Zille Defeu’s Fetish Fantasies

Archive for the ‘our story’ Category

Sorry, you lot, today’s scheduled update was preempted by hot kinky sex. More tomorrow. I hope. Papa Otter, if you’re reading this — please more…!

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I’ve got some tabs to close in my browser, so here’s a “things to share” hodge-podge for you lot!

I missed My Bottom Smarts Sunday Brunch this weekend because I didn’t actually get online enough to answer the excellent question:

It’s been said that clothes make the man (or woman). Do you or you partner dress for a spanking? Or do you perhaps adapt the spanking to your mode of dress? Does wearing certain clothes affect your spanking experiences? If so, how?

Papa Otter really introduced me to dressing for “sex.” (By which I mean spanking, role-play, and everything that generally follows, for us!) Oh, sure, I’d enjoyed playing dress-up role-play in the past, and I was in no way loathe to wear whatever my partner wanted to see me in, but “sex” generally happened in the buff.

With Papa Otter at first I was really confused because we never had naked sex. I was in my schoolgirl uniform, or a spandex catsuit, or equestrienne garb, but us enjoying some spanky-bot-bot and rumpy-pumpy was almost never done au naturale. It made me wonder if he didn’t like my body, or something.

Fast-forward to now. He’s utterly corrupted me! Naked spanking and sex is very rare for us – and even if he is willing, I’ll generally be the person to say, “Oh … shouldn’t I go put something on…?” *

Well – I’m the one who is not naked. He is usually naked or just in a pair of shorts. I get this from a practical viewpoint (i.e., that he is one of those people who is always warm, and he’s doing lots of physical labour, so wearing a tweed suit every time we play might be impractical. Also, when it’s time for things to go into places, he’s ready to put them there) but … darn it, I’d really like him to wear outfits for me more often!

So, I’m registering my complaint now! I’d like to see my Papa Otter in *his* riding clothes (OMG, boots!) or period clothing (Victorian, Elizabethan, whatever, I’ll role with it!) or the finest in headmaster fashions (just the occasional tweed is all I ask!) … or just even a nice suit, with one of those pairs of very sexy men’s dress shoes he owns. (I’m not a foot/shoe fetishist. But expensive men’s footwear makes my brain go melty. If I’m going to lick someone’s boots, give me some bespoke hand-made dress shoes from Jermyn Street, thankyouverymuch!)

As for the spanking that occurs spontaneously, when one is already dressed … well, those obviously are adapted as needed. “Necessity is the mother of invention,” and all. But so far we haven’t found an outfit I couldn’t be spanked in. Although the one time he caned me over a bustle, I did end up collapsing in laughter because it made such a terrible noise, but hurt not a bit! (The skirts and bustle were lifted soon thereafter!)

*For those ladies who might not get it and are wanting a purely practical explanation: I feel cold most of the time. This means that I’m almost never cold going into a scene, now. My poor cold feet have white schoolgirl socks on! Me being cold had actually gotten in the way of scenes, in the past. Also, being clothed means that one can keep one’s bra on for bouncy activities like being in “cowgirl” position. I was always having to cross my arm under my chest, because my tits bouncing all over the place is actually painful to me. (Not good painful – just distracting and annoying painful.) Now I can have them supported, and have both hands free … for stuff…!

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Also, Kaya has always written well about sex, but she just keeps getting better….

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And Kaelah has written a wonderful article about her first punishment.

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(The spankosphere has had some brilliant articles recently, but many of them are now sufficiently “old” by ‘net standards that I’m embarrassed to bring them up! I should get over that and just highlight the articles I’ve enjoyed over the past weeks/months!)

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Ages and ages ago I wrote about a scene my Papa Otter and I did with Henry Higgens.

Well, he was not just kind enough to beat my ass to exotic new shades of black and blue, but he also shot am image of Papa Otter holding me afterwards. (I think he was grabbing my hair because I still had a bit of sass left in me, which I can only explain by assuming I have an inferior self-preservation instinct!)

I had planned to get the images up, but then they got misplaced (which is just as bad or worse when you’re dealing with bytes and pixels to loosing real world items). However, I just found the file they were in, and so here and now I finally get to share this image with you!
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It has been becoming more and more obvious to me that the man you know as “my Master” and I are really less Master-and-slave these days, and more two people in a discipline-based relationship.

When he and I started out, I was coming from the BDSM world, and those terms just made sense to me. Our working definition of Master-and-slave was rather different from the BDSM/leather community’s all-purpose norm, but we were fine with that – we made the roles our own.

However, it did impact how we related. Which is possibly a “Well, duh!” sort of thing, but we jumped into this relationship without extensive planning – he’d never had a slave before, I’d never had a truly dominant Master – and so we just named our desires and pursued them.

And it all worked very well for years.

But, change has crept up on us over that time (that wonderful time, in which we explored lots of fantasies, moved in together, travelled all over the globe, became photographic partners, shared books and films we loved, got married, etc.) and more and more those titles didn’t really fit us as well.
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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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