Dress code.

"If you're going to be teaching me about how you like your cock sucked," Kara recently said to me, grinning, kneeling, her mouth still puffy and wet from sliding on my dick as I hoarsely whispered instructions down to her, "then maybe I need a schoolgirl uniform."

The thought hardened me more and had me thrusting deeper into her mouth, feeling her widening lips closer to the base of me as my fingers tugged the back of her shorthaired head. Kara, the high school teacher in a schoolgirl uniform. Just the idea made me laugh from deep in my belly, definitely causing my cock to twitch and swell even more in her sensual, soft, wet, suckling mouth.

While cosplay as a hobby is far more sophisticated and imaginative than its psychosexual dimensions alone, when it comes to fetish play, French maid, cheerleader, and schoolgirl uniforms are so de rigueur to dominance fantasy that one can easily find cheap imitations of these costumes at any party supply store during the Halloween season. And how interesting it is that it is these costumes which are so easily obtainable from non-fetish-specific retailers, packaged and promoted virtually for the power-exchange vibe that people have instilled in them.

Schoolgirl uniforms are totally hot. Both they and French maid uniforms share a sensual undertone that bespeaks submission, obedience, compliance. But unlike the maid, the schoolgirl adds training and corrupted innocence to its vibe, which may also explain its prevalence in spanking and other corporal discipline related fantasies.

And God knows I love corrupting innocence.

I love to bend my pet over, slowly hike up her tartan, and reveal a crisp pair of white panties tightly framing the pert and vulnerable target of my attention. It's a unique, elegant, powerful moment to gradually bare your pet's delectable ass, drawing out the energy and the anticipation and the consensual shame and the frail sense of exposure to inspection and scrutiny before the raining of wrath. Mmm.

Here. I'll say that again. "To gradually bare your pet's delectable ass, drawing out the energy and the anticipation and the consensual shame and the frail sense of exposure to inspection and scrutiny before the raining of wrath."

Aaah. Thank you. Detention, anyone?

Shayne looked adorably cute in the uniform that her training began in with me. Diva, my first partner whom I introduced to kink, had later fashioned one for herself after we parted.

And now, as she bobbed her gorgeous head below me, here was my amazing Kara softly moaning around my girth and picturing herself in wool tartan, bright white shirt, smart little tie.

Someone's been reading the blog, thought I to myself. Someone smart who's learning what Daddy likes. Good grrl.

So imagine the small wince on my face when, over my tea, I read in today's paper how my local Catholic District School Boards are seriously considering shifting from tartans (skirts) to pants. It seems that the sassy li'l ladies, the real schoolgirls, have this habit of hiking their skirts so high to the thigh that "disproportionate amounts of time is being spent addressing the issue with students." Fifteen centimetres above the middle of the kneecap is the rule.

Why, those little hussies.

Some parochial schools have already changed uniform policy to pants, and others have adopted a so-called "x-kilt," which features bullt-in shorts under the regulation length. I wrinkled my nose at these when kinky, supportive, incredibly generous and understanding me purchased Shayne's.

Nice to know that some parents and students are aghast at this dire turn of unfashionable events, however. Tartans may be declining in sales and not as "in line with Catholic traditions and values" as pants (an historically debatable point) according to local retailers, but that's certainly not going to stop the students from desiring cooler clothing in summer, or the parents from wanting to perpetuate a charming life niche many of them remember from their own days at school.

Or prevent safe, sane, consensual kinksters like me from enjoying adult playmates in charming attire as we bare their wanton bottoms for palm, cane, lash, or throbbing, lubed-up cock.

Yes, Kara, you'll get what you want. I will dress you in a cotton shirt with emblems and stitching over the pocket, a handsome matching tie that I will use to bring you to your bare knees and bobbysocks. You will feel the sway of coloured wool around your tiny waist as we stroll through the crowd at the playparty, and you will feel this same as you find yourself bent over a table, swallowing hard as my strong hands hold your hips. Cool air will breeze across the back of your upper thighs... far, far higher than fifteen centimetres from the middle of your knee... as your exquisite, pert, round, firm and lovely ass gets revealed by the slow raising of it. Bare, or framed in panties, I will enjoy your bum as your man should. I will spank you. I will fuck you hard and deep.

Both the nature of your garments and the ways you are taken will have you understanding more of the deliciously submissive parts of you, and you will know how tenderly, how assuredly you are Mine.