Zille Defeu’s Fetish Fantasies

Archive for the ‘dreams’ Category

I’m feeling a bit under the weather today, but it was worth it for the fever-inspired dream last night!

My Uncle was disciplining me, and he demanded I put on my old school uniform for it. I refused, saying it was embarrassing and I was too old to have to wear the ugly outfit. The knickers, I complained, were uncomfortable and ugly – as was the skirt, and the shirt was scratchy and the blazer shapeless and unflattering. I’m sure I had complaints about my socks, shoes, and tie, too!

For each piece of the uniform that I refused to put on, he strapped me until I complied. This process took a while, as I was very recalcitrant, and had to be strapped to tears each time.

Once I was finally dressed and resigned, I was surprised and dismayed to discover that the discipline was yet to come – now I was to be caned (with my blazer and skirt pulled up, and my knickers pulled down – but all still on!) and it was implied that after he’d finished caning me into a sobbing mess, he’d be roughly fucking my ass (to further demonstrate his authority, of course, and anyway, in my universe, that’s just what Uncles do!)

When I woke up I told my Master all about it. I hope we make that dream come true this weekend…!

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I had a delicious dream right before I woke up. I was an actress on the set of a film, and my co-star and I were doing a scene involving some very rough sex — we must have been in a Verhoeven movie!

We did a take, and I nearly came from the roughness of it, the pounding of his body against mine. He noticed, and as we waited for some adjustment to the background or lighting, he whispered in my ear that he had found me out. Actually, I think it was much the same words that a boy said to me in sophomore year of high school, “So … you like it rough!” (Words which finally gave me a place to start understanding and learning about my own desires, so thank you Tom G, wherever you are!)

In my dream, I demurred, and my co-star forced a confession from me, his voice rough and low in my ear. He then told me that this next take would be very different, and I would just have to take it. “And,” he snarled, “when you come, make sure you’re facing the cameras!”

He also said that afterwards, I was coming back to his trailer on the set, and I knew that he would be spanking me, and probably using a number of implements on me. Maybe tie me down, as well…. And the whole crew would see me going into his trailer, and probably hearing the results, too, and know that I was now in this man’s power.

Take two started up, and this time when he pounded against me, his cock pushed into me, and suddenly I was being forcefully fucked on camera (although no one knew but us – the crew couldn’t see the change that was so intense for me, due to some well-draped sheets) his hands rough on my body, and I was gasping and making little whimpering noises, and had a moment of considering it ironic that I’d probably win the Oscar for a scene in which I wasn’t acting….

And then I woke up, damnit! Why couldn’t I have stayed in that dream until I came, staring helplessly into the lights and the cameras…?

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I will get to our story in progress (I’m working on it already, no worries!) but I wanted to quickly point out some areas of interest in the spankosphere.

Both Haron and Mystery Minx have various unique visions on the joy of shopping for schoolgirl uniforms. It’s amusing that it’s August, and parents around the country are placing their orders online for jumpers and pleated skirts for little Suzie, or dragging little Joey in to get this year’s trousers-and-blazer. You’d think we had the same schedule in the spanko world, which is sorta incorrect, because there’s never a bad time to buy a new pleated skirt for us. However, there is the fact that almost every spanko group manages to have a “Back To School Party” (I’ll be going to the Shadow Lane one!) in the autumn, so I guess we do have reason to be frequenting the school uniform stores at the same time as actually school-goers!

In other news, I’ve been neglecting recognizing the brilliance of my fellow spanko bloggers for too long. Pandora’s comments to Graham are a good place to start, as not only do both write very well on the topic of the value of silence in a scene, but they also name-check lots of other good writers, doing half my job for me!

I did put in a quick comment on Graham’s post, but I’ll go into my own thoughts a little, here…. When I first started playing with my Master, I was soooooo terrified that he would be disappointed in me — and this led immediately in my mind to him breaking things off with me — I was so desperately in love with him that I was very twitchy at this state, and being both nervous about impressing my shiny new Master and learning about being a spanko left me in a really uncertain place. To add to that, I was learning about spanko stuff from Janus and Blushes and Roué (“Oh my!”) magazines, and often they featured the headmaster telling the young lady about to be corrected that she’d better not make a peep as he gave her her punishment, or from the point of view of a schoolgirl thinking that she’d better be brave and take all her strokes without yelping. I thought those were my proper template, and I tired to be as stoic as possible whenever I got a chance to play with my Master.

Then, of course, he showed me spanking videos, and I got a very different template, since girls were yelping and protesting from the first swat.

This was confusing, to understate things. During scenes where my pain tolerance was low, I’d feel like a terrible wimp and a let-down. But if I was in a place where I could take a lot, and just focus on the pain by going to an internal place and being very quiet, then I’d feel like I wasn’t giving him an entirely satisfactory experience.

( In this video, interestingly, the girl is told she will be caned until tears start flowing. See the second clip….)

In the end, of course, things have come to be about a combination of what is naturally me, and what turns him on. In the usual course of things, I’m really pretty noisy. And I love being able to scene where I can be as loud as I like without upsetting the neighbours. (And this is entirely skirting the topic of sex. I was nicknamed “the banshee” in college, and I think that’s all we need to say about that!)

But sometimes I do go into this odd headspace where he can just whack away at my bottom with a cane or strap, and I go all quiet, just breathing deeply to deal with the pain.

And he is happy with both of those. (Although I think the latter sometimes discomforts him, since he can’t as easily read my reactions.) But the main thing is that he accepts and values all my ways of dealing with the CP he dishes out, and so I’ve become free to just react naturally – and my reactions change over time, and go through phases, and etc.

I’m sure at some future point, I’ll be in a scene where silence is demanded of me. And it will be a struggle, and lord knows how it will turn out (I assume I will have a very striped botty, but I think that’s a safe assumption regardless!)

But my sneaking suspicion is that there are few spankers who really want an entirely stoic spankee. If anything, the exhortation to be silent is done because everyone knows it’s well-nigh impossible, and it gives the spanker a reason to add on another set of six of the best….

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I had the most amazing dream last night — since I’ve got a pretty bad cold, I think this was one of those “fever dreams,” and if so, getting sick might have some pretty serious silver linings!

I was at this very dark, gothic carnival. The dream started with me getting dressed in a darkened tent in long black flowing skirts, and putting on a hip-belt of glowing bones. There were lots of other people, all looking very much like we were in an MTV video for some very goth song, and we were all talking and laughing, the carnival spirit very obvious. People were putting on costumes rather like those really weird European traditional folk costumes.

I don’t remember how it all came about, but I ended up on a St. Andrews Cross with a very sexy older man whipping my back. In the dream it was the most delicious agony, and it was so amazingly sexual and intense.

Sadly, this dream beating didn’t last half long enough, and then we all went on a Wild Hunt with horses and dogs. The dogs were all golden retrievers (not exactly one’s first choice for a Hell Hound, but maybe my subconscious knows something I don’t!) and it ended with everyone, including the dogs, jumping into this huge hot-tub.

I woke up after that, but one hopes that after the Wild Hunt/hot tub, all the girls would birched for good luck — that’s what all those folk festivals were all about, right?!

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Last night’s dreams were of the very kinky variety, which I simply do not get enough of. From my point of view, every time I close my eyes in sleep I should get a pervy porn film projected on the backs of my eyelids. My subconscious, however, seldom indulges me.

The dream started with me being some sort of camp counselor, and all the “campers” were girls who were doing “puppy play” as Alaskan sled dogs, and they were being harnessed up to pull a sled in some sort of kinky Iditarod. As this progressed, it turned out that I had been in charge of this last year, and this year they had put another counselor in charge (I don’t know why my new job was), and I was feeling most put-out about it all. I was giving the new counselor explicit instructions on how to train the “pups,” including such helpful tips as, “If they try talking like humans, put really big gags in their mouths,” and, “Beat them with a heavy paddle until they whimper like dogs.”

Heh. When I switch from masochist to sadist, I don’t do it by halves!

My Master got out of bed at this point, and I begged to be allowed to sleep in, and he kindly let me out of my morning tasks of making him breakfast and tea, and putting together a lunch in a brown paper bag. I went back to dreamland….
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