Zille Defeu’s Fetish Fantasies

My Master is travelling for work yet again, and I’m home alone. I’m re-watching Coupling to pass the time in the evenings when I would normally be snuggled up with him.

Watching the show is making me feel like the past three years never happened, and I’m sitting alone in my bedroom in my nice house in the ‘burbs, excited about this man who has just become my Master: not just excited, but scared, eager, raring to go. I was so desperate for things to work out with my Master, for me to be in a real successful D/s relationship, that I lived in a perpetual state of worked up nerves: one minute full of joy and singing out loud, the next crying because I was sure he’d suddenly realize how unworthy I was to serve him, and tell me I wasn’t his girl anymore.

I was just, “girl,” then. He decided I had to earn my nicknames from him, and so I started as his girl, a nameless girl. Then, one night, in a late night phone call – it was probably 1AM or so for me, and he was in off in some part of Europe – he accidentally called me “little one.” He was surprised because he hadn’t meant to upgrade me so fast, it just slipped out of his mouth! I melted into a puddle of happiness, although it didn’t really cure my irrational fears. It took a long while (okay, maybe a month or so!) for me to accept the term, “slave.” I’d never really wanted to be a slave, so while I was happy to have him as my Master, I was more comfortable being his girl, or his sub. Slave was a big step.

But I was taking big steps with him. Huge emotional strides. We basically fell hard and fast for each other, and I shamelessly, desperately threw myself at him. “I’m yours,” I kept telling him, trying to show him how much I really wanted to be his, how much I loved it, perhaps somehow keep it my reality through sheer repetition.

Unfortunately, I was seeing Bear, who was supposedly my primary partner. Poor Bear – I feel so bad for what I did to him. Hell, I felt bad at the time, but I was caught up in a force stronger than me. Or I just went a bit crazy. Either explanation works, and either works as a description for falling in love.

My new Master was giving me DVDs to watch while he travelled. I watched them all with fervour, sure that each was a test and I had not just to like them, but make intelligent commentary on them all, or he would dump me in a moment. (I must say that despite the first flush of love and D/s being quite exhilarating, I much prefer where we are now! It’s so comforting to know that he has promised to be with me “until death do us part,” and not only that, we both agreed that we don’t like the idea of divorce – not as a concept, but for us personally – and never want to go through one, so we would not get married unless we were committing to marriage without the option of divorce. Just like we were Catholic, really! It is really good that we did that, or I might still be worried that this wonderful bubble will burst and he’ll just divorce me any minute!)

Anyway, I sat and watched Coupling when I was in my home, alone, aching painfully for him every second. Watching the show (and the other movies he loaned me) made me feel like he was closer to me. When the episode ended I would feel the horrible need for him settle down around me again. And I didn’t want Bear around (this was particularly unfortunate, as he lived across the street!), because I just wanted to focus on my Master, so I’d hide in my house, wanting the only one in my world to be my Master.

Now, watching these episodes again, it’s a mixed pleasure because while they are brilliant comedy, well acted, sexy, and just plain enjoyable, at the same time I feel all those feelings from before welling up. I have to keep looking around our apartment, seeing his stuff and mine together, pictures from the wedding, the ring on my finger, and tell myself that I’m not back in that hard, confusing, intense time.

But, meanwhile, the show makes me laugh out loud. One of my favourite episodes is when the character “Steve” does a brilliant defence of porn. And the specific porn film he is defending is a cinematic masterpiece called “Lesbian Spank Inferno.”

And who wouldn’t want a bit of a spanking, I ask you!

When he calls me, my phone rings with the same song that I put on it during that time. (Well, I have a new phone, but I moved the ringtone over!) Now, three years later I so associate this song with my Master that I cannot listen to it without spending the whole song thinking of him….

Really, I just got myself all teary eyed! The song is perfect but for the line, “will you take the pain I will give to you again and again – and will you return it?” But I’ve had years to contemplate this, and I’ve decided that for us it means, “will you take the pain I will give to you again and again – and will you give me back that energy in the form of your tears and suffering?” See? It works just perfectly!

I remember him being over at my house, and me telling him I’d given him his own ringtone, and he said, “What is it?” and I got all shy and blushed and looked away, afraid to tell him because it had the word “love” in it, and we hadn’t said, “I love you,” yet. (Although I knew I loved him by at least our third date.) He laughed and said, “I know how to find out!” and pulled out his phone and called mine. “Strangelove, strange highs and strange lows, Strangelove, that’s how our love goes,” my phone sang out, and I wanted to hide under the table. Would he realize it was me saying I loved him? But all he said to me was, “There’s nothing strange about that!” I let him lead me off onto a safer conversational topic, but looking back now, I wonder what he thought, and I want to ask him tomorrow when I talk to him!

Now I should go to bed in our bed. I can cuddle the stuffed bear he bought me, or my old stuffed wolf who really, if truth be known, loves my Master more than me by now (my Master took him to India with him — He didn’t take me!). If missing him gets really bad, I can hold one of his canes, because our connection through the cane is so intense. Of course, if I’m going to masturbate, I have to follow one of the few inflexible rules he has given me, and hold the cane while I bring myself off. (I’ve gotten quite good at multitasking while masturbating!) But regardless of whether I was holding the cane or not, I’d be thinking of him!

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