Zille Defeu’s Fetish Fantasies

Wow, how this month has flown by. Damn, there went that summer, and I really don’t feel I had enough time to fully enjoy and appreciate it!

Now that it’s September, I realize I’d better finish this serial, before events overtake me again – i.e., before I go to my first ShadowLane party!

So … that Saturday…. My Master and I knew that Mystery Minx would be coming over for another sleep-over (this one actually planned!) on Sunday, so this was a day for us to connect as a couple, before bringing the wonderfully bratty third back in.

My Master has been in Daddy-mode a lot recently. So much, that I’ve been considering calling him “my Daddy” over here on this blog, because our energy has transformed so very much from where we started, that I feel it deserves recognition. I’ve always been his girl – that much has not changed (and I hope it never does!), and as a title works well in a number of situations, from high-protocol Master/slave, to a school-setting roleplay.

Of course, that title might squick the pure-spankos who come over here even more than “Master.” I mean, “Master” sounds all BDSM-y and possibly pushes emotional buttons, but how many more buttons does “Daddy” push?! And we’ve talked about it, and while it would be a good solution otherwise, “my Sir” is not for us, because it’s not a natural part of language, e.g. the way “my Lord” is. (Errr, the English language, I should specify, as “Monsieur” is exactly that. But if I called him “Monsieur” we’d both fall over laughing, unless we were doing the whole bloody scene in French! Which, come to think of it, could probably not be accomplished without massive giggling, anyway! Now German, that would fit a scene very, very well…. But I don’t think he’ll take to “Mein Herr,” either, and honestly, that leads to visions of clicking my heels and saying, “Yavol, Mein Herr!” and then falling over in giggles as well….)

But I’ve wandered off track – thinking about it, I’ll use “my Daddy” for the rest of this post. Those of you who read it, please leave me a comment letting me know how you feel about it – does it work? Or does it squick you out?

So, here we go – I started over my Daddy’s lap; hand-spanking and then the mean slipper. Once I was crying out and bouncing around, I was put over the edge of the bed and he decided to work through a large selection of his tawses, as we’d just found the missing Campbells (they were, if you can imagine it, in the toy bag!)

So one tawse after another was taken to my bottom. Some were just for six, some were for twelve or more (I guess he was liking the results with those!) At one point, he had switched from standing on my left, strapping me with his right hand, to standing on my right, thwacking away with his left hand – to even things out, of course! It was a heavy strap, as I recall, and it was wrapping onto my hip, so I kept shuffling to the left a little, so that his next stroke would land squarely on the target. But his inner sadist had come out, and he followed along, so it was “thwack!” and then I’d wiggle stage left, followed by him taking a small step along, and then “thwack!” again, and away I’d wiggle, and again he’d follow. “I like this little dance,” he said evilly. I didn’t reply, because I had nothing good to say.

He then informed me that we were going to have to end with twelve from the cane. I really didn’t have much to say to that either, because, “Really? It’s not like we have to do that – it’s actually just that you want to!” is not an acceptable answer at such moments. (Unless you desire the amount of pain to double!)

I was crying by the end of that, and the subsequent sexual intercourse was very satisfying for all – especially because my bottom was so sore, that his pounding against it keep the pain going along with the pleasure.

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Sunday, the Minx arrived, and we proceeded to have our usual good time together. It led in short order to her trying on all my schoolgirl uniforms, and my green jumper fits her absolutely perfectly (better than me, blast it!) Daddy was having a lovely time sitting on the sofa and watching the schoolgirl fashion show, while I helped in the other room with outfit changes and styling. It was really fun! Finally, I put on my blue jumper, and we both got called into the bedroom. Why, when there are two of you in uniform, going into the room where you know you’ll be disciplined, is it more nervous-making than if it was just you, alone?

I won’t go over the various permutations of implements, number of spanks (I was a spectator and helper, but my own bottom was left alone), the Minx’s unswerving bratting (as natural as breathing to the girl!), because it would get tedious to anyone who wasn’t living in that moment Instead I’ll jump to the big dramatic moment.

It was after a break for dinner, and we were still in uniform, and back in the bedroom (undoubtedly after Daddy had been sprayed – yet again – by Minx’s squirt gun). Suddenly, he said to her, “I smell alcohol on your breath, young lady. Have you been drinking?” Now we’d all just had a glass of wine with dinner, so yes, she had. She tried to duck it, by saying she had been handed the wine, so she thought it was okay to drink it. Well, he demanded to know who’d given her the wine. Suddenly, she was put in the position of being a tattle-tale, or taking the punishment on herself.

The brave creature, she did try her best. She took the strap, and then the cane, and they weren’t no gentle strokes, neither. But, finally, she broke and breathlessly admitted, “Okay, okay, it was Zille!”

Well, I knew it was coming from the get-go, but I mustered up all my out-rage and said, “You RAT! I can’t believe it! How could you snitch on me?!” and etc., whilst getting dragged by my ear by Daddy over to beside Minx, where we both felt very ill at ease while he looked us up and down. He then announced that he had the solution, and that Minx should put her arms around my neck….

The pit dropped out of my stomach, and I think probably hers, too. I’d wanted to do horsing since I’d read about in Blushes (or Janus, whichever) but suddenly the moment was upon me, and I honestly hadn’t been expecting that, so I was just stunned – and scared! Minx had been shocked into submission, as well, and quietly put her arms around my neck, and I was instructed to lean over the side of the bed.

I could feel her warm weight against me, and once the cane came down upon her bottom, I could pretty well feel everything she was going through. That intimacy was so intense, and I just tried to hold her solidly, so she couldn’t get in trouble for falling off. Each stroke was almost as bad for me as it was for her.

And then it was my turn. And now, mind you, I was still sore and tenderized from yesterday, and was now going to have a cold caning – yesterday’s bruises in no way count for a warm up — quite the reverse!

Down came the cane. I managed to do nothing more than gasp and twitch a bit. But by the second one, my determination to take it well, for the Minx’s sake, was right out the window. I yelped and writhed, hating myself for making it worse for her, but unable to control my reactions to the pain. And for two strokes during the twelve of the best-of-the-best which I received, it must have seemed like I actually tried to climb straight off over her head, howling unrestrainedly. Minx was horrified – she grabbed my arms in tight solidarity, and in between my yelps, desperately told me how sorry she was for ratting me out, and calling out to my Daddy that it wasn’t my fault – she didn’t have to take the drink from me in the first place!

I appreciated how sweet this all was, later, but at the time it just added to my misery, because I couldn’t take the caning more stoically for love or money, and I knew that the more I cried out and contorted in agony, the harder it was on her – and I didn’t want to make it worse for her!

(I had to play up my outrage at being tattled upon, but of course I’d forgiven the poor dear before the words got out of her mouth! We hugged and consoled each other, after, me trying to assure her that all was really well!)

Well, I was pretty well done-in after that, but Minx hadn’t been totally broken. So I, nursing my poor bottom, watched as she got taken to where she needed to go. Seeing her in that moment, you cannot help but feel it is an honour to be allowed to share it with her. Her spirit is so beautiful, and when it is flayed entirely open, it’s actually pretty awesome (in the original meaning of the word, not the slang it has become). Then, it was serious cuddle time, all of us sharing in the intensity that seemed to surround us like a bubble of warm emotion, the rest of the world so far, far away.

Memories I’ll cherish forever.

And now, it’s hardly believable, I’m off to ShadowLane in a couple days, and since the Minx will be there, I can’t even imagine what all will happen. I was honestly less excited to go to Disney World than I am for this upcoming weekend!

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Related posts:

1. New adventures in spanking (Part 2)
2. New Adventures in Spanking (Part 3)
3. New adventures in spanking (Part 1)
4. The stunning conclusion to the Fiona Locke Affair
5. Stately home, sound spanking

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