Zille Defeu’s Fetish Fantasies

Posts Tagged ‘daddy/girl’

It’s been a long time since I did a video report for you, Sir, but then, I’ve been getting a more hands-on education from you, Sir!

I loved this video. Everything was perfect. The situation of “bad girl” being sent to the headmaster’s house by her concerned parents for discipline, the actors, the set, everything!

Except – the girl obviously missed a cue that caused an awkward cut at the end of the video. I believe it was because the actress was tuning out the actor while he lectured her – which is actually probably quite accurate if you are portraying how a teenager will react! However, for me, in our M/s dynamic, it’s not how things are at all. I’m hyper-attuned to what you say – especially if what you are talking about is future harsher punishments, as is the case in this video!

This video gives me helpful hints on how to dress as the schoolgirl for you. And, masochistically enough, it really makes me want to try the birch (something which I will quite possibly regret about 45 seconds into you trying one on me for the first time, but regardless, my bottom tingles with anticipation for it.)

What I really loved here was how the girl was lectured by the headmaster. He never stopped talking to her. I know by now I do not have to tell you how much I appreciate that in a scene. Your words connect me to you, to what is happening. They keep me from going off into bad places in my head. His continuing lecture on discipline, the history of discipline, reminders of why the girl needed said discipline, was incredibly hot to me. Which is really funny if you consider that I hated getting lectured by my parents (and, during my teens, when they tried to talk sense into me, I’d rudely interrupt with, “Daaaad! Don’t lecture me!” And simply refuse to listen to them. Which should have gotten me punished in some way, but they never did, so I guess, Sir, that means more work for you now!)

Anyway, the one thing that really bothered me was the girl’s reactions. As in, she didn’t have much. Either I am a big wuss, or she wasn’t getting punished that hard. But the cane weals looked quite vivid! I know I certainly would have made more noise in that very bent over position he made her maintain.

It kind of embarrasses me, Sir. Please tell me if you are happy with my reactions. I try really hard to give the right reaction – but I cry out more times than I just breath hard through clenched teeth or make a small “unnnhhh” sound. I want to do the appropriate noises, ones that please you.

This was the first video that I’ve ever masturbated to orgasm watching. Of course, it’s also the first video I’ve watched since you got me Mr. Buzzy! I watched to the end of the caning, wasn’t quite there (I was trying to come right on a cane stroke, but they weren’t spaced in a good rhythm for that) and so I went back to the start of the caning and started again. But the timing was still not great, and I ended up coming after a really good-sounding cane-stroke, but just as he was lecturing about these modern mamby-pamby ideas of discipline!

I was so excited about having a Daddy again, this father’s day, that I got all into ordering gifts for him (that is, my Master, if that was not clear enough) and totally forgot to get anything for my bio-dad!

This is now remedied, and some gourmet marmalades are wending their way across the country as fast as they can to him.  And my Daddy loved his gifts, although the little bastards ending up arriving a day late, despite my early ordering.

I need to do a long post as some point about how exciting and wonderful my Daddy is.  And how the scene we had a while ago (our first real Daddy/girl scene) was one of the hottest things that’s ever happened to me in my life.

And the sex we on Saturday was pretty fucking amazing, too.  (Yes, I meant to phrase it that way.)  Another Daddy/girl scene, but this time with the cane involved.  Oooh … the memories of that scene still make me quiver….

Sir, my naughty side has been clamoring inside me. The Good Girl has been able to keep the Naughty Girl pretty well squashed-down inside me, because she has been getting such wonderful attention and rewards. But the Naughty Girl just won’t shut up – and I think it’s because she knows that you know what to do with her – and she has been waiting for so long….

When I was at the garden nursery yesterday buying plants, I saw this 5-6 year old girl (in a classic “little girl” dress and her hair in bows, to complete it!) I first noticed her only because her father bellowed “Get back here NOW!” right beside me, and then went in chase of the girl, who had taken off into the labyrinth of plants on sale. He walked purposefully after her as she ran on her little legs, up and down the rows, giggling whenever he got too close. When he was far away, she would stop and wait – then when he got within a certain “safety zone” she would take off again – and then again stop and wait, panting with exertion and excitement.

I know that feeling!

I remember my dad chasing me around the dinning room table – the only time he ever threatened to spank me. I was so excited – I remember feeling anticipation coursing through me, and while I would never have admitted wanting to get caught – and spanked! – it was obviously not enough of a deterrent to keep me from having done whatever I did in the first place, nor from my “making it worse,” by keeping running (and giggling, just like that little girl in the garden store.) I finally made it to “my chair” at the dinner table, and slid into it, like I had gotten to the safe place in a game of “Duck, duck, goose.” And my dad didn’t spank me.

It was the same with this little girl. When she had had enough of the thrill (was perhaps getting a bit tired) she found a bench near where they had started their game of chase, and she slid up onto it just like I had done, a big grin on her face: she was “safe.” And she was – she was not disciplined in any way. Indeed, later I saw her take off into the twisting paths again, and this time her father actually ran after her, a big smile on his face, and chased her down and swept her up into his arms.

Which left me standing there, in the shade by some random batch of plants, feeling all these confused feelings. The little girl had originally started out by disobeying: by all rights a punishment was due her. Seeing her father at first step out so purposefully towards her sent a thrill of excitement through me. But seeing her father smile as he ran after her, later, and seeing her trusting delight as his strong arms scooped her up … also made me feel warm and … well, missing you even more, Sir.

It is definitely the Naughty Girl who loves the thrill of the chase – from the point of view of the prey! The Good Girl will never run (like a deer caught in headlights, but it is more than just that.) But, knowing that only worse trouble is coming, the Naughty Girl will run away from it – longing to be caught, needing to be caught. I remember the relief when my dad didn’t spank me, 25 or so years ago, but also disappointment. I’ve felt that disappointment over the years since, when I’ve run away from lovers just a little too well, or wrestled a bit too enthusiastically, and they have given in and let me get away with it, let me “win” – a victory that is beyond pyrrhic.

It’s the Good Girl who deserves, and who longs to be swept up in strong encompassing arms and held and kissed and filled with that simple yet so profound happiness of being taken care of.

Looking back over this, I would like to elaborate on the “point of view of the prey” part. So much is made of the point of view of the predator: of the flash of muscle in the leopard, the excitement as he draws closer and closer to the antelope, the smell of the prey and then the leap and the rush of hot rich blood as his teeth tear through the tender flesh.

But what about the antelope? For a while, the game is even, perhaps even on the antelope’s side. The prey feels the same exhilaration as the predator – the same exultation in speed, the same “life or death” urges flow through her.

Now, I am not saying our antelope is disappointed when she doesn’t feel her haunch torn apart by vicious teeth – we play a different game than them. But to illustrate my point, I link to the following song: The Hunter’s Kiss

Here’s a sad story about a deer and a man

A romantic scene from a lullaby.
In a clearing green, where his eyes met mine.
I was frozen motion. Oh! His bow was raised.
Then the fleeting notion-that my life he’d save.

But I saw it coming, flying through the air.
Feathered backside humming. Miss me, hit me where
Where it will only hurt me, not a mortal wound.
Leave me lying dirty, someone would find me soon.

I have never felt like this before.
Felt my body sinking to the grassy floor
No, I have never known a love like this.
Felt the flaming arrows of the Hunter’s Kiss.

My life is not mine.
Like a dog or a wife.
He has taken his time.
He has taken my life.

I could see the steaming of his cloudy breath.
No, I was not dreaming.
I was next to death.
As I lay there twitching, then my legs he tied.
There was nothing missing on the day I died.

Buy the MP3: Hunter’s Kiss ($0.99)

Buy the CD: 12 Tales by Rasputina

Sir,

When I was reading that Thai culture book, I found some things about the Thai culture that were, for me, very exciting!

I started writing about this, but never finished what I was writing. I thought about this the other day, and have just found the document. I thought I’d post it here, in it’s rough and unfinished state, for your interest and amusement:

I always was attracted to “teachers.” Not just my schoolteachers, but characters in stories, idols I created in my mind, etc. Sometimes it was sexual, but often it wasn’t – like my fascination with “Treebeard,” from The Lord Of The Rings, whose sections of the book I read over and over, and whom I dreamed would hold me up in his huge gnarled hands – but whom was most certainly NOT a sexual character for me, even now.

At night, to put myself to sleep, however, I WAS in the huge, inescapable hands of the “spanking monsters.” They washed me, fed me, held me, and spanked me (they even changed my diaper, at times, but I think that was less about infantilism and more about finding some reason for them to be touching my genital area.) I was having these fantasies as early age 8, I know for sure, and maybe earlier.

The common themes, be they my fantasies sexual or not, were the fact that I was with some über-adult, who was caring for me, teaching me, and very literally holding me in their big, strong hands.

Those were my formative fantasies – the very first longings I felt for other (not “Mommy”) humans. Were they longings for “Daddy?” Well, that does seem to be the case, as we have (on record, to my embarrassment) romantic stories I wrote with female leads with my name and male names with my father’s! (The example that springs first to mind is my first grade story that tells of a Prince rescuing the Princess from something or other, and them riding off into the sunset together.)

Why this was so intense for me is unknown. My father was around, a morning and evening presence in my life. He played with me, spent time with me, read to me, etc. I was not lacking a father figure in any way. (Nor did he ever try to do anything untoward to me in any way, so I did not have that stimulus for sexual confusion.)

And, although in later life I got into “Daddy-play,” it was not a long-held fantasy. I think it was more that my father, in his more vibrant days, helped shape the kind of person I would long for. I never, and still don’t, want him, as my father, to be my lover. The very thought evokes a very healthy feeling “UGH – not right!” in my mind!

So, from the beginning, I wanted a person (mostly I went for males, but not always) who had some qualities in common with the traditional father figure, but I was very much looking outside my family.

But I’ve gotten sidetracked – back to hands. Big, strong, knowledgeable hands. Hands holding me – protecting me, molding me, controlling me. That is without a doubt what I have wanted and needed all my life, both in sexual and non-sexual relationships.

I am a dominant person with most people. I get quite cranky when people don’t get the point right off and do what I tell them (although mostly I have no trouble taking control of whatever situation I am in where I have enough knowledge to legitimately do so.) I like to be in control and have people do recognize that. And I can have fun being a Top, and learn things about myself. But that’s just “the way I am.” Being that way does not fulfill a need. I need to submit my will (and other things) to someone I know is worthy of my submission, someone who can make me submit because they are superior. Which leads to the first quote:

“It is important to note that traditionally those of a low status have never viewed such a social system as particularly unreasonable or severe. Rather, they have tended to feel that those who have status and authority derive them to a certain extent from their moral and ethical excellence….”

I have several requirements for what I feel is honest, real submission (not just a fun short-term game.) The Top must be: older, stronger, quicker witted, more intelligent, and also, obviously, capable of being more dominant than I. Now, I want to submit. But I can’t just say, “Oh, I’m going to submit.” It doesn’t work like that. I need to feel I am really submitting to something real, or I cannot really give one hundred percent of myself. It’s very much the same for me emotionally and physically. I cannot have (or, have not had) a “rough sex” scene where I knew I could “take down” the Top, but I wasn’t doing it for whatever reason, that was truly satisfactory for me. Only in scenes where I knew I was incapable of winning, was that dominant … knot inside me able to untie and let me get all the way to the place of fulfillment.

“In return for the service and respect of the subordinate, the superior gives protection and leadership.”

“An important aspect of the relationship between subordinate and superior is the notion that a person should have an influential individual on who he can phyyng (depend) for assistance with coping with life’s vagaries. The depth of this client-patron relationship varies with the degree of mutual affection and trust. Benefits flow both ways, for the patron can also call on the client to provide certain services….”

“The ideal supervisor is almost like a member of the family, an elder brother, respected relative, or particularly in this case a phii liang (often rendered in English as “nursemaid” or “trainer,” though the literal meaning, “elder who looks after,” better conveys the idea here.”

“Traditional Thai promotional practices reflect the deeply ingrained pattern of benevolent paternalism in which the nai (“master”) rewarded the luuk nawang (subordinate) for respectful, obedient behavior. Though in theory, a nai is a person of wrath as well as mercy, carrying the whip in one hand and the bag of money in the other, in practice the boss has been much freer with using the money rather than the whip.”