Posts Tagged ‘domestic discipline’
I haven’t written about the dynamics about domination and submission for a long time on this blog. The reason being that Mr Defeu and I had needed to stop being 24/7 Master and slave when we went through some relationship issues a couple years ago. It was the most healthy decision we could make at the time, but it deeply hurt both of us to have to do it. We both want to get back to the correct balance of power (for us) as soon as we can — but we have to be careful to build up to it carefully and correctly (which we patently didn’t do the first time around!).
This past weekend, we took a step closer to that strongly-desired goal.
It was Sunday morning, and I woke up feeling generally upset. Well, specifically upset, on a him-and-me issue. I was supposed to join Mr Defeu in bed (due to insomnia issues, I’ve been sleeping in the loft bed in another room) as I do most weekend mornings (I miss sleeping with him, so I like to get in snuggles when we go to bed, and snuggles when we get up, which are the high points of sleeping with someone, anyway!). I joined him, but he could tell I was upset, and he held me while I composed my thoughts. I started telling him about them, and he suddenly stopped me.
“I want to try something,” he said, “I want to cane you, and have sex, before we have this discussion.”
Well, that stopped me dead in my tracks — I was not expecting that! Mr Defeu explained that he thought our discussion of the issues would go better after we had emotionally and physically connected.
Now, I was really not in the mood for sex, and really not in the mood for pain. If this had been earlier in my life, I would have flat-out said no. But I thought about what Mr Defeu had suggested, and it actually made a good deal of sense. We would be more in tune with each other after that, and thus more able to make it through the discussion in an entirely beneficial manner. It would undoubtedly work on all sorts of psychological levels for both of us. It was absolutely the right thing to do.
“But!” part of me whined, “I’m not in the mooooood! I don’t wanna!”
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This video stars Zille Defeu, her husband Duncan and Clare Fonda. Zille and her husband began coming to Shadow Lane parties a few years ago. We’ve been wanting to work with them since first meeting them but this was our first opportunity. Zille is a daring (and darling) San Francisco girl who has been featured in many a super naughty video before getting to us.
Zille (rhymes with Jill) is a fascinating young woman with her dainty retro wardrobe and kinky exhibitionist personality. She’s well read and charming and found herself a proper English husband to satisfy (I should guess) most of her gothic fantasies. Well bred but pro-active, Zille stands for perfect foundation garments, uninhibited sexual self expression and of course, classic domestic discipline. I didn’t cast her as a household goddess in my video for no reason. Polymorphosly perverse but always in the prettiest ways, the actress and film maker possesses a uniquely artistic flare for fetishism and porcelain skin that pinkens at the slightest suggestion of a spanking.
I have so much to write about last night’s punishment that instead of trying to do one of my epic posts and it taking so long that I don’t post anything for the next three weeks, I’m going to try the mad notion of breaking things up into more manageable posts – crazy talk, I know!
I have so many emotions that I’ll start off with something more simple and basic: facts and thoughts about the new type of ginger butt-plug I made.
It was not an unmitigated success, but it did have a huge successful point in that we were a lot less concerned that we were going to loose the fig inside me, never to see it again. (As happened on Kink.com a while ago!)
However, I am used to carving ginger plugs with one notched area to simulate a butt-plug – and didn’t think about the fact that this time the notched area, which is usually where the sphincter ani internus (internal anal sphincter muscle) grabs aholt of the notch in the ginger, to keep it from sucking on in, or spitting it out (And the fact that I never trusted it for the former, and it didn’t work so great for the latter is why we were trying new methods!), was used by the flange from the cut-down butt-plug, and so the big fail was that I did not make the notched area longer nor make a second notched area….
So my bottom spent the whole punishment happily trying to spit that mean old ginger root right out! (I am pretty sure that actually ginger causes the anus to spasm and expel the burning foreign object from your bottom. I get why it would try to do this, but it’s something that needs to be worked around, because figging is the best punishment in the world. More on that later.)
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So tonight Zille was punished. It doesn’t matter for what, and I mean that comprehensively: it didn’t really matter to us, either, what the specific offense was, but rather that we once again exercise the core element of our partnership, which was born out of a disciplinary relationship.
The point of a proper punishment is that it should be unpleasant enough to discourage a repeat offense. That does not mean that neither of us shouldn’t benefit from the experience in happy, positive, sexually-charged ways, but rather that she won’t want a second dose any time soon.
So on returning home from the office, I had her dress in her white spandex compression shorts. I then spanked her for a while before proceeding to the main event, as it were: ginger. At the weekend (actually, in the small hours of Sunday night after a friends birthday bash), we got a large chunk of a huge old ginger root. Zille had created an experimental holder from a retired butt plug, and fastened the ginger into the base of the thing.
It was a large piece of ginger, and by the time it was a third of the way in, she was squirming. But we persevered, and got the whole thing inserted.
With the ginger burning brightly, I spanked her to settle the “fig” inside her.
The heart of the punishment was 12 strokes of the cane — our “special” cane with all sorts of significance to our relationship. The first 6 she took fairly well (with regular pauses to re-seat the “fig”), but after only two strokes of the second set she was in extreme discomfort. Being considerate, I finished the set with four quick strokes, and then let her settle down with a final spanking.
Once I let her remove the ginger, we enjoyed what used to coyly be called “marital relations”.
And now to dinner, which she is serving right now…
Apologies all, for coming back with a vengeance and then disappearing again. I was all set to put some real time and energy back into this blog … but then the novel I’ve been wanting to write finally started flowing, and I’ve been putting all my energy into that, because I would actually like to get the thing written and published in this lifetime. I can only do so much writing in a day (and so much non-immediately-paying-work, or things start to get a little uncomfortable in the wallet region), so for the next I don’t know how many months, I’m only going to be up here when I can steal a moment or two from the novel.
A funny thing I wanted to write about writing the novel is that I’ve been working on a sex scene these past two days, and it’s taking me way longer to write what is essentially a vanilla sex scene than it would to write a nice spanko piece of erotica. Not that I wouldn’t put a spanking scene in the novel, but it’s not the right place for it in that spot. Since it’s not a spanking scene, I’m trying to write a really good vanilla scene — one that authentically turns me on, but is not too filthy to sell to a normal publisher. (Although I have been noticing that novels now can have scenes as explicit as any porn — it’s just a matter of not having them be too kinky without at least a tenuous reason.)
So, it’s taking me waaaay longer to write this quite basic scene, then it would for me to write a much more intricate spanko one. Amusing.
Also amusing: Chross just recently posted a James Bond clip I’d forgotten all about, but which certainly turned me on when I was a teenage girl watching the all Bond flicks for the first time:
Of course, now I’m going to have, “Gold — fingah!” being sung in my head all day by Shirley Bassey. [sigh]
I see Chross one Bond film, and raise him a Star Trek spoof with equally delightful sexism:
The whole joy of being a post-feminist, I feel, is getting to eroticise being treated like a brainless “little lady,” a second-class citizen who is expected to stay at home and keep out of the men’s way, dear, we’ve got some real business to attend to. Why don’t you go make us some coffee, there’s a good girl!
There’s something so hot about that for me. That casual, “I can slap your bottom any time I like because I’m the superior man, and you are basically a pet who can do the cooking and wash up (if you don’t need someone with superior brains and/or strength to fix something first, that is, in which case I will shake my head and give you the help you need with noblesse oblige oozing out of my ever-so-superior pores).” I like that I can choose to live in (or visit!) that world. (Of course, it’s the fact that it’s a choice that makes it hot, so I thank my bra-burning fore-mothers for that.)
It reminds me that the other night Mr. Defeu and I were watching TV, and there was something on about a culture (or something — I’m blanking on it, now) where the women are inferior to the men. I turned to him and gave him a nudge and said, “Oh, like in Blushes or Janus! That’s your sort of world!”
“No,” he replied with the calm smile of someone about to smoothly deliver a punchline, “Not inferior … just different .. and subordinate!”
Phwoar! (A., What a sexy delivery — I’m so turned on by that sort of thing, and B., that relaxed and certain superiority is just what I was talking about above as being hot for me. Double whammy!) That sort of thing just makes me want to go off and have the kind of hot kinky sex where I am obviously there for his pleasure, because that’s what a wife is for, to serve and please her husband, right?!
Ooooh! I’m all hot and bothered, now. Maybe must go have a moment of, ahem, personal relief before I go back to writing my novel!