Zille Defeu’s Fetish Fantasies

Posts Tagged ‘our story’

Originally posted on 30th Nov 2005.

Dearest Mr Defeu,

I may be too sick to write coherently, but I miss you, and the books you loaned me have put so many thoughts into my head, that I am going to try anyway.

It scares me to say this – the results are somewhat to be feared: but, I must say: I can take more. Oh, this is in no way a criticism, Sir, and how could it be, with you giving me the best “sex” of my life! Perhaps this is more a promise, a pledge: I can take more pain and I want/need to take more pain for you.

The other night, when you were playing with me and I asked you, “But what if I want to be punished?” and you asked me, “Do you want to be punished?” and I (having given it the due consideration of all of a second) said, “Yes,” – and then you tawsed my hands – I think the hardest you have ever done. By the time the last stroke came around, I didn’t know if I could put out my hand for it, and you grabbed my hand and pulled it out and hit it….

Image of Adele Haze from Northern Spanking Institute

Oh, that was so good! I loved being taken there, to that place where the pain was so much that I couldn’t manage to get that hand out for the last stroke – oh, it was a new and amazing place you took me to. You wondered why I was crying afterwards – that was it.

And I want to go there again. In A Degree of Discipline, there is a scene where Lucy is bound down with straps to a chest, and there tawsed:

Lucy howled and pleaded, wriggling and writing in a vain attempt to reduce the sting as Miss Parkin worked to a steady rhythm working down the slopes of her bottom, first one cheek and then the other, but to no avail.

I’m afraid that I will also howl and wriggle – I can’t really help it, although I do try my hardest and I hope that I will learn how to take a beating more silently over time. Recently I’ve found that even though the pain becomes enough for me to start making noise, noise I really can’t help because it does hurt so very much, but I know through the pain (and under the noise) that I can take more. So, I beg you, Sir, please give me more. I know there will be times when my pain tolerance is at a low ebb, say, late at night (or early in the morning, knowing the hours we keep) but, in general, I think my ability to take pain from you is getting more and more and more.

And, oh, how I want to! I want to please you, to satisfy you. Every time you hit me “not-quite-so-hard,” or you stop with (god-forbid) less than six … I feel like I’ve let you down terribly. I feel upset with myself, and afraid you’ll decide I’m not worthy of being your girl. Even if I “can’t” take the pain – well, not taking for you it seems worse to me than somehow managing to get through it!

And, while I love obeying you so very much (and here my bratty side jumps in to add that “it doesn’t suck”) I would also like to be taken to the place where I, under the duress of pain, beg you to stop – and you do not. Oh, it scares me to write that! I backpedal in my mind – think, “Oh maybe then he can at least tell me how many more I have left, to help me take it!” But really, I am learning that the pains of the cane, the tawse, the riding whip, etc., do not kill me nor even injure me (at least while in your hands, which I trust completely) and that knowledge gives me the courage to ask for “more” – because not only do I now know that I need it for myself, but I want – oh, do you have any idea how much I want?! – to give it to you!

I can write you stories, and give you gifts, and clean your apartment from top to bottom – but those do nothing to mitigate the deep debts I feel to you. You have brought me so much joy, made me feel so alive – indeed, given me a new and wondrous life as your girl, your slave. There seems no possible way to pay you back – but with my body, my pain, my tears – all my very self, given to you freely and lovingly.

And also it is a gift I long to give you. Not just as a debt of honor, but from the sheer pleasure of pleasing you.

Oh – I cannot go on. There is more to write – at the very least a decent closing. But I am tired and a bit dizzy and I will go lie down and wait for your call, dearest Sir…

Mr Defeu is off on a trip again, and so when I found this old post it really resonated with me…. Originally posted on 6th Oct 2008.

Mr Defeu got home last Thursday night, and I promptly got sick. And then he had family-crisis stuff to deal with. So the best I could do as his girl was to have yummy food prepared for him, and surprise him with his desk all cleaned and neat and polished. (Most of the house was supposed to also be this way, but see above about the getting sick part, which threw the wrench in those plans!) I was scared that the weekend would go by with just dealing with family stuff. And also, when I get sick, he gets all in Daddy mode and wants to snuggle and pamper me.

Now, don’t get me wrong, I like being snuggled and pampered as much as the next girl, but when it means his Mean Scary Dominant Self gets turned off – then I’m a sad girl, because I live for our scenes. When he growls roughly at me to do something, my knees turn to jelly and other parts of my anatomy do fascinating things. When he gets all sweet and loving, it’s great … but well, it’s like flavours. I like to eat sweet stuff (oh yes I do indeed!) but I also crave rich, hearty, savoury flavours as well. Think of discipline and the various pains of spanking, caning, etc., as Boeuf Bourguignon, and your favourite sort of pizza, and spaghetti the way your mom made it, and creamy Potatoes Au Gratin, and sushi, and chicken satay and Tom Ka Gai, and a Monte Christo or Croque Monsieur or your favourite sandwich or burger, and, and, and … all your favourite savoury foods!

Happily, some of that yummy stuff was coming my way. He said he needed a nap, early Sunday evening, and I despaired. But then he saw I was upset and pointed out that after the nap, he would be refreshed…. He slept for about 45 minutes, and then I went in and joined him in the bed, and snuggled with him as he napped, and just enjoyed lying in bed with him, feeling his warmth and hearing his breathing, as I looked out of the window at the night-time city lights.

Eventually he stirred, and reached for my hand, and pulled it down to his cock, which was obviously wide awake and ready for action.

I laughed with delight, and said, “You should take lots of naps, Sir!”

Then I didn’t say anything for a while, because I was sucking his cock.

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Since everyone enjoyed the last Lost & Found, here’s one from one of the best Classic Spanking films (IMHO) which Mr Defeu gave to me to watch. It was a pleasure to dig this one out of the archives and relive the memories of watching it, back when I was living in Suburbia (October 10, 2005!) and officially dating Bear … and wildly in love with Mr Defeu, and not knowing yet that my life was about to drastically change…!

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I was missing you terribly this evening, Sir, and then I had the thought that what better way to show you that your girl is thinking of you than to do an assignment!

Since you made the CDs in no certain order, I’ve ended up watching them that way. So this evening, I randomly chose a disk, and then chose a title from the list that amused me: not “Lisa Will Be Caned,” or “Lisa Really Ought To Be Caned,” but that imperative “Must!”

Well, as you can guess, Sir, I just adored it. There was only one thing missing in a video full of CP and general Brit goodness! After reading Smash Hits on the swing-set, she wanted to go up to her room to watch Dr. Who! And he was reading Janus, hahaha!

And “Now, jut your bum out!” is just so much better as an order to stick out one’s ass than anything an American could possibly say! And I loved the selection that increased in severity: the hand, the paddle, the belt, and then the cane. And the having to stand in the corner while he watched what looked like a very odd show on the telly! The only thing that I missed and would have liked to see was him being a bit more rough with her: I mean, she was in trouble at school and she was indeed being impudent, well into the punishment! When she reached behind herself to protect her bottom from further punishment, he would just push her hand away impatiently and she would be free to do it again right away. I would have been more aroused to see his hand roughly grab her wrist and hold it up against her back. Although I did wryly appreciate that if her hands got in the way too much he’d just smack them instead, which seemed to work pretty efficiently, too.
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Ages and ages ago I wrote about a scene Mr. Defeu and I did with Henry Higgens.

Well, he was not just kind enough to beat my ass to exotic new shades of black and blue, but he also shot am image of Mr. Defeu holding me afterwards. (I think he was grabbing my hair because I still had a bit of sass left in me, which I can only explain by assuming I have an inferior self-preservation instinct!)

I had planned to get the images up, but then they got misplaced (which is just as bad or worse when you’re dealing with bytes and pixels to loosing real world items). However, I just found the file they were in, and so here and now I finally get to share this image with you!
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Well,
to continue with the caning … I was still quaking in my spandex after the last series of Six-O-The-Bests, but the final twelve were yet to come. This was back to the Senior cane, which would have seemed like a walk in the park after the last cane (the bamboo root one!), but there was not much real estate left on my bottom that wasn’t hot and weal-ed. So the cane strokes either came down on the already well-battered skin on my bottom, or on my thighs, which were not very marked, but which always hurt so much more!

By the end of that I was squealing and blindly trying to swim away through the air. It always amazes me that his fingers resting ever-so-lightly on my back keep me firmly in place no matter what the level of pain.

Then – my reward! Yes, if you’re thinking, “Alright, this is Zille, so she means ‘anal sex’,” you’d be right! I’ve been begging him for cruel anal sex: just using me for his own pleasure, whilst I whimper in pain (or at least varying levels of discomfort!) and I think it’s been hard for him to entirely be sanguine with it. When he fucks me, he wants me to go soaring into pleasure with him – and, mind you, I appreciate the sentiment! It is the irony of the universe that so many guys are careless lovers who “just take,” and I fantasize about that, while having a caring and involved lover, to whom my pleasure matters deeply.

Of course, if he wasn’t that person, I couldn’t trust him with the sort of play we do. How deeply ironical that it’s only because I know he is not truly like that, that I can long for him to be, and beg him to pretend to be!

But, because he does care about my satisfaction, he betook himself to use me roughly and get as much pleasure from it as possible. I know, some of you are thinking, “Oh, poor guy gets the world’s smallest violin from me!” but the fact of the matter is that when he’s fucking me and I’m screaming in pleasure, he can just let go and enjoy it 100%. When he is forcing his cock into my ass and I’m whimpering in pain, he has to pay attention to what he is doing, so he doesn’t injure me – and that is a distraction, he cannot let go 100%. (Of course, being me, I think a solution for this is that he practice a whole lot, and then it can become second nature and he won’t have to think about it anymore!)

Anyway, it was a period of wonderfulness. As he pushed into me, some inner masochist part of me sighed, “Oh, now this is pain I can really get into!” I revelled in the pain like a pig in mud, begging him sotto voce, “Please … use me … please … enjoy this fully … please … hurt me….”
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