Zille Defeu’s Fetish Fantasies

Archive for the ‘erotica’ Category

Am sitting at the local café. School must have recently ended for the day, because it’s stuffed to overfilling with schoolgirls. (And schoolboys. But I’m afraid my point of view on teen and pre-teen boys is that they are mostly just zitty, unwashed little monsters which it’s best to ignore whenever possible. A perspective I wish I’d had when I was a teenage girl!)

It makes me think of Abel and Haron, and their ability to turn any situation into a spanking one. (Although if I couldn’t manage to make a spanking situation out of a café full of schoolgirls, I shouldn’t be entrusted with a keyboard and WordPress account!)

So, here goes my “perverting reality.”

Breckenridge Academy, California’s most prestigious prep school, lets out for the day at 3:30 PM. It’s a time of day which Frank Sarchimor, coffee-shop proprietor, dreads. His café is just a block away from the academy, and he almost thinks he can hear the final bell ringing in his head every day.

At 3:40, his clean, well-lighted café is suddenly deluged with a range of kids who are loud, prone to shoving or just general clumsiness (he’s had to move the sales displays behind the counter), and just generally unmannered and unruly. After backing up the line at the counter so that customers are frustrated, they all also order iced blended mochas with shots of flavoured syrups (as if they needed the caffeine and sugar!), which throws his baristas into a frenzy of trying to get these complicated drink order fulfilled, which slows things down all the more. And the kids don’t tip, of course, which makes his baristas cranky.

By about 5PM every day, his beloved café is trashed. Straw wrappers everywhere (how did they get them to stick on the ceiling?) empty plastic cups, crumbs from brownies and rice krispy treats which had been used as projectile weapons between flirting boys and girls. Frank has to chip in on the clean-up every day, because if he doesn’t he fears his baristas would just go work at another café, and he’d finally just gotten them trained up right! The signs he keeps putting up on the walls, to “respect others and keep the noise down,” to “please have your order ready when you got in line,” and to “please bus the tables yourself,” are roundly ignored.

Then, the final nail in the coffin. Frank came out from his office after a particularly intense period of sound and fury to discover that a number of the thick coffee frappes had been spilled across the floors and tables and chairs like a Jackson Pollock piece. With java chips. The last two kids were sauntering out of his café, two girls in what seemed to be much shorter than regulation pleated skirts, blouses unbuttoned to show as much cleavage as possible, and insolent looks on their faces. Frank lost it and started yelling at them, demanding they come back and help clean up the mess they’d made. They just looked at him in patent disbelief, stuck out their tongues, and ran out the door giggling.

Frank made an appointment to speak with the head of Breckenridge Academy the next morning.

Mr. Morgans welcomed Frank to his office the next day. Frank had been concerned that, given the attitude of the spoiled brats who’d been frequenting his establishment, that his concerns would be brushed aside. But Mr. Morgans and he had a very satisfactory meeting of the minds, which led to Frank returning later in the day for a special school assembly….

When Kristin and Susan saw the coffee-shop guy on-stage with Mr. Morgans, they had yet another fit of giggles. How ridiculous that this little man had complained about them and their classmates! The Academy kids brought good money to his café, and had as much rights as any of his other customers – just ‘cause he didn’t like kids was his problem, not theirs!

Their giggles died away when they suddenly became aware that Mr. Morgans had called them both up onto the stage. They suddenly became intensely aware that the gym teacher had dragged a vaulting horse on-stage.

Mr. Morgans’ mood was not improved by the fact he had to call them up more than once, and that they came dragging their feet and slouching….

Mr. Morgans explained that while he knew Kristin and Susan were not the only offenders, they would serve this time to be an example for the whole school – Mr. Sarchimor and his café would be treated with respect, or more disciplinary actions would be handed out. If Mr. Morgans had to punish every student in the school, he would, and they had better believe it. Breckenridge Academy had very high standards, and the students would live up to those standards, or learn how to do so the hard way.

First Susan, then Kristin, had to lean over the horse, and suffer the embarrassment of their skirts flipped up. Mr Morgans himself personally attended to the punishment, using a paddle which was the subject of school myth, but which had, obviously to the detriment of the student body, not been used in years. It was worn quite smooth from years of being applied to errant school-children’s bottoms, but the smoothness did not in any way mitigate either the pain of the impact or the hideous stinging burn that lasted long after the stoke.

Image Courtesy of Girls Boarding School

It was twelve each, due to the fact that this bad behaviour had been going on for some time, now. Well before the twelfth whack, Kristin and Susan were howling, their faces red and wet with tears, their eyes puffy, and their noses requiring frequent sniffs to keep from embarrassing them further.

The assembly was silent, except for the occasional gasp of sympathy. Although some of the kids looked somewhat less terrified and more simply fascinated in the show….

As for Frank, he got to watch the whole thing. He was very satisfied seeing Susan and Kristin reduced to blubbering and very sorry girls, and he deeply enjoyed every moment of their stuttered apologies.

He was so pleased, he invited Mr. Morgans down for a cup of java, on the house. And over the steaming beverages, they shared some ideas for future school assemblies.

Because, after all, the youthful memory can be so short, can’t it. You just can’t keep down those high spirits. No, there would be plenty of reason to bring out the paddle in the future, and Frank was more than ready to help keep up the standards of the Academy and the community.

And the winner is…? Well, um, us!

Read the rest of this entry »

I’ve been away from this blog too much recently, a combination of travel, holidays, and some poor health, and it’s been taking me forever to catch up with my friends in the spankosphere. But the fault is not mine! So many blogs have been pouring out really brilliant stuff recently.

First up, I’m totally jealous of Adele Haze, who did a kinky 12 Days of Christmas. That’s just the hottest thing ever. (And, unlike Leia-Ann Woods, I am still a “a spanking virgin of 2010” so when I say I’m jealous, I really mean it!)

Spankingblog.com posted the coolest Krampus picture as his Christmas gift to us this year. Thanks!

Kami did a scene with HH which gave her the wondrous revelation about herself as a spanko. While I personally would like to be left alone while I exercise (it hurts enough, thankyouverymuch, and when I work out I’m just focused on moving my body correctly or if it’s yoga, maintaining proper alignment, so I don’t need painful distractions) I agree with Kami that yes, everyone wants to see girls in gym shorts take a caning. At least my Master does, and his tastes have not just rubbed off on mine — completely supplanted (or at least modified) most of my fantasies.

EmmaJane visited a very dark fantasy recently. It really worked for me! (Although if you have abuse issues, I don’t recommend you try it – it’s all-too well-written.)

And The Spanking Writers always set a high standard, but even they have been sharing the most brilliant stuff recently. The pencil between the teeth story, for one, and a Christmas spanking, and then … well, I was totally bowled over when they honoured me with “Hottest Kinky Blog” in their The 2009 Spanking Writers Awards. I still haven’t thanked them properly, and honestly I don’t really know how – it means so much to me!

The other day I was reading The Pearl out loud to Mr Defeu, and found a reference to “The Order of St. Bridget.” Being me, I could not rest until I’d searched it out, and I found the whole text online for free. Here are some fun excerpts:

and how she kept them in order. I soon found out. She practised whipping, as almost every fashionable lady does, and kept them in order with the rod. I dare say, shut up as you are, you have never seen anything of the practice since you and I were girls together at Mme. Duhauton’s. Do you remember how we used to indulge in whipping on the sly, when Madame thought we were in bed? That was a very untutored way of proceeding. I have learned better since, and I can tell you that the passion for the rod is one which grows; I am as ardent a votary of whipping now as any of the ladies I have served, and I
have had two mistresses who loved it dearly. Mme. St. Valery kept her women and pages in order with the rod, and taught us to dread it, but she was not refined in her manner of using it; she would begin well enough, but it was sure to end in her getting in a passion. Many a time I have smarted well in her service….

More about this “merry order”: Read the rest of this entry »

Last Sunday, Bonnie over at My Bottom Smarts asked:

Have you ever decided to give up spanking? If so, for what reasons? Did you expect to walk away forever or did you anticipate a temporary abstinence? Why did you return?

Well, I started my reply, but then got to busy to get it up in time, so I’ve finally finished it, and I’m posting it here.

I’ve known that I was kinky since earliest memory. But when I was about twelve, I renounced everything “weird” about me, because I wanted to stop being a geek, bookworm, and general nerd, and become “popular.” One of the “weird” things I rejected about myself was the sexuality I had always somehow known was “different.” So I decided that I would be straight, vanilla – I started reading romances to give me an idea of how to be “normal” sexually. (I’m not sure that was a very good plan – in a very non-feminist way those books are kinky in their own way!)

Happily, when I was 17, my friends sort of conspired to “out” me as kinky to myself. One friend gave me “Exit to Eden,” for my birthday. Another gave me “Venus in Furs.” And the girl I had my first crush on one day brought in a pair of handcuffs to school … and when she put them on me, I felt so horny I could have popped!

Even so, I fought it a bit. I was worried that if I started getting off on pain, “I’ll forget how to get off on pleasure.” (Don’t ask me where I got that idea! And, happily, it hasn’t been the case. Sometimes when my Master and I have vanilla sex, I’m overwhelmed by how good vanilla can be!)

So it wasn’t until college, after my first reading of Pat Califia’s “Macho Sluts,” (I skipped all my classes, stayed in bed and read and masturbated all day!) that I fully accepted that I was a full-on, no holds barred pervert.

So I spent about 6 years in denial of some form or another. Happily, this didn’t really interfere with too much of my adult life … but if I look back and think that instead of doing risky “mostly-safer-sex” (I was really only concerned about pregnancy – considerations of herpes or genital warts or other STDs just didn’t even enter into it!) I could have just been getting spankings – like in some Blushes story, where an Older Gentleman steps forward to protect, educate, and discipline a young lady, sighhhhh – it does make me wish I’d never sworn off it!

My Master had his own period of renouncing spanking. As a young man, he had built up quite a collection of Janus and Blushes magazines. He’s not here for me to ask him exactly what age he swore off spanking, and threw them all out, but it was before his 30s, I’m pretty sure. You can hear the regret in his voice when he talks about the magazines he simply discarded – some of which he has not been able to replace, in the years since he reclaimed his kinky sexual birthright.

Both he and I thought we were “walking away forever” when we made our choices. And we both returned because we had no choice. I had good friends who forced me to confront my desires, my core-self. He moved to the US and discovered spanking parties and being able to go to dungeons and pay nice ladies to lay across his lap.

And thank the gods of CP that we both allowed ourselves to accept that part of ourselves – or we probably would never have met!