Zille Defeu’s Fetish Fantasies

Posts Tagged ‘happiness in slavery’

There was nothing else I could title this post!

Yesterday, my Master said the most romantic sentence I’ve ever heard: “Well, we’ve got half an hour until Dr. Who comes on, so how about sex?”

Really, the only thing that could have improved it would be a bit more time, and that his arm not be broken so he could add some spanking to the mix!

While I’ve been enthusiastically giving him blowjobs (because it’s the best way I can think of to show him how happy I am he didn’t die in that car accident!), my own sexual pleasure has been a bit thin on the ground (Eddie Izzard fans: “…thin in the air. Just generally pretty trim.”) because, his right arm being broken means no spankings or canings and none of those glorious fingerings where he makes me come over and over and over. And my vibrator broke in the first few days I was in the country. And, what with him being all-over bandages and leg-brace, I haven’t even thought of suggesting sex, because that would be a stupid way to pressure him.

But, if he suggested it (with a note of caution about me not bouncing up and down on him too vigorously !) then I was all for it! Obviously.

It didn’t even need too long, because once I’d blown him nice and hard, and I climbed on top … well, from the moment he slid in me it was intense…. I’m still so aware how close he came to death, how close I came to being a widow before our first anniversary … that being able to feel him inside me was this amazing joy. (Even more so than the amazing joy it usually is!)

I asked permission to come in after holding off as long as I could, which wasn’t probably more than a minute. The sensations only increased and intensified until he suddenly got a very intent look on his face, moaned, and came inside me. I collapsed forward (gently, not forgetting the cracked sternum and rib!) onto him, and just started bawling. Tears of joy, and relief, and release….

He was still inside me, and we just lay there like that, literally coupled, enjoying the ultimate closeness.

Then, with a minute to go, I grabbed a couple ginger beers, and we snuggled up close under the covers of the bed and watched Dr. Who (it was that great episode with Martha Jones and Shakespeare) and honestly I don’t think I’ve been happier very often in my life!

However, the goodness wasn’t over for the evening, because then we found the most wonderful restaurant right around the corner from our guest house, and an astoundingly good meal followed, washed down by a lovely bottle of rioja (my Master is off the hard-core pain-killers, so we can enjoy wine together again!) We lurched back somewhat tipsy — or, as I burbled to him at the time, “much the better for wear!” I was going to drunk-post this all, but when we got in bed, I suddenly discovered that I had no urge to to anything that involved thinking or movement on my part, and I may have gotten the best night’s sleep of my life….

And so we move forward and on….

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Most of my blog posts recently have been ruminations/discussions about punishment and discipline. Well, this weekend, my Master put those ideas and notions into practice!

Discipline from Kink On Demand

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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.

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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My Master is travelling for work yet again, and I’m home alone. I’m re-watching Coupling to pass the time in the evenings when I would normally be snuggled up with him.

Watching the show is making me feel like the past three years never happened, and I’m sitting alone in my bedroom in my nice house in the ‘burbs, excited about this man who has just become my Master: not just excited, but scared, eager, raring to go. I was so desperate for things to work out with my Master, for me to be in a real successful D/s relationship, that I lived in a perpetual state of worked up nerves: one minute full of joy and singing out loud, the next crying because I was sure he’d suddenly realize how unworthy I was to serve him, and tell me I wasn’t his girl anymore.

I was just, “girl,” then. He decided I had to earn my nicknames from him, and so I started as his girl, a nameless girl. Then, one night, in a late night phone call – it was probably 1AM or so for me, and he was in off in some part of Europe – he accidentally called me “little one.” He was surprised because he hadn’t meant to upgrade me so fast, it just slipped out of his mouth! I melted into a puddle of happiness, although it didn’t really cure my irrational fears. It took a long while (okay, maybe a month or so!) for me to accept the term, “slave.” I’d never really wanted to be a slave, so while I was happy to have him as my Master, I was more comfortable being his girl, or his sub. Slave was a big step.
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Last night I finally got what was coming to me.

I had really not wanted another weekend to go by without my punishment (the story of how I earned my punishment here) actually being done and out of the way. It was hanging over me, and I was going a bit crazy from that. But of course last weekend I had my period (and I don’t know if my Master was being kind, or just avoiding any over-emotional ramifications) and then he was super-busy all week with work stuff, coming home late and exhausted. And you can’t just say, “Well, look, I know you’re tired and all, but I need to be punished now, so get over here and beat my bum!” Heh, well, you could say it, and if you do please tell me your results, but I’m not stupid enough to try it!

Anyway, yesterday started with a lazy weekend morning (poached eggs and toast and tea and lazing on the sofa with laptops and books) and then we had a gazillion errands to run, and got back home around 5:30. We were supposed to meet some friends at the dungeon later, and I was anxious, hoping that the punishment could be done before we went, so that if we did a scene there, it would be post-punishment and relaxed and happy.

I got permission to go do my bath/shaving, and we had run out of hot water, so it was a very thankless affair. Afterwards, I begged to lie down in bed for a bit, to warm up, and he joined me, snuggling me and warming my body with his own – which is very effective; he gives off such lovely heat! – and it was very comfy, and we could have just slipped off into a nap. But I really didn’t want a nap right then!

We have this thing where we indicate “I am thinking it’d be nice for something sexy to happen now” by body language and looks. Neither of us almost ever has to announce things with words (although I do love when he orders me gruffly into the bedroom!); it’s all a matter of pressing up against each other in certain ways, or touches becoming longer and more caress-like, or our eyes meeting and understanding being exchanged by seeing the fire in the other person’s eyes and letting a reciprocal fire flare up in your own.

Anyway, I was sending off signals as hard as I could (although a person who didn’t know us would probably not have noticed any change at all, I don’t think) and he of course noticed and laughed and told me I was a slutty girl. I asked if that sort of thing was on the menu, or if he was feeling sleepy and wanted a nap. Well, he allowed, maybe some sex could happen. At which point my frustration bubbled up in me and I said, “Oh, please, can’t we get this punishment over with?! Everything we do is overshadowed by it for me, and it’s driving me mad!”

He didn’t seem to mind me speaking up. He pulled me around to face him in our cuddle, my head resting on his chest, and my hand pushed down to take up its duty on his cock, which had somehow become a statue carved out of adamantine….

He informed me that as I had three black marks in the punishment book, my punishment would be tripartite: two sets of ten from the paddle, and because the last infraction was not too grievous, a final set from the cane. Well, I’d been feeling kind of horny up until that point, but faced with twenty from the paddle, that ended right quick!

He had me go put on white spandex punishment shorts (which not only do not provide the least amount of protection, but I think may actually make it worse!) and then stand in the middle of the room, with my hands on my knees (which I do realize was kind of him, not making me grab my ankles, but I really didn’t appreciate it in the moment!)

I took the first thwack okay, although it had enough force to rock me on my legs. Okay, I told myself, the first is just horrible because you’ve forgotten what the paddle feels like – now that’s over and you can just grit your teeth and take the next nine. Whack, the second slammed into my ass, and then, like a wall crumbling, all semblance of self-control just fell to pieces, and I started crying. By the third hit, he had his hand on me to hold me in place, and I don’t know what number it was when he gave up and ordered me to lie over the side of the bed, because I was in too much misery to care.

Unfortunately, as much better as it was to be laid over the side of the bed, for some reason that changed the angle of his attack, and now, instead of getting both cheeks thwacked with equal force, now my right cheek was getting the brunt of it, and I was right on the edge of getting out of position and trying to high-tail it out of there! But I held on, somehow, although when the first ten ended (and how was all that agony only ten whacks from the paddle, how?!) I did say, while grabbing my right cheek with my hands somewhat hysterically, “Ahhh! They’re all landing on this one!” which was about as coherent as I could get at the time, and thank the gods he understood that I was just trying to let him know what was going on, not criticizing or complaining.

Very kindly, he switched to the other side for the next ten, and really, it was much appreciated that he didn’t ask “Are you ready?” because I don’t know if I could have squeezed out a, “Yes, Sir” at all! He had kindly agreed beforehand that I could have my penis gag (which has become kind of a pacifier for me in scenes, and brings my volume down considerably, which I think the neighbors appreciate!) for the second ten, but as he was fastening the buckles at the back of my head, I can’t say it brought me any real comfort.

And, as the second set progressed, it was actually not helpful in another way, because it fits down under my chin, and thus caught all the saliva that came pouring out of my mouth as I made incoherent cries of agony, and also it comes up to right under my nose, so the mucus that started pouring down as I cried also got caught up in the big mess my face had become. There was no grace under fire, no dignity left to me. Well, except that I didn’t break position: my feet danced, my back arched up a few times, but I never left my spot. (Honestly, I find it best if you just don’t even consider it an option!)

He let me calm down for a moment before the final set from the cane. I felt much more confident about those, because by now I’m an experienced caneé, and can take my licks with dignity and self-control. Well, not that day! He went for the heavy nylon cane Read the rest of this entry »

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