Zille Defeu’s Fetish Fantasies

Posts Tagged ‘english vice’

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.

---

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 the review of the classic English discipline video, “Dr. Zubatski’s Treatment X”  was so popular, I thought I’d mention another one that I did long ago, and is lost in the archives.

This is the review I did (in the form of a letter to Mr Defeu).

 If you don’t feel like a trip in the way-back machine, here are some links and mini-review:

(Image from ClassicSpanking.com)

Before Flight Officer Brenda Fennington can advance to her new position in Department S, she must undergo a series o test. She did quite well in the mental aptitude and physical exertion exam. But the most difficult is still ahead. She must demonstrate her capacity to endure pain. Stripped down to her regulation black panties, gaterbelt and hose, assumes the position. Her obediently awaiting posterior is about to receive a very lengthy and painful thrashing under her commander’s limber cane. After her ordeal she is forced into a freezing cold shower. The final test was the most painful experience of her life. But it was worth it. She passed with flying colors, black and blue.

(Images from video-on-demand site HotMovies.com)

Also on that video on demand:

“Victorian Interlude” — Mrs. Farrington is a lady of privilege who had constantly conducted herself in a manner unbefitting of her station. Such behavior must be corrected. For this task Victorian families commonly enlist the services of the Hand Matron, a professional disciplinarian, well skilled in the application of corporal punishment. Mrs. Farringtion must bare her lovely tender bottom for the Hand Matron’s stern chastisement. This video provides a rare glimpse into the disciplinary practices of a bygone age.

Above is a lovely screen cap of a few tawses, from a British documentary, below…

I love how the Brits will never stop discussing the CP phenomenon. Even if it is never used in schools again, I think as a country they will never be able to let go of the idea!

This is one reason I love the British!

Sunday morning dawned all-too early, although the call time for the shoot was eminently reasonable. I did all my pre-shoot prep in a buzz of happy anticipation: shooting with NSI again, and with my dear friend Bailey! Worries about how painful things might be generally don’t happen for me until we’re right about to start, which is when I always have a moment of, “Wait a minute! Why did I think this was a good idea–!”

All I knew was that they wanted me in “slinky black lingerie,” so I brought a black bra and lace thong and garter belt and stockings (I know I once had a black teddy, but I have no idea where it’s since gone, since Mr. Defeu doesn’t find such things interesting). That’s all Bailey knew, too, and so we put our sexy undergarments on with some trepidation.

Finally, we were vouchsafed that information just as shooting was about to start. (I think that sadist Paul was having too much fun leaving us to wonder!) It turns out that Bailey and I were girls who’d racked up an impressive debt at the tables in Marcus Black’s casinos (he was a multi-casino mobster!) and he was going to teach us a lesson personally. He started by having us spank each other, “because I won’t dirty my hands on the likes of you.”

When NSI releases this video, please note that he does actually at one point run his hand down our weals! In between takes, I noted to him that the psychic grime will never wash off – haha!

If you want to know what else happens in the movie, you’ll just have to join NSI. I’ll let you all know when it’s released!

My make-up was still reasonably intact after the shoot, so I decided it was time to shoot in a cute 1950’s “playsuit” that I’d be holding onto for years, waiting for the right moment to shoot in it. And a cute red “bathing cap” to match it. We met Bailey, Mr. Black, and Mr. Allen as we were heading down to the pool to shoot, and those wonderful people volunteered to help us out.

The pool and hot-tub were filled to over-brimming with kids and parents – ugh! I’m haven’t lost my shyness overnight (or at any point in my years-long modelling career!), so having everyone poolside watching me do posey-posey stuff was a nightmare. But I wanted to get some images, damnit, and I was in make-up and costume, and who knows when we’d find a chance to shoot again?! So I did my magic thing where I tuck away my shyness, and just ignored everyone. (This, I think, is the difference between exhibitionism and whatever I am. An exhibitionist revels in the attention of an audience. I just find the ability to pretend there isn’t an audience. “There is no spoon,” as it were. So I can go-go dance at a nightclub, work at a peepshow, make porn, what-have-you, and yet still be painfully shy most of the time. Yes, it is very confusing. I think I’ve just taken something from what I learned from my wonderful English teacher in high school about public speaking, and applied it to any potentially attention-garnering activity I have wanted to do ever since. And it’s worked — I manage to do the things I really want to make the effort to do!)

Since the pool itself was so full of frolicking families, I opted for the hot-tub as a place to pose, but it was stuffed with children aged about 6-14, who showed no sign of leaving. We waited and waited, and shot images in other areas while doing so, but the kiddies would not bugger off. Finally, I had an idea – I just strode over, and asked the kids if they would clear off for 10 minutes or so, while I shot some pictures I the hot tub.

Amazingly, they tripped over themselves to be helpful, clearing out of the line of the shot. That was as far as they went, however, and now I had a really really interested audience watching my every move. Joy. A few kids called out questions: “Are you a famous model?” Ummmm. “I hope to be someday,” seemed a safer answer than saying, “Yes, and your daddy may have jerked off to me.”

We got some shots, and then a few more from a different angle. When we stopped, I started climbing out of the water, and the kids burst into spontaneous applause. I bowed, pleased and surprised that they were so nice. My memories of a group of kids is from either being a kid myself (when they were all nasty vicious fiends who made fun of me) or as a camp counsellor (when they were mostly troublesome and as hard to herd as kittens) – a group of children all being nice to me is entirely unheard of in my experience. It was really lovely.

I was so happy to be done with modelling, however, just delighted to finally be out of the limelight. We all sat around talking for a while (most of us in the shade, just enjoying the desert heat), and then Mr. Defeu wanted to get out of the heat, and Bailey decided she needed sustenance. I couldn’t even comprehend moving, and so stayed down with Mr. Black and Mr. Allen, talking about everything and anything. That long afternoon rambling conversation of one of the best parts of the weekend for me: everything was over – parties and shoots and etc. – and all I had to do in the world was sit at my ease in the warm, warm air, talking with two new friends. It took me back to childhood, when summer afternoons would stretch out ahead of you like they would last forever. Except I was a self-assured (well, to the greatest extent I’ve known yet in my life) adult, who was able to really appreciate the pleasures of the afternoon for all they were worth. It was one of those “Life is good” moments, which not cherishing would be a terrible sin.

Once the shade had escaped due to the setting sun (watching Mr. Allen, Mr. Black and me hauling our lounge chairs back and back and back into the retreating shadows must have been an amusing sight!) I hauled my melty-brained self back up to the hotel room. I got ready for dinner – and my make-up was still amazingly well-preserved, and my hair looked as good as if it had just been “did” by a hairdresser – who knew sweating in a latex swimcap was the ultimate hair treatment?! However, we were hoping to have dinner with our friends, so we kept waiting to hear from someone with their dinner plans. Nothing, nothing. Finally Mr. Defeu decided, screw it, let’s have a scene. I hauled off my dinner dress and had on a white vest and navy blue gym knickers in record time!
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A really perfect image of a tawse making contact with a bottom it has obviously met a few times before…

This picture just really works for me! Makes my bum wish Mr. Defeu was home and in a tawse-swinging mood!

From an excellent gallery on Girl’s Boarding School.