Zille Defeu’s Fetish Fantasies

From the Naughty Girl…

September 12th, 2005 | Author: Zille

Sir, my naughty side has been clamoring inside me. The Good Girl has been able to keep the Naughty Girl pretty well squashed-down inside me, because she has been getting such wonderful attention and rewards. But the Naughty Girl just won’t shut up – and I think it’s because she knows that you know what to do with her – and she has been waiting for so long….

When I was at the garden nursery yesterday buying plants, I saw this 5-6 year old girl (in a classic “little girl” dress and her hair in bows, to complete it!) I first noticed her only because her father bellowed “Get back here NOW!” right beside me, and then went in chase of the girl, who had taken off into the labyrinth of plants on sale. He walked purposefully after her as she ran on her little legs, up and down the rows, giggling whenever he got too close. When he was far away, she would stop and wait – then when he got within a certain “safety zone” she would take off again – and then again stop and wait, panting with exertion and excitement.

I know that feeling!

I remember my dad chasing me around the dinning room table – the only time he ever threatened to spank me. I was so excited – I remember feeling anticipation coursing through me, and while I would never have admitted wanting to get caught – and spanked! – it was obviously not enough of a deterrent to keep me from having done whatever I did in the first place, nor from my “making it worse,” by keeping running (and giggling, just like that little girl in the garden store.) I finally made it to “my chair” at the dinner table, and slid into it, like I had gotten to the safe place in a game of “Duck, duck, goose.” And my dad didn’t spank me.

It was the same with this little girl. When she had had enough of the thrill (was perhaps getting a bit tired) she found a bench near where they had started their game of chase, and she slid up onto it just like I had done, a big grin on her face: she was “safe.” And she was – she was not disciplined in any way. Indeed, later I saw her take off into the twisting paths again, and this time her father actually ran after her, a big smile on his face, and chased her down and swept her up into his arms.

Which left me standing there, in the shade by some random batch of plants, feeling all these confused feelings. The little girl had originally started out by disobeying: by all rights a punishment was due her. Seeing her father at first step out so purposefully towards her sent a thrill of excitement through me. But seeing her father smile as he ran after her, later, and seeing her trusting delight as his strong arms scooped her up … also made me feel warm and … well, missing you even more, Sir.

It is definitely the Naughty Girl who loves the thrill of the chase – from the point of view of the prey! The Good Girl will never run (like a deer caught in headlights, but it is more than just that.) But, knowing that only worse trouble is coming, the Naughty Girl will run away from it – longing to be caught, needing to be caught. I remember the relief when my dad didn’t spank me, 25 or so years ago, but also disappointment. I’ve felt that disappointment over the years since, when I’ve run away from lovers just a little too well, or wrestled a bit too enthusiastically, and they have given in and let me get away with it, let me “win” – a victory that is beyond pyrrhic.

It’s the Good Girl who deserves, and who longs to be swept up in strong encompassing arms and held and kissed and filled with that simple yet so profound happiness of being taken care of.

Looking back over this, I would like to elaborate on the “point of view of the prey” part. So much is made of the point of view of the predator: of the flash of muscle in the leopard, the excitement as he draws closer and closer to the antelope, the smell of the prey and then the leap and the rush of hot rich blood as his teeth tear through the tender flesh.

But what about the antelope? For a while, the game is even, perhaps even on the antelope’s side. The prey feels the same exhilaration as the predator – the same exultation in speed, the same “life or death” urges flow through her.

Now, I am not saying our antelope is disappointed when she doesn’t feel her haunch torn apart by vicious teeth – we play a different game than them. But to illustrate my point, I link to the following song: The Hunter’s Kiss

Here’s a sad story about a deer and a man

A romantic scene from a lullaby.
In a clearing green, where his eyes met mine.
I was frozen motion. Oh! His bow was raised.
Then the fleeting notion-that my life he’d save.

But I saw it coming, flying through the air.
Feathered backside humming. Miss me, hit me where
Where it will only hurt me, not a mortal wound.
Leave me lying dirty, someone would find me soon.

I have never felt like this before.
Felt my body sinking to the grassy floor
No, I have never known a love like this.
Felt the flaming arrows of the Hunter’s Kiss.

My life is not mine.
Like a dog or a wife.
He has taken his time.
He has taken my life.

I could see the steaming of his cloudy breath.
No, I was not dreaming.
I was next to death.
As I lay there twitching, then my legs he tied.
There was nothing missing on the day I died.