Zille Defeu’s Fetish Fantasies

Posts Tagged ‘cane’

Continued from Part I. I should warn you that this turned into a long and not particularly coherent ramble, with thoughts coming out faster then I could write them down, and so it doesn’t go in any well-mapped direction, nor come to a tidy conclusion….

Happy reminisces aside (and he’s given me plenty of lovely sensation-memories to contemplate in bed while he’s off on a business trip this week) the main reason I shared this scene was because it has really got me thinking about my long strange trip around the land of which Sacher-Masoch is king. (Or at least the guy who gave it its name!)

I’ve written before about how I was surprised as hell when I first got into BDSM and discovered that even though I’d been fantasizing about pain all my life, it actually hurt, and how that made me back off and explore submission and other kinky stuff, certain I was a failed masochist who could only dream but not live up to my own fantasies.

And, I’ve written how Mr Defeu and the Senior cane changed all that one amazing evening.

But that “voyage of discovery” wasn’t over, and I’m still very much learning about the intersection of pain and me.

Coming from the BDSM world, the spanko world confused me. In BDSM, masochists are out, proud, and boast of their masochistic depths – indeed, the most sought after thing is to be a “bottomless pit” which can take all the pain a Top dishes out – and preferably orgasm from it. (Of course, not many people are actually like this, and this ideal probably alienates many people as much as it did me!)

On the other hand, so many spankos claim to not enjoy pain at all. They suffer CP to get other rewards, they claim. This point of view helped me, when first arriving from the cult of the masochist (“Ah! It’s okay that pain hurts!”) However, it soon got in my way, because there are indeed times when a stroke hits just right, and I process it as pleasure. Or I get a spanking that amps things up slowly, just right yet again, and I can actually come from it, just like a real big masochist, mommy!

That’s what made me want to change the common-use (within the BDSM/spanko communities) definition of masochist, from “someone who enjoys pain” to “someone who gets something from pain” (which is what the dictionary definition is, anyway). Because I think most people who want to be spanked (or otherwise caned, whipped, strapped, or paddled) fall somewhere in-between the 0 of “I get nothing from being spanked” to the 10 of “I am a raging masochist who will come from being skinned alive”.

But this post is ranging too far in scope – I actually meant to just be talking about my own self-discoveries. Just as sexuality is fluid, so is masochism, it seems. (Although of course, for me, I don’t think there is any real division between my sexuality and my masochism.) Some days I just want the CP equivalent of love pats. Other days I crave my fundament being turned entirely black and blue….

But even more, as I learn more about myself, my own ability to take more and different kinds of pain expands.
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This is the “fun bit” of a two-part post. First I’ll recount a lovely scene Mr Defeu and I just did, and then tomorrow I’ll talk about some of the thoughts it has brought up for me. Dessert before dinner, for those of you who are just here for the spanking and kinky sex. But for those of you who want the “deep thoughts” part, the best is yet to come!

I was feeling a bit low on Saturday afternoon (despite some lovely first-thing-upon-waking-sex) and of course Mr Defeu knows the best way to perk me up: “I think there shall be a scene, this weekend,” he announced. “Oh, really?” I asked, suddenly buoyed up nicely. He nodded, and said nothing further, keeping his devious plans to himself.

Sunday morning rolled around, and as we cuddled in spoon-position after waking up, something else woke up, and poked me in lower right bum-cheek. “Aaaah,” I said, (always profound, me!) “Would you like me to go change into something more suitable?”

I was instructed to change into a vest (that’s a wife-beater, to American readers) and gym-cut knickers (which I took to mean short cotton-spandex shorts, not regulation knickers – and, as I wasn’t punished for wearing the wrong thing, must have made the right call!) and so, clad in a white vest, navy gym shorts, and two pony-tails (not just to be cute, but to keep my hair out of the way, as I had a feeling fellatio would factor into things somewhere, and also, getting a mouthful of hair during a beating, always after having been told not to move your arms, is both frustrating and embarrassing), I knocked on the bedroom door, and was curtly instructed to enter.

I was fighting a grin quite strongly at this point. I so very much wanted to be in role, but I was really just too happy that filthy perverted stuff was about to happen. I managed to have my face mostly under control by the time I got inside the door.

“Well, my girl,” he said in full disappointed “this will hurt me more than it hurts you” Authority Figure Mode, “What did I tell you about being too rowdy last night?”

Uh, I don’t know! – was my first thought, and not one I said outloud – I didn’t remember being particularly boisterous or unruly the night before. So I tried for an all-purpose defence: “Um, youthful high spirits?”

That justification was of course deemed quite beneath regard, and I was treated to a lecture on how I had quite ruined his evening, but he didn’t want to be imposed upon to have to punish me when he was trying to get some RnR, and so he would attend to me now.

I was lapping this right up of course, although I gave a token stab at self-defence and tying to talk my way out of what was coming to me. (You can’t very well say, “Yay! Yay! Lecture me more!”)

This worked so well that I ended up being pulled over his lap as he sat on the side of the bed, and him laying right into me with heavy, hard spanks.
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Mr Defeu’s and my adventures yesterday were very much something that could only happen in San Francisco. I’m still bemused and delighted by them, so I wanted to share with you lot.

The day started with some lovely intimacy in Mr Defeu’s and my marriage-bed. It was a lovely interlude, but I won’t go into it here, as it was “just sex,” and I know you pervs want to get to the good stuff!

After a lovely brunch at our current favourite place, we had to hustle a bit to get ready for the fundraiser to keep Wicked Grounds, our local kinky coffee shop, open. It was taking place at our local dungeon, The Citadel, so we knew that besides the promised “Strip Trivia,” there would be rather more perverse and interesting things to see (or do!)

We were not disappointed! During the auction (in which floggers, pictures, and sessions with pro-Dommes were up for grabs) Rose from WG let it be known that if any one person bid $1000 on an item, she would run topless through the streets of San Francisco to WG to ring the charge up on the credit card. Another four girls all volunteered to run topless with her. (So many selfless givers in our community!)

Well, it wasn’t long before someone bid $1000, and Rose and the other gals had their tits out in a flash. Mr Defeu and I edged to the door, to see them off, but as Rose passed us she asked us to come along to help as an escort, the area between the SF Citadel and Wicked Grounds is not truly the best place for topless women to be wandering without any back-up! We said we’d come along, and then, as soon as we were all out the door, the gals took off, breasts a-bouncin’, shrieking with the excitement of it. We found ourselves running along behind them, laughing in sheer pleasure of the surreality of it all.
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I found this “right up my alley” (as it were…!) schoolgirl-caning-and-sex tale online, and the author (LurkingCol@removethis.hotmail.com) says it’s okay to repost it, so I wanted to share it with you!

Natalia felt the butterflies growing in the pit of her tummy as she wandered the halls towards the office. All around her girls wandered in different directions. They paid her no attention. School was out, and their laughter and wide smiles only served to darken the young woman’s mood. She forced herself to keep going, even though a voice from the back of her mind tried to impose reason. Was she still sane? She forced herself towards the school secretary’s office. She almost faltered, almost spun on her heal and out to safety. But she had no choice in the matter, not really.

Mrs Witherspoon was not particularly surprised to see Natalia in the office. After all, as school captain she often had to visit Principle Skinner. It was not even that unusual when Natalia said it was a ‘private matter’. She shrugged, picked up her bag, and prepared to leave. It was Friday afternoon and she had no intention of staying late today.She knocked, slipped her head into Mrs Skinner’s office, and told him Natalia was waiting. He looked a little surprised, but pleasantly so. Natalia seemed a little preoccupied, almost worried. Surely she wasn’t in some kind of trouble.”Principle Skinner will be with you in a moment. Say, are you okay Natalia?”, Mrs Witherspoon asked in a concerned tone.

The girl seemed to snap out of her inner thoughts and looked up with a warm smile.

“I’m fine thanks. Just preoccupied. Have a good weekend.”

Mrs Witherspoon smiled. She was such a lovely girl, and so pretty too. To think she’d wondered whether Natalia might be in some kind of trouble. She bade Natalia goodnight and slipped from the office, closing the door behind her.

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Principle Skinner led the senior girl’s captain into his office. He was a little surprised to see her here unannounced, particularly with the unreadable expression on her face. He offered her a seat, trying desperately not to let his eyes linger too long on her figure as she did so.For Natalia was an exquisite beauty. She had only turned eighteen years of age that fall, but her figure was full with a woman’s curves. However it was her hair that made her stand out, long golden locks that flowed in a wavy fashion down her back. He sighed to himself as he sat down; it would not be quite the same next year without her.”Well Natalia, you’re not smiling today for a change. What seems to be the problem?”

Natalia paused slightly, as if carefully considering what to say. In fact, she had practised every word of what she was about to say several times, but her mind was blank. Her heart raced. Principle Skinner sensed her unnatural nerves and waited silently.

“Sir, do you remember those girls that were caught smoking last month?”, she asked. Her heart leaped. She struggled to make eye contact. There was no going back now.
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Since everyone enjoyed the last Lost & Found, here’s one from one of the best Classic Spanking films (IMHO) which Mr Defeu gave to me to watch. It was a pleasure to dig this one out of the archives and relive the memories of watching it, back when I was living in Suburbia (October 10, 2005!) and officially dating Bear … and wildly in love with Mr Defeu, and not knowing yet that my life was about to drastically change…!

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I was missing you terribly this evening, Sir, and then I had the thought that what better way to show you that your girl is thinking of you than to do an assignment!

Since you made the CDs in no certain order, I’ve ended up watching them that way. So this evening, I randomly chose a disk, and then chose a title from the list that amused me: not “Lisa Will Be Caned,” or “Lisa Really Ought To Be Caned,” but that imperative “Must!”

Well, as you can guess, Sir, I just adored it. There was only one thing missing in a video full of CP and general Brit goodness! After reading Smash Hits on the swing-set, she wanted to go up to her room to watch Dr. Who! And he was reading Janus, hahaha!

And “Now, jut your bum out!” is just so much better as an order to stick out one’s ass than anything an American could possibly say! And I loved the selection that increased in severity: the hand, the paddle, the belt, and then the cane. And the having to stand in the corner while he watched what looked like a very odd show on the telly! The only thing that I missed and would have liked to see was him being a bit more rough with her: I mean, she was in trouble at school and she was indeed being impudent, well into the punishment! When she reached behind herself to protect her bottom from further punishment, he would just push her hand away impatiently and she would be free to do it again right away. I would have been more aroused to see his hand roughly grab her wrist and hold it up against her back. Although I did wryly appreciate that if her hands got in the way too much he’d just smack them instead, which seemed to work pretty efficiently, too.
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