Zille Defeu’s Fetish Fantasies

Archive for the ‘personal growth’ Category

I don’t know when I first started this change, but I was just thinking about it last night (after having a lovely self-inflicted orgasm!) and I am perplexed but delighted by it.

Once I admitted to myself that I was interested in that sort of thing, spankings and loss of power and all that good stuff became part of my regular fantasy fare.

But it was all foreplay. When it was time for me to come, I thought about the sex part.

Somewhere, in the last five years of being with my Master and involved in the CP world, that changed. I am now able to, for example, think about a caning and imagine each stroke, all the sensations and emotions, and even count the strokes and feel my arousal build as the, um, “intensity” would if I was getting that caning in real life.

And I don’t have to conclude with sex anymore. That 18th stroke of the cane could be the one that pushes me over the edge (yes, I count them in sixes), and no need of more.

This may be old hat for a lot of you, but it’s big and new and shiny for me!

Considering it, I imagine my fantasies went through this change around the time that I was able to see a “scene” as complete and completely satisfying without it involving sex. Of course, this “time” was stretched over a period of years, so I can’t see the change-over in my memories – it’s just now this way, as if it always was this way, only I can remember when it didn’t used to be this way. (And have I made that run-on sentence incomprehensible enough…?)

I feel like I have finally earned my “spanko card.” Where does one apply for those, or do They (whoever They are) just know and it shows up in the mail one day?

I would say I’d felt I’d earned my stripes, but then, I have, haven’t I!

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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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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!

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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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An excellent post (as always) from The Spanking Writers includes a (more introspective than I ever imagined) quote from Scary Spice:

The anticipation was worse than the punishment. I knew exactly what was coming. I’d walk into a silent room, bend over, get smacked (by his hand or a belt), then stand up and walk out of the room without saying a word…. I dreaded it. Sometimes, though, I think I was naughty on purpose, just to get dad’s full attention for a few minutes.

In the first place, that very anticipation and the ritual aspect are both vital. But that’s not what I want to write about just now.

As a little girl I wanted my daddy’s attention. (Well, I wanted all the attention I could get from everyone, but my daddy’s counted the most!) And I’d do anything to get it — good behaviour, bad behaviour — whatever worked best! And since my parents didn’t really punish me very efficaciously, it was just as likely to be the latter as the former, when I was a child! In my teens it changed — then I wanted him to pay as little attention to me as possible, so I could do the stuff I wanted to do with him not forbidding me or lecturing me!

Now I have come full circle, but at least I am self-aware. I want my Daddy’s attention as much as possible. When he is busy on the computer, and doesn’t have time for me, it hurts just as much as when I was a little girl and my daddy had to work.

There is an amusing family story that when I was about 5 or 6, my bio-father had a meeting one weekend day. Now, I had accepted that my daddy would be at work during the day on weekdays, but weekends were MINE, and I was a jealous god little girl. So I pitched a fit with all the power of my wee vocal cords and body (the vocal cords, I am given to understand, were not unimpressive, and my mother assures me I was Olympic-level for throwing myself on the ground and pounding my little fists and feet.

My dad gave his lecture with me on his hip.

And I was a happy little girl, because I was with my daddy. (And, of course, I’d WON!)

Now I’m in a slightly different place. Not in my desires — they are still as simple as wanting to be with my Daddy, and wanting attention from him. But now I don’t want to be a spoiled creature — I want the discipline to not throw fits when I don’t get my way. (I don’t, for the record, still throw myself to the ground and scream and pound my fists. But there are adult behaviours, the worst of which include manipulation and being passive-aggressive, which are just as vile as any childish misbehaviour! And my mom is a very passive-aggressive manipulator, so I live in terror of having picked those things up from her!)

However, no matter how well I may learn to accept that I can’t always get all the attention (which I think will be a life-time’s study!), punishment will always have as it’s most beguiling attraction, the fact that when you are being punished, all your punisher’s attention is right on you. And as much as you may dislike the pain or other educational aspects of punishment, you can still bask in the attention being lavished upon you.

I suppose a contrary person might point out that then, in my case, a true punishment for me is simply to ignore me. I have two answers to that: in the first place, this is supposed to be loving discipline — not cruel and unusual punishment! And secondly, my Master and I have the complimentary urges, wired into our sexuality, to be punisher-and-punishee. And since we’ve been lucky enough to find each other, in this wide world full of mistakes and missed connections, we really both ought to derive some enjoyment from our mutual needs that now can be fulfilled.

And what that means is that I need to police myself a bit, and not act too badly, be a little bit in charge of myself and consider my actions and words. The reward for that effort though, is getting to revisit being a little girl who gets punished by her Daddy, having his love and concern for her proven with his attentions, over and over again.

(And somehow, getting lectured became hot for me, too, somewhere along all of this. I remember saying as a teen that no punishment could be worse than my dad droning on at me. Now my Master can’t make me a happier lil’ pervert than if he reads me the riot act before my thrashing!)

*Please note that I’m not calling anyone stupid! I’m misquoting “It’s the economy, stupid” from Bill Clinton’s 1992 presidential campaign.

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