Zille Defeu’s Fetish Fantasies

Archive for the ‘spandex’ Category

So I need to renew my driver’s license, and for reasons too boring to go into here, I need to take the written exam. I’ve needed to do this for quite some time, but have been putting it off, and off, and off. Now, next month, my current license will expire, so I have to actually go do this thing.

My Master and I have worked out a way to make studying the DMV handbook more fun – for both of us.

The set up goes like this: my Master puts me over the convertible step-stool, i.e., the Chair of Doom. Then he asks me questions from the sample tests the DMV provides. When I get an answer wrong, I get a certain number of strokes from the cane (which he sets before we start, although he seems to feel completely guiltless about changing that number whenever suits him!)

I’ve been fantasizing about this for the last few weeks. (And, to be honest, not studying overly much. That DMV handbook is written in such a way as to make your mind wander within a page, I swear!) Last Sunday we had our first study session.

My Master was in a spandex mood (and, it seems, having some ‘80s nostalgia!), and so had me in spandex short shorts and a thong leotard. I must say that I find such outfits really quite humiliating. I think most short shorts make my thighs look fat, and a thong leo is simply embarrassing to wear at the best of times. But he loves it – I mean it really turns him on! So I just try not to look in any mirrors, and let his eyes be my mirror, so I can feel as sexy as he sees me. It’s generally not easy at first, but gets easier as the scene progresses and his lust is obvious and continuing….

Once the outfit was on, he couldn’t wait to get started. I, on the other hand, was not in a great headspace. It was my first day of my “period week” in my menstrual cycle, and PMS was still in full swing. When he said it was time for the scene, I responded with alacrity, because I’ve found that if I have to beg out of a scene, I regret it for months later, every day that scenes don’t happen and I find myself thinking wistfully back to that scene that could have been. So I pretty much have to be bleeding from the eyeballs these days for me to even consider asking for a reprieve, and I certainly wasn’t going to give up a good scene opportunity just because I felt cranky and slow and tired. I even put on the thong with good grace!

But as the scene was getting started, a wave of self-pity rolled over me. My pain tolerance was at it’s lowest; why did we always have to do a scene on the first day of my period? I didn’t really want to be in pain, anyway. And other whinging, which I happily kept entirely internal.

My Master I don’t think noticed my inner turmoil – he was too busy enjoying the view of my spandex-clad bottom. He was so excited that he couldn’t keep his hands off: he suddenly changed plans, put the chair back into its chair shape, and put me over his knee for a warm-up spanking. (This did leave me a bit bemused, because he’s normally completely uninterested in a warm-up!)

He started in on the spanking, and I tried to get myself in headspace. He moved up the intensity scale pretty quickly, and my self-pity increased accordingly. Finally I burst out crying, more from the unfairness of it all than from actual pain. He lifted me off his lap, and started setting the chair up for the study session. He decided on using a tawse, first.

I got my first question wrong, and he thwacked my bottom a few times. I got the next one right, and then the next one wrong. And somewhere along the line, my self-pity and stupid headspace vanished, and the scene was just good and fun and sexy and hot.
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There are so many good shots from this gallery from Her First Punishment that I couldn’t choose just one or two!

The combination of corporal punishment and exercise is so terrible and humiliating … that it makes for supremely hot fantasies! I mean, when you are running around or doing push-ups, you are vulnerable (esp. because the coach is somehow never out of breath, and you always are!) — and then you add to that the wearing of some humiliating pys ed outfit — or worse, you are stuck running around naked! It doesn’t get much more vulnerable and humiliating than that! And then to add to it the application of the tawse (see below) or the plimsoll or even a cane — and suddenly you are out of breath, stuck doing some activity where you can’t defend yourself or hang on to any shred of dignity, humiliated, and in pain!

It doesn’t get much more intense than that! There might be other ways to get to that end point — but if you are staying within the schoolgirl fantasy, this is pretty much the best means to that end! Don’t believe me? See for yourself… (click on images to go to the gallery)

(Noto bene: This post was written last night, while my Master was out doing some errands. Pictures from the birching are here.)

The birches mumbojumble gave us have been sitting in a vase for a couple weeks, now. Giving me a frisson of anticipation every time I walked past them. Today was the day they finally got used on my naked bottom.

Sometimes, you plan scenes – detailed, intricate role-play. Sometimes, scenes just happen.

My Master and I were putting some shelves in our lovely new wardrobe (and thanks to our dear friend, whom I think I shall give the name “Mr. Stag,” for wasting his weekend helping us get and assemble our wardrobe!) We finished all the work we could do, and my Master lay down on the bed. Something in the way he did so gave me the hint that kinky stuff would shortly follow. So I climbed on the bed and started running my hands up and down his legs … trying to indicate my receptivity. I hadn’t really been in a place where I was actively thinking about sex … but knowing he was took me from naught to sixty in no time flat!

After a period of meaningful eye-contact and rising horniness, I finally stopped fondling his thighs, and lay down beside him. In doing so, I brushed against him, and suddenly realized he was as throbbing erect as possible! He told me it was time to finally get my birching, and fear shot through me – but I couldn’t help grinning like an idiot!

He pointed out that only bad girls got birched. I responded that perhaps it was time for my bad girl persona to come out and play … maybe she had stayed out all night, doing things she wasn’t supposed to with boys. He was right there with me, and brought in the running role-play fantasy we have of the bad girl and her ever-so-patient housemaster, who has taken her under his wing (a cane-wielding wing!) and who is trying to prepare her (by way of tenderizing her bottom at regular intervals!) to send her off to a training institution (we’ve already given it a name: “The Lausanne Institute”) so that she can be his perfect girl.

Well, my Master likes a challenge, because my bad-girl persona doesn’t give in gracefully! No, she fights and whinges and generally makes as much as possible that much harder for herself! Yes, he likes the challenge! When I deliberately do or say something that gets me in more trouble, he gets such a glint in his eye! And then he hands out a serious thrashing!

Well, after we’d set up our story-line, he told me what to wear, and to make a birch rod and bring it to him. On went the navy gym shorts and gym skirt, a white shirt with blue tie, and grey sweater and white knee socks. (Because I was a bad girl, I pushed the socks unevenly around my ankles, and didn’t tuck my shirt in. I also left one button undone, as I was sneaking back in after a night of debauchery, and thus should be a bit mussed!)

Then, I had to make the birch rods! Very kindly, mumbojumble had provided some sample rods, so I had immediate examples to hand. The birch twigs she gave us were quite long, so I made two shorter length rods, one with the thinnest ends, and one of the thickest ends. (When it comes to pain, my Master can always count on me to be thorough!)

Then I went and knocked on the bedroom door, heart thumping my my chest, trying to bring up all my bravado and attitude, so I could get into some serious hot water….
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I was going over old blog entries that I wrote before my Master and I got together, and I found this one, from when he taught a class on fetish photography, and I was one of the demo models! Read the rest of this entry »

This is a fantasy that has been running through my mind pretty much every time I’ve masturbated in the past couple weeks. I though I’d share it … and maybe if my Master likes reading it, it will come true!

I’m bent over the convertible step-stool-chair , which has been converted to its step-stool aspect. The wood is cold under my lower tummy and hips. My ankles and wrists are in the leather cuffs, which are clipped to the O-rings on the legs of the chair. I can squirm, but I can’t do anything else.

And I’m about to squirm. Because you have the ginger plug which you made me carve – how sadistic to make me create the instrument of my own torture….

You wet it with some cold water, and take a wet finger and tease my anus with it, making me involuntarily tighten up. You laugh and tell me that I can’t keep the ginger out – that since you want it up there, I have no choice in the matter.
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