Zille Defeu’s Fetish Fantasies

Posts Tagged ‘masochism’

Mr Defeu has many evil, evil tawses, but there is one stiff leather strap that I am always delighted to see him get out of the toy drawer. It looks about as imposing as any other piece of leather in his collection, but for some reason, this strap can’t hit me wrong — there’s not a time I don’t get some enjoyment from it. It ranges from “Ohhh, that’s a nice tease — please hit me harder!” to “Please keep that up — if you do, I’ll orgasm from this!” to “This is just a bit over the edge of what I can take, but it’s just that perfect amount over the edge! Do it again!”

There are some implements that from the first swat I loathe, despise, and outright hate. But this one turns me into an eager masochist, wriggling her bottom in eager anticipation. The implements which only hurt are perfect to use for tools of actual punishment. (Thus, the wooden paddle we have which is used for just that purpose, and which I do wish would just magically disappear, never to be seen again.) But this strap has come to be known as the “reward strap”. It’s just that good.

A couple weeks ago we were on a trip together. I often do his packing for him (a service I very much enjoy) and had used this opportunity to slip in that beloved strap and a bottle of lube — just in case, you know. It’s always good to be prepared for anything, right?! It was a busy, chaotic trip, but finally, on the last day, we had time alone together, and nothing else to do for a nice long evening stretching out ahead of us….
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Funny to find this after yesterday’s post! Originally posted on 10th Apr 2006.

Well, you’ve all been good patient people, who have posted to let me know you like being voyeurs into my sex life [grins at you all] so here is an image from Mr Defeu’s birthday!

That’s a green school-girl gym-skirt you see on me. Oh, what a hot scene it was! My grades had been slipping, you see, and my teacher had me come over to his house for some discipline…. By this point my hands have been hit with a tawse, and the front of my thighs tawsed as well. I have been spanked, caned with a light cane in several positions, caned with a heavier cane also in couple postions, and then soundly fucked (in a variety of positions! And oh — sex with Mr Defeu is simply wonderful. But sex after being caned is beyond description.)

Then, a heavy nasty mean tawse was taken to my bottom (that would be the over-all redness you see) and then I got a final six from the cane which nearly had me climbing off the bed in pain!

It was amazing. After it was all done, and we were snuggling, I asked Mr Defeu, “Who’s birthday is it, again?!” Remember that picture of me looking all glow-y? I took that a few hours later.

I have a big long post to write about masochism another time, but suffice it to say, for now, that I am very happy with being a masochist and I am glad I am in the hands of someone who knows what to do with me!

Continued from Part I. I should warn you that this turned into a long and not particularly coherent ramble, with thoughts coming out faster then I could write them down, and so it doesn’t go in any well-mapped direction, nor come to a tidy conclusion….

Happy reminisces aside (and he’s given me plenty of lovely sensation-memories to contemplate in bed while he’s off on a business trip this week) the main reason I shared this scene was because it has really got me thinking about my long strange trip around the land of which Sacher-Masoch is king. (Or at least the guy who gave it its name!)

I’ve written before about how I was surprised as hell when I first got into BDSM and discovered that even though I’d been fantasizing about pain all my life, it actually hurt, and how that made me back off and explore submission and other kinky stuff, certain I was a failed masochist who could only dream but not live up to my own fantasies.

And, I’ve written how Mr Defeu and the Senior cane changed all that one amazing evening.

But that “voyage of discovery” wasn’t over, and I’m still very much learning about the intersection of pain and me.

Coming from the BDSM world, the spanko world confused me. In BDSM, masochists are out, proud, and boast of their masochistic depths – indeed, the most sought after thing is to be a “bottomless pit” which can take all the pain a Top dishes out – and preferably orgasm from it. (Of course, not many people are actually like this, and this ideal probably alienates many people as much as it did me!)

On the other hand, so many spankos claim to not enjoy pain at all. They suffer CP to get other rewards, they claim. This point of view helped me, when first arriving from the cult of the masochist (“Ah! It’s okay that pain hurts!”) However, it soon got in my way, because there are indeed times when a stroke hits just right, and I process it as pleasure. Or I get a spanking that amps things up slowly, just right yet again, and I can actually come from it, just like a real big masochist, mommy!

That’s what made me want to change the common-use (within the BDSM/spanko communities) definition of masochist, from “someone who enjoys pain” to “someone who gets something from pain” (which is what the dictionary definition is, anyway). Because I think most people who want to be spanked (or otherwise caned, whipped, strapped, or paddled) fall somewhere in-between the 0 of “I get nothing from being spanked” to the 10 of “I am a raging masochist who will come from being skinned alive”.

But this post is ranging too far in scope – I actually meant to just be talking about my own self-discoveries. Just as sexuality is fluid, so is masochism, it seems. (Although of course, for me, I don’t think there is any real division between my sexuality and my masochism.) Some days I just want the CP equivalent of love pats. Other days I crave my fundament being turned entirely black and blue….

But even more, as I learn more about myself, my own ability to take more and different kinds of pain expands.
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This is the “fun bit” of a two-part post. First I’ll recount a lovely scene Mr Defeu and I just did, and then tomorrow I’ll talk about some of the thoughts it has brought up for me. Dessert before dinner, for those of you who are just here for the spanking and kinky sex. But for those of you who want the “deep thoughts” part, the best is yet to come!

I was feeling a bit low on Saturday afternoon (despite some lovely first-thing-upon-waking-sex) and of course Mr Defeu knows the best way to perk me up: “I think there shall be a scene, this weekend,” he announced. “Oh, really?” I asked, suddenly buoyed up nicely. He nodded, and said nothing further, keeping his devious plans to himself.

Sunday morning rolled around, and as we cuddled in spoon-position after waking up, something else woke up, and poked me in lower right bum-cheek. “Aaaah,” I said, (always profound, me!) “Would you like me to go change into something more suitable?”

I was instructed to change into a vest (that’s a wife-beater, to American readers) and gym-cut knickers (which I took to mean short cotton-spandex shorts, not regulation knickers – and, as I wasn’t punished for wearing the wrong thing, must have made the right call!) and so, clad in a white vest, navy gym shorts, and two pony-tails (not just to be cute, but to keep my hair out of the way, as I had a feeling fellatio would factor into things somewhere, and also, getting a mouthful of hair during a beating, always after having been told not to move your arms, is both frustrating and embarrassing), I knocked on the bedroom door, and was curtly instructed to enter.

I was fighting a grin quite strongly at this point. I so very much wanted to be in role, but I was really just too happy that filthy perverted stuff was about to happen. I managed to have my face mostly under control by the time I got inside the door.

“Well, my girl,” he said in full disappointed “this will hurt me more than it hurts you” Authority Figure Mode, “What did I tell you about being too rowdy last night?”

Uh, I don’t know! – was my first thought, and not one I said outloud – I didn’t remember being particularly boisterous or unruly the night before. So I tried for an all-purpose defence: “Um, youthful high spirits?”

That justification was of course deemed quite beneath regard, and I was treated to a lecture on how I had quite ruined his evening, but he didn’t want to be imposed upon to have to punish me when he was trying to get some RnR, and so he would attend to me now.

I was lapping this right up of course, although I gave a token stab at self-defence and tying to talk my way out of what was coming to me. (You can’t very well say, “Yay! Yay! Lecture me more!”)

This worked so well that I ended up being pulled over his lap as he sat on the side of the bed, and him laying right into me with heavy, hard spanks.
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Graham has just posted a though-provoking post, which concludes:

Anyway. I’d be interested to know how you feel about submission v. masochism – do you identify more as one or the other, or both? Does it change depending on the week, day, scene? Are you so label-transcending and over this shit that you don’t even think about it anymore?

Well, Graham, I am both, obviously.

I would point out that submission can be explored just as well in roleplay scenes (or other limited time-period options) as well as 24/7 “Serve my Master’s Needs all day and night” situations … and for someone starting their explorations, the former is much, much better than the latter!

This is not the only aspect of submission. From: TheTrainingOfO.com

There is some confusion about “submission,” which I blame on the BDSM folk’s propensity to put forth an “I am more of a ‘bottomless pit’ than thou” attitude. It’s like there is some competition between subs about who can take more pain, who can be more submissive, who is willing to give up more of their life for their D/s dynamic. It’s horrid, and it really messes with the heads of the people who are new to the scene and trying to find themselves a place within it. (Speaking from experience, here!)

The confusion about submission comes in when people assume it has to be this full-on thing. But the fact of the matter is that if you bend over for a caning or some whacks from a hair-brush, you are in that moment being submissive (regardless of whether you are a masochist, and indeed, if you are not a masochist, you are being even more submissive in that moment!) Only if every spanking you get involves you being tied down so tight you can’t move, after being “taken down” because you were unwilling to stand still for being tied up, does a spanking not include some greater or lesser amount of submission.

That doesn’t make you a submissive. There’s times throughout any vanilla day when you are compliant, acquiescent, or just passive, and those are all synonyms for “submissive” – and that doesn’t make you a submissive either. As any dog could tell you – there are times when it’s just a plain good idea to roll on your back and expose your tummy and wag your tail.

So playing around with submission is no big deal, and to some extent it is in most spanking scenes, regardless of whether you admit (or recognize it) it or not. You can take it up to another level by talking about it, and adding more of that dynamic, but being conscious of it and playing with it don’t mean it’s suddenly an ingredient that wasn’t in the recipe before – you’re just changing it up from a tablespoon to three Tbs., and maybe using grated fresh submission instead of dried powdered submission.

To address the other part of the question, my Master* and I started out with a very D/s dynamic, partially because that’s what I knew (coming from that world and not the Spanko one), and he was excited about playing with that dynamic.

Over time that has evolved, and I’d say we are now more Daddy/girl, or more like the domestic discipline people (although we don’t have a lot of things in common with them, otherwise!) but my submission has not changed in a number of ways: I try to serve him in such a way that it makes his life better (this involves making a lot of tea for him – not a very difficult charge!) and I accept his discipline.

I don’t shift in my submissive level as regards my Master very much. I can get in a shirty mood and be less considerate and obliging (and refuse to follow rules) but that is not a shift in personality as much as it is me being a spoiled half-child half-adult who needs some discipline! (As regards other people, I am not particularly submissive at all — I’m a take-charge kinda gal! A favourite saying from the BDSM world: “I’m submissive — but I’m not your submissive!”)

So I would say that most people’s labels/definitions don’t fit us very well, although saying that he is dominant and I am submissive gets a certain amount of information across most effectively, and our unique variations can be discussed in the depth they deserve, if the person actually wants to hear all about it!

*I capitalize “Master” because to me it’s a proper noun and thus should take a capital. No one else has to call him “Master,” and if they want to say, “Your master is a wonderful and fabulous man,” they don’t need to capitalize the M-word. But the whole D/s capitalization thang is an aspect of the “kinkier than thou” problem, and thus deserves to be disregarded as juvenile and ridiculous. No, I ain’t mincing words on this matter!