Zille Defeu’s Fetish Fantasies

Posts Tagged ‘Ms Maggie Mayhem’

Two things are making me think about my schoolgirl uniforms, today.

One, American Apparel has just come out with their own line of Pleated Schoolgirl Skirts which is really good news, because it means that it is much easier to pick up very authentic looking (not the slutty, obviously fake kind) skirts which are nonetheless made to fit people who have secondary sex characteristics (relevantly: a hip to waist ratio which is not equal!) They have a range of colours including: Heather Taupe, Light Charcoal, Dark Charcoal, Navy, and Black.

For me, authenticity is just so very vital. I don’t mind wearing a tarty little tartan number for parties, or in a joking way around vanillas or spankos who will find it funny. But for real scenes with Mr Defeu and other people who care about such things, well, authenticity is where my heart lies; it helps me get into that vulnerable headspace which makes a spanking scene so much more intense. For me, a slutty skirt would actually act as a shield, something I can hide behind, not something which helps me open up. (I realise this is ironic when the slutty skirt involves so much less material. It’s just one of those weird things: I feel emotionally nakeder in the longer skirt, with big ol regulation knickers under that!)

On the other hand, I don’t want to be just wearing an ill-fitting costume. I want the uniform to be something I would wear, something in which I can look smart. So sometimes, it is hard for me to balance the desire to get all my schoolgirl clothes from the children’s uniform section. Making real schoolgirl skirts for adults addresses this problem perfectly. (After all, the skirt fit you when you were a child. Why should an ill-fitting one be more “authentic” than one made for your current shape and size?)

Also, Maggie Mayhem has done a very intense post entitled Why I Hated My School Girl Skirt Then And Why I’ll Fuck In It Now. A quote I really like:

Porn isn’t in the wrong for using the school girl uniform, schools are already forcing and establishing the dominance pecking order by establishing a school girl uniform. That’s some non-consensual D/s shit and it’s much more appropriate to do between two consenting adults. Consensual outlets for self-aware control freaks, that is my sexual harm reduction method. Your brain is the best sex toy you will ever own and part of fighting oppression is looking into yourself and how it holds you back and how to participate in it. When you eroticize something, you pull it from that context and begin to engage with it in a way that moves towards more awareness. Just playacting doesn’t create the conscious awareness, thinking about why and the context with which you have those feelings is a separate and long process. At the very least, the images jump to the forefront of your brain in a place where you cannot and will not ignore them completely.

So what’s the word for that sexual identity?

Last week, Leia-Ann Woods wrote about a strange phenomenon that exists in our little corner of the kinky world (it no doubt infests many other places, too). The issue is the strange morphing of the idea of supporting everyone’s kinks and fetishes (which is a splendid one, as long as the kinks and fetishes are involve consent of all involved) into a sort of pressure to actively like and enjoy anyone’s kink, no matter what it might be. Call me cynical, but I suspect there’s an unstated hope that not only should one like and enjoy that kink, but one should eagerly rush to participate in it with the person who mentioned it.

Written down like that, the whole idea looks obviously silly; we’re well used to the description of Voltaire’s views: “I disapprove of what you say, but I will defend to the death your right to say it”, and its easy to apply that the world of kink. For example, I fully support your right to engage in Roman Showers, but please, please, please don’t start spewing anywhere I can see, hear or smell your happy ralphing games!

We even used to have an acronym for this: YKIOK! (Your Kink Is OK… with an implicit “but not my kink” tagged on the end). We can also simultaneously defend the rights of neo-Nazis and raving communists to spout their opinions, while personally preferring to listen to Rick Astley‘s Greatest Hits — on the basis that the Mr. Astley’s songs contain more useful social commentary than that of the others I mentioned…!

In essence, tolerance is not the same as taste, acceptance is not approval, enlightenment is not engagement.

All of which is fine and lovely, but Leia-Ann said it perfectly well, so why do I repeat her musings here? (And indeed, she expands more on the topic, covering the individual’s right to change, too).

Well, there’s a not unrelated piece of social politics that I’ve noticed popping up in the past few weeks. An account of our friend Maggie Mayhem‘s recent involvement in a new scene event managed some mild innuendo about Maggie and her partner Ned’s supposedly questionable ethics while demonstrating all the fun you can have with liquid nitrogen, but reserved the bulk of the author’s disapproval for the selection of artwork on display. The issue? That despite the venue being self-identified as “sex positive”, only fractionally more than one picture in ten was “female gaze” — which is, in this context, apparently a euphemism for “of men“; we’ll quietly ignore that this usage neatly glosses over the idea that a women might actually like looking at a picture of another woman, because that’s just a flea on the back of this dog of a problem. The furor continued with the shocking revelation that none of the artwork featured obviously transgendered models!

It’s not clear quite what ratios would have been considered acceptable. Perhaps the ratio should have matched the national average, which would have meant that 50.9% should have been “female gave”, or perhaps that 50.9% should have been of women? Maybe we shouldn’t be parochial, and should use the global average? Let’s be extremely generous and assume that 1% of the population is transgendered, and the male/female ratio is even (which it isn’t), so that means that 0.5% of should be of M-to-F transgendered folk, while the another 0.5% should be of F-to-M people. But wait, there’s more: out of each group, surely we have to balance the dom/sub imagery; let’s arbitrarily assume an equal balance, and that gives us a figure that 0.25% of the art should be of dominant female-identified trans people.

Oh, hang on: what about race? That soon takes us to a requirement that 0.001% of the artwork, or one picture in every one hundred thousand, should be of a native Pacific Islander M-to-F dominant! Phew! Sorted! Ah, wait a moment: that covers art of people, but not by them. But no matter: with an insane amount of effort, we can probably ensure that our picture of a Pacific Islander M-to-F domme was created by a Australian aboriginal lesbian sub, and cover those bases in that way. Of course, since even the Louvre in Paris only has 35,000 pieces of art, finding somewhere to display all those gloriously inclusive pictures may prove to be a bit of a challenge…

Now, heaven knows inclusivity is a great thing, and is to be encouraged. But so is art. The moment one lets political or social goals, however well intentioned, control what art is acceptable or not, one inevitably sacrifices quality to the quota. It just doesn’t work.

And more importantly, it cannot work. Art won’t, and shouldn’t, say the same thing to everyone; and part of the price of having something inspire you is that it may well leave someone else cold, or even repulse them. And even art which is generally considered “good” may be less-than-perfectly-suited to a wall in a “sex positive” space; for example, a print of John Sargent’s “Gassed” may put a bit of a damper on the mood!

Which brings us back to Leia-Ann’s core point: just as with taste in art, sexuality is individual and personal. It has to be absolutely OK for us to both like and not like things. And when someone starts trying to impose their taste, their opinions, their politics on our individuality — even in the name of inclusiveness — they become the oppressor, the tyrant, dictating what should be.

While on the subject of not liking things, there’s also been trend of conflating not liking with hating. In the spirit of such partisan mantras as “if you’re not with us, you’re against us”, the idea that someone might not actually want to see (e.g.) M/M spanking is equated with homophobia. Unquestionably, homophobes do exist, and it is undoubtedly a factor in the acceptance or otherwise of such material, but personal preference is an entirely different, and possibly more significant, factor. Those who rail against the lack of a particular type of material in porn strike me as like campaigning against the lack of vegan menu options at a steakhouse. If the market can support a holistic, fair-trade macro-biotic eating house (or whatever), then someone will go ahead and start one, or the steakhouse may decide to branch out and offer foodstuffs that didn’t once go “moo!” But if it the customer base isn’t there, then you don’t get to insist that the steakhouse must offer nut cutlets or Tofurkey just because you want to eat those dishes; your preferred dining choices don’t automatically preempt the steakhouse’s market-driven business decisions.

In reality, while those mutterings about the ratios of types of art were probably well intentioned, it’s a fundamentally misguided challenge to a symptom, and does nothing for the cause. The “problem” isn’t that a particular sex-positive space has “the wrong sort of art”, but that there are not enough such spaces. And the solution is rather simple: instead of complaining about the deficiencies of other people’s actions, DO something. Start a Filipino-Transgender-Dominant co-operative; open a Wahhabi-male-submissive space, make art featuring African women in chains (that wouldn’t be controversial, would it?).

And then put whatever you want on your walls.

Yes, that’s me in the silver wig! It’s from “The Curse of MacBeth.”

A few months ago, Madison Young put out a tweet asking for “witches” for a porn production of Macbeth. Well, that seemed like it could only be an interesting project, so I put my name forward. To my delight, I found that Miss Maggie Mayhem, Rain De Grey, and Lilla Katt, so I got to make out with my hot model friends as my part of the film! (No, don’t point out that there were three witches in the play! Porn doesn’t have to be accurate!)

Anyway, it’s the first porn I’ve been in for a while, and even though I’m far from starring in it, if you like following my work, here’s something new for you!

Hey all,

It’s been a pretty chaotic time for me, and I’m unsure when it’s going to mellow out, so my blogging is going to be random at best. (For those who care, I’ll probably be writing about it in my other blog at some point, but all you really need to know is that it’s family stuff — once that is said, anyone can understand!)

Here is a meme I’ve been working on, a question at a time, over the past mumble days. (Which I got from My Bottom Smarts — thanks Bonnie!) To keep people’s ears (eyes?) perked up, I shall intersperse images from Maggie Mayhem‘s recent super sexy shoot for “Everything Butt.” (And because I like looking at them — it’s as much for me as for you!)

1. Would you rather be spanked outside in a cold woodshed or inside by a cosy fire? Oh, cold is bad, baaaad! It’s not the idea of the woodshed – that’s certainly got its place in fantasy-land. But when I get cold I really just want to have a cuppa tea and snuggle up in a warm blankie, not get a spanking!

2. Would you rather be spanked in public or in private? I don’t mind the kind of public that is a fetish event or spanking party – and I was even flogged in the middle of the Folsom Street Fair. But I’m not okay with making vanilla people watch my kinky antics – it’s non-consensual! They didn’t ask to see that sort of thing, and I think it’s unfair to assume they want to. But as long as I know I’m someplace where everyone is on the same page, then public or private don’t matter to me!

3. Would you rather fantasize about spanking or actually be spanked? Well, fantasies are lovely, but reality is more fun!

4. Would you rather be spanked for your humiliation or for your spanker’s pleasure? Why does this have to be an “or”? I assume we’re both here for the same thing!

5. Would you rather be spanked by hand or by hairbrush? Hand, every time. But try replacing “hairbrush” with “belt” or “cane”….

6. Would you rather be spanked by belt or by cane? Heh. I hadn’t even read this question when I answered the one above! It would be a sad world if I could only have one of these!

7. Would you rather be spanked by paddle or riding crop? Well, that’s an easy one! I adore the riding crop, and hate the paddle with a passion!
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Well, I’ve been working on an entry for this blog since the 6th, and it just keeps growing and taking longer and longer to finish. So today I decided, what the hell, just get the blasted thing up here, and then you’ll have incentive to finish it because your readers will nag you until you do!

Finally, now, I get a moment to write about when a certain Mr HH came to visit. Now, certain young ladies across the globe read that line with understanding (and perhaps wince and a phantom ache in their posteriors!)

HH had contacted me on FetLife, and we had become friends pretty much in our first communications. When my Master and I were last in the UK, we were supposed to visit him, but that horrible car accident happened, and destroyed a lot of plans about which we’d been very excited. HH was wonderful during that time, very supportive and helpful. As was everyone we know in the Brit spanko scene – you’ll never meet a better bunch of people, I tell you!

Finally, HH was heading out to our part of the world, and we planned a weekend of “get to know each other, and see what comes of things.” It happened to be the weekend of the San Francisco Fetish Ball, so we invited him out to that with us.

You’d think that the naughtiness (because it occurred, of course!) might have happened at the fetish ball – seems logical, non? But actually, we didn’t even make it that long! Friday night, we picked HH up, and he and my Master got on like a house on fire. They discovered that they both collect classic CP magazines, and the rest of the evening was a discussion about: “Do you have the original printing of Blushes Uniform Girls, Issue 29?” “Why yes! Do you have that impossible-to-find Janus Number 3?” It was like being in a room with stamp collectors or model train hobbyists, only the conversation included bits like: “Ah, yes, that’s the shoot where the girls wear the white punishment shorts with the string between their legs, and have water poured on them before they are caned!” I was in geek heaven, and I just sat there and listened to them with a big old grin on my face, wanting them to never stop conversing!

Having bonded in such a manner, I should not have been surprised the next morning, after brunch, when my Master suggested that I should go put on a school uniform. But I was: suddenly this moment was upon me, and I felt flustered and nervous – and excited!
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