Zille Defeu’s Fetish Fantasies

Archive for the ‘fantasies’ Category

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 Papa Otter 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!

Tweet this!

Today’s fantasy comes from the article “Papal crackdown on bare-kneed tourists sparks hypocrisy claims” from The Register:

The Vatican’s stripey knickerbocker-clad Swiss Guards have launched a crack down on scantily-clad tourists in and around the Holy See.

Reports say that a long-standing modest dress decree has been extended from St Peter’s basicilica – the big church – to the whole of the Vatican mini-state.

The Pope’s halberd-waving steel-hatted private army has apparently been forcing quivering tourists into corners to berate them for having uncovered shoulders or knees. While some have been directed to nearby traders specialising in more modest apparel, others have been refused entry to Vatican City altogether, The Telegraph reports. [...]

The crackdown has angered some visitors, who said it was hypocritical for an organisation beset by child abuse allegations to suddenly get all hot and bothered about ladies’ shoulders and men’s hairy knees. Still, when it comes to driving Satan out of the Vatican you’ve got to start somewhere, so why not with spaghetti strap tops and Bermuda shorts?

It should be noted that the guards wear a 16th century outfit including a natty doublet and voluminous pantaloons, and while the pantaloons stop above the knee, the offending joints are covered by coordinated stockings. Their wardrobe also includes a knee-length doublet.

The pope himself generally wears a floor length cassock, which this week he has apparently been teaming with a baseball cap in pontifical white.

(The above lovely shot of the Vatican Guards is from Wikipedia.)

This of course has spawned some serious Swiss Guard fantasies for me — because how could you not want to be spanked by someone in that get-up?!

My fantasy runs like this … I get into Vatican City wearing a cardigan over my tube top, but it’s a hot day, and also, I like the idea of naughtily flashing a bit of skin where I shouldn’t.

So the cover-up gets stuffed in my bag, and I take in the sights showing off not only shoulder, but a few inches of stomach as well! (And, actually, since I actually usually wear low-riding trou, that could be quite a few inches of the middle of me uncovered!)

I’ve gotten my shots of famous statues and buildings, bought some postcards, and am ready to head back to the tour bus … when two Swiss Guards bear down on me, berating me in thickly accented English. There I am in a corner, away from the other tourists, trapped by the two overbearing guards….

Here’s where my fantasy breaks up a bit, because what shall they use on me?! Take off their leather belts? Use the scabbards of their swords? Or do Swiss Guards carry some esoteric, medieval tool of correction?! (And/or do they use their rough, sword-callused hands?)

Anyway, no matter what they use, we all know it ends with me walking stiffly to my tour bus, eyes red-rimmed, and sweater on and buttoned all the way up!

Tweet this!

While I’m a dedicated book-worm all year round, there is something special about “summer reading.” It’s the excuse, I suppose, for reading even less intellectual brain-candy than usual. (Although my reading pattern tends to be that I have something dense on-going and will go through several other fluffier reads while slogging through the hard stuff.)

There is no excuse for the following two books, save for that it’s summer and my brain has melted. Somehow, and I have no idea how this could have happened, they both turned out to be quite kinky!

They were both, “just found on the shelf at the library” books that wandered home with me. But I must admit that I could sorta tell from the cover that the first book was going to be dirty. And it’s funny to think of a prudish porn star, but I was actually shocked at what I was reading — I mean, I got it at the library! I thought that sort of stuff could only be found at “Adult” stores!

(This image from sexandsubmission.com is here because A.) it’s hot, B.) it’s got two men in it, which happens in the below book, and C.) that’s my friend Calico in between them. I happen to know she really quite enjoyed that shoot!)

Here’s a bit from the Claimed by the Wolf: A Shadow Guardians Novel (by Charlene Teglia) which I thought you lot would enjoy:

“I want you bent over that wall.” He indicated a ledge on the far side of the small room.

Sybil managed to get her feet under herself and stood. Then she made her way to the spot he’d chosen. The rock formed a natural shelf at a convenient height. If she stood with her legs shoulder length apart and bent forward from the waist, it would support her fairly comfortably.

“Like this?” She asked the question over her shoulder, and drew in her breath sharply when she realized he was right behind her.

“Exactly like that.”
Read the rest of this entry »

Tweet this!

So, when last we tuned in, our heroine was rubbing her sore bottom. No … wait … we have to rewind further back than that, to find out how she got said sore botty!

So, wearing only knickers, bra, and socks (was I wearing shoes? I have absolutely no recollection and we’ll have to wait until NSI releases the video to find out!), under the hot, bright lights, and I’ve just told Paul Kennedy and Stephen Lewis that I’m all ready to go, despite the fact that I’m quaking in my metaphorical boots (I’m pretty sure I wasn’t actually wearing boots, at least!).

Stephen settles down on the sofa to await my entrance, I go off camera and try to compose myself. I quickly review my dream in my head, trying to come to a last-minute understanding of what my character will act like – since she is going to be whinging and moaning, and need to be strapped for such annoying behaviour at each step of the way, I figure it’s time for a stubborn brat, sullen petulant teenager, who is letting her frustration with the situation get in the way of her sense of self-preservation. (As I recall from being a teenager myself, that was not hard to accomplish – what was hard to accomplish was to get past the boredom and aggravation of wanting things to be different and as-you-wished-they’d-be, and overcome that self-focus and unrealistic expectation and actually make reasonably good choices and decisions. And sometimes it was just all too difficult, and didn’t seem worth the effort at all!)

So, now girded about the loins with petulance and self-righteousness, I was ready to make my grand entrance. Of course, filming being what it is, it wasn’t quite yet time for me to enter stage right, because camera angles and blocking were still getting last-minute modifications, so I had to stand there, trying with body language to hold my character in place – the postures and attitudes of frustrated youth: foot taping, crossing and uncrossing arms over chest, eyes rolling, moving hands around in ways that express the utter boredom you have for everything and everyone. (However, I’m trying to do all of this in miniature; just enough to work for me, so that people don’t actually think I do feel that way!)

By the time everything had got sorted, I had managed to work my way far enough into my character to be as impatient and full of aggravation as possible, so I stormed onto camera with the full force of frustrated teenage energy in me.

I don’t know if Stephen Lewis was at all taken aback by this transformation, but he took it in professional stride, and not shortly thereafter we had worked out that I did not want to – would not! – put on the scratchy nylon gym knickers, and there was nothing for it but the strap. Of course!

It was an intense scene. And it was the first time that I’d worked with Stephen or NSI , so we were all walking the fine, fine line between getting them the best movie possible (my goal!) and me not getting seriously damaged or otherwise be overwhelmed (their goal!). I must say, though, that it’s not a bad way for a spanking film to be created: the model is more worried about giving the content producers the best film she can make, whilst the content producers are more concerned about taking care of the model. Indeed, I think that’s possibly the perfect way for a spanking film to come into existence!

Anyway, I won’t give more away. You have read my dream – so you’ve got the plotline – we stayed quite close to that, with Stephen adding his own touches, and me having fun with being a whingy spoiled little brat.

(I must admit that there is some small part of me that worries, when I play that role, that people are going to be horrified and think that’s really me! There is always the problem of people thinking that the characters you play really are who you are. And I like “playing a brat on TV,” but I’m really not comfortable being one in real life!)

I was a terribly realistic brat, however (memories of my teen years finally come in handy, which is more than most people can say for theirs!), which was undoubtedly the only reason why Stephen was so enthusiastic about strapping me!

After the end of the shoot, it was decided it was time to give my bottom some recovery time, and after a nice cuppa, Papa Otter and I took the crew down to the pub where they were staying, and we had a nice little walk around town (err, wee tiny village) whilst they dropped off their bags, etc. We came back and drinks ensued, and then dinner, and then more drinks as we couldn’t stop talking and laughing, and no one wanted the night to end.

Happily, despite that, I was able to get a full night’s sleep – I’d be needing it!

The next day we got the big video out of the way first: I was an overzealous coach (except that I had a whistle and never got to blow it! I should have done so right in the opening of the shoot. Damn, I hate missed opportunities!) and the ever-lovely Irelynn Logeen was one of my track students (she looked delish in tight blue gym knickers and what in the UK they call a “vest” and in the US we call “wife-beater” — yes, really) and it turns out that she had taken my “win at all costs!” philosophy a bit too close to heart, and had won in a unique method of cheating (you’ll have to watch the video to find out what it was!) and Stephen showed up to let us know that, as a judge, he knew about the cheating, and the only way he would feel that A.) we had learned out lessons and B.) thus not feel the need to let the rest of the judges and people in charge was to administer the correction personally. (He’s such a selfless man, so devoted to fair play!)

The next day was more low-key but just as fun. Irelynn and I did a set with her topping me (her first time wielding a riding crop!) as the Rich Man’s Bitchy Daughter archetype, and me as a poor maid who has to suffer at her hands.

Then a nice lunch (we really hadn’t had time the day before to do more than nibble, so I had lots of provisions left!) where we all sat ‘round and chatted and had just the loveliest of times.

One last shoot: Meester Stephen and me al fresco! I was in a pretty ‘50s dress (thank you, O Wonderful Pandora!) and vintage undergarments and stockings, and he was all James Dean in black t-shirt and jeans. It was just a sweet, romantic, out-door spanking over s stone wall. Happily, Paul trod down all the nettles, and didn’t decide to make them a part of the shoot! That would have been rather less romantic!

I was really torn at the end of the last shoot. I didn’t want the fun to end, didn’t want my friends to leave … but they had certainly put me to work, and I was sorta ready for a post-porn nap!

I’m writing this on the airplane, over a week after a wrote the first half of this post. (I had to stop off for five days with my family on the way home. My dad’s health isn’t great, and it seemed the best idea to get some time with him while I still can.) But the shoot is just as fresh in my mind as if I was writing this the same day of the shoot!

Lovely Pandora reminded me when we were hanging out that I have years of fetish, alt, and BDSM modelling under my belt – a career in which I should take pride. But, truth to tell, these days I really don’t even think about that past anymore. My focus is so much on the spanking world, it’s as if all that other stuff has faded away. And, since I’m not actively promoting myself in that world, in essence I have just faded away.

Spanko modelling and blogging is my world now. I was blogging in this brave new world [coughs] for some years before Papa Otter married me, but, in a way, it was he who “carried me over the threshold” of the spankoverse – except I was dressed in a schoolgirl uniform, not a fancy wedding dress! (The big fancy wedding dress did come later!)

These shoots with dear Olivia and the wonderful NSI crew have reminded me (not that I needed it, but still it was appreciated) that I’m a proper spanko now, that this is my chosen tribe. The friendships I’ve made since joining up (“Proud Member since 2005!”) have been profoundly notable in that I over and over again feel like I’m reuniting with a beloved old friend, not meeting a new one. That’s so rare, and all you lovely spankos should now pat yourselves on the back and feel quietly superior to the rest of humanity. (I joke, but only by exaggerating a wee little bit!)

Now the waiting begins for NSI to release the photos and videos. Want to see, want want want!

Tweet this!

From: New Scientist!

Spanking is stressful at first, but it could bring consenting couples closer together. That’s the implication of two studies of hormonal changes associated with sadomasochistic (S&M) activities including spanking, bondage and flogging.

Brad Sagarin at Northern Illinois University in DeKalb and colleagues measured levels of the stress hormone cortisol in 13 men and women at an S&M party in Arizona, before, during and after participating in activities. During S&M scenes, cortisol rose significantly in those receiving stimulation, but dropped back to normal within 40 minutes if the scene went well. There was no change in those inflicting the activity.

At an S&M event in Colorado, testosterone was measured in 45 men and women. It increased significantly in receiving women only. Donatella Marazziti of the University of Pisa, Italy, says the boost may help women cope with the aggressive nature of S&M activities, or that it could be another sign of stress. In both studies, couples who said the party went well also reported increases in relationship closeness (Archives of Sexual Behavior, DOI: 10.1007/s10508-008-9374-5).

It’s important to note that levels of both hormones dropped back down in couples who enjoyed the experience, Marazziti says. “When sexual intercourse is consensual it is not stressful – even if it is extreme sex.”

Heh — for me, I don’t think my stress levels go up when the spanking starts at all — I’m just too happy about it! Of course, if it’s actual punishment, that’s another matter … but the study didn’t go into such detail!

Maybe we should do our own study! We in the spankosphere could start S.P.A.N.K. (the Society of Professional and Notable Kinksters, perhaps, although I’m sure one of you could come up with some better words to fill that acronym, this was just off the top of my head!) and do scientific studies of all sorts of aspects of spanking and CP. We could have the S.P.A.N.K. Institute (classically I think these things are supposed to be in Switzerland, but my vote is for either the UK or somewhere tropical!) and we could call upon the world’s finest scientists (if you go with my theory that all scientists are perverts, then this makes it easy to assume they’ll all want to join us!) and then have spankers and spankees coming in for trials and studies.

Can’t you see it … white hallways with white-lab-coated spankologists walking looking at clipboards (or, better yet, Star Trek PADDs!), passing rooms, where looking in the windows on the doors, you can see girls bent over various white furniture items (a bed, a desk, a chair, even white and sterile medieval torture pieces) with wires hooked up to their heads and bodies, with scientists standing around taking notes as the spanker lines up another hit … or the “psychology” labs which have perfect sets (schoolroom, headmaster’s office, reformatory dormitory) where spankees and spankers interact while scientists monitor from one-way mirrors … there can be a sleep lab for seeing if people sleep better after a spanking … and a gymnasium for exercise-based CP studies … and I picture two dining areas: one where the spankees can whisper to each other about what the tests are like, and what might be happening to them next, and a lounge for the spankers and scientists to chat over meals about new tests and ideas for improving results….

I think I may have to visit this fantasy with some regularity!

(There always has to be anal play in any medical scenario, don’t you think?!)

Tweet this!