Zille Defeu’s Fetish Fantasies

Well,
to continue with the caning … I was still quaking in my spandex after the last series of Six-O-The-Bests, but the final twelve were yet to come. This was back to the Senior cane, which would have seemed like a walk in the park after the last cane (the bamboo root one!), but there was not much real estate left on my bottom that wasn’t hot and weal-ed. So the cane strokes either came down on the already well-battered skin on my bottom, or on my thighs, which were not very marked, but which always hurt so much more!

By the end of that I was squealing and blindly trying to swim away through the air. It always amazes me that his fingers resting ever-so-lightly on my back keep me firmly in place no matter what the level of pain.

Then – my reward! Yes, if you’re thinking, “Alright, this is Zille, so she means ‘anal sex’,” you’d be right! I’ve been begging him for cruel anal sex: just using me for his own pleasure, whilst I whimper in pain (or at least varying levels of discomfort!) and I think it’s been hard for him to entirely be sanguine with it. When he fucks me, he wants me to go soaring into pleasure with him – and, mind you, I appreciate the sentiment! It is the irony of the universe that so many guys are careless lovers who “just take,” and I fantasize about that, while having a caring and involved lover, to whom my pleasure matters deeply.

Of course, if he wasn’t that person, I couldn’t trust him with the sort of play we do. How deeply ironical that it’s only because I know he is not truly like that, that I can long for him to be, and beg him to pretend to be!

But, because he does care about my satisfaction, he betook himself to use me roughly and get as much pleasure from it as possible. I know, some of you are thinking, “Oh, poor guy gets the world’s smallest violin from me!” but the fact of the matter is that when he’s fucking me and I’m screaming in pleasure, he can just let go and enjoy it 100%. When he is forcing his cock into my ass and I’m whimpering in pain, he has to pay attention to what he is doing, so he doesn’t injure me – and that is a distraction, he cannot let go 100%. (Of course, being me, I think a solution for this is that he practice a whole lot, and then it can become second nature and he won’t have to think about it anymore!)

Anyway, it was a period of wonderfulness. As he pushed into me, some inner masochist part of me sighed, “Oh, now this is pain I can really get into!” I revelled in the pain like a pig in mud, begging him sotto voce, “Please … use me … please … enjoy this fully … please … hurt me….”

I still don’t understand why all good things have to come to an end. I honestly would be fine with still being bent over the bed, having been used non-stop for these days on end! But eventually he roughly ordered me to the loo, to wash his cock, and then he ordered me to finish things off with a blow-job, which, as you can imagine, I did to the best of my abilities!
After, I had sub-drop right away, but neither he nor I was surprised. I never really went off into happy masochist space until the anal sex – I was too tired and worn-out in the first place. And I didn’t have an actual orgasm … which was just to my taste (he had wanted me to come during the anal, but I said, “Please, no…!” and he understood where my head was at and let me just appreciate the feeling of being used) but maybe the chemicals released by an orgasm help combat sub-drop…?

Anyway, he gently calmed me through it, and since I recognized it and relaxed and let him help me, it was pretty much the world’s shorted-lived sub-drop!

And I wouldn’t have changed a thing. As I write this now, thinking back on the scene, the fact that I had to struggle through all the caning(s!) is hotter than anything – well, anything except the sensations as his cock pumped in and out of my ass…. All-told, it was “one of those scenes” that I play back in my mind when I masturbate – because it was “one of those scenes” that was so hard to get through, so fraught. (Using the second definition of fraught: “marked by or causing distress; emotional.”)

That’s the real shift I’ve gone through in my time with my Master. I came into the relationship thinking that I had to get to a place where I enjoyed pain; that a scene wasn’t “good” unless I easily jumped through the hoops he placed before me.

Now I realize that I can have an intellectual appreciation of not enjoying things, that suffering can be hot not just as a game, but in controlled circumstances the real thing as well. I have learned that he himself prefers the scenes where I struggle and labour to get through pain that on other days I can take without making more noise than a deep breath – and so now I am learning to prefer them as well.

That’s the real difference with us, as a couple. In relationships before, I had thought I had to find someone who’s desires aligned perfectly with mine – and I still thought that way when I started this relationship. But over time, my desires have become not just things I know intimately and hold tightly to … they are now more mutable, more influence-able by his tastes and wants. I would have fought against this tooth and nail if someone had tried to tell me that I should try not holding on so tightly to my own desires, not questing after attempting to live out all my (kinky) dreams. But, now that it’s happened by accident, I can honestly say it’s the best thing that’s ever happened to both my fantasies themselves, and my self as a whole person.

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