Zille Defeu’s Fetish Fantasies

Previously…

I moved in during the week-end, and every time that I went in or out, Mel seemed to be there.

I called her over, “Sweetie, is there something that I can do for you?” She blushed, giggled and moved away.

Mrs S— had stocked the fridge, bread, butter, milk, eggs and other comestibles. I knocked on the kitchen door to thank the lady and ask what I owed her; a voice that I recognised said, “Come in Sergeant-Major!” I asked, “Afternoon, Mel, is your mother in?”

“Yes, she is in the front garden, would you like me to call her?”

“No, that’s all right, I’ll walk ‘round.”

“I’ll come with you….”

“OK.”

As we walked round I explained to Mel that she need not use my rank, that Paul would be fine, or if that made her uncomfortable, I would answer to Mr Paul, “but why,” she asked, “aren’t you proud of your rank.” “Not really, it was necessary for my job, military titles belong in the army, and you don’t call your daddy general all the time, do you?” “No” she replied, “he wouldn’t really like it,” “I feel the same; in a civilian environment it isn’t appropriate.”

After about a month the children and I got on like a house on fire, Mrs S— mothered me, I didn’t see a lot of the general, his duties kept him fairly busy.

All this time while I was settling in, the children had more or less accepted my presence, Mrs S— tended to treat me as a grown-up son; this felt strange, nobody had done that for me before.

The feelings between Mel and I weren’t going away.

I had bought a bicycle and had permission to take the children on rides in Regents Park, and occasionally I took them on the boating pond. Mel was good with her brother and sister; she wouldn’t let them play me up.

After about nine months, I’d been in the army nearly six years. I had signed on for twenty-one years with the option, of discharge, should I wish, at the end of every three year period. Mrs S— persuaded me to discuss my plans with the general. I told him that I needed to go to university and that I had seen an opening for a career: I was very interested in the new and growing science of Information Technology. I wanted to get degrees in Computer science and Language, and see if I couldn’t set up an agency.

The general agreed, he considered that as far as promotion went I’d be marking time in the army, so I ought to go for it. In July ‘58 I applied for and obtained a place in the first IT degree course offered by the London School of Economics; I also applied for an honourable discharge from the Royal Army which went through with no problems.

In June of ‘58 Mel was fifteen, and her parents bought her a pony – well a small mare. She called it Suki. I bought her a hard hat and riding gloves.

Teaching her to ride was a thrilling thing; she was a very responsive pupil. I had learnt to ride as a child at the orphanage, and it was a good way to get round during the war, since hay wasn’t rationed.

The Saturday morning after Mel’s birthday weekend I was lazing about the flat. I’d been out the night before and hadn’t got to bed before two AM. There was a ring at the door, and I when looked down the stairs, there was a very nervous Mel. “Mel? What are you doing here? You know the rules.”

“Oh please, Paul, I’ve got to speak to you!”

“Where’s your mother?”

“She’s out – she won’t be back for at least two hours!”

“Alright – come in and sit over there. Now, what is bothering you?”

“Paul … do you love me…?”

I told her, “You know I do.”

“I’m a woman now! I’ve been one for several months! Why won’t you make love to me?”

What a question! I tried to explain, “Indeed you are a woman, a very young one. If I made love to you now, it would destroy so many things. First, it would hurt, and the first time we make love it must be something that you will remember with joy for the rest of your life.

“If I made love to you now, you would be sent away, probably to live with your uncle and I could go to prison for statutory rape.

“Your parents trust me to do what is best for you, believe me having sex now could ruin everything.

“Mel, I promise you I will do my best so that we can marry when you are eighteen … but don’t spoil a lifetime for a moment’s gratification… Now go and have a cold shower –skedaddle – your mum will be home soon!”

“Yes, Paul … sorry….”

“No apology necessary! Now scoot, brat!”

I was deep into my studies, I couldn’t afford to slack – the money would literally run out if I had to re-take a year.

One afternoon, I had made myself a coffee after finishing a paper for my main tutor. The intercom buzzed, it was Mel: “Paul I’m ready for my riding lesson, are you coming?”

“Yes, give me a moment to finish my coffee, I’ll be with you in a jiffy.”

“Right o!”
When I got to the kitchen I was surprised to see all three children there, Mel looked at me, “Can they come, just for the bike ride?”

“And who is going to take them home?”

“Ummmm … er … I’d hoped you would….”

“Damned liberty! Oh, alright, the exercise will do me good, and blow the cobwebs out of my head.”

We collected the bikes from the garage, and after I watched them check brakes, handlebars and saddles, I gave the command to mount: “Troops! On the count of three! One, two, three, mount up, by the left ride!”

It was about half a mile to the stable where Suki was housed. They hired hacks out, and I hired a nice steady gelding. When we arrived I told Mel to saddle up Suki and my gelding, Pete, whilst I took the children home.

When I got back to the stable I checked Suki: she was fine, but when I checked Pete, his girth strap was really loose. “Mel, what is this? Now, you know Pete blows up his belly when you saddle up. Didn’t you punch him?”

“No sir, it seems cruel.”

“It would have been crueller still if a loose saddle had caused an accident in the High Street.”

As we rode to the Heath, Mel was very subdued; she really didn’t appreciate being corrected.

We made our way to a quiet part of the Heath where we usually trained. I put Mel and Suki through their paces: walk, trot canter, gallop, then road manners. Everything was going well, so I asked Mel, “Feel like stretching them?” I took Pete through his fast canter to a moderate gallop, one which Suki could keep up for hours.

All of a sudden, Mel put Suki at the hedge; the jump was too much for the mare, and she stumbled as she landed and Mel came off.

I put Pete at the hedge well clear of Suki, Mel was on the ground looking shaken and Suki too was shaking. I checked her over, fortunately the mare was unharmed.

I turned to Mel, “Are you hurt?!”

“Nooo … just shaken.” I helped Mel up; with the reins in one hand I helped Mel to a bench across the ride.

After a few minutes to allow Mel to calm down, I turned to her and demanded, “What in the name all that’s unholy to you think you were doing? You could have killed the horse and yourself! I’m going to have to tell the General.”

“Please Paul – don’t do that, he’ll stop me riding!”

“Mel, this was too dangerous, you could have killed yourself.”

“Paul…” she asked, “Can’t you … punish me?”

“How? Stop your pocket money?”

“No … beat me.”

“Beat you!!! Why?”

“Well, daddy beats mummy, I’ve heard them.”

“Whaaaat?”

“Yes, I’ve needed to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night; it sounds quite severe. But mummy doesn’t seem to mind – she is happy in the morning … even if she winces when she sits.”

“Mel, do your parents know that you have heard them?”

“No, sir.”

“If I do this, it must be a close secret between us, you cannot tell even your brother or sister, do you understand.”

“Yes Paul.”

“Wait here, I’ll just check that the horses are OK and that the coast is clear.”

Fortunately that part of Hampstead Heath was quite isolated; there was nobody about and the horses were fine. I returned to Mel and sat down on the stump in the centre of the clearing, “Mel, come here.”

I placed her between my knees, saying, “You know that you have earned this, don’t you?”

“Yes Paul, can we get it over with please?”

“All in good time. Now drop your jodhpurs to your knees, that’s a good girl. No, leave your panties up. Now, come to my right, no, my right not yours. Now lower yourself over my lap … wriggle forward a bit, that’s it. I need you to hold still and keep quiet like the brave girl you are. I’m going to give you twelve: it will soon be over.”

I raised my right hand and brought it down hard on her left cheek, there was a hiss of withdrawn breath, the same on her right cheek, by the time I’d reached ten Mel was wriggling and ouching, “Hold hard,” I told her, “The last two will really hurt.”

Mel’s legs were kicking and she was going “Ouch, ouch, ouch!” under her breath. I aimed the last two hard and fast to her sit-spots, and afterwards her hands flew to her beleaguered bum and started to rub. “Damn, that hurt!” she said as she stood.

“Pull your jodhpurs up and come here,” I said gently, and sat her on my lap, putting my arms around her. As I held her tight she started to cry. “Let it all out darling – it’s all over now. There’s a good girl – you know I love you.”

Mel looked up at me, and nodded, “I know you love me … and I love you.”

I wiped Mel’s eyes; she looked a little crumpled. Then we mounted up and returned to the stables and rode our bikes home.

As we rode home I was in some difficulty, I had a stiffy to beat the band! Mel just didn’t look as if she had a hard spanking. She had a small smile of what looked like triumph on her face and every so often she licked her lips; a more suspicious man might have thought she had planned the whole episode!

When we arrived home I suggested that Mel take a shower, as would I. There was a good reason for this!

I hurried to my flat, hoping that I wouldn’t meet anybody: my erection didn’t seem to want to leave. In the shower, I did the necessary – and it was necessary to do the necessary twice more before I could sleep!

As I lay in bed mulling over the events of the afternoon I came to certain conclusions. Firstly, it was no surprise that daddy spanked mummy: this wasn’t unusual in military families. What was surprising was that Mel had heard them – oh well, I thought, little pitchers have big ears.

Mel’s reaction was a surprise to me. I knew that she was submissive as was her mother; it seem that we Doms have a sixth sense for submissives. It’s a psychic thing I believe, or it may be what makes us Doms.

I hadn’t picked up that she was a masochist, or that spanking turned her on as much as it did me, at the time. I made a mental note not to let her provoke me into spanking her, as this would make it even harder for both of us.

Having reached this decision, after completing my third necessary, I turned over and drifted off to sleep, no prize for guessing in what condition I awoke!

This was the turning point. Before Mel was in love with the idea of love. Now she loved me. It made the waiting easier … not easy, but easier.

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