Zille Defeu’s Fetish Fantasies

Archive for the ‘our story’ Category

This past weekend Mr Defeu and I had this most lovely, amazing scene, which I just had to share with you lot!

I said in a previous post that we haven’t been able to play much, recently, but that I’d been finding surprise benefits to that. We managed to grab some playtime this past weekend, and I was in for another nice surprise!

I don’t know what it was, but the energy between us was like when we first started playing together. There was an eagerness to it, an exploration of bodies, like you’d expect from a one-night-stand, not a married couple.

I was wearing this slutty spandex dress he’d bought me a while ago. It’s my favourite thing to wear on hot days, because there’s not much to it, but it keeps my breasts from bouncing around and flatters what small bits of my body it covers.

My new nick-title for him is Boss (like the girls in Heinlein!). He was teasing my nipples through the spandex, pinching harder and harder, and before long I exclaimed, “Ouch! You’re a meanie! You’re a mean Boss! I think I had better quit your employment!”

“No, I don’t think you will,” he replied (making me melt) and really pinched down a poor helpless nipple.

“Do you want me to go get the clothes pins…?” I asked, softly — as it was out of the role’s character, and a bit shyly as well…. He agreed, and I raced over to the “kinky drawer”, which is filled with straps, tawses, paddles, and other random assorted instruments of pain and pleasure.

“You’d better take your top down,” he warned, and I did so coyly. It’s amazing – I think I will be somewhat shy around Mr. Defeu forever. He’s seen me naked in very exposing positions, he’s done humiliating things to me in those positions – but I still feel awkward and nervous disrobing in front of him. It’s hot.

Next thing, I have one of the “nice” clips on each nipple. Now, I have supremely sensitive nipples, so while these clips might not impress most people, they have me squirming in serious discomfort in but a few minutes.

Thus followed a timeless (but all too long and all too short!) period of Mr Defeu putting clips on, taking clips off, getting out the “nasty” clips and putting them on (“I will scream if you use that!” I warned shrilly – and scream I did!) and finally we ended with four clips on my nipples, me squirming in ever-increasing pain until I said, breathlessly, “I can’t take it anymore!”

He held my wrists in one hand as the pain overcame me. Undoubtedly he was counting in his head, but I couldn’t keep track of the seconds as they ticked by. Finally, he yanked them all off, and there was the rush of pain that comes from nipple-clamp removal, but honestly it was overwhelmed by my relief and the Adrenalin rush! I threw my arms around him, kissing his face and neck, filled with such gratitude that he would take me there, take control, help me experience things like that.

It’s moments like that when I really realize how much the giving of pain is a gift, the act of dominating is a selfless one at the same time as it is giving the top their own more-selfish pleasures.

We were both a bit breathless, eyes sparkling with lust. One of us was drippingly wet, the other painfully erect.

Then he ordered me into a modified 69 position, my hips to one side of his head. I went down on him as he spanked and fingered me.

For some reason, this gave him an all too good angle of attack for the spanks. Each one bit into me sharply. I soon could no longer focus on the pleasure of his finger for the distraction from the pain, and sometime thereafter had to stop going down on him, as well, for fear of biting him!

He was delighted by my helplessness, and didn’t seem to care that I had stopped pleasuring him – he was entirely focused on his own sadistic pleasures.

The nipple play had been an utterly confusing combination of pleasure and pain. I always perceive nipple play in very confused senses: pain as being delicious, pleasure as being too intense and thus painful. But this spanking (usually something I mostly perceive as pleasurable) had moved rapidly into the realm of purely painful.

As I have learned about myself as a masochist: it was the sort of thing I hated in the moment, but would later masturbate over, cherishing all the details of the intense pain and feelings of being overwhelmed.

After he had satisfied his sadism, he ordered me on top of him. I think he really delights in having hurt me, knowing I have suffered, and then seeing me be unable to keep from orgasming right as soon as he pushes inside me.

We finished back at the blowjob. It just seemed right – to thank him, to try and express how much it meant to me, and how appreciative I was for every moment of it.

It is actually true that every cloud has its silver lining – at least within the spankoverse.

Mr Defeu and I have not had overmuch playtime in the past few months – travel (including two weddings where we were in hotels surrounded by family members!) and poor health and other factors have all taken their toll on our play-life.

This weekend we were finally had a full weekend to just be with each other: no places to go, people to see, or anything pressing to do. So, of course, he went and decided to rebuild the media server, but happily – for me – this eventually became frustrating enough that he needed to have a special “break” with a strap, some canes, his hand, and me!

Once we’d gotten me in regulation knickers and a white shirt (the uniform dressing got only so far, partially because it was quite a warm day, and partially because we were rarin’ to go…) he gave me the quick-n-dirty “storyline” to our play: “So you’ve finally come over to see your uncle…” he growled, putting it into his voice that he was unhappy at me for neglecting my familial duties for so long.

As he was at that moment fondling my bottom, I decided that I must not have visited him recently because of his obvious lecherous ways!

Before I could compose that sentence, however, he started pulling me over his lap. “You know you need a spanking, girl…” he explained.

“But,” I said protesting, “I’ve been good!”

“Well, then, you need a spanking to remind you to continue being good.”

Well, that seemed quite unfair to me, so I decided that I might as well earn the inevitable spanking: “You’re just a dirty old pervert!” I exclaimed, with full disgust at the situation dripping from my every word.

No one will be surprised that shortly thereafter, hard spanks rained down on my bottom.
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So, I’m all alone in Mr Defeu’s and my secret hideaway in the UK, which was not in our original vacation plans, but after three days of solo vacationing, I can safely say I hope I get an extra week of alone-time on every vacation I ever take. When Mr Defeu and I go on holiday, there are always “so many people we want to do, and things we want to see” (as it were), that we don’t leave ourselves the time to really get in the “r-n-r” that was the idea of the holiday in the first place. So I’ve been reading, taking luxurious baths with the windows open letting in the long summer evenings, and just generally doing nothing at all for three days.

Of course, I am missing Mr Defeu terribly, no matter how much I enjoy this little taste of independence and indolence. He’s off for an urgent business thingie, but kindly makes time to call me every evening. (Which, after a day alone, I always discover I wanted and needed more than I knew.) Last night, he was a bit groggy from jet-lag, but gamely listening to my chatter. I was telling him how wonderful I was feeling (finally really recovering from a cold picked up at my sister’s wedding, and from trying to do too much in too few days ever since) and he suddenly said, “It’s the rabbits.”

“Um … what?” I asked, not sure what conversational turning I had just missed.

He explained that the rabbits we’d seen while driving around (myriad rabbits, all over the place) were coming in at night when I slept and … well, I’m not sure what the rabbits were supposed to be doing, because I interrupted him by laughing at a sudden flash of memory, which I of course then needed to explain to him.

Back when I was with A., we dated Tamsyn, and Tamsyn’s then-master. One night, a hot summer evening towards the end of the time before A. and I moved across the country, we were having a foursome evening. This evening just happened to involve good food, good wine, and some “killer bud” that may or may not have been inhaled by all, some, or none of us present.

Tamsyn’s master and she got out of their bulging play-bag a variety of implements, including some pieces of rabbit fur (which back then everyone had in their play-bags, for some reason. Nowadays people are much more likely to have something more useful like a Soft Tail Flogger). As I recall (although the memory is a bit soft-focus, for some reason) I was naked, and the bits of rabbit fur were rubbed all over me. In my intoxicated state, I found this really overwhelming, and began crying out that I was being attacked by rabbits – which only spurred the evil sadists to greater effort! (And they laughed at me!)

Anyway, I am sure that we all went on to an evening of further kinky debauchery, with undoubtedly some spanking or flogging, but it’s that moment of being surrounded by sadists with rabbit fur, laughing and tickling me, that really sticks in my mind and makes me smile.

I have lots of new stories of spanking and other naughtiness gotten up to with Pandora and Tom, and I can’t tell you anything, yet, about shooting with Northern Spanking Institute, or Lucy and Paul would have to punish me in a bad way, but for now, I just wanted to share that happy summer memory….

Originally posted on 30th Nov 2005.

Dearest Mr Defeu,

I may be too sick to write coherently, but I miss you, and the books you loaned me have put so many thoughts into my head, that I am going to try anyway.

It scares me to say this – the results are somewhat to be feared: but, I must say: I can take more. Oh, this is in no way a criticism, Sir, and how could it be, with you giving me the best “sex” of my life! Perhaps this is more a promise, a pledge: I can take more pain and I want/need to take more pain for you.

The other night, when you were playing with me and I asked you, “But what if I want to be punished?” and you asked me, “Do you want to be punished?” and I (having given it the due consideration of all of a second) said, “Yes,” – and then you tawsed my hands – I think the hardest you have ever done. By the time the last stroke came around, I didn’t know if I could put out my hand for it, and you grabbed my hand and pulled it out and hit it….

Image of Adele Haze from Northern Spanking Institute

Oh, that was so good! I loved being taken there, to that place where the pain was so much that I couldn’t manage to get that hand out for the last stroke – oh, it was a new and amazing place you took me to. You wondered why I was crying afterwards – that was it.

And I want to go there again. In A Degree of Discipline, there is a scene where Lucy is bound down with straps to a chest, and there tawsed:

Lucy howled and pleaded, wriggling and writing in a vain attempt to reduce the sting as Miss Parkin worked to a steady rhythm working down the slopes of her bottom, first one cheek and then the other, but to no avail.

I’m afraid that I will also howl and wriggle – I can’t really help it, although I do try my hardest and I hope that I will learn how to take a beating more silently over time. Recently I’ve found that even though the pain becomes enough for me to start making noise, noise I really can’t help because it does hurt so very much, but I know through the pain (and under the noise) that I can take more. So, I beg you, Sir, please give me more. I know there will be times when my pain tolerance is at a low ebb, say, late at night (or early in the morning, knowing the hours we keep) but, in general, I think my ability to take pain from you is getting more and more and more.

And, oh, how I want to! I want to please you, to satisfy you. Every time you hit me “not-quite-so-hard,” or you stop with (god-forbid) less than six … I feel like I’ve let you down terribly. I feel upset with myself, and afraid you’ll decide I’m not worthy of being your girl. Even if I “can’t” take the pain – well, not taking for you it seems worse to me than somehow managing to get through it!

And, while I love obeying you so very much (and here my bratty side jumps in to add that “it doesn’t suck”) I would also like to be taken to the place where I, under the duress of pain, beg you to stop – and you do not. Oh, it scares me to write that! I backpedal in my mind – think, “Oh maybe then he can at least tell me how many more I have left, to help me take it!” But really, I am learning that the pains of the cane, the tawse, the riding whip, etc., do not kill me nor even injure me (at least while in your hands, which I trust completely) and that knowledge gives me the courage to ask for “more” – because not only do I now know that I need it for myself, but I want – oh, do you have any idea how much I want?! – to give it to you!

I can write you stories, and give you gifts, and clean your apartment from top to bottom – but those do nothing to mitigate the deep debts I feel to you. You have brought me so much joy, made me feel so alive – indeed, given me a new and wondrous life as your girl, your slave. There seems no possible way to pay you back – but with my body, my pain, my tears – all my very self, given to you freely and lovingly.

And also it is a gift I long to give you. Not just as a debt of honor, but from the sheer pleasure of pleasing you.

Oh – I cannot go on. There is more to write – at the very least a decent closing. But I am tired and a bit dizzy and I will go lie down and wait for your call, dearest Sir…

Funny to find this after yesterday’s post! Originally posted on 10th Apr 2006.

Well, you’ve all been good patient people, who have posted to let me know you like being voyeurs into my sex life [grins at you all] so here is an image from Mr Defeu’s birthday!

That’s a green school-girl gym-skirt you see on me. Oh, what a hot scene it was! My grades had been slipping, you see, and my teacher had me come over to his house for some discipline…. By this point my hands have been hit with a tawse, and the front of my thighs tawsed as well. I have been spanked, caned with a light cane in several positions, caned with a heavier cane also in couple postions, and then soundly fucked (in a variety of positions! And oh — sex with Mr Defeu is simply wonderful. But sex after being caned is beyond description.)

Then, a heavy nasty mean tawse was taken to my bottom (that would be the over-all redness you see) and then I got a final six from the cane which nearly had me climbing off the bed in pain!

It was amazing. After it was all done, and we were snuggling, I asked Mr Defeu, “Who’s birthday is it, again?!” Remember that picture of me looking all glow-y? I took that a few hours later.

I have a big long post to write about masochism another time, but suffice it to say, for now, that I am very happy with being a masochist and I am glad I am in the hands of someone who knows what to do with me!