Zille Defeu’s Fetish Fantasies

Okay, okay — I have acceded to your demands (and even threats – for shame, Fyre!) and gotten the next part of the adventures up for your delectation….

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But as the whacks resound from the bottom of the imp in the other room, it reminds me of the whacks my bottom received from HH. Once over his lap, his hand started raining down hard – HARD – on my bottom. I was gasping and squirming in no time.

And then … he informed me my knickers would have to come down. And darned if I don’t feel embarrassed and anxious, as if I hadn’t been making porn for years and you can’t google for pictures of my pink bits on the web! Anyway, my unexpectedly delicate sensibilities were not of concern to either Mr. Defeu or HH, so down my knickers came, me blushing madly (although OTK, with your head down, it’s hard to tell if you’re embarrassed or it’s just all the blood rushing to your head!)

The spanking then proceeded, and kept up for a while. It was one of those periods in time when you need it to be over because the pain is pushing you right to the edge, but at the same time you never want it to end. I continued gasping and squirming.

But it was nothing like the squirming I’d be doing once HH started to apply his infamous hairbrush to my bottom. Yikes, that stung! I think at that point he had to grab my arm, because there was no holding still while those smacks rained down on me!

Then, HH picked me up, and told me to go over to Mr. Defeu and restate to him what I’d done wrong, and that I’d learned my lesson. It was really well done, because if I was overwhelmed, I could have just apologized and things could be concluded. But I was soooo not ready for things to be over, so I put on my brat-hat and earned myself some more CP, this time in the form of the tawse. And, since I’d upped the ante with my bratting, he upped the ante from his end (that would be, onto my rear end!) by putting me in a very compromising position: knees on an ottoman, with my hands on the ground … and my bottom very much up in the air, with all my tender bits really exposed. “This is going to huuuuurt…” I thought as he picked up the tawse and started in on me. And I was right! That strip of leather wrecked havoc all over my bottom and the tops of my thighs. I was doing breathing exercises (yes, yelping is a part of breathing exercises!) and just holding on for the ride.

Again, HH gave me a chance for contrition, and the CP to be over. But I still didn’t want this wonderful time to be over – I was high on adrenalin and thus continued in my recalcitrant ways. So it was time for the cane (the man travels well-prepared for any contingency!) I was then on the sofa on my hands and knees, another “not particularly favourite” position (as in, I can’t just let the side of the furniture hold me up!) and I knew I was in for it.

Those moments when a punishment is just about to start are so intense. You know the pain is coming, and you don’t know how bad it’s gonna be, so you make it worse in your mind. And yet, the excitement is nothing short of thrilling. And you know that you are the centre of attention of the person wielding the implement, and that is wonderful, too.

I don’t now remember how many strokes I got. It was at least a dozen, and he wasn’t holding back. HH is quite experienced, so he gave me time to process the pain, yet didn’t give me long enough to get bored. It was lovely – I can say that now that HH and his implements are safely across The Pond. That is: in my memory it is just pure perfect pleasure – but at the time, I struggled to get through the pain!

I was sent once again to apologise and promise to do better to Mr. Defeu. I still didn’t want things to be over and done with, so my not-at-all sincere apology was accepted, because they decided my bottom had had enough, even if I was too dim (or greedy and insensible) to know it!

Then it was time for hugs all around – as this was the first time a man other than Mr. Defeu had caned me (or strapped me, for that matter!), and the first time someone had really topped me since I got together with Mr. Defeu, this was a big deal, and I was feeling very delighted and grateful, and could really have just hugged one, than the other, and back to the first, then back to the other, for hours. (I know HH took a picture of my bottom while I hugged Mr. Defeu, but I don’t remember which camera was used (I was a bit loopy!) and so I don’t yet have the “(rear)end results” for you, but as soon as I get my hands on the image I’ll post it. (I DO have an image of me in my outfit I wore later: a black latex catsuit, see below!)

After that we hung out and talked (HH had brought some lovely tea, which we enjoyed while talking) and then suddenly it was evening, and I tossed together a quick meal (grilled spice-rubbed lamb and honey-drizzled butternut squash, with grilled pineapple) before we got dressed up and went out to the San Francisco Fetish Ball, which just happened to be taking place that evening.

For once, we didn’t have photo duty, nor were involved in the performances, so it was just chilling out with friends. The ball was actually quite nice (I’d been expecting it to be less than successful, for a number of reasons), but the best part was just reclining on the “beds” in the VIP area with HH and chatting, while all around us fantastically clad fetishists ogled the shows, or flirted or got up to naughtier stuff with each other. The reclining made it feel a bit Roman, like we were in some orgiastic symposium, with flute girls in rubber!

Speaking of drinking parties, when we got back from the ball, no one felt like winding down quite yet, so we ended up drinking wine and talking about spanking and anything and everything until 4AM. It was really wonderful!

Sadly, HH had to leave the next day (I was a little, shall we say, a tad off-colour, so I wouldn’t have been the best company, anyway) but this is not the end of the adventures.

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