Zille Defeu’s Fetish Fantasies

Posts Tagged ‘cane’

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]

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I’m feeling a bit under the weather today, but it was worth it for the fever-inspired dream last night!

My Uncle was disciplining me, and he demanded I put on my old school uniform for it. I refused, saying it was embarrassing and I was too old to have to wear the ugly outfit. The knickers, I complained, were uncomfortable and ugly – as was the skirt, and the shirt was scratchy and the blazer shapeless and unflattering. I’m sure I had complaints about my socks, shoes, and tie, too!

For each piece of the uniform that I refused to put on, he strapped me until I complied. This process took a while, as I was very recalcitrant, and had to be strapped to tears each time.

Once I was finally dressed and resigned, I was surprised and dismayed to discover that the discipline was yet to come – now I was to be caned (with my blazer and skirt pulled up, and my knickers pulled down – but all still on!) and it was implied that after he’d finished caning me into a sobbing mess, he’d be roughly fucking my ass (to further demonstrate his authority, of course, and anyway, in my universe, that’s just what Uncles do!)

When I woke up I told my Master all about it. I hope we make that dream come true this weekend…!

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I don’t even know where to start with this overwhelming weekend!

Yes, yes, I can hear you, “Begin at the beginning and when you get to the end … stop.” Okay, okay….

We left on Friday, and Shadow Lane was already in full swing when we got there. It seems people had arrived as early as Tuesday, and some were leaving Monday or later. It seemed smart when we had bought the plane tickets not to spend too much time there, when we were unsure of how much we’d enjoy it, but by the time September rolled around, we’d made enough friends in the spanking scene that it meant we didn’t get enough time to talk as much as we’d have liked with our new friends. Next time – longer trip, more partying!

The Mystery Minx was our main priority, as she lives quite far away from us, and we’ve already become quite addicted to her company. Happily, we did manage to get some quality time with her….

Anyway, we got there Friday afternoon. I had been stupid the night before, and had not taken a sleeping pill, and I ended up with terrible insomnia, because I was as excited a kid going away to summer camp for the first time. (This is not as unlikely a comparison as one would think…!) But it did mean that I felt very tired when we got to the hotel, and really not ready to sudden go to a huge party with hundreds of strangers, a few friends whom I knew from online, and about three people I knew in person!

The Minx was knocking at our door the minute we got to our room, and seeing her was brilliant. She and I had done the girly thing, and bought each other a million little gifts, so we got some room service and babbled excitedly at each other. The only problem was that I just wanted to stay in the room and hang out with her all night … I was terrified of going down to that party.

I’m not sure if you have figured this out about me, but “I only play extroverted on TV.” I’m really just a shy geek who’d rather stay in and discuss science fiction or spanking with her friends. (Or yes, have a small orgy, but it’s only ever been a small one, I tell you, and only with people I know and like!)

I had somehow managed to forget my shyness, myself. I think the last time I was this nervous was my first SkinTwo RubberBall, but even then I knew that I wouldn’t have to be conversing with that many people: we’d be in a crowded space that would be have too much thumpy-thumpy loud music to encourage much in the way of discussion.

But at this event, I’d actually have to talk to people! [gasp] And suddenly my powers of scintillating and effervescent conversation seemed to have fled altogether. And I was nervous about my outfits: it’s one thing to be a schoolgirl in a room full of other kinks. But I was about to be a schoolgirl in a room full of schoolgirls and headmasters….

I tormented the Minx with text after whiny text, “Help! What are you wearing?” “Which knickers should I wear?” “I don’t want to be the only one in uniform!” She finally responded by bringing down Young Bridget (both of them looking delicious in their uniforms!) to braid her hair in my room and try and get me to mellow out. (Showing wisdom and compassion far past her tender years, I might add!)

So, down we all went, and I felt a bit better for being in a group. Although I must say that walking through a Vegas casino in a group of uniformed schoolgirls was one of the more surreal moments in a life that I thought had already been stuffed full of very fantastic and bizarre experiences! (At the aforementioned RubberBall, getting into a cab as Queen Elisabeth I, with a Cardinal in leather – my Master – and a gorgeous woman dressed like Jessica Rabbit – but in rubber – was one of those! At least the cabbie seemed amused!)

Things continued to improve on the way in, as I finally met Tony of Shadow Lane in the flesh, and chatted a bit with him. The food was odd, but edible (I ended up eating a large plate of tasty roast beef and fresh, very ripe, melon slices) and then I couldn’t poke at my food anymore, I had to actually start talking to all these strange new people. (Well, okay, no stranger than me, in general, just strange to me!)
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I recently joined a new spanking group, and I’ve been added to the mailing list. Immediately, something really fascinating came my way…

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We shed tears when in pain, but what purpose does crying have?

A scientist now proposes a new theory for why crying evolved – tears can act as handicaps to show you have lowered your defenses.

“Crying is a highly evolved behavior,” said researcher Oren Hasson, an evolutionary biologist at Tel Aviv University in Israel. “My analysis suggests that by blurring vision, tears lower defenses and reliably function as signals of submission, a cry for help, and even in a mutual display of attachment and as a group display of cohesion.”

The shedding of tears due to emotions is unique to humans. In the past, researchers suggested that crying helps carry stressful chemicals away from the body, or that it simply makes us feel better, or that it lets babies signal health problems.

Now Hasson points out that when tears blur vision, they could readily handicap aggressive behavior. As such, tears reliably signal vulnerability, a strategy that can emotionally bind others closer to you.

Hasson suggested the use of tears could be to build and strengthen personal relationships. For instance, “you can show that you are submissive to an attacker, and therefore potentially elicit mercy from an enemy, or you could attract sympathy from others, and perhaps gain their strategic assistance,” he told LiveScience.

Also, by sharing tears with others, “if you can get a mutual display of lowered defenses, that means we can bond, that shows that we are really friends who share the same emotions,” Hasson said. “This is strictly human.”

“Of course,” Hasson added, “the efficacy of this evolutionary behavior always depends on who you’re with when you cry those buckets of tears, and it probably won’t be effective in places, like at work, when emotions should be hidden.”

This new concept from Hasson “offers the most plausible hypothesis about the evolved function of tears and crying,” said evolutionary psychologist David Buss at the University of Texas at Austin, who did not participate in this study. “Others have speculated about possible function of tears, but the notion that they operate through handicapping is highly original.”

Hasson detailed his research in the journal Evolutionary Psychology.

From LiveScience.com

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I think they should expand the study by specifically including those of us who are into consensual spanking and discipline! I bet they’d get even more telling results!

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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!)
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