a common fetish figure.

A French maid costume consists of (everything black unless specified):

  1. high heels
  2. fishnet stockings
  3. some sort of very short skirt, of the kind that sticks out a bit, possibly thanks to a small crinoline. Frequently edged with white lace.
  4. a frilly white apron, more symbolic than protective
  5. a corset, excruciatingly tight
  6. a choker, possibly with a cameo
  7. a frilly white headpiece
Gloves are optional. Variations of the costume include lock-on shoes and the usual bondage paraphernalia.

The french maid is a mainstream sexual archetype (like the schoolgirl and the nurse), but in the fetish/BDSM context she is, almost always, the submissive character in a DS relationship (or scene, let us not be specific here). A cute European/French accents is helpful but not necessary.
A french maid can also be used by a dominant as an "agent" in a scene to, e.g. punish a third person: the idea being that it is extremely humiliating to be dominated by proxy, especially if the proxy is the ever-submissive french maid.

It remains only to be said that a French maid isn't necessarily French nor (more interestingly) a woman: transvestite fantasies (especially of the forced feminization kind) occasionally lean towards the French maid stereotype.

Let us make a deal: you do not ask me how I know, and I do not ask you why you are reading this, OK :-) ?

thanks to belgand

A few years ago, I was teaching a college class on computer networking. We were running through the OSI model when we had a guest come through the door, followed by most of the office staff, several other instructors, and a trail of students who were hanging out in the hallway.

It was my birthday, but nobody at the college knew it. I'm not big on celebrating stuff like that unless it was for one of my family members. Someone decided to do something nice in a very public way.

A woman in a very tight latex fetishized French maid outfit barely covering her assets came over and gave me a large cookie bouquet. She said a few words in French, then switched to English with a heavy accent. She said a long stream of things that were double entendres, which had the whole classroom laughing as I turned a slight shade of red. The French maid gave me a big kiss on the cheek, leaving a brighter red lipstick outline of her lips, before she spun on her five-inch stilettos and said goodbye.

There was only ten more minutes for the class, but I knew we were done for the day. They were giving me a hard time about going home with lipstick on my cheek and wondering who sent the risqué bouquet to me. I told them it was probably my wife, but none of them believed me until I told them I knew it was her because that was my wife. You could have heard a pin drop.

Later, my wife told me that everyone wanted her card so they could hire her for their husbands. When she told them she was my wife they didn't believe her. I don't think they believed me either when I said the same thing.

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