Belle du Monde

So . . .

2011-12-30T10:17:00.000-06:00

. . .I have been quite bad about posting here. Or anywhere, actually.

Still not dead

2011-10-08T12:12:00.002-05:00

But not very happy. Life has been far too busy.

Bonjour!

2011-08-10T13:49:00.001-05:00

I'm not dead, yet.

Goodbye, Amy

2011-07-26T14:36:00.003-05:00

Oh, Blogger, how I have forsaken thee!

2011-07-26T14:22:00.000-05:00

Too much family drama going on! Weather that threatens to sweep me away! Oh, tragedy, tragedy!

Really, it's just been miserable lately and I stopped writing for a few days. But I shall persevere. I shall.

Boisvert

2011-07-12T04:44:00.001-05:00

Lingerie commercial for Boisvert. Beautiful lingerie, and a very provocative message.

If I had a virtual trashcan . . .

2011-07-09T21:37:00.001-05:00

It would be full of virtual paper. My great idea for a story has turned out to be far more troublesome than I first imagined. I like it, but getting the "voice" of the characters is not as easy as I thought it would be. Not giving up, just not happy right now, sorry.

New York

2011-07-06T21:23:00.000-05:00

The incredible Paloma Faith performing "New York."

Independence Day

2011-07-04T08:57:00.000-05:00

Please remember that today is more than a day off work and sales at Best Buy, and think about what freedoms you have, which ones we've been denied, and which ones some would take from us in the name of "protecting us."

Fifteen inches

2011-07-04T08:05:00.001-05:00

Cathie Jung holds a Guinness World Record for the smallest waist on a living person. Her corseted measurements are 39-15-39. Yes, her waist is fifteen inches around. Take a tape measure and find fifteen inches on it, then wrap that around your own waist and you'll be shocked at just how small that is.

She began in 1985, after a trip to England where she met women who practiced tightlacing, the practice of wearing a corset to create an extreme change in ones waistline. When she started, her natural waistline was twenty-six inches. By 1986, she was easily wearing a corset with a twenty-inch waist, which was her goal. But she kept at it, and by 1991 Cathie had a sixteen-inch waist. Eventually, she was able to get down to her record-setting fifteen-inch corseted waistline, with her natural waist a still-astonishing nineteen inches.

I have always loved corsets. I find them beautiful, wearable works of art. They can give a woman (or a man) that shape that is curvy and luscious, sexy and powerful all at the same time. For some people, they're a great embrace that comforts them. On a Dominatrix, they're a sign of strength; on a submissive, they are part of their yielding power to another.

When Miss AP (of London's famous lingerie purveyor Agent Provocateur) asked the question in her Twitter feed "A tiny waist is a physical ideal, but is this freakish or fabulous?" I had mixed feelings about the question. I do not feel that a tiny waist is a physical ideal, always. It should not be the size of a woman's waist that determines if they are a physical ideal, but how proportional it is to their body.

But to get to their question, "(I)s this freakish or fabulous?" If we say it is freakish, then isn't Cathie a freak because she wants to have a waist that small? Is she addicted to waist training in an unhealthy way? Or is she expressing herself in a method that appeals to her-even if we don't totally accept it?

Skipped a stitch

2011-07-03T01:11:00.002-05:00

I missed a day, which is both a good and a bad thing. It's a bad thing-I wanted to publish one post a day, every day. It's a good thing-I no longer have to worry about missing a day. I have no excuse other than not feeling very creative today. Although I did come up with a really good idea for my next story-so it was not a total loss.

Happy, happy, joy, joy!

2011-07-01T11:28:00.000-05:00

I have my first comment on an entry to my blog, and my first follower. You may think I'm silly for feeling kind of happy about this, but I do. Particularly on a day like today when I am trying to catch up on so many things before the holiday.

Corseting for Your Needs, Part II: How to Choose the Right Corset for Your Body | The Lingerie Addict | Lingerie & Stockings Blog

2011-06-30T09:14:00.001-05:00

Corseting for Your Needs, Part II: How to Choose the Right Corset for Your Body | The Lingerie Addict | Lingerie & Stockings Blog

A very nice primer on choosing a corset, based on your body type. The first part is about choosing the right corset for the occasion. For someone who is just getting into corsets, this would be quite useful.

Thanks to The Lingerie Addict

Perspective

2011-06-29T09:34:00.000-05:00

When I see a photo of a woman who has had obvious plastic surgery, or who pretends to be far younger than they really are, I look at this woman, who shows that style and beauty have more to do with who you are than what you think you are.

To make amends for yesterday

2011-06-28T13:23:00.000-05:00

Pin-up legend Bettie Page. She's not trying to be sexy, or the model who every photographer wanted to work with. But those eyes, that smile, how she has her hand poised just so-she always had that something.

On second thought

2011-06-28T13:05:00.002-05:00

I'm not that happy with what I posted yesterday. It sounded a lot better when I wrote it than it does now. I want to delete it, but I feel like that is cheating.

Hanging on the telephone

2011-06-27T13:05:00.000-05:00

"Your phone is ringing."
"Yes, I know."
"Well, aren't you going to answer it?"
"I know who it is; it's Lulu. I'll call her later."
"Wait, you'll call her later? It's Lulu!"
"I know, and I'll call her later."
"Excuse me, but don't you have a thing for her?"
"Of course I do."
"So why don't you want to talk to her?"
"Because I don't want her to think she can call me anytime she wants to and I'll answer the phone."
"This is a lesbian thing, isn't it?"

Sometimes, things go right

2011-06-26T18:33:00.000-05:00

And sometimes, you get what you deserve. A commercial for Danier Leather, with a nice twist.

The Look Book: Daphne Guinness

2011-06-25T22:45:00.000-05:00

Fashion journalist and collector Daphne Guinness is interviewed for the New York Time's Look Book.

A day of writing

2011-06-24T20:02:00.000-05:00

I have never been a writer that does so effortlessly. I hate people who can. It has been a very frustrating few days, grasping at wisps. But I am making progress.

Who I love: Dita von Teese

2011-06-23T20:15:00.002-05:00

Dita is one of my influences; her style and beauty harks back to the forties and fifties, while remaining a modern woman.

Enjoy!

Mr. Pearl

2011-06-22T14:45:00.001-05:00

A documentary about the classic corsetiere Mr. Pearl. Dita von Teese's preferred corset maker, and they have a mutual admiration for each other. He does few interviews, and fewer appearances on film.

Me, obsessed? Never!

2011-06-21T13:00:00.000-05:00

Still only one review on Fictionmania. I think I need to post Interlude to another site. Yes, I am desperate for attention, why do you ask?

Some odd things happening on my laptop-time for deep scanning and investigating. I'd be lost without it! My story ideas are still not quite coming around. That is what I get for being too multitask-oriented I suppose.

Interlude

2011-06-20T15:09:00.000-05:00

Interlude
by Justine du Monde

Justine did not know when she had fallen asleep, but she did know it was after incredible sex. Sex with Lulu was always incredible. And waking up with Lulu cuddled next to her? That made her smile.

Justine watched Lulu breathe for a few minutes. She smelled of Dior Addict, champagne and afterglow. Justine gently kissed Lulu on the cheek, hearing her moan softly, then crawled out of the huge bed. Walking on stockinged feet as quietly as she could in the dim light, she picked up a glass and filling it with some of the remaining champagne. She didn't know what it was, but it was the best she'd ever had and knowing Lulu, it cost a fortune.

Hotels are sterile places, rarely having personalities of their own. And this suite was no different. Except for it being indecently expensive, and that for this night it was the only place Justine wanted to be. She walked toward the bathroom, stopping in front of the full-length mirror by the door.

Justine smiled and posed in the mirror, watching the reflected woman smile back. She knew how much work had gone into how she looked, and never regretted it. Justine's hair was below her shoulders, reddish auburn. Her breasts were full and firm; she wanted perfect breasts, and she got them. A black satin corset held her firmly, like a great erotic hug. The black garters were attached to sheer stockings.

Justine had lost her bra and panties sometime during the tryst. It wasn't unusual for items of clothing to end up all over the room when she and Lulu were making love. But the corset and stockings stayed on; Lulu thought they were hot, and Justine felt sexy wearing them. And standing there, looking at herself and thinking about it made her feel sexy again.

"Hi, baby," said Lulu as she stood behind Justine. "Can I have a sip of that?" she asked. Justine turned around, placed the glass to Lulu's lips and tilted it so she could have a sip. Justine took a sip herself, then poured the rest of the champagne onto Lulu's chest. Lulu gasped, then laughed as the champagne ran down her naked body. Justine smiled wickedly, put the glass on a nearby counter and licked the wine from between Lulu's voluptuous breasts.

"Bitch," said Lulu, smiling. Lulu crouched slightly, gently biting one of Justine's nipples and pulling back just enough to make her moan. Letting go, Lulu said "Didn't you have enough?"

There are men who would have given anything to have one night with Lulu. The hottest burlesque performer in the world? She was booked for shows a year out. And she enjoyed the perks that came with success and fame. Staying in suites in great hotels, shopping at the most famous stores in the world, being treated like royalty-and having her clients pay for it all.

And when Lulu was in town, she called Justine. They met when another performer gave Justine's corsets a glowing review. She and Lulu had similar tastes in corsets, among other things.

"I never have enough of you, baby" Justine said, leaning forward to kiss Lulu. Lulu smiled and even blushed a little. She ran a finger down Justine's chest, over the corset. She then touched Justine's inner thigh, brushing a hand across her crotch. Justine's cock was soft, like velvet, but it was becoming aroused. Lulu wrapped her hand around it, placing the thumb over the head. She gently stroked Justine's cock, which brought a flush to her.

"Oh, yes baby," Justine moaned. Lulu kissed Justine, their tongues intertwined. They pressed their bodies together, breathing raggedly. Justine leaned back against the wall, holding Lulu as she felt herself coming closer to orgasm. At the last second, Lulu picked up the wine glass and held it over Justine's cock.

Justine's warm, sticky cum flowed into the glass; she was surprised after their lovemaking that anything was left. Lulu made sure she caught every last drop. When she was done, she poured the last of the champagne into the glass, swirling it around and then drinking it, slowly. Lulu didn't rush, and looked like she was drinking the most exquisite thing ever. Licking her lips, she kissed Justine.

"Nice breakfast, lover." Lulu looked at Justine. She was a little shorter than Justine, with skin that nearly glowed, it was so pale. Her platinum blond hair, shoulder-length and even now perfect. "So, I don't need to leave until noon-ish, you staying around?"

Justine shook her head. "I can't; some of us have shops to run and orders that need to be done. Like the new orders some bitch gave me last night." She laughed and gave Lulu a quick kiss. Justine knew what was going to happen next.

"You know, you could come with that bitch on tour and be her personal corsetiere and concubine." Lulu crossed her arms; she was used to getting her way. "And you know I can't, baby," replied Justine. "You'll be so busy, and you already have a concubine."

Justine pointed to the young woman curled up on the bed, naked, sucking her thumb. She was Lulu's latest assistant, a petite blond with a firm body. And an appetite for sex nearly as great as Lulu's. "Peach," replied Lulu, "is not you."

"Her name's not Peach-you call all your assistants 'Peach'." Justine replied. "Why remember a name when she'll be gone by the end of the tour," Lulu replied. It was true-assistants didn't last long, and their tell-all stories in the press just added to her mystique.

Justine unfastened the clips on her garters so she could take her stockings off. She began to reach behind her back to loosen the ties on her corset, but Lulu did it for her. Justine took the corset off, then the stockings. She found her bra and panties, black wisps of silk that she also sold at her shop. Lulu fastened Justine's bra strap, hugging her from the back.

"Don't be cross with me, okay?" asked Lulu. "I'm not," replied Justine. She wasn't. She knew that Lulu did care for her. Maybe she loved her. But she needed to be the star. Justine could get moments of bliss with her, but anything longer, more permanent? That was not going to happen . . .

Lulu put on a bathrobe that was far too big for her-she looked like a child. Justine dressed in a pair of black slacks and top, and slipped into the high heeled pumps she'd worn last night. "I called for the car; whenever you're ready it'll be downstairs." Lulu said.

"You didn't need to do that, but thanks. When are you leaving for Europe?"

Lulu replied, "Tuesday morning. We'll fly into London first. Why not meet me in Paris?"

"Maybe." Justine smiled; a few days in Paris would be nice. She'd have to check her calender. "I should have some things ready for you to try I can bring with me."

"Turn a fun trip into business-spoilsport!" Lulu laughed, then gave her a kiss. Justine kissed her back, sighing. "Call me when you get to New York?"

"Sure, baby," said Lulu.

Justine picked up her purse and bag, and walked to the door with Lulu. They didn't say anything else; this was how they always parted. Justine took the elevator to the lobby, and saw Lulu's driver waiting for her. He took her bag and walked her to the car. Justine took a pair of Prada sunglasses out of her purse and put them on. She smiled to herself-Lulu was always losing them, and they looked better on her than they did on Lulu. Justine got into the car, and rode off into the sunrise.

copyright 2011 Justine du Monde

I'm published!

2011-06-20T14:42:00.000-05:00

If you count posting a story to Fictionmania as being "published." I wanted to see if I could get some feedback; so far, one person has commented. Since it's not an XXX-rated story, with some actual character development, that is an accomplishment.

The story, Interlude, is one of my first stories. And you can tell-my editing skills were lacking. But I am still proud of it, and I am going to post a "fixed" version later. This will be strictly for structure, not content.

I have about three series in mind as of now. Interlude is an introduction to my "Belle du Monde" series; this blog is named after them. I do not want to talk about the others; spoilers, sweetie.

The Justine Manifesto

2011-06-18T10:55:00.000-05:00

Please read this first

This is a blog by an author who uses a nom de plume. Not that I am ashamed of what I write, but keeping some distance between us is for the best.
The stories I write will be about sexuality, gender identity, love, lingerie, tea, friendship, misguided affairs, corsets, crossdressing, lesbian affairs, heels, and BDSM. Not all at the same time, of course.
My stories are written for adults. I write erotica, but I would like to think it's tasteful erotica.
Some of the things I write about are true. Most are fiction.
What my characters say or do does not necessarily reflect my own opinions.
Some of my characters are based on real people. I hope they approve of them.
If you stick around, I hope you enjoy what you read. Leave a comment, please?