Zille Defeu’s Fetish Fantasies

Archive for the ‘our story’ Category

The wonderful author Wilbur Smith often has references to spanking in his Egyptian Series — pretty much any time there is someone growing up in them they get threatened with a good thwacking as needed. Here are some examples:

“Get on with it, Taita. You are teasing me now. I order you to tell me this very minute or, or,” she groped for a threat to coerce me, “or I shall beat you again.”

“Answer me straight or I will whip your insolent backside, you little baggage.” I had done so before, so she relented and muttered sulkily…”

Tanus lifted the whip on high, and then brought it down in a full-armed stroke with all his weight behind it. He laid a purple welt as fat as my forefinger across Shufti’s back. So intense was the pain of it that the bandit’s entire body convulsed and the air hissed out of his lungs, so that he could not scream. Tanus lifted the lash and then meticulously laid another ridged welt exactly parallel to the first, almost but not quite touching it. This time Shufti filled his lungs and let out a hoarse bellow, like a buffalo bull caught in a pitfall. Tanus ignored his struggles and outraged roars and worked on assiduously, laying on the strokes as though he were weaving a carpet.
When at last he was done, his victims legs, buttocks and back were latticed with the fiery weals. Not one of the blows had overlaid another. The skin was intact and not a drop of blood had spilled out, but Shufti was not longer wriggling or screaming. He lay with his face in the dirt….

These are just a few from River God: A Novel of Ancient Egypt. There are lots more examples in this and the other books in his Egyptian Series.

I was wandering around Wilbur Smith’s website today, and I found the influence for some of those references:

My old man was a Victorian father and ran a tight ship. He would not hesitate to pull his belt out of the loops of his trousers and give me taste of the buckle end. That was perfectly all right with me. I usually deserved it, and a few shots across my skinny little buttocks was small price to pay for being close to him. To me he was God on earth, and I worshipped him.

For me, that paternal-focused adoration is beautiful — and hot! (Although I myself shudder at the thought of “the buckle end” of a belt – but then, I’m a wimpy American girl who didn’t grow up playing in the African bush, so perhaps more extreme measures were required for young Wilbur?)

This also again underscores a point I’ve brought up often in this blog: that it’s the parental figure/dominant who disciplines who gets the worshipful love of the girl/boy/submissive. As Wilbur says, “To me he was God on earth, and I worshipped him.” That’s how I feel about my Master, so I understand it completely. And notice that he brings up his adulation of his father in context of discipline? My point is so proved!

Amusingly, he brings up something else I recently discussed (albeit on The Punishment Book blog):

My father felt that my obsession with books was unnatural and unhealthy. I was forced to become a secret reader. I spent so much time in the outhouse long-drop latrine, where I kept a cache of my favourite books, that my father ordered my mother to administer regular and copious doses of castor oil.

More CP comes in when he was off at boarding school:

Then I received my first caning; three strokes across the backside with a light cane for the heinous crime of talking after ‘lights out’ in the dormitory. My father would never have been so unjust.

Later:

I moved on to senior school, Michaelhouse; AKA St Michael’s academy for young gentlemen. This was a manifest misnomer as there was not a single gentleman amongst us. Here it was very much the same thing all over again, except much worse. The food was awful and the beatings heavier and more frequent.

However, all you school uniform aficionados will be saddened that he wasn’t much impressed with girls in school uniforms:

After four years of durance and misery …. Paradise opened before me, for here there were girls who did not wear gym slips and walk to church in crocodile formation.

This post connects so many things for me. I am re-reading all of these books of course, because of the whole Crook and Flail thing. It also makes me think of the post I did on The Happy Valley caning scenes. But most importantly, this post from 2007, wherein I discuss the basis for our Master/slave relationship, and my growth as a submissive. Re-reading that post was really fascinating to me — in so many ways I’m disappointed that I’ve not grown more as a person since then, but I am quietly satisfied that I have continued learning how to trust and let go — how to be less immediate in needing to have things go my way, more able to accept things being out of my control — all the things that not only make a better submissive, but in general a happier, more contented person!

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The past two scenes have seen a special growth in my Master’s and my relationship, through spanking.

There’s a sentence that needs an explanation, if ever there was!

I continue on my journey of discovering that I can be completely satisfied by CP, not needing sex to happen to feel that a scene is “complete.” My fantasies at the moment are about just being put over my Daddy’s lap, and spanked until I cry.

Both scenes that we did entirely played out my fantasies. (How often does anyone get to say that?) I was put over Daddy’s lap, as he sat on the side of the bed, with one of his legs over both of mine, and spanked and spanked up through the place where the pain was too much – and out the other side, to release and tears that were far more about joy than pain.

After each spanking, when my Daddy then held me close while I finished my cry, we found ourselves in this place of tenderness and contentment that was so potent it was better than any drug. The love we felt for each other was so intense, it was like we were in a bubble of warmth and connection and safety and bliss.

I’ve had good sex before. I’ve had great sex. This was light-years beyond it. If the release I had was an orgasm, it was a purely mental one.

Now, I’m not saying I’m off sex or anything. I love sex, and that’s not going to stop. I think it’s more about my Master and I just being in the same place, and the alignment of our wants and needs is what is making this so brilliant. I’m aware that I’m very lucky to experience this, because some people will never taste this in their whole lives. But I don’t think it’s about me – I think it’s what spanking can bring about. That the communication required to do consensual spanking (with the power exchange and SM and emotional exploration it entails) can bring a couple into such similar places that they are more able, and more likely, to experience it.

I’m not saying things will always be this perfect for us. We are like planets going in our own orbits around the sun. But I hope in the hard times I can remember back to these moments when we have been perfectly aligned.

To end on a less soppy note, after the first of these two spankings, the next day my bottom hurt, but I thought I’d just been sitting without moving enough for too long, and took myself off to the gym. But at the gym, after walking there and stretching, my rear still ached. “Why is it still sore?” I wondered, without the least clue.

It wasn’t until after I’d worked out with my tender botty that I suddenly realized, “Oh, you fool, you had a first-rate spanking last night! Duh!”

The ache the next day after the second one therefore didn’t take me by surprise – I just enjoyed the lovely sense-memory that had been tenderized into my fundament.

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My Master and I have been going through quite a lot, emotionally, these past few months. He’s not happy in his job at the moment, and what with my father not doing well and a number of other serious emotional things, it’s been very hard for us to manage even being a happy husband and wife, never-mind bring back kink into our relationship.

One of the reasons kink has been so scarce for us is that my Master has had serious concerns about being fair and reasonable. He’s been in some seriously cranky moods, for very good reasons, and he hasn’t wanted to take them out on me.

This would be all well-and-good, except that he hadn’t really expressed to me the extent of how miserable work was making him – he was trying not to bother me, to protect me from worrying information. Also it can’t be easy on him that I have depression – I can understand him not wanting to bring me down.

But the fact of the matter is that when the going gets tough, I can, as our dear Miss Maggie Mayhem says, “Pull on my Big Girl Panties.” And I need to know about what is happening in his life and mind and heart, because if I don’t, I can’t act properly on the information I’m lacking. Which can lead to a number of unpleasant results, like him resenting me for wanting things from him that he doesn’t have the energy to give, or him feeling bad that he can’t give me what I want (which I’m only asking of him because I don’t know better), and that guilt making the whole situation worse in a downward-spiral-y type of way.

Well, we’ve gotten though the worst of it. (I think and hope!) Now that I know what’s going on, I can give him the support he needs – or at least not ask stuff of him at bad times! As part of the healing process, we’ve been discussing getting back our disciplinary dynamic.

The main gist of our discussing (and discussing this stuff is very much fun, almost foreplay in its own right!) is that he is going to let go of his concerns about “fairness.” They were making him second-guess himself to the point that he never did anything, and to earn a punishment I had to basically “act out” in a very obvious way. Not particularly good for us!

Now, if I bother, annoy, or otherwise inconvenience him, something will be done about it. There is no excuse for feeling sick or tired or just having a sudden attack of stupidity. Another change is that our focus isn’t just “the paddle,” anymore. There will be a variety of levels of discipline and punishment.
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Wow, how this month has flown by. Damn, there went that summer, and I really don’t feel I had enough time to fully enjoy and appreciate it!

Now that it’s September, I realize I’d better finish this serial, before events overtake me again – i.e., before I go to my first ShadowLane party!

So … that Saturday…. My Master and I knew that Mystery Minx would be coming over for another sleep-over (this one actually planned!) on Sunday, so this was a day for us to connect as a couple, before bringing the wonderfully bratty third back in.

My Master has been in Daddy-mode a lot recently. So much, that I’ve been considering calling him “my Daddy” over here on this blog, because our energy has transformed so very much from where we started, that I feel it deserves recognition. I’ve always been his girl – that much has not changed (and I hope it never does!), and as a title works well in a number of situations, from high-protocol Master/slave, to a school-setting roleplay.

Of course, that title might squick the pure-spankos who come over here even more than “Master.” I mean, “Master” sounds all BDSM-y and possibly pushes emotional buttons, but how many more buttons does “Daddy” push?! And we’ve talked about it, and while it would be a good solution otherwise, “my Sir” is not for us, because it’s not a natural part of language, e.g. the way “my Lord” is. (Errr, the English language, I should specify, as “Monsieur” is exactly that. But if I called him “Monsieur” we’d both fall over laughing, unless we were doing the whole bloody scene in French! Which, come to think of it, could probably not be accomplished without massive giggling, anyway! Now German, that would fit a scene very, very well…. But I don’t think he’ll take to “Mein Herr,” either, and honestly, that leads to visions of clicking my heels and saying, “Yavol, Mein Herr!” and then falling over in giggles as well….)

But I’ve wandered off track – thinking about it, I’ll use “my Daddy” for the rest of this post. Those of you who read it, please leave me a comment letting me know how you feel about it – does it work? Or does it squick you out?

So, here we go – I started over my Daddy’s lap; hand-spanking and then the mean slipper. Once I was crying out and bouncing around, I was put over the edge of the bed and he decided to work through a large selection of his tawses, as we’d just found the missing Campbells (they were, if you can imagine it, in the toy bag!)
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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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