafood" now on iTunes

So, Sex Slave of the Lesbian Flappers "Seafood" is now on iTunes! (I'd be very grateful if somebody who has iTunes would click the link in the sidebar to make sure it works.)

Of all my kinky story worlds, Femdom Flapper World is closest to my heart.

I just love the fresh style and classy elegance of flappers and vamps of the 1920s and 1930s, and, most of all,  I love the fact that they are all wearing stockings.

Femdom Flapper World lets me take my retro voyeurism one step further, to step into the picture.

The slave is there, gets to watch, touch and... taste... but he's dehumanised. Nothing that happens is for his benefit, not even the beatings and permanent chastity. And yet he lives in a constant state of teasing and denial, of erotic tension heightened by real fear.

Mmmmm.

And because the flappers are all vanilla lesbians who think nothing of owning a permanently chaste male slave, I can make them as realistic as possible, give them hopes and dreams, vulnerabilities, and have the slave see them all.

You see, I'm one of those subs who genuinely likes women. I want to be the mistreated slave of a likable, lovable woman. (Actually, I've achieved this.) Femdom Flapper world gives me morally good women who don't think twice about owning a slave, because that just happens to be the culture.

Plus, did I mention the stockings?

I remember realising - one day - that all those women in all those films were bare-thighed under their skirts or dresses, with garters or garter belts keeping up that sleek hosiery.

Throw in femdom and I am lost! Lost!

However, I have other stories to tell.

The next visit is to Chastity Planet, a tourist destination where all the men wear chastity cups. In Femdom Flapper World, slavery is normal. On Chastity Planet, male chastity is the norm. Different dynamic, different stories.

But, if the people like Sex Slave of the Lesbian Flappers "Seafood" then I'll be glad of the excuse to return to a world of stockings and whips and vamps and flappers.