Zille Defeu’s Fetish Fantasies

Archive for the ‘blowjob’ Category

This Sunday, Bonnie over at My Bottom Smarts asked:

Our topic this week is based upon a question I have received from (often anonymous) e-mailers several times in various forms over the years. The basic theme is that the sender has a difficult time believing that any intelligent, capable adult woman would allow herself to be subjected to repeated spankings. The implication is that I must either have mental health issues or be a battered wife. Of course, neither is true. If they seem earnest, I write back and try to explain this, but I doubt I change anyone’s mind.
Why is it so difficult for many vanillas to accept that there are successful, sane, happy people who find consensual adult spankings to be beneficial?
I look forward to a day when spanking is considered like, say, fellatio. Not all lovers practice this technique, but it’s common enough that few people think much one way or the other about those who partake.

I was just talking the other day with a friend about how “vanillas” are often so ready to accept a bit of spanky-bot-bot as normal foreplay, how so many of them have a pair of handcuffs or a silk scarf in the bedside drawer, and it is so easy for them to accept that as a bit of harmless fun. Kind of in the way a completely straight girl could be perfectly comfortable in a room full of naked gals, in a way that a bi or lesbian woman is no longer able to be entirely comfortable, but has to avert her eyes or she feels like she’s ogling.

(So I think that the comparison of spanking with fellatio is actually more reasonable than you may think – it’s just that you are getting emails from the sorts of people who might think fellatio is also sick and not part of a healthy sex life!)

So one does wonder if all of those people who refuse to believe that “any intelligent, capable adult woman would allow herself to be subjected to repeated spankings” are closeted spankos (or other kinky type) who cannot accept in others what they refuse to allow in themselves.

Another point, however, is that vanillas tend to understand a bit of spanking as a part of sex. But if you are completely satisfied and fulfilled by spanking, that strikes them as weird. (There’s your “mental health issues”!) And if you are using spanking for behaviour modification, well, that’s just sick and wrong, obviously. (And there’s the “battered wife”!)

If you are going to be able to explain it to vanillas at all, I’ve found the best thing is to compare it to a “runner’s high.” Runners and other exercisers will go through all sorts of pain (The first day back at the gym can be more painful than the average spanking!) for a variety of “understandable” reasons, like the release of adrenalin and endorphins which make you feel so good after the pain/exertion is over. Or the “results,” which are physical for gym-goers and more emotional for spankees. But even a good workout can leave you feeling centred and calmed, the way a spanking does.

But the people who are repressed you can never get to accept “beneficial consensual adult spankings.” And most unrepressed vanillas will never “get it” outside of a sexual context.

(Not that spankings don’t have their place in said sexual context! Never let it be said that I am against mixing spanking and sex!) [grins]

Yesterday my Master and I went to a wonderful Egyptian exhibit at a local museum. I love all that stuff – hieroglyphics and mummification and animal-headed gods and basically everything about the ancient Egyptians.

One thing that really caught my notice (and I don’t know why it never has before) was the Pharonic crook and flail. Wikipedia says, “The flail is depicted alongside the shepherd’s “crook” as symbols of office for the crowned Egyptian Pharaoh. The flail symbolises the Pharaoh’s role as provider of food for his people and the crook symbolises his role as the shepherd of his people. ”

But really, look at the two items! Do they really look like they are about providing animals and veg to the dinner table of the people? Us CP aficionados know better! The crook-handled cane and the whip have other uses than for sheep and grain. Wikipedia admits, “As with most agricultural tools, flails were often used as weapons by farmers who may have lacked better weapons. The French Revolution was mostly fought with agricultural tools. The flail is proposed as one of the origins of the two-piece baton known in the kobudo weapon system as the nunchaku.”

But that’s taking beyond where the real interest with these items lie. It was indeed the daily use, but not the ostensible daily use … Egypt was a land with a lot of slaves. And corporal punishment was acceptable at all levels of society – from Pharaoh to slave, as long as you could find anyone lower on the food-chain!

So lots of ideas for Ancient Egyptian fantasies are flooding my head. The Pharaoh who takes the crook to his new bride for trying to leave the harem. Or after an unsatisfactory meeting with another ruler who might become friend or foe, the Pharaoh takes his flail to the slave girl who he finds cleaning (substandardly, of course) his private rooms…. Ah, so many possible fantasies….

(Thanks, Eros Blog!)

Kink.com has done us gals an invaluable service. They are making a series of “How to give a blow job” videos.

Of course, they have also done a favour for anyone who likes looking at girls giving blowjobs. Especially girls as delicious as Bobbi Starr, upon whom I now have a tremendous crush…

I mean, hello? Phwoar!

Well, that’s just a perfect body, huh?

I looked for a view of her bottom getting caned, as I know you lot, and that’s what you want to see! (Never mind that’s also what I like to see it…!)

[See Bobbi Star get caned on Kink On Demand]

She could have thought of better things to do of a Saturday, but she was okay with visiting Uncle Duncan. After all, it had to be better than Daddy’s lectures, right?

Daddy said (over and over) that he was disappointed with her recent behaviour, and that she needed to go and stay with Uncle Duncan for the weekend. Whatever. She could wrap him around her little finger in no time, and then have the same fun on weekends as usual. Maybe she could get an even better set-up, actually. And since her uncle lived in another town, that was a whole new social scene to discover. New boys to meet. Yes, this could work very well….

She got the train, and walked over to Uncle Duncan’s house with her overnight bag. He was waiting for her in the living room.

She greeted him with cheerful casualness, but he didn’t reciprocate.

“I see you are in your uniform, as I requested.”

“Yeah, but Uncle Duncan, this sucks. It’s the weekend. I get to wear what I want on the weekends!”

“Not when you visit me. You, my girl, have not been living up to expectations. I’ve heard about your shameful behaviour from your father.”

“Yeah, Daddy’s been so cranky recently! But I know you’re not like that!”

“On the contrary, my girl, you shall find I’m even more like that. Your father has sent you to me because he finds he is to tender with you, his love for you gets in the way of the discipline you so obviously need. I will not have that problem.”

“Awww, com’on, Uncle! You don’t have to be like that! We could have some fun while I’m out here! Wouldn’t that be better?”

“You are not helping your case, young lady.”

This conversation went on like this for a while. She couldn’t quite believe that her uncle was being like this. This was so stupid. She told him so.

“I don’t like your attitude, miss. Get over the side of the sofa.” He got up to help her bend properly over the arm of the sofa.

“No! You can’t do that!” She fought against him.

“You’ll find I can.” He pushed her back down.

“But that’s not legal anymore! And I’ll tell Daddy!”

“Your father has asked me to discipline you as you so clearly deserve. I have his permission, indeed his implicit authorization, to do as I wish with you.” His large hands pushed her chest down into the cushions, and one hand grabbed her arm and pulled it up behind her back.

“Heyyyy! No! You’re a pervert! Get off me!”

“You are only making it all the more obvious, girl.” He flipped her grey skirt up, despite her protests. Instead of regulation knickers, he discovered a pair of shocking panties, skimpy cut, with a cut-out at the top of the back brazenly showing off where her bottom cheeks met.

“Well, my girl, that is certainly asking for my attentions!” He gave her some heavy-handed smacks on the poorly concealed area.

“It wasn’t for you to see! Let my skirt down now, and let me up!”

“I can see I’m going to have to teach you a lesson. Hold still.” His heavy hickory cane, deeply detested by more than one girl, was close to hand. He aimed at her squirming bottom, and the cane sliced against it. It would be her fault if she didn’t like how it landed.

“Yeeeow! Stop that! Let go!”

The can cut down again and again, and she screeched and writhed, showing her complete lack of discipline. Her foot came up to protect her bottom, since her arms were both trapped. He ordered her to move her foot, and when she didn’t, he let the cane come down, not too heavily, across it. It was heavily enough to impress her, as she nearly fell off the sofa. She screamed, but when he hauled her back up, and resumed caning her, her foot stayed down. After a few more strokes, he let her up.

“Now, put these on,” he instructed her, and handed her a pair of bottle green polyester knickers.
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Well,
to continue with the caning … I was still quaking in my spandex after the last series of Six-O-The-Bests, but the final twelve were yet to come. This was back to the Senior cane, which would have seemed like a walk in the park after the last cane (the bamboo root one!), but there was not much real estate left on my bottom that wasn’t hot and weal-ed. So the cane strokes either came down on the already well-battered skin on my bottom, or on my thighs, which were not very marked, but which always hurt so much more!

By the end of that I was squealing and blindly trying to swim away through the air. It always amazes me that his fingers resting ever-so-lightly on my back keep me firmly in place no matter what the level of pain.

Then – my reward! Yes, if you’re thinking, “Alright, this is Zille, so she means ‘anal sex’,” you’d be right! I’ve been begging him for cruel anal sex: just using me for his own pleasure, whilst I whimper in pain (or at least varying levels of discomfort!) and I think it’s been hard for him to entirely be sanguine with it. When he fucks me, he wants me to go soaring into pleasure with him – and, mind you, I appreciate the sentiment! It is the irony of the universe that so many guys are careless lovers who “just take,” and I fantasize about that, while having a caring and involved lover, to whom my pleasure matters deeply.

Of course, if he wasn’t that person, I couldn’t trust him with the sort of play we do. How deeply ironical that it’s only because I know he is not truly like that, that I can long for him to be, and beg him to pretend to be!

But, because he does care about my satisfaction, he betook himself to use me roughly and get as much pleasure from it as possible. I know, some of you are thinking, “Oh, poor guy gets the world’s smallest violin from me!” but the fact of the matter is that when he’s fucking me and I’m screaming in pleasure, he can just let go and enjoy it 100%. When he is forcing his cock into my ass and I’m whimpering in pain, he has to pay attention to what he is doing, so he doesn’t injure me – and that is a distraction, he cannot let go 100%. (Of course, being me, I think a solution for this is that he practice a whole lot, and then it can become second nature and he won’t have to think about it anymore!)

Anyway, it was a period of wonderfulness. As he pushed into me, some inner masochist part of me sighed, “Oh, now this is pain I can really get into!” I revelled in the pain like a pig in mud, begging him sotto voce, “Please … use me … please … enjoy this fully … please … hurt me….”
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