Zille Defeu’s Fetish Fantasies

Archive for the ‘tawse/belt’ Category

Today’s fantasy comes from the article “Papal crackdown on bare-kneed tourists sparks hypocrisy claims” from The Register:

The Vatican’s stripey knickerbocker-clad Swiss Guards have launched a crack down on scantily-clad tourists in and around the Holy See.

Reports say that a long-standing modest dress decree has been extended from St Peter’s basicilica – the big church – to the whole of the Vatican mini-state.

The Pope’s halberd-waving steel-hatted private army has apparently been forcing quivering tourists into corners to berate them for having uncovered shoulders or knees. While some have been directed to nearby traders specialising in more modest apparel, others have been refused entry to Vatican City altogether, The Telegraph reports. [...]

The crackdown has angered some visitors, who said it was hypocritical for an organisation beset by child abuse allegations to suddenly get all hot and bothered about ladies’ shoulders and men’s hairy knees. Still, when it comes to driving Satan out of the Vatican you’ve got to start somewhere, so why not with spaghetti strap tops and Bermuda shorts?

It should be noted that the guards wear a 16th century outfit including a natty doublet and voluminous pantaloons, and while the pantaloons stop above the knee, the offending joints are covered by coordinated stockings. Their wardrobe also includes a knee-length doublet.

The pope himself generally wears a floor length cassock, which this week he has apparently been teaming with a baseball cap in pontifical white.

(The above lovely shot of the Vatican Guards is from Wikipedia.)

This of course has spawned some serious Swiss Guard fantasies for me — because how could you not want to be spanked by someone in that get-up?!

My fantasy runs like this … I get into Vatican City wearing a cardigan over my tube top, but it’s a hot day, and also, I like the idea of naughtily flashing a bit of skin where I shouldn’t.

So the cover-up gets stuffed in my bag, and I take in the sights showing off not only shoulder, but a few inches of stomach as well! (And, actually, since I actually usually wear low-riding trou, that could be quite a few inches of the middle of me uncovered!)

I’ve gotten my shots of famous statues and buildings, bought some postcards, and am ready to head back to the tour bus … when two Swiss Guards bear down on me, berating me in thickly accented English. There I am in a corner, away from the other tourists, trapped by the two overbearing guards….

Here’s where my fantasy breaks up a bit, because what shall they use on me?! Take off their leather belts? Use the scabbards of their swords? Or do Swiss Guards carry some esoteric, medieval tool of correction?! (And/or do they use their rough, sword-callused hands?)

Anyway, no matter what they use, we all know it ends with me walking stiffly to my tour bus, eyes red-rimmed, and sweater on and buttoned all the way up!

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So, when last we tuned in, our heroine was rubbing her sore bottom. No … wait … we have to rewind further back than that, to find out how she got said sore botty!

So, wearing only knickers, bra, and socks (was I wearing shoes? I have absolutely no recollection and we’ll have to wait until NSI releases the video to find out!), under the hot, bright lights, and I’ve just told Paul Kennedy and Stephen Lewis that I’m all ready to go, despite the fact that I’m quaking in my metaphorical boots (I’m pretty sure I wasn’t actually wearing boots, at least!).

Stephen settles down on the sofa to await my entrance, I go off camera and try to compose myself. I quickly review my dream in my head, trying to come to a last-minute understanding of what my character will act like – since she is going to be whinging and moaning, and need to be strapped for such annoying behaviour at each step of the way, I figure it’s time for a stubborn brat, sullen petulant teenager, who is letting her frustration with the situation get in the way of her sense of self-preservation. (As I recall from being a teenager myself, that was not hard to accomplish – what was hard to accomplish was to get past the boredom and aggravation of wanting things to be different and as-you-wished-they’d-be, and overcome that self-focus and unrealistic expectation and actually make reasonably good choices and decisions. And sometimes it was just all too difficult, and didn’t seem worth the effort at all!)

So, now girded about the loins with petulance and self-righteousness, I was ready to make my grand entrance. Of course, filming being what it is, it wasn’t quite yet time for me to enter stage right, because camera angles and blocking were still getting last-minute modifications, so I had to stand there, trying with body language to hold my character in place – the postures and attitudes of frustrated youth: foot taping, crossing and uncrossing arms over chest, eyes rolling, moving hands around in ways that express the utter boredom you have for everything and everyone. (However, I’m trying to do all of this in miniature; just enough to work for me, so that people don’t actually think I do feel that way!)

By the time everything had got sorted, I had managed to work my way far enough into my character to be as impatient and full of aggravation as possible, so I stormed onto camera with the full force of frustrated teenage energy in me.

I don’t know if Stephen Lewis was at all taken aback by this transformation, but he took it in professional stride, and not shortly thereafter we had worked out that I did not want to – would not! – put on the scratchy nylon gym knickers, and there was nothing for it but the strap. Of course!

It was an intense scene. And it was the first time that I’d worked with Stephen or NSI , so we were all walking the fine, fine line between getting them the best movie possible (my goal!) and me not getting seriously damaged or otherwise be overwhelmed (their goal!). I must say, though, that it’s not a bad way for a spanking film to be created: the model is more worried about giving the content producers the best film she can make, whilst the content producers are more concerned about taking care of the model. Indeed, I think that’s possibly the perfect way for a spanking film to come into existence!

Anyway, I won’t give more away. You have read my dream – so you’ve got the plotline – we stayed quite close to that, with Stephen adding his own touches, and me having fun with being a whingy spoiled little brat.

(I must admit that there is some small part of me that worries, when I play that role, that people are going to be horrified and think that’s really me! There is always the problem of people thinking that the characters you play really are who you are. And I like “playing a brat on TV,” but I’m really not comfortable being one in real life!)

I was a terribly realistic brat, however (memories of my teen years finally come in handy, which is more than most people can say for theirs!), which was undoubtedly the only reason why Stephen was so enthusiastic about strapping me!

After the end of the shoot, it was decided it was time to give my bottom some recovery time, and after a nice cuppa, Papa Otter and I took the crew down to the pub where they were staying, and we had a nice little walk around town (err, wee tiny village) whilst they dropped off their bags, etc. We came back and drinks ensued, and then dinner, and then more drinks as we couldn’t stop talking and laughing, and no one wanted the night to end.

Happily, despite that, I was able to get a full night’s sleep – I’d be needing it!

The next day we got the big video out of the way first: I was an overzealous coach (except that I had a whistle and never got to blow it! I should have done so right in the opening of the shoot. Damn, I hate missed opportunities!) and the ever-lovely Irelynn Logeen was one of my track students (she looked delish in tight blue gym knickers and what in the UK they call a “vest” and in the US we call “wife-beater” — yes, really) and it turns out that she had taken my “win at all costs!” philosophy a bit too close to heart, and had won in a unique method of cheating (you’ll have to watch the video to find out what it was!) and Stephen showed up to let us know that, as a judge, he knew about the cheating, and the only way he would feel that A.) we had learned out lessons and B.) thus not feel the need to let the rest of the judges and people in charge was to administer the correction personally. (He’s such a selfless man, so devoted to fair play!)

The next day was more low-key but just as fun. Irelynn and I did a set with her topping me (her first time wielding a riding crop!) as the Rich Man’s Bitchy Daughter archetype, and me as a poor maid who has to suffer at her hands.

Then a nice lunch (we really hadn’t had time the day before to do more than nibble, so I had lots of provisions left!) where we all sat ‘round and chatted and had just the loveliest of times.

One last shoot: Meester Stephen and me al fresco! I was in a pretty ‘50s dress (thank you, O Wonderful Pandora!) and vintage undergarments and stockings, and he was all James Dean in black t-shirt and jeans. It was just a sweet, romantic, out-door spanking over s stone wall. Happily, Paul trod down all the nettles, and didn’t decide to make them a part of the shoot! That would have been rather less romantic!

I was really torn at the end of the last shoot. I didn’t want the fun to end, didn’t want my friends to leave … but they had certainly put me to work, and I was sorta ready for a post-porn nap!

I’m writing this on the airplane, over a week after a wrote the first half of this post. (I had to stop off for five days with my family on the way home. My dad’s health isn’t great, and it seemed the best idea to get some time with him while I still can.) But the shoot is just as fresh in my mind as if I was writing this the same day of the shoot!

Lovely Pandora reminded me when we were hanging out that I have years of fetish, alt, and BDSM modelling under my belt – a career in which I should take pride. But, truth to tell, these days I really don’t even think about that past anymore. My focus is so much on the spanking world, it’s as if all that other stuff has faded away. And, since I’m not actively promoting myself in that world, in essence I have just faded away.

Spanko modelling and blogging is my world now. I was blogging in this brave new world [coughs] for some years before Papa Otter married me, but, in a way, it was he who “carried me over the threshold” of the spankoverse – except I was dressed in a schoolgirl uniform, not a fancy wedding dress! (The big fancy wedding dress did come later!)

These shoots with dear Olivia and the wonderful NSI crew have reminded me (not that I needed it, but still it was appreciated) that I’m a proper spanko now, that this is my chosen tribe. The friendships I’ve made since joining up (“Proud Member since 2005!”) have been profoundly notable in that I over and over again feel like I’m reuniting with a beloved old friend, not meeting a new one. That’s so rare, and all you lovely spankos should now pat yourselves on the back and feel quietly superior to the rest of humanity. (I joke, but only by exaggerating a wee little bit!)

Now the waiting begins for NSI to release the photos and videos. Want to see, want want want!

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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!
Read the rest of this entry »

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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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I’ve been away from this blog too much recently, a combination of travel, holidays, and some poor health, and it’s been taking me forever to catch up with my friends in the spankosphere. But the fault is not mine! So many blogs have been pouring out really brilliant stuff recently.

First up, The Mystery Minx just posted a very intimate look at her early desires for school uniforms. Since she doesn’t post much, one needs to savour every post we get out of her! Go tell her she needs to post more!

Next, I’m totally jealous of Adele Haze, who did a kinky 12 Days of Christmas. That’s just the hottest thing ever. (And, unlike Leia-Ann Woods, I am still a “a spanking virgin of 2010” so when I say I’m jealous, I really mean it!)

Spankingblog.com posted the coolest Krampus picture as his Christmas gift to us this year. Thanks!

Kami did a scene with HH which gave her the wondrous revelation about herself as a spanko. While I personally would like to be left alone while I exercise (it hurts enough, thankyouverymuch, and when I work out I’m just focused on moving my body correctly or if it’s yoga, maintaining proper alignment, so I don’t need painful distractions) I agree with Kami that yes, everyone wants to see girls in gym shorts take a caning. At least my Master does, and his tastes have not just rubbed off on mine — completely supplanted (or at least modified) most of my fantasies.

EmmaJane visited a very dark fantasy recently. It really worked for me! (Although if you have abuse issues, I don’t recommend you try it – it’s all-too well-written.)

And The Spanking Writers always set a high standard, but even they have been sharing the most brilliant stuff recently. The pencil between the teeth story, for one, and a Christmas spanking, and then … well, I was totally bowled over when they honoured me with “Hottest Kinky Blog” in their The 2009 Spanking Writers Awards. I still haven’t thanked them properly, and honestly I don’t really know how – it means so much to me!

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