Zille Defeu’s Fetish Fantasies

Posts Tagged ‘daddy/girl’

An excellent post (as always) from The Spanking Writers includes a (more introspective than I ever imagined) quote from Scary Spice:

The anticipation was worse than the punishment. I knew exactly what was coming. I’d walk into a silent room, bend over, get smacked (by his hand or a belt), then stand up and walk out of the room without saying a word…. I dreaded it. Sometimes, though, I think I was naughty on purpose, just to get dad’s full attention for a few minutes.

In the first place, that very anticipation and the ritual aspect are both vital. But that’s not what I want to write about just now.

As a little girl I wanted my daddy’s attention. (Well, I wanted all the attention I could get from everyone, but my daddy’s counted the most!) And I’d do anything to get it — good behaviour, bad behaviour — whatever worked best! And since my parents didn’t really punish me very efficaciously, it was just as likely to be the latter as the former, when I was a child! In my teens it changed — then I wanted him to pay as little attention to me as possible, so I could do the stuff I wanted to do with him not forbidding me or lecturing me!

Now I have come full circle, but at least I am self-aware. I want my Daddy’s attention as much as possible. When he is busy on the computer, and doesn’t have time for me, it hurts just as much as when I was a little girl and my daddy had to work.

There is an amusing family story that when I was about 5 or 6, my bio-father had a meeting one weekend day. Now, I had accepted that my daddy would be at work during the day on weekdays, but weekends were MINE, and I was a jealous god little girl. So I pitched a fit with all the power of my wee vocal cords and body (the vocal cords, I am given to understand, were not unimpressive, and my mother assures me I was Olympic-level for throwing myself on the ground and pounding my little fists and feet.

My dad gave his lecture with me on his hip.

And I was a happy little girl, because I was with my daddy. (And, of course, I’d WON!)

Now I’m in a slightly different place. Not in my desires — they are still as simple as wanting to be with my Daddy, and wanting attention from him. But now I don’t want to be a spoiled creature — I want the discipline to not throw fits when I don’t get my way. (I don’t, for the record, still throw myself to the ground and scream and pound my fists. But there are adult behaviours, the worst of which include manipulation and being passive-aggressive, which are just as vile as any childish misbehaviour! And my mom is a very passive-aggressive manipulator, so I live in terror of having picked those things up from her!)

However, no matter how well I may learn to accept that I can’t always get all the attention (which I think will be a life-time’s study!), punishment will always have as it’s most beguiling attraction, the fact that when you are being punished, all your punisher’s attention is right on you. And as much as you may dislike the pain or other educational aspects of punishment, you can still bask in the attention being lavished upon you.

I suppose a contrary person might point out that then, in my case, a true punishment for me is simply to ignore me. I have two answers to that: in the first place, this is supposed to be loving discipline — not cruel and unusual punishment! And secondly, my Master and I have the complimentary urges, wired into our sexuality, to be punisher-and-punishee. And since we’ve been lucky enough to find each other, in this wide world full of mistakes and missed connections, we really both ought to derive some enjoyment from our mutual needs that now can be fulfilled.

And what that means is that I need to police myself a bit, and not act too badly, be a little bit in charge of myself and consider my actions and words. The reward for that effort though, is getting to revisit being a little girl who gets punished by her Daddy, having his love and concern for her proven with his attentions, over and over again.

(And somehow, getting lectured became hot for me, too, somewhere along all of this. I remember saying as a teen that no punishment could be worse than my dad droning on at me. Now my Master can’t make me a happier lil’ pervert than if he reads me the riot act before my thrashing!)

*Please note that I’m not calling anyone stupid! I’m misquoting “It’s the economy, stupid” from Bill Clinton’s 1992 presidential campaign.

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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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This is the post I’ve been meaning to put up all week, but keep being distracted by other shiny things…!

“I’m your girl,” I said, as I snuggled in under his arm, “I’m 100% all yours!”

“Good girl,” he replied, and he held me close, and we drifted off to sleep together.

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By the time the weekend was upon us, I’d worked myself into being a formless mass of brainless jelly. Friday night I was too exhausted to do anything, and then Saturday it seemed clear that I was fighting off some bug. I got up, and went right back to bed three times! He was a wonderful Daddy, and after I dragged myself out of bed in the late afternoon, left me with orders to remain on the sofa and watch Star Trek until he returned from getting groceries for our dinner, and to stock me up for the next week while he would be away on business. We he came back, I was feverish, but felt so loved and cared for that I couldn’t help but feel a bit better. We went to bed early, and while we snuggled, he told me about the scene he’d wanted to have with me that day. I was entirely dismayed to have missed that opportunity, and couldn’t help but have those fears that I was disappointing him so much that he’d loose interest in playing with me … but he assured me that the scene will happen as soon as possible, and to be honest, I felt so crappy that the idea of adding pain to the mix was simply not attractive at that moment!

He was only telling me about the scene he wanted to have with me to make me feel loved. He knows I get so excited about the though of him thinking about me, and wanting to do “terrible” things to me … and so he was just letting me know that he’d indeed been doing so.

Sunday we had a brunch with a group of kinky friends: Midori and her wife, my Kissing Cousin Ariel and her RubrLuvr, T & L from Oz, and Mistress Absolute from the UK – a very international and well-traveled group of perverts! We ate dim sum and talked about anything and everything under the sun, and it was just one of those lovely get-togethers of your own peers, where you can just discuss anything at all and get an enthusiastic (and probably very knowledgeable!) response.

Afterwards, I felt a bit renewed from the happy companionship, and when we got home I managed to cook him dinner (Scotch Broth) so it would be ready when we got back from our movie.

I love when he takes me out to movies. It’s not very often, and so it always feels special. This was especially special, as it was Coraline in 3D, and Neil Gaiman is very much a shared thing we delight in (yes, I mean thing – not just his books, but his blog, which we both read and discuss. Neither of us has met Neil, although we both feel very fond about him and happy for him when good things come his way, so I can’t say that Neil as a person is who we delight in, since we don’t really know him as a person – although I think it’s probably safe to assume it – but the whole Neil Gaiman thing is something we know about and can share). We got popcorn (he insists that he hates popcorn, but he would always eat mine, so this time I gently suggested we get two bags of it, and he must have spilled his or something, but long before I finished my bag, his was empty!)

We came home from the wonderful movie all jazzed up, me feeling the best I had in days. My bad girl side was in effect, not being bad so much as cheeky and bold. He really seems to like the occasional taste of that, and so I did things like walk up behind him as he waited for me to leave the loo in the theatre, and grabbed his ass so that he jumped out of his skin, not knowing who’d just grabbed a goodly handful of his right cheek! I flirted outrageously in the car, made out with him in the elevator, and when we got into the apartment, pushed him onto the bed and gave him the Mother Of All Blow-jobs.
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When I was a kid, anything that had spanking in it would have my immediate attention. Even a small reference to it would take a book from a “read once,” to a “cherish and read often.” The 1916 book about two twins living in prehistoric times, The Cave Twins, had a special place on my bookshelf, and a page surreptiously marked with the slightest of dog-ears (it happened by accident, obviously!) where the cave twins, Firetop and Firefly, get in trouble. This bit of text is what tantilized me so:

” Where did you come from, you naughty little weasels?” cried Limberleg angrily.

“From the cave,” said Firefly. “We followed you because we want to see what lies beyond the blue hills across the river, too. And if you are going to spank us, please do it right away, because we are awfully hungry.”

“Oh, no,” cried Firetop. ” You needn’t do it now if you’d rather not! Couldn’t you put it off until we get home again? We’re willing to wait, and you’d have more time then.”

Limberleg and Hawk-Eye didn’t discuss the matter. They sat right down on the log and began. Limberleg took Firefly and Hawk-Eye took Firetop, and they spanked and spanked.

“Now, can we have something to eat?” sniffled Firetop when it was over. Limberleg looked at Hawk-Eye.” We can’t send them back alone,” she said. Firetop saw that they were going to give in.

“The hyenas would surely get us,” he said plaintively. ” We’re pretty small to go back alone,” sobbed Firefly.

Another book that was a guilty pleasure (this had a small grubby bit of once-white pipe-cleaner stuck inside it, on the same, “I have no idea how that got there — it must have fallen in! It’s certainly not a bookmark!” principle) was a book of poems called A Light in the Attic by Shel Silverstein. I can’t find the text of the poem online, but I have read it so often I still think I can remember it:

Johnnie built a guillotine
and tried it on his sister Jean
said mother running with the mop
these messy games have got to stop!

Now, I know this has nothing to do with spanking, but beside the poem was an illustration of Jean on her hands and knees, head in the “lunette” of the guillotine, blade still high, and Johnnie with a look of pure boyish sadism on his face (and in the background, mother running with the mop and bucket!). Why did I like this enough to mark the spot in the book where I could find it? It was Jean’s postion: on her hands and knees, in bondage. I couldn’t look at that image enough!

But then there was the real smut of my childhood. They were two books from a series by Dare Wright, about a doll who is adopted by a bear, that my mom had bought for me, approved for children by various children’s book associations and concerned mothers everywhere. The first book is The Lonely Doll. In these first two images from it, you can see immediately my attraction…

Okay, so how could a kid who was titillated at the very mention of spanking resist these images, I ask you?! The second is obvious (although further improved by the text that goes beneath it: ” ‘I may be a silly’, Mr. Bear answered, ‘but I know when a naughty little girl needs a spanking.’ “) but even the first, with the paternal Mr. Bear holding that ruler, that was just up my alley. Or, rather, helped me build my alley!
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Okay, I managed to avoid this meme when kaya tagged all her readers, but now Mollena has tagged me in a most unequivocal way, so here I go:

seven random things you didn’t know about me (but do now)

1. I love dinosaurs, and my favorite is Triceratops — because he was an herbivore, but could still kick T-Rex’s ass all over town.
2. I have read the Lord of the Rings trilogy at least 20 times in my life. And I HATE the movies! My favorite character is Treebeard.
3. I sleep with a stuffed wolf cub every night, named Kodah.
4. Except when my Master goes on trips very far away. Then I ask him to take Kodah with him, so I won’t worry so much. When my Master went to India, he sent back pictures of Kodah in hotel rooms, at ancient temples, contemplating Indian squirrels, etc. While Kodah is away with my Master, I may sleep with a black bear named Olallieberry, or my stuffed Triceratops, named Trinity.
5. I love being in small enclosed spaces. You’ve heard of claustrophobia — I have claustrophilia! It started when I was a kid — I have memories of favorite small enclosed spaces that are richer than most of my other memories. One was in a doctor’s office “kid’s playroom,” that had a niche you could only get into by a small round hole, and once inside, one wall was stained glass, and the colorful light made me really happy. For some reason, it was part of my sexuality — I remember being in small enclosed spaces the same way I remember fantasizing about the spanking monsters, or finding references to spanking in books or tv.
6. Also sexual from my childhood: the smell of new gym mats. A very rubbery smell. I like the smell of latex clothing just fine, but if you put me in a room with a gym mat, I’ll be lying on it and breathing in deeply through my nose (errr, that’s the polite way of saying “huffing”) in no time flat!
7. The jobs I wanted to have, in chronological order: paleontologist (circa age 5), librarian (circa age 8), writer and illustrator (circa age 12), spy and/or navy pilot (circa age 15 — yes I’d gotten into the John Le Carré section of the library, and that was around the time Top Gun came out…), interior designer (circa age 17), porn star (circa age 19), web-designer (circa age 23). I’m now back to wanting to be a writer (when I grow up — heh!), although I’m happy doing web-design and working in the porn industry, too!

So there you are. Proof of my geekiness laid out for all to see!

In return I tag:
Paul — please do this meme in the comments for this post!

I don’t know who else from my friends has already done this post, so if you are reading this, and feel like doing it, feel free to leave it in the comments for this post if you don’t have a blog, or do it on your blog (in which case, let me know so I can go read it!)

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