Spanking Preteen

Spanking Preteen
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There are a lot of things, places on the body that turns several people on. These are called sexual fetishes. As time grew by, I learnt of several people’s sexual fetishes and what gets them going. Here are 10 common ones.
Feet. This is the most common fetish based on body part, especially among men. This is because they lead to a leg, which in turn leads to genitals.
Shoes. For men mostly, this is a fetish and for some women. The heel shoes turn on a lot of guys while a pretty good shoe donned by a man turns on some women. The idea of having sex with nothing on except for shoes or heels is arousing for them.
Ear. There’s nothing that arouses the sexual drive more for a lot of people than a soft smooch with the lips on their ears.
Colour. Colours are another common fetishes found among men. A man can see a woman in blue or red and instantly get aroused.
Hair. Women in gorgeous manes have proven to be a prime attractive feature in women; even men are going bald to retain their appeal for women.
Underwear. This is also a common one and seen as the most perverted as sometimes, obsessed men are caught scooping up underwear from laundry lines just to satisfy their fetishes. Some people experience sexual excitement from wearing certain types of underwear. Other people experience sexual excitement when observing or handling certain types of underwear worn by another or watching somebody putting underwear on, or taking it off which can then go on to fall under acts of voyeurism.
Navel fetishism. Common among men, navel fetishism is another kind where a particular body part becomes the primary locus of sexual desire, often making the navel equal to the partner. It is however mostly filed under sadomasochism.
Body piercings. Because most find ecstasy in pain and pain in ecstasy, body piercings can be a common fetish. Though this appeals more to the younger generation, a lot of oldies have been seen to have this fetish. People like Charly Boy.
Tattoos. Just like the piercing is another fetish for a select group. A lot of young people get stimulated sexually by merely seeing an inscription of the body.
Gerontophilia. The intense sexual attraction that younger men and women feel for older men and women can qualify as a fetish, if it borders on the obsessive.
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Новосибирск красавицы Сибири
Novosibirsk’s Siberian Beauties

Маяк засекреченная ядерная катастрофа
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Таргиз поликлиника на рельсах
Targiz: A Hospital on Rails

Anna Yuzhakova takes her laptop computer with her to the restaurant car. She wants to show her international visitor the many charms of Siberian beauties. They are the result, she says, of years of mixed marriages by citizens from different republics of the former Soviet Union.
Anna is a scout. She discovers new talents for the Noah Models agency in St. Petersburg.
She is herself a former model. Four times a year she crosses her native region by train searching for the next top models, the ones who will one day strut the catwalks of Paris or New York.
Her travelling companion, Stephane Hababou, watches the photos of would-be models scroll across the screen. He’s also a scout. He represents the prestigious Marilyn agency in Paris.
It’s his first trip to Siberia. Hababou says it’s the best way for him to find new prospects ahead of his competition.
There’s not a moment to waste. Anna and Stephane stop in every large city of the region, holding a casting call that is open to all.
About 50 teen girls in black undergarments and stiletto heels greet Anna and Stephane at every stop. Some move nervously. Others proudly show off their curves.
The presence of this visitor from Paris ramps up the pressure. Everyone knows Hababou holds the key to a possible career abroad. It’s an opportunity to follow both an American and French dream, a chance to escape the daily drudgery of life in Siberia.
Anna invites Marina Korotkova to step forward. The 17-year-old barely has the time to take two steps before a cutting remark welcomes her into the world of modelling, even if pronounced under the guise of humour. “Marina is a little overweight.” At 93 centimetres, her hips are too wide. The visitors still take a few photos and recommend she go on a diet.
Russia’s largest modelling school is in Novosibirsk. It’s a unique breeding ground for girls who start training as early as age 10 or 12. They learn fashion photography techniques and how to sway their hips on a catwalk.
Fifteen-year-old Kristina Churina, a recent graduate, catches Stephane Hababou’s eye. If she loses a little weight, she could end up in Paris within the year, modeling the creations of top designers.
But few are chosen. Anna selects about 30 young women during each of her Siberian scouting trips. Only a fraction of them will ever end up with real modelling careers.
To be ready to seize the opportunity if presented with it, Kristina has been taking intensive English courses. She also has a plan B. She’s studying tourism and hopes to one day manage a large hotel.
Anna Yuzhakova takes her laptop computer with her to the restaurant car. She wants to show her international visitor the many charms of Siberian beauties. They are the result, she says, of years of mixed marriages by citizens from different republics of the former Soviet Union.
Anna is a scout. She discovers new talents for the Noah Models agency in St. Petersburg.
She is herself a former model. Four times a year she crosses her native region by train searching for the next top models, the ones who will one day strut the catwalks of Paris or New York.
Her travelling companion, Stephane Hababou, watches the photos of would-be models scroll across the screen. He’s also a scout. He represents the prestigious Marilyn agency in Paris.
It’s his first trip to Siberia. Hababou says it’s the best way for him to find new prospects ahead of his competition.
There’s not a moment to waste. Anna and Stephane stop in every large city of the region, holding a casting call that is open to all.
About 50 teen girls in black undergarments and stiletto heels greet Anna and Stephane at every stop. Some move nervously. Others proudly show off their curves.
The presence of this visitor from Paris ramps up the pressure. Everyone knows Hababou holds the key to a possible career abroad. It’s an opportunity to follow both an American and French dream, a chance to escape the daily drudgery of life in Siberia.
Anna invites Marina Korotkova to step forward. The 17-year-old barely has the time to take two steps before a cutting remark welcomes her into the world of modelling, even if pronounced under the guise of humour. “Marina is a little overweight.” At 93 centimetres, her hips are too wide. The visitors still take a few photos and recommend she go on a diet.
Russia’s largest modelling school is in Novosibirsk. It’s a unique breeding ground for girls who start training as early as age 10 or 12. They learn fashion photography techniques and how to sway their hips on a catwalk.
Fifteen-year-old Kristina Churina, a recent graduate, catches Stephane Hababou’s eye. If she loses a little weight, she could end up in Paris within the year, modeling the creations of top designers.
But few are chosen. Anna selects about 30 young women during each of her Siberian scouting trips. Only a fraction of them will ever end up with real modelling careers.
To be ready to seize the opportunity if presented with it, Kristina has been taking intensive English courses. She also has a plan B. She’s studying tourism and hopes to one day manage a large hotel.
Siberia is known around the world for its frigid temperatures. But in the world of fashion, the region is famous for being home to the most beautiful women in the world.
The measuring tape is king. Minimum height: 172 centimetres (5 feet, 6 inches). Maximum hips: 90 centimetres (35.4 inches).
Casting calls are open to all and attract about 60 hopeful young women every time they are held.
The measuring tape is unforgiving. With hips measuring 93 centimetres (36.6 inches), Marina Korotkova is considered “a little fat.”
Stephane Hababou, from the Marilyn agency in Paris, has come to Siberia to find the most promising beauties before his rivals do.
Anna Yuzhakova (centre), herself a former model, visits Siberia four times a year on behalf of the Noah modeling agency in St. Petersburg.
Anna discovers 30 to 40 fresh and interesting faces every month.
Anastasia Akhmameteva catches the eye of Stephane Hababou. Her ticket to Paris is within reach.
For the ones left behind, the rejection is often brutal.
15-year-old Kristina Churina just graduated from Novosibirsk’s modelling school and has caught the attention of the Paris agency.
But Stephane Hababou hesitates about Kristina: “If she loses weight, we’ll see see how she changes.”
Siberia is considered a modelling reservoir, thanks to ethnic mixing.
A little powder, and barely pubescent girls turn into femmes fatales.
A fashion show after the casting call allows scouts to observe the models in real conditions.
For many young women from small villages, modelling offers a chance to travel and earn a lot of money.

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Even though I was convinced Tamsin had been telling the truth, still a tiny part of me had hoped it was all a mistake

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In seconds my world came tumbling down
Emma Charles thought that she and her family were living a normal life. But then she discovered that her husband had been sexually abusing their daughter Tamsin since the age of ten. Twelve years on, Emma recalls that devastating day and the traumatic events that followed
In many ways, we were an ordinary family – mum, dad, two kids, a Volvo in the drive. And in some ways we weren’t so ordinary. As a ship’s engineer, my husband Daniel worked away from home for up to four months at a time. But I never for a moment dreamt that we were extraordinary – until that day.
It started out fine, that Tuesday in December 1996. Our younger daughter, Claire, 13, was at school, and I was looking forward to spending some time with Tamsin, who had just broken up for the holidays. At 15, she was a weekly boarder at a specialist school for high-ability dyslexics.
We chatted about what she was going to do. That was when the first hint of discord arose. Tamsin and I squabbled, like all mothers and daughters. But that day she was impervious to reasoned argument. She began making hurtful personal attacks on her father and me, something she had never done. At bedtimewe kissed goodnight, but for the first time we parted with a coolness between us.
The following evening, I was in the living room when she burst in, flung a piece of paper at me and stormed out. ‘I have to leave or he has to,’ she had written. ‘And you seem to need him. And f*** you, you probably won’t believe me anyway.’ She was talking about her father – telling me that he had been sexually abusing her for the past five years. In the seconds it took me to absorb her words, my world came tumbling down.
I found her down the road with her dog. ‘Come home and tell me about it,’ I begged. She looked into my eyes and must have been reassured by what she saw. ‘He won’t leave me alone,’ she cried. ‘He’s always feeling me up. He brushes against my breasts so I know it’s not accidental, but he could persuade someone else it was.’
Hope blossomed in my mind. Maybe it was just a misunderstanding, an over-tactile father who would have to learn to respect his daughter’s personal space. ‘Has he ever touched you between your legs?’ I asked. ‘Last time he was home on leave,’ she sobbed.
Tears were falling from my eyes as I looked up the number for social services and picked up the phone. I just knew I had to do the right thing.
Daniel and I had been married for 18 years. I was 27 when we met, working as a medical photographer; he was a year older and at college, studying for his Second Engineer’s certificate. He was tall and slim with auburn hair and blue-grey eyes and a full beard and moustache. And he was gentle, laid-back – all the things I wasn’t. Within a week, I had decided he was the man with whom I wanted to spend the rest of my life. We married the following year.
I hadn’t wanted children. It was Daniel who felt that we wouldn’t be a ‘proper family’ without them. Tamsin was conceived two years after our wedding, and Claire came along two and a half years after that. As it turned out, I loved being a mother and Daniel was good with the girls as babies. But as they grew up, he changed. His own parents had been authoritarian, and not reluctant to use a belt to hit their children. He, too, resorted to smacking and violence.
One incident in particular stands out. When the girls were seven and four, I noticed ‘fingertip’ bruising on Claire’s arm. I really went for Daniel, threatening to kick him out if he couldn’t control his temper. He was angry with me for taking him to task; but when he realised I was serious, he backed down and apologised. Over and over again, we talked about what was reasonable behaviour and over and over he agreed with me. But his efforts to improve never lasted long.
Why did I stay with him if things were so bad? Well, they weren’t bad all the time. Mostly, we had a good family life. I knew the harm that divorce causes to children. I still loved Daniel and I thought we could make it work. Until that day.
Tamsin, aged four, and her 18-month-old sister, Claire
Daniel was in the Far East when Tamsin wrote her devastating note. Social services set up an appointment for the following Monday. Meanwhile, I had to address another horrible thought. Gently, I asked Claire if her dad had ever touched her. ‘He used to come and give me back rubs,’ she replied. ‘But I liked that…’ ‘Nothing else?’ I asked. ‘He asked me to take off my T-shirt, but I just said no. And once he tried to give me a tummy rub, but I wouldn’t let him.’
It was becoming clearer now. Claire has always been an upfront child. Whenever anything was worrying her, she would come and tell me. If only Tamsin had been the same.
I’m not going to describe Tamsin’s statement to social services. Listening to her engraved pictures on my mind which I still have trouble banishing today. The police also took statements and arranged a medical examination. Several weeks later, Daniel was arrested as he stepped off a flight from Jakarta. DC Barbara White from the sexual offences unit called later to tell me: ‘He’s admitted everything. It’s a very credible confession. He wants me to tell you that he’s never raped Tamsin, and he’s never been unfaithful to you with anyone else.’
I cried my eyes out. Even though I was convinced Tamsin had been telling the truth, still a tiny part of me had hoped it was all a mistake.
Daniel was bailed, with strict conditions not to approach either Tamsin or me. I had imagined that he would be feeling crushed and placatory. I was soon to discover how little I knew him. Within a few days, a letter from him arrived informing me that his mother was bitter that I had not kept our troubles ‘within the family’. So that was it. I was to be blamed for reporting the abuse. This was my first experience of the denial which abusers use to protect themselves from acknowledging the harm they have caused. Who is protected by dealing with such matters within the family? Only the abuser.
For the sexual assault on his daughter, Daniel was sentenced to 12 months’ imprisonment and placed on the Sex Offenders Register for five years. The case took ten months to come to court and was finally heard in October 1997. When people asked me that year how I was coping, I said I had pencilled in a nervous breakdown for November. In the event, it didn’t happen. I didn’t have the time. Tamsin needed all my energy.
Tamsin went downhill quickly. The first signs were strange attacks, which she called freakies. They are difficult to describe. Her body was there, but the rational person that was Tamsin disappeared. Instead there was a frightened creature which threw itself at walls and on the floor, and scratched itself incessantly. I spent many evenings desperately holding her hands to stop her scratching out her eyes until the prescribed tranquilliser could take effect.
For a while, she underwent counselling and we got a brief glimpse of the old Tamsin – a normal teenager full of fun and laughter. But then she went downhill again. Two years after she first disclosed the abuse, she was admitted to a psychiatric hospital, where nurses found her scraping away at her wrist with a knife. When they took the knife away, she continued to scratch with her nails. She talked about hearing bad voices – the Doctors, she called them. One night, after she was discharged, I found her shaving the skin off the back of her hand with a razor. ‘Don’t be angry with me,’ she begged. ‘I didn’t want to do it. It was the Doctors; they made me!’
Five-year-old Tamsin enjoying a family day out
For six desperately anxious months, we worried that Tamsin was schizophrenic. But psychiatrists eventually concluded that she had been suffering from a neurotic, rather than psychotic illness. As new medication began to work, life calmed down and there were no more voices or self-harming. It was by no means the beginning of the end of our story; but perhaps it was the end of the beginning.
I, too, underwent counselling to unravel my confused feelings. There have been those who, on hearing our story, have expressed amazement that I had just accepted Tamsin’s word when she told me her father had been abusing her, without first giving Daniel a chance to have his say. I can’t explain it. Partly it was because I knew from reading about the subject in newspapers and magazines that children seldom, if ever, lie about abuse. Partly it was because I knew that Tamsin was a truthful person. But mostly it was that somewhere deep inside I had known instinctively that she was telling the truth. Afterwards, odd bits of behaviour and events began to click into place.
One of the difficulties when a relationship ends abruptly is that there is no proper closure. I never got the chance to say goodbye to Daniel. People didn’t expect me to grieve for him because of what he’d done; but this was the man with whom I had spent half my life. I came to understand that without grief there can be no final acceptance.
Another insight was the realisation that the pain of Daniel’s betrayal will never go away. Again the answer is acceptance, because without acceptance nothing changes. Daniel served six months of his sentence. Our only contact with him since has been through solicitors.
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