Zille Defeu’s Fetish Fantasies

Posts Tagged ‘blowjob’

This Sunday, Bonnie over at My Bottom Smarts asked:

Our topic this week is based upon a question I have received from (often anonymous) e-mailers several times in various forms over the years. The basic theme is that the sender has a difficult time believing that any intelligent, capable adult woman would allow herself to be subjected to repeated spankings. The implication is that I must either have mental health issues or be a battered wife. Of course, neither is true. If they seem earnest, I write back and try to explain this, but I doubt I change anyone’s mind.
Why is it so difficult for many vanillas to accept that there are successful, sane, happy people who find consensual adult spankings to be beneficial?
I look forward to a day when spanking is considered like, say, fellatio. Not all lovers practice this technique, but it’s common enough that few people think much one way or the other about those who partake.

I was just talking the other day with a friend about how “vanillas” are often so ready to accept a bit of spanky-bot-bot as normal foreplay, how so many of them have a pair of handcuffs or a silk scarf in the bedside drawer, and it is so easy for them to accept that as a bit of harmless fun. Kind of in the way a completely straight girl could be perfectly comfortable in a room full of naked gals, in a way that a bi or lesbian woman is no longer able to be entirely comfortable, but has to avert her eyes or she feels like she’s ogling.

(So I think that the comparison of spanking with fellatio is actually more reasonable than you may think – it’s just that you are getting emails from the sorts of people who might think fellatio is also sick and not part of a healthy sex life!)

So one does wonder if all of those people who refuse to believe that “any intelligent, capable adult woman would allow herself to be subjected to repeated spankings” are closeted spankos (or other kinky type) who cannot accept in others what they refuse to allow in themselves.

Another point, however, is that vanillas tend to understand a bit of spanking as a part of sex. But if you are completely satisfied and fulfilled by spanking, that strikes them as weird. (There’s your “mental health issues”!) And if you are using spanking for behaviour modification, well, that’s just sick and wrong, obviously. (And there’s the “battered wife”!)

If you are going to be able to explain it to vanillas at all, I’ve found the best thing is to compare it to a “runner’s high.” Runners and other exercisers will go through all sorts of pain (The first day back at the gym can be more painful than the average spanking!) for a variety of “understandable” reasons, like the release of adrenalin and endorphins which make you feel so good after the pain/exertion is over. Or the “results,” which are physical for gym-goers and more emotional for spankees. But even a good workout can leave you feeling centred and calmed, the way a spanking does.

But the people who are repressed you can never get to accept “beneficial consensual adult spankings.” And most unrepressed vanillas will never “get it” outside of a sexual context.

(Not that spankings don’t have their place in said sexual context! Never let it be said that I am against mixing spanking and sex!) [grins]

Yesterday my Master and I went to a wonderful Egyptian exhibit at a local museum. I love all that stuff – hieroglyphics and mummification and animal-headed gods and basically everything about the ancient Egyptians.

One thing that really caught my notice (and I don’t know why it never has before) was the Pharonic crook and flail. Wikipedia says, “The flail is depicted alongside the shepherd’s “crook” as symbols of office for the crowned Egyptian Pharaoh. The flail symbolises the Pharaoh’s role as provider of food for his people and the crook symbolises his role as the shepherd of his people. ”

But really, look at the two items! Do they really look like they are about providing animals and veg to the dinner table of the people? Us CP aficionados know better! The crook-handled cane and the whip have other uses than for sheep and grain. Wikipedia admits, “As with most agricultural tools, flails were often used as weapons by farmers who may have lacked better weapons. The French Revolution was mostly fought with agricultural tools. The flail is proposed as one of the origins of the two-piece baton known in the kobudo weapon system as the nunchaku.”

But that’s taking beyond where the real interest with these items lie. It was indeed the daily use, but not the ostensible daily use … Egypt was a land with a lot of slaves. And corporal punishment was acceptable at all levels of society – from Pharaoh to slave, as long as you could find anyone lower on the food-chain!

So lots of ideas for Ancient Egyptian fantasies are flooding my head. The Pharaoh who takes the crook to his new bride for trying to leave the harem. Or after an unsatisfactory meeting with another ruler who might become friend or foe, the Pharaoh takes his flail to the slave girl who he finds cleaning (substandardly, of course) his private rooms…. Ah, so many possible fantasies….

(Thanks, Eros Blog!)

Kink.com has done us gals an invaluable service. They are making a series of “How to give a blow job” videos.

Of course, they have also done a favour for anyone who likes looking at girls giving blowjobs. Especially girls as delicious as Bobbi Starr, upon whom I now have a tremendous crush…

I mean, hello? Phwoar!

Well, that’s just a perfect body, huh?

I looked for a view of her bottom getting caned, as I know you lot, and that’s what you want to see! (Never mind that’s also what I like to see it…!)

[See Bobbi Star get caned on Kink On Demand]

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….”
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Life being what it is, the minute my Master and got back to the place where we could have full-on hot scenes, life got too busy to play, or even to do blog entries! (Which is my way of apologizing for being MIA all last week….)

However, I am now sitting (uncomfortably) in the warm (stinging) glow of a post-playtime afternoon, with lots of stuff to tell you all, and at least a bit of time to do it. (If I haven’t done an hour of yoga by the time my Master returns home, well, I really don’t want to contemplate what the Evil Paddle would feel like on my bottom at this juncture – I may be a masochist, but I’m not stupid!)

Today was all about the cane. Sadly, I was not in the headspace that I’d been in all week, when my every thought (when it wasn’t about work, which was sadly all too often) was about how lovely it would be to be bent over the bed with the cane whistling down repeatedly upon my bottom….

Today, of course, I just couldn’t be eager and rarin’ to go. No. I had to be very low-energy and somewhat depressed and really more in the, “How ‘bout a nice snuggle?” sort of place. And it didn’t help that, after the post-breakfast’s fiddling-around-on-the-computers time, we had one of those stupid couple miscommunications. I sat back, realized the day was progressing more rapidly than I realized, and asked him, “So, what does our time schedule for today look like?”

He seems to have heard that as, “Can we play now, huh huh?!” when what I meant was, “Should I go have a bath and shave now because you might want to play later, or is there no time for that today?” He responded to what he heard by gesturing at something on which he was working on the computer, and said, “We’ll talk about that later.” But since what thought I had communicated was, “Shall we plan things out so that we can setting up play at an optimal time for you?” I felt really brushed off and like he couldn’t even bother to plan out the day with me, so I stomped off to my room, pouting and hurting. (I hadn’t been being disingenuous, by the way, but was trying to bring the topic up in such a way that if he needed to say, “No play today, sorry,” it was simpler and less emotionally fraught for him.)

About an hour or so later, he called out to me, “Girl, come here.” (I think he knew he’d somehow hurt my feelings, if not exactly the whys and wherefores of it, and this was sort of a dual-purpose thing where he both let me know that those hurt feelings could be put aside, because play-time was upon us, and he was at the same time saying I’d better put the hurt feelings aside, because he was ready to dominate me. (As it is hard to hold onto your sullen emotional pouting and be submissive at the same time!)

I worked hard at just letting go of the remaining pain from the miscommunication, but, as it was, I still wasn’t in a great space. And he was being very sweet and tender with me, which was probably the right thing, the best way to express that he had understood my hurt feelings and was ready to move on from them with me … but it is also something I find very confusing and hard to process. In my fantasies, CP or other ouchie things are seldom preceded by loving gentleness. It’s much more the rough and violent or cold and distant sort of thing. I do have the occasional fantasy about a “Daddy is sad he has to punish his little girl, but he has to do it for her own good” OTK spanking, although even then that tends to lead to Daddy making his girl suffer the discomfort and humiliation of anal penetration, also “for her own good” (there is something quite sexy about quiet forcefulness and gentle but relentless domination, a feeling that despite – or even more because of – understanding and compassion, your fate is inexorable.)

However, that occasional fantasy didn’t help me much at the time. If it had been something he wanted to role-play, that would have helped set it up for me … but he didn’t want to play at being other people, in other circumstances: just him and me, with me accepting pain and discipline from him.
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