Zille Defeu’s Fetish Fantasies

Posts Tagged ‘belt’

I’m crazy busy this week, but wanted to steal a moment to write about Sunday’s scene. (Which means: enjoy this post – it might be the only one you get from me this week!)

Mr Defeu and I mostly did normal vanilla couple stuff this weekend (errands, going out to brunch, him rebuilding my hard-drive on my lap-top while I cleaned the kitchen, snuggling whilst we watched an Inspector Morse – that sort of thing!) but as Sunday afternoon started to become Sunday evening, he said, “Well, girl, I think you need a spanking.”

I pretended that I thought that wasn’t such a great idea.

Eventually, he grabbed my arm and dragged me to the bedroom. I wasn’t really fighting or protesting or anything, just trying to hold myself in check from actually running into the room first, bending over the bed, and wiggling my ass invitingly at him.

He got comfortable on the bed, and it was suggested that I go find an outfit that would please him.

Off I went on my little mission (which I didn’t really have any choice about choosing to accept!) and came back in a grey striped shirt under grey sweater-vest, grey pleated skirt, white knee socks … and navy blue gym knickers. (We don’t seem to have any grey ones! How did we get in this strait?! Something must be done about this!)

Mr Defeu liked the outfit. He let me know this with both verbal and, erm, vascular compliments. He sat up on the bed, pulled me towards him, and let his hands run over me. I closed my eyes and let the rush of arousal overwhelm me. He has always had this effect on me – just the merest hint that we might do something kinky can get my body started up with physical responses that are well outside my control. (It amazes me, sometimes, if he growls something at me in that gruff sexy way, or even just looks at me a certain way, I can observe the immediate effects on my body. Even if I think I’m not so in the mood as all that, my body will instantly belie that!) Anyway, so there we were: him enjoying things from his toppy point of view, me feeling high as a kite on anticipation and submissive head-space.

He started by pulling me over his lap for a seriously hard spanking – if this was a “warm up,” then I was the Queen of England! – which is of course how we both like it best.
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Sunday, 16 January 2011

This has been an amazing week for Mr Defeu and me: Tuesday we re-initiated our discipline-based relationship, and then Friday evening we had over the delicious MinxGrrl for a session of traditional British schoolgirl uniform fitting, and traditional CP, and then kisses, snuggles, and erotic story-reading with added stimulation.

I must say that as a first-time play session with someone, it went rather fantastically well! (And, from her tweets, the Grrl of the Minxness agrees with me!)

I’ll let her sum up the action:

So I was dressed up in proper British school attire, spanked, caned, strapped w/ belt & tawse, slippered, had my hands strapped & caned… We played about 4 hours with a couple breaks. I also had my feet caned, put in the corner and there may even be more that I just can’t remember through the afterglow haze. Ow…mmm. We only stopped to snuggle and for me to make out with his hot wife ftw!

During some of the play, I grabbed Minx’s mobile and started getting shots I thought she’d rather like to have, later. She has since tweeted her favs, and thus I present to you a photo-essay – snapshots of some lovely moments in that evening….

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It’s going to be very hard to collect the memories of the wonderful Shadowlane Thursday through Monday, because there are A.) too many good ones, and B.) it’s all tending to melt together into a rosy-glowing blur of remembrance. Still, let’s see what we can do….

We arrived so late Wednesday night as to more accurately be Thursday morning. Thursday was spent chilling out and enjoying the fact that we were on holiday, whilst watching the spankos trickle in to the Suncoast Casino and Spanko Central. That evening involved hanging out with friends in this perfect combination of pre-party anticipation, happiness to see each other again, and relief to have a night of mellow chat that didn’t involve shouting over music before it all started up. If you’re going to SL and you can afford it time and/or money-wise, I really recommend this option.

That night, Mr. Defeu, obviously inspired by the companionship and discussion, bent me over his lap for a spanking, and then over the end of the bed for a taste of the belt. (Yummy, would be the taste! I really do love that belt.) Then a thank-you blowjob for him!

Friday day was a bit chaotic, as everyone was trying to get everything into place – people having suite parties were buying foods and beverages, last minute wardrobe alterations were taking place, etc. I was lucky enough to go along for the ride with Lucy Mclean and Bailey as they shopped at the Bettie Page store. It’s not every lucky girl who has able to to hang out with those two whilst they stripped down in a small room! I think I failed utterly at trying not to be lecherous.

I really could have used a disco nap when I got back, but it was time to start getting ready, myself! Here are some links for items from my outfit that evening:

• Bettie Page “Accountant” Dress
• Knee Length Petticoat
• Elegant Moments Sheer thigh-hi
• High Heel Mary Jane

I got lots of compliments! (Thank you to all who took a moment to say a kind word.) Although once the Northern Girls came in, they got pretty much all the attention for the rest of the night!

I got to catch up with friends, and meet lots of lovely people. It was very intense for me, socially, but that’s how that sort of thing always is for me. When I started doing this sort of thing in college (i.e. – hanging out in large groups of people I mostly didn’t know) it was because I was working at ManRay. And what I did there was to arrive before the club opened and get ready with my friends and fellow performers, and then spend all my time with them, much of it down in the green room. Then I would perform, which would be my real act of social bravery for the evening, but it would only last about 10 minutes! Or, if I was go-go dancing, I’d be up on a block, and sure people would be looking at me, but I didn’t actually really talk to them! After that was done, I’d be high on performance endorphins, and social interaction would seem so much less scary than being up on stage, that I’d simply not care so much about it. So, oddly, just walking around talking to people is actually harder for me, than getting up onstage in small amounts of clothing and doing kinky things in front of an audience!

Fireman Chris and Mr. Defeu and I went to a suite party after the vendors fair, and I finally got to formally meet Richard Windsor, which was wonderful and I hope to hang out with him again, but after a while I had to admit I was flagging, and so we went back to our room and snuggled into bed. Sleep was not immediately an option, as we happened to be placed next door to one of the biggest suite parties! The sounds of rhythmic slapping and cries of, well, if not pain, then some intense emotion, kept up for quite a while. (At one point someone seemed to be rhythmically lifting and dropping a piece of furniture as well – not sure what that was about, but hats off to them!) Happily, thanks to Mija and Paul, we happened to have QI on DVD, so we watched a couple episodes and by the end of the second one, things had mellowed out enough that we could drift off to sleep.

Part II tomorrow!

Today’s fantasy comes from the article “Papal crackdown on bare-kneed tourists sparks hypocrisy claims” from The Register:

The Vatican’s stripey knickerbocker-clad Swiss Guards have launched a crack down on scantily-clad tourists in and around the Holy See.

Reports say that a long-standing modest dress decree has been extended from St Peter’s basicilica – the big church – to the whole of the Vatican mini-state.

The Pope’s halberd-waving steel-hatted private army has apparently been forcing quivering tourists into corners to berate them for having uncovered shoulders or knees. While some have been directed to nearby traders specialising in more modest apparel, others have been refused entry to Vatican City altogether, The Telegraph reports. [...]

The crackdown has angered some visitors, who said it was hypocritical for an organisation beset by child abuse allegations to suddenly get all hot and bothered about ladies’ shoulders and men’s hairy knees. Still, when it comes to driving Satan out of the Vatican you’ve got to start somewhere, so why not with spaghetti strap tops and Bermuda shorts?

It should be noted that the guards wear a 16th century outfit including a natty doublet and voluminous pantaloons, and while the pantaloons stop above the knee, the offending joints are covered by coordinated stockings. Their wardrobe also includes a knee-length doublet.

The pope himself generally wears a floor length cassock, which this week he has apparently been teaming with a baseball cap in pontifical white.

(The above lovely shot of the Vatican Guards is from Wikipedia.)

This of course has spawned some serious Swiss Guard fantasies for me — because how could you not want to be spanked by someone in that get-up?!

My fantasy runs like this … I get into Vatican City wearing a cardigan over my tube top, but it’s a hot day, and also, I like the idea of naughtily flashing a bit of skin where I shouldn’t.

So the cover-up gets stuffed in my bag, and I take in the sights showing off not only shoulder, but a few inches of stomach as well! (And, actually, since I actually usually wear low-riding trou, that could be quite a few inches of the middle of me uncovered!)

I’ve gotten my shots of famous statues and buildings, bought some postcards, and am ready to head back to the tour bus … when two Swiss Guards bear down on me, berating me in thickly accented English. There I am in a corner, away from the other tourists, trapped by the two overbearing guards….

Here’s where my fantasy breaks up a bit, because what shall they use on me?! Take off their leather belts? Use the scabbards of their swords? Or do Swiss Guards carry some esoteric, medieval tool of correction?! (And/or do they use their rough, sword-callused hands?)

Anyway, no matter what they use, we all know it ends with me walking stiffly to my tour bus, eyes red-rimmed, and sweater on and buttoned all the way up!

The wonderful author Wilbur Smith often has references to spanking in his Egyptian Series — pretty much any time there is someone growing up in them they get threatened with a good thwacking as needed. Here are some examples:

“Get on with it, Taita. You are teasing me now. I order you to tell me this very minute or, or,” she groped for a threat to coerce me, “or I shall beat you again.”

“Answer me straight or I will whip your insolent backside, you little baggage.” I had done so before, so she relented and muttered sulkily…”

Tanus lifted the whip on high, and then brought it down in a full-armed stroke with all his weight behind it. He laid a purple welt as fat as my forefinger across Shufti’s back. So intense was the pain of it that the bandit’s entire body convulsed and the air hissed out of his lungs, so that he could not scream. Tanus lifted the lash and then meticulously laid another ridged welt exactly parallel to the first, almost but not quite touching it. This time Shufti filled his lungs and let out a hoarse bellow, like a buffalo bull caught in a pitfall. Tanus ignored his struggles and outraged roars and worked on assiduously, laying on the strokes as though he were weaving a carpet.
When at last he was done, his victims legs, buttocks and back were latticed with the fiery weals. Not one of the blows had overlaid another. The skin was intact and not a drop of blood had spilled out, but Shufti was not longer wriggling or screaming. He lay with his face in the dirt….

These are just a few from River God: A Novel of Ancient Egypt. There are lots more examples in this and the other books in his Egyptian Series.

I was wandering around Wilbur Smith’s website today, and I found the influence for some of those references:

My old man was a Victorian father and ran a tight ship. He would not hesitate to pull his belt out of the loops of his trousers and give me taste of the buckle end. That was perfectly all right with me. I usually deserved it, and a few shots across my skinny little buttocks was small price to pay for being close to him. To me he was God on earth, and I worshipped him.

For me, that paternal-focused adoration is beautiful — and hot! (Although I myself shudder at the thought of “the buckle end” of a belt – but then, I’m a wimpy American girl who didn’t grow up playing in the African bush, so perhaps more extreme measures were required for young Wilbur?)

This also again underscores a point I’ve brought up often in this blog: that it’s the parental figure/dominant who disciplines who gets the worshipful love of the girl/boy/submissive. As Wilbur says, “To me he was God on earth, and I worshipped him.” That’s how I feel about my Master, so I understand it completely. And notice that he brings up his adulation of his father in context of discipline? My point is so proved!

Amusingly, he brings up something else I recently discussed (albeit on The Punishment Book blog):

My father felt that my obsession with books was unnatural and unhealthy. I was forced to become a secret reader. I spent so much time in the outhouse long-drop latrine, where I kept a cache of my favourite books, that my father ordered my mother to administer regular and copious doses of castor oil.

More CP comes in when he was off at boarding school:

Then I received my first caning; three strokes across the backside with a light cane for the heinous crime of talking after ‘lights out’ in the dormitory. My father would never have been so unjust.

Later:

I moved on to senior school, Michaelhouse; AKA St Michael’s academy for young gentlemen. This was a manifest misnomer as there was not a single gentleman amongst us. Here it was very much the same thing all over again, except much worse. The food was awful and the beatings heavier and more frequent.

However, all you school uniform aficionados will be saddened that he wasn’t much impressed with girls in school uniforms:

After four years of durance and misery …. Paradise opened before me, for here there were girls who did not wear gym slips and walk to church in crocodile formation.

This post connects so many things for me. I am re-reading all of these books of course, because of the whole Crook and Flail thing. It also makes me think of the post I did on The Happy Valley caning scenes. But most importantly, this post from 2007, wherein I discuss the basis for our Master/slave relationship, and my growth as a submissive. Re-reading that post was really fascinating to me — in so many ways I’m disappointed that I’ve not grown more as a person since then, but I am quietly satisfied that I have continued learning how to trust and let go — how to be less immediate in needing to have things go my way, more able to accept things being out of my control — all the things that not only make a better submissive, but in general a happier, more contented person!