Zille Defeu’s Fetish Fantasies

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.

This goes to prove a point I’ve been pondering for some time. One of the great things that being a slave has given me is learning how to let go of personal stuff, and just accepting a situation – and that has always led to the situation being much better than I had anticipated. It makes perfect sense (Buddhists would be like, “Yeah, and your point is…?”) but it’s not easy for me. Heh, just being a slave makes it actually possible, never mind easier!

Besides practicing slavely acceptance, I think the teacher/student dynamic was so hot that I couldn’t help but get into things. I’m not just hot for schoolgirl roleplay: I was always, “hot for teacher” – I remember telling my 5th grade teacher that I loved her. (I’ll never forget her response; she was a very dry-witted, very Jewish woman with black hair with dramatic silver streaks, and she looked down at me, and asked, “So why don’t you do your homework for me, then?”) Anyway, to actually be in a teacher and student dynamic is insanely hot for me – I hope my Master comes up with lots more ideas for study sessions for the future! I want to learn everything – at the receiving end of his cane!

And it wasn’t just me having a good time. He was enjoying himself, too. The ritual of asking the questions, giving the multiple choice options, waiting for me to choose an answer, and then lining up the cane to strike my accepting bottom when I got them wrong was just to his taste! He quickly settled upon a reward when I got them right: a nice little mini-spanking that would leave me moaning in pleasure and sexual need when he was done.

Once he started using the cane, the strokes were of “the best,” obviously. They weren’t so much a deterrent, as a serious aid to the memory. And when I got two questions in a row wrong, things built up fast!

He worked through two tests with me, asking the questions, handing out punishment or reward, and then discussing the question with me, and explaining it if I’d gotten it wrong. It was very light in spirit, but also very intense – it was a real exchange of sadistic and masochistic energies: two people, united for a common goal – i.e., that of me learning this stuff so I’ll pass the test, and also bringing each other mutual satisfaction. Killing two birds with one stone has never been so fun!

I got the second test mostly right (I am a good driver, I’ll have you all know! It’s just the stupid, unintuitive stuff I have trouble with!), although I must say I will now never forget that you merge into a bike lane when you are making a right – ouch, that hurt!

But after the test was done, he wasn’t done caning me. And when he asked me if I could take more, I knew I wasn’t done craving the sensations. So when he asked, I just looked him in the eye and told him that I was with him entirely, and he should please do what he wanted with me.

He liked that answer.

Amazingly, my bottom’s really not very marked up. It must have been because of that warm-up!

After the final caning, which we later agreed was obviously to aid my memory further, he pulled my shorts down, and my thong to the side (we both quite like having sex where clothing is pushed aside to allow entry. Don’t ask why: it’s just a pervert thang!) and he lubed up his cock. He had mentioned earlier that I was going to have to give myself completely to him, and I knew he meant anal sex, and so I steeled myself for that penetration.

So when his cock slid in my pussy I almost cried. I’d been waiting for anal sex for so long, even as I was nervous about the pain of it, and to have my pussy fucked was just so anti-climactic! But I practiced letting go of my desires, and accepting the reality he was creating. And just as I was building up to an orgasm, he slid his cock out of my pussy and pressed it into my ass. (Ah, sadists – they must have their surprises!)

It actually slid in unusually easily, even though he wasn’t particularly gentle. I must have been really ready for it! There were still some moments of discomfort, and I cherished them, loving the pain he was giving me with his cock, loving that what hurt me only gave him pleasure.

It was brilliant. Beautiful, intense sex. The connection was so strong that even he commented on it afterwards, and he’s not one for discussions of meta-sexuality in the post-coital cuddle….

When he was finished with that, he grabbed me by the collar and hauled me to the bathroom, and ordered me to wash his cock. That’s a service I’m always very fond of, and after he’s been fucking me, I feel even more grateful to serve his wonderful cock.

At his order, I finished him with my mouth, and he made really lovely noises when he came! I love it when I do my work so well that he can’t help but moan with pleasure as he comes!

I was pretty much high on endorphins for the rest of the night – I felt completely stoned, blissed out, loopy and purely contented. We got Thai food again (all those flavours are even better after sex!) and spent the rest of Sunday snuggling, watching TV, and reading in bed together.

I was still high from the scene when I woke up on Monday, and it wasn’t until late afternoon that I started coming down, feeling exhausted but still happy, and it was right in time for him to come home for dinner and give me more snuggles to cure the post-scene-drop.

Anyway, I can’t wait for another study session!

(Note to Paul: We were going to take before and after shots for you! But once I got into the spandex, my Master got so excited that he couldn’t find a camera – in a house with four of them just lying around! – and when he did find one, the battery was dead, and he was far too interested in getting to the scene to bother with camera stuff! We’ll take some shots for you next time! In the meantime, I’m honestly just delighted that I arouse him so much that he can’t focus on anything else! That sort of thing does a girl’s ego a world of good!)

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