Room 2D

By Johnny Chesham from Janus 34 You’d hardly have noticed it in the foggy winter night — a small brass name-plate reading  The Correction Club  in elegant italics. A tall man in a black cape and topper pulled energetically on the ornate Edwardian bell as a shaft of eerie gaslight fell across his features and the departing hansom cab rattled away, soon swallowed in the omnipresent silence. Slowly the door opened. ‘Good evening, Major,’ a solemn butler in black tails intoned. ‘Evening, Hodges!’ the man rapped and strode briskly into the hall. With a swirl he removed his cape which he thrust at the servant with his black silk hat. Curiously he retained a shiny black cane which had passed unnoticed in the voluminous folds. ‘The members are in the club-room, sir,’ Hodges announced and retired with a deep bow. The Major tapped his cane solidly into his left palm with a smart crack. Then with sudden vigour he mounted...

A film with BDSM aspects Review from spankingfilmreview.com: F/3f; year: 1993; time: 57 minutes A clunky American production; silly Victorian costumes and terrible acting; the lead actress saves the day as her clothes come off. Confusing story (we made the mistake of seeking a plot), but four naked and unusually beautiful ladies. Pretty auburn-haired Prudence, doe-eyed, pale and freckled, is delivered by her Uncle Cyrus Fenwick to the Madame at Miss Bondwell’s Reformatory. Private arrangements are made at this place to straighten out young ladies. It seems they are also given some brothel training, which should make them very entertaining when they return home. ‘Let’s have a look at you.’ ‘I beg your pardon?’ Prudence stammers. ‘Your clothes, get them off… I want to see your bottom.’ Madame (she is played by B&D actress Sharon Kane) rings and sexy maid Felicia appears. Prudence soon strips to just a bustier. Madame is surprised (and so are we) to see she is not wea...

From Blushes 34 ‘Nineteen,’ said Madame Lamartre. ‘What? No, certainly not.’ She examined perfect crimson fingernails as the voice over the telephone continued, more apologetic now. Hearing him out and then, crisply, in her only slightly accented English, ‘Well, I cannot speak for other establishments, Mr Spencer,’ but we do not play with any of that business here. If I say 19 that is what she is.’ More apologies came over the line. As well they might. Madame Lamartre was not short of clients, she didn’t  need  this particular Englishman. Whereas quite probably he  did  need her. If he wanted… she allowed herself to be mollified. English gentlemen could be charming, flattering even, or some of them at least. And this Mr Spencer was now very keen for an appointment. Well, he had apologised. ‘We can say 3 o’clock then, if you wish. No, not at all. She will be ready for you.’ The house was in the Rue d...