A Spanking Model at Work

Scenology, Shooting Films — By Adele on 11 February, 2006 3:21 pm

Here’s what happens.

The last thing I do before walking onto the set is plait my hair. One day, I’m sure, two tidy plaits with girly scrunchies will begin to make me look silly, but right now they make me look 14 years old. My school shoes have no heel to speak of, but still it feels like I’m making too much noise coming down the stairs. Everybody looks at me as I come in. This is still early in the shooting day, and people still get excited seeing each new outfit. “Look, a schoolgirl!” – “That’s a great gymslip, Adele, where’d you get it?” – “Are you sure you’re old enough to be here?”

A lot of it, I suspect, is to make me feel good before the camera starts clicking. One of the things that surprised me at my first shoot was the shower of compliments that descends onto the model’s head – or, in my case, backside, because I work that way up – every time she deins to change position. “Hold that!” – click – “Beautiful, Adele!” I didn’t feel beautiful that first time, I felt like an awkward new girl. Yet, the constant ego sweetening does great things to one’s psyche. Hey, the hot photographer likes me – I’d better work this much harder, go this much further. At my last shoot I caught myself mentally whining when I didn’t get an approving remark for the whole of five minutes – excuse me, what am I doing wrong? am I that bad all of a sudden? It doesn’t take an awful lot to turn a girl into a pouting primadonna, trust me.

I pose for identity shots with the side of my passport pressed into my cheek. A British company this might be, but they are hosted in the US, and must have the models’ proof of age stapled to each shoot document. Even the evidently middle-aged men have to do an ID shot in every new outfit. The natural urge is to stick my tongue out and touch my nose with it, or do the “oh dear, I have no eyeballs” eye-roll, because the chance of somebody actually wishing to go through these shots is rather remote. Most of the time I resist. Sometimes I do not.

The ID shoot is the only occassion when I’m supposed to look straight into the camera: for the rest of the day I must pretend it isn’t there. It’s a tip I wish I’d got before I started out: a model mustn’t look at the camera, it just doesn’t come out attractive in the end. Sometimes I forget, especially when at the end of the day I’m cruising on nothing but coffee and adrenalin, and it’s pretty embarrassing to watch afterwards.

It can take just three people to make a great set of spanking stills: the photographer, the spanker and me. We leave the larger part of the crew behind to shoot a video with the second girl, and walk to the room set up as a classroom. A few set-up shots: a nervous schoolgirl knocking on the door, handing the Headmaster a note from her form teacher, the Headmaster looking scary. I love shooting and looking at the pre-spanking shots, but it’s not what we’re selling. No more than ten shots into the sequence, I head over the Headmaster’s lap.

Without my shoes on I’m not quite 5 feet tall, and this has proved to be a great asset in my spanking work: when I’m over a lap, even a man who isn’t very tall can usually have me with both my hands and feet way off the floor. This is great for the viewers and great for me: I love that helpless, out-of-control feeling.

Most of the sets of stills – or videos, for that matter – start with spanking over the fully clothed bottom. I used to wonder why that was, because when I play in my private life – and I play a lot in my private life – hardly anybody ever smacks over a skirt. Why bother, when it’s so easy to flip it up? School skirts are usually short enough that they ride up to mid-bum naturaly, anyway. Well, here’s why: most companies shoot many sequences a day, and except for the first set in the morning, the girl’s bottom is already red, and possibly marked. Plus, some girls show up marked from previous work, hard as they try to minimise it. But you don’t really want your schoolgirl to look like she’d just taken 30 strokes with an XH Lochgelly, even if the model has; thus, we start with a few smacks to justify the redness.

And so it goes. The spanker’s hand goes up – the camera clicks – smack, I kick out and grimace – click. From behind me I can hear the directions: “Move her further over your lap a bit, that’s good. Is that alright Adele?” “Uh-huh,” it’s hard to talk upside down. Smack; arch up, grimace. “Hold that!” Freeze in a upward back-bend while the photographer runs around to catch the facial expression. Click. “Beautiful, Adele.” We move through the poses and the implements. I wonder how many stills there need to be, but never think to ask. The smacks hurt, especially as I’ve started out sore from the video I’d shot half an hour before, but I need them to hurt, to make the experience real for me.

I don’t enjoy the pain, but can’t do without it. It’s the hating it that I enjoy.

When it’s over, I pull my panties over my stinging butt, loosen my striped school tie and give the spanker a hug. We head back. The video unit is already finished. The second girl is still a little tearful, but she’s glowing from a scene well played, smiling into her mug of tea. The crew makes a fuss over us, and I slowly glide down from the endorphin high.

But I don’t let myself come down too far: I have a video to make next.

Change outfit, touch-up make up.

Plait hair.