Zille Defeu’s Fetish Fantasies

Archive for the ‘D/s’ Category

I have so much to write about last night’s punishment that instead of trying to do one of my epic posts and it taking so long that I don’t post anything for the next three weeks, I’m going to try the mad notion of breaking things up into more manageable posts – crazy talk, I know!

I have so many emotions that I’ll start off with something more simple and basic: facts and thoughts about the new type of ginger butt-plug I made.

It was not an unmitigated success, but it did have a huge successful point in that we were a lot less concerned that we were going to loose the fig inside me, never to see it again. (As happened on Kink.com a while ago!)

However, I am used to carving ginger plugs with one notched area to simulate a butt-plug – and didn’t think about the fact that this time the notched area, which is usually where the sphincter ani internus (internal anal sphincter muscle) grabs aholt of the notch in the ginger, to keep it from sucking on in, or spitting it out (And the fact that I never trusted it for the former, and it didn’t work so great for the latter is why we were trying new methods!), was used by the flange from the cut-down butt-plug, and so the big fail was that I did not make the notched area longer nor make a second notched area….

So my bottom spent the whole punishment happily trying to spit that mean old ginger root right out! (I am pretty sure that actually ginger causes the anus to spasm and expel the burning foreign object from your bottom. I get why it would try to do this, but it’s something that needs to be worked around, because figging is the best punishment in the world. More on that later.)
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So tonight Zille was punished. It doesn’t matter for what, and I mean that comprehensively: it didn’t really matter to us, either, what the specific offense was, but rather that we once again exercise the core element of our partnership, which was born out of a disciplinary relationship.

The point of a proper punishment is that it should be unpleasant enough to discourage a repeat offense. That does not mean that neither of us shouldn’t benefit from the experience in happy, positive, sexually-charged ways, but rather that she won’t want a second dose any time soon.

So on returning home from the office, I had her dress in her white spandex compression shorts. I then spanked her for a while before proceeding to the main event, as it were: ginger. At the weekend (actually, in the small hours of Sunday night after a friends birthday bash), we got a large chunk of a huge old ginger root. Zille had created an experimental holder from a retired butt plug, and fastened the ginger into the base of the thing.

It was a large piece of ginger, and by the time it was a third of the way in, she was squirming. But we persevered, and got the whole thing inserted.

With the ginger burning brightly, I spanked her to settle the “fig” inside her.

The heart of the punishment was 12 strokes of the cane — our “special” cane with all sorts of significance to our relationship. The first 6 she took fairly well (with regular pauses to re-seat the “fig”), but after only two strokes of the second set she was in extreme discomfort. Being considerate, I finished the set with four quick strokes, and then let her settle down with a final spanking.

Once I let her remove the ginger, we enjoyed what used to coyly be called “marital relations”.

And now to dinner, which she is serving right now…

I just rediscovered this post, due to the fact that a spammer had left a comment on it. I forget how many years of regular posting I have here, and much of that was migrated from Livejournal, so it’s not been properly tagged and incorporated into this blog, so lots of the early romance between Mr Defeu and me is just sort of sitting in limbo.

I’ve decided to repost them as I come across them (spammers do have a use, it seems!) and so here is the one I found today, that is very appropriate due to the face that Mr Defeu and I are very much in a gooey-romantic phase at the moment….

From 28th August 2007….

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Mr D. was so sweetly romantic last night! I asked him if he’d read my journal entry, and he explained that he’d only read half, as his boss had walked into his office and he’d had to close the window. “But,” he added, “I do have one comment.”

“What?” I asked, a little scared that he might be upset with me about the post.

“Well, in that part where you say that despite the engagement ring on your finger, you can’t comprehend that it’s forever and ever … well, I thought you forgot an ‘ever’.”

“What –?” I asked, trying to follow the logic.

“Forever and ever and ever,” he said, looking at me with that earnest and open expression you only ever see on the faces of people who love you and trust you completely.

At which point I broke down and started crying and kissing his hand (which I’d been holding). “That’s what I really thought as I read it,” he assured me, which meant that I didn’t stop crying with happiness (and clinging to him) for some minutes!

He’s a big old sop of a romantic, he is! And, it makes me feel even more guilty for wanting him to go into another head-space when he’s enjoying the sweet and romantic one so much. I know that with the girls he was with before me, he didn’t get to explore that as much as he would have liked. He’s well known around the local kink scene for being a great Top (when I started dating him, I was rather bemused at how many bottoms came up to me and told me, somewhat wistfully, “You know how great he is, I hope….” For some it was just a kind — and true! — remark. For others … as if they were letting me know that if I didn’t work out with him, they’d be more than willing to replace me!
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Apologies all, for coming back with a vengeance and then disappearing again. I was all set to put some real time and energy back into this blog … but then the novel I’ve been wanting to write finally started flowing, and I’ve been putting all my energy into that, because I would actually like to get the thing written and published in this lifetime. I can only do so much writing in a day (and so much non-immediately-paying-work, or things start to get a little uncomfortable in the wallet region), so for the next I don’t know how many months, I’m only going to be up here when I can steal a moment or two from the novel.

A funny thing I wanted to write about writing the novel is that I’ve been working on a sex scene these past two days, and it’s taking me way longer to write what is essentially a vanilla sex scene than it would to write a nice spanko piece of erotica. Not that I wouldn’t put a spanking scene in the novel, but it’s not the right place for it in that spot. Since it’s not a spanking scene, I’m trying to write a really good vanilla scene — one that authentically turns me on, but is not too filthy to sell to a normal publisher. (Although I have been noticing that novels now can have scenes as explicit as any porn — it’s just a matter of not having them be too kinky without at least a tenuous reason.)

So, it’s taking me waaaay longer to write this quite basic scene, then it would for me to write a much more intricate spanko one. Amusing.

Also amusing: Chross just recently posted a James Bond clip I’d forgotten all about, but which certainly turned me on when I was a teenage girl watching the all Bond flicks for the first time:

Of course, now I’m going to have, “Gold — fingah!” being sung in my head all day by Shirley Bassey. [sigh]

I see Chross one Bond film, and raise him a Star Trek spoof with equally delightful sexism:

The whole joy of being a post-feminist, I feel, is getting to eroticise being treated like a brainless “little lady,” a second-class citizen who is expected to stay at home and keep out of the men’s way, dear, we’ve got some real business to attend to. Why don’t you go make us some coffee, there’s a good girl!

There’s something so hot about that for me. That casual, “I can slap your bottom any time I like because I’m the superior man, and you are basically a pet who can do the cooking and wash up (if you don’t need someone with superior brains and/or strength to fix something first, that is, in which case I will shake my head and give you the help you need with noblesse oblige oozing out of my ever-so-superior pores).” I like that I can choose to live in (or visit!) that world. (Of course, it’s the fact that it’s a choice that makes it hot, so I thank my bra-burning fore-mothers for that.)

It reminds me that the other night Mr. Defeu and I were watching TV, and there was something on about a culture (or something — I’m blanking on it, now) where the women are inferior to the men. I turned to him and gave him a nudge and said, “Oh, like in Blushes or Janus! That’s your sort of world!”

“No,” he replied with the calm smile of someone about to smoothly deliver a punchline, “Not inferior … just different .. and subordinate!”

Phwoar! (A., What a sexy delivery — I’m so turned on by that sort of thing, and B., that relaxed and certain superiority is just what I was talking about above as being hot for me. Double whammy!) That sort of thing just makes me want to go off and have the kind of hot kinky sex where I am obviously there for his pleasure, because that’s what a wife is for, to serve and please her husband, right?!

Ooooh! I’m all hot and bothered, now. Maybe must go have a moment of, ahem, personal relief before I go back to writing my novel!

I’ve been organizing the books in our apartment, as they are threatening to take over the place, and I found this gem among Papa Otter’s erotica collection.

The cover is more funny than arousing (to me, anyway) but what is lovely and even in it’s own way arousing is the innocence of the image. No worries about feminism, here, no angst about if spanking your wife is okay, no confusion about whether discipline should have sex involved (the author thinks it should, if you can’t tell by the spanker’s humongous erection!) — these are some happy ’60s swingers who explore their desires with an almost child-like innocence.

The book cheerfully merges domestic discipline with sex (and swinging, because once you find out the neighbours like spanking, too, the obvious next step is to spank and fuck the neighbour’s wife, non?) in a way that is very heartening for me, because Papa Otter and I find they mingle very well indeed, and I was very surprised when I came across the DD [Domestic Discipline] community and found out that I wasn’t supposed to want to mix those things!

My favourite example of this (and I really need to carry the URL for this site around with me, because when I tell people about it they just can’t believe me) is this fabulous article, Thanking the HOH — The “Formal Thank You” as a Non-Sexual Act. I don’t know how I found it, but once I realized what I’d come across, I had a reaction that combined all the best aspects of shooting my drink out my nose and punching the air and shouting, “Yes!”
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