Zille Defeu’s Fetish Fantasies

Posts Tagged ‘cane’

Well, this is supposed to be the third Shadowlane post – I know, I know! But the third post (mostly written) was overtaken by events – in this case, a whole bunch of work which had to be done, and then, what we in San Francisco refer to as “Leather Week” (the week that ends with the Folsom Street Fair on Sunday, filled with lectures, classes, parties, readings, munches, and other events) and of course, “The High Holy Day of Kink” itself.

You might say to yourself, “If Zille is as much out-of-the-dungeon-and-into-the-schoolroom as she claims, why does she keep going to these BDSM events?” It’s a fair question.
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Today’s post comes to you from Vanillaland, to make you chuckle!

As many of you are probably aware, Dan Savage does a wonderful sex advice column. This week’s topic was right up our alley (us pervs who live up Kinky Alley, that is!) but it all comes about because vanilla people can get easily confused about those things which we spend all our time thinking!

I’m stumped, Dan. In the novel Fifty Shades of Grey, which has been the subject of much discussion due to its controversial subject matter (a young woman gets involved in a BDSM relationship), the term “canning” is used numerous times. Despite my best efforts, I cannot find a definition for this practice. Who else can I turn to but you?

Confused And Naive, New Era Definition

It’s not canning (“a method of preserving food in which the food contents are processed and sealed in an airtight container”), it’s caning (“a form of corporal punishment consisting of a number of hits with a single cane usually made of rattan”).

I don’t know if the author of Fifty Shades of Grey dropped that extra “n” in there, CANNED, or if you did. But here’s hoping that millions of women all over the world aren’t fantasizing about having themselves canned by kinky billionaires. A person can survive—a person can even enjoy—a good thrashing. But being sealed in an airtight container? Not so much.
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I was looking over the site stats before I did today’s post, and I noticed that more people come here looking for “bottle green knickers” than they do for “blue knickers”. Which means that I really have to do more shoots wearing bottle green regulation knickers — not a problem, because Mr Defeu and I have plenty of them. The main problem is finding the time to do shoots! (Actually, I don’t have any grey knicks. Something must be done about that, because I think those are the sexiest — to me!)

There were some other search terms that should decidedly make more appearance on this blog, preferably in photographic or video form!

• Victorian spanking horse
• caned over the desk
• erotic leather glove

I really want to be spanked more by tops wearing leather gloves! I just think that is so, well, um, as the search term would have, erotic! Leather gloves add an air of elegant menace that I find sexy down to the core.

But, you’re all really here for the pictures, aren’t you? I’ll stop burbling and let you get to those, then!

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As you may have noticed, there was a period of time there where I wasn’t able to update this blog. I’m happy that’s all done, now, and I can be back in the happy spankosphere!

In the time in which I was unavoidably detained, a whole bunch of spanking videos of me came out, and now I have to try and catch up with them all! (Oh, terrible!)

Today we look at one of my favourites! It’s from the ever-wonderful Northern Spanking Institute, and it’s a fabulous story, right like it’s from an old spanking magazine like Janus or Blushes. (There is a high-definition video, but I’ll just include the stills in this post.)

I am a track coach, and Irelynn is my student. Stephen Lewis is one of the judges, and he comes to tell us that Irelynn has cheated in race she just ran. (By taking the bus – a ridiculous but fun to act detail!) And Mr Lewis thinks that I, as Irelynn’s coach, have been a bad influence on her, so it’s not just Irelynn who has to be punished, but me as well! So unfair, since how could I ever be a bad influence?! Anyway, that’s all you really need of plot, now just look at the pictures, which will especially excite those who admire blue regulation gym knickers!
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I am sorry to have been so long absent from this blog! I’m hoping to sneak in a few days of posting before work picks up again….

I’ve been reading the book Hitch-22: A Memoir, because it’s well-spoken and deeply intelligent author, Christopher Hitchens, unfortunately passed away a few months ago.

I’ve been enjoying it for it’s own merits, but was doubly excited when mention of CP suddenly showed up!

The three great subjects of Beating, Bullying, and Buggery (the junior or cadet equivalent of Winston Churchill’s naval tryptych of Rum, Sodomy, and the Lash”) are familiar enough to me in their way, and I have often been closely questioned – usually by girls – about their influence on my formation. I was subjhected to a certain amount and to a certain extent to the first two of the Big Bs but not (my italics) to the third….

Indeed, I often have difficulty convincing my graduate students that I really did go off to prep school at the age of eight, from station platforms begrimed with coal dust and echoing to the mounting “whomp, whomp, woof, woof” of the pistons beginning to turn, as my own “trunk” and “trunk box” were loaded into a “luggage car.” Not only that, but that I wore corduroy shorts in all weathers, blazers with a school crest on Sundays, slept in a dormitory with open windows, began every day with a cold bath (followed by the declension of Latin irregular verbs), wolfed lumpy porridge for breakfast, attended compulsory divine service every morning and evening, and kept a diary in which – in a special code – I recorded the number of times when I was left alone with a grown-up man, who was perhaps four times my weight and five times my age, and bent over to be thrashed with a cane.

Here we have some excellent points for those who want to play, “Schoolboy at English public school” games. I know quite a few of you who will perk up at reading this!

The true essence of a dictatorship is in the fact that those who live under it must never be able to relax, must never be quite sure if they have followed the rules correctly or not. (The only rule of thumb was: whatever is not compulsory is forbidden) Thus, the ruled can always be found to be in the wrong. […] “Hitchens, take that look off your face!” Near-instant panic. I hadn’t realized I was wearing a “look.” (Face-crime!) “Hitchens, report yourself at once to the study!” “Report myself for what, sir?” “Don’t make it worse for yourself, Hitchens, you know perfectly well.” But I didn’t. And then, “Hitchens, it’s not just that you have let the whole school down. You have let yourself down.” To myself I was frantically muttering: Now what? It turned out to be some dormitory sex-game from which – though the fools in charge didn’t know it – I had in fact been excluded. But a protestation of my innocence would have been, as in any inquisition, and additional proof of guilt.

One of the joys of reading this and feeling stirred by erotic tinglings is that this is utterly guilt-free, which can’t be said for all the “real life” CP we all read about and eroticize. But Christopher Hitchens was not horribly traumatized by this, and ended up not having entirely negative feelings on the matter –

And yet it still wasn’t facism, and the men and women who ran this bizarre microcosm were dedicated in their own weird way.
[…]
I think I wish I had not been introduced so early to the connection between obscure sexual excitement and the infliction – or the reception – of pain.

So I think we can all safely build some fantasies on this one! And, from what I have gotten to know about him from reading his works, I have to say I think ol’ Hitch would actually be amused, if not grinningly pleased, that people were basing fantasies on his school years! Indeed, that last sentence makes me wonder if perhaps he was not, to some extent, one of us…!