Zille Defeu’s Fetish Fantasies

Posts Tagged ‘personal growth’

Back in my post “Subconcious Slavery” post, Karl asked me:

Zille, did you always have this longing to belong to someone else as a 24/7 slave or was there some sort of process you went through in coming to this realization about yourself?

An excellent question, and I’ve been putting off answering it because the reply is going to take so long!

I never really had a longing to be a 24/7 slave before meeting Mr Defeu.

Let me qualify this.

When I was just a wee little thing, I had fantasies about being spanked and about being held by huge hands (my fantasy characters, the “spanking monsters” were giants, you see). So I clearly wanted to be controlled. But I’ve always been a very dominant personality. Outside of my fantasies, I was quite sure, as a child, that I ruled the universe.

When I was about 12, I disavowed my kinky self, and tried to be vanilla for some years. Obviously, this didn’t work very well, because by about age 15, friends were giving me Exit to Eden and Venus in Furs as gifts. I was like that gay kid whose entire family and friends know he is gay, but he’s not willing to admit it, yet!

The thing that really let me realize I was kinky was Pat Califia’s Macho Sluts, as I’ve said before. Thus followed a time of serious exploration. I knew I wanted to be a bottom and a masochist — but I had no idea how to go about being a submissive (nevermind a slave!)

I got into my first BDSM relationship with A., when we were both in college. A. was supposed to be the Top. But she was only a year older than I was, even less experienced in BDSM, and she was at best a switch and probably would have prefered to be the bottom in the relationship.

I basically topped from the bottom for the seven years we were together. After we broke up, friends told me how funny they thought it was that we were supposed to be one way, on the outside, but we really were the exact opposite.

I had pretty much given up on the 24/7 dynamic as an option by this point. I thought it was impossible to do in the real world, it was only good for fantasies and roleplay scenes.

Then I started seeing the man who would become Mr Defeu. Things moved really fast, and by the end of our first proper date, he had told me I could call him “Master.” (Please note that I do not encourage this sort of thing! He and I had known each other for five years, but still, it was very silly of us and we are very lucky it didn’t backfire!)

So he was Master. But what was I? At the beginning, he just called me, “girl.” That was my only title. He told me he wanted to work up to me being his slave. I was not comfortable with that. I told him I didn’t want to be a slave. Why couldn’t I stay being his girl? Or what about some other title?

No, he was adamant, he wanted a slave. And I could be the slave he wanted … or, well, I guess if I had really resisted, we wouldn’t have stayed together. However, all I wanted in the world was to belong to him, so I pushed my comfort-zone aside (as one would throw off a down comforter!) and agreed to be his slave.

So, in some ways I always wanted to end up here, but in other ways it was the last thing on my mind.

I did always long for, from first memory, the masculine (I’ve said before and will say again, it didn’t have to be a man, per se, but it couldn’t have been a effeminate man or girly-girl) figure with strong hands to own me, control me, manipulate me with those big fingers.

And I love being in the M/s relationship we are in now. When I am allowed to be dominant I am often thoughtless and selfish. Being a slave means I must always strive not to put myself first. It makes a great improvement in me as a person!

And it’s a wonderful comfort. I pushed aside a comforter at the beginning of this relationship, but another, better one has replaced it. Every day, every minute, I belong to Mr Defeu. He is in charge. As much as I have to learn to let go of control, the reward is that I get to relax and not try to control things. Mr Defeu has taken the world off my shoulders, and controls what I do carry on my shoulders (like a yoke!)

Yoke - thestockroom.com

It was not hard realizing I need to belong to someone. It just made sense, once I started getting the chance to really live it. On a day-to-day basis, I find masochism and the whole corporal punishment thing far more challenging to figure out!

In a comment on my last post, Karl wrote:

Interesting to read your take on the joys of obedience. But how does getting spanked factor into it? As in, how do you get spanked, or what do you get spanked for, if you’re always so obedient? I gather from your earlier posts that you do enjoy a good spanking now and again.

That last sentence is of course Karl exemplifying “understatement!” And Karl had perfect timing, because this was just what I was going to blog about.

To put it simply, spanking has no real place in the modified form of domestic disciple that my Master and I are currently discussing putting into place. For the very reason that Karl aptly points out; or to put it another way, “I loves me a good spankin’!”

A hand-spanking is in no way a deterrent for me. Even a hard walloping done without a warm up is more likely to make me come than make me regret my words or actions.

However, the paddle is another matter. Even with a warm-up (of which there would be none for a punishment!) I can barely stand the paddle. And if I’m just bent over and given some emphatic whacks, and that’s it (except perhaps to give my Master a blowjob to thank him for taking the time to discipline me!) then it’s not going to be something I enjoy very much, and I’m going to try and avoid that because I’d much rather we spend the time getting up to the kinky things I do enjoy.

For other corporal punishments, there’s always the dreaded “kneeling on rice,” which I’d really prefer never to have to suffer through again.

Also, there is of course non-spanking punishments like writing lines, or doing some other task that I don’t enjoy.

Trust me – there are plenty of ways of punishing me without putting me over the knee for a hand-spanking! That can be a reward for me when I’ve been good: “the carrot and the stick!”

Karl also brings up the point, “what do you get spanked for, if you’re always so obedient?” Read the rest of this entry »

A few months ago, a dear friend of mine interviewed me for a paper he’s working on. I had posted this back when this blog was actually over in Livejournal, but I’ve been thinking about it again, and I just talked with that friend, M., last night, and so I wanted to repost it, because I really like it and I think it shares a great deal about me….

M: I’ll start off the title of the study — it’s called Crossing the Line: The Phenomenon of Altered States of Consciousness in BDSM Play and the research is designed to explore the alerted states of consciousness of individuals involved in BDSM play. And I think I am going to go ahead and start with the first question….

Zille: Absolutely.

M: Please describe in as much detail as possible an altered state of consciousness you experienced in a BDSM scene.

Zille: (Said slowly with serious thought) I guess the choice is which one … I guess the most immediate and extreme example I can give is from a scene that I had a little over a month ago now and this was a very unusual scene for me, because my Master and I do … well (she speeds up when she says) what I love is role-play … um, like, “headmaster and schoolgirl.” And you know … (trails off) so, normally that’s what I want the most. Like, he would just like to bend me over the bed and beat me and have sex with me, and everyone would go home happy. But I really get into, um, role-playing, so he was doing that and every time he does that I kind of know it’s for me. Not that he minds doing it … But that day I did not want role-play. We started doing it, and I found my role limiting, I … just really needed to be beaten…. I will skip how we got to the beating except that I started being very, um … unlike myself. I … I was talking back, I was being naughty as opposed to obedient, I was doing everything within my power to kind of say, “beat me, please, for a long period of time.” Um, and … when he stared doing it … now I say this is completely unusual scene … so I didn’t actually go off into what they call, “subspace,” but, I was in a place where … (pause) you know normally when you’re hit it … it hurts, um, which seems, you know, obvious, but every single masochist I know, the first time they had a scene, you know in their heads they had thought about it and fantasized being beaten and it didn’t hurt. I mean it hurt, and that turned them on, but when the actual, first time happened, everyone, everyone I’ve talked to said they had the reaction of, “Oh fuck – that hurts!” and so … I mean even when you’ve been playing for years and years you know that first time that the cane, or the hand or the belt hits you there’s kind of that experience of like, “Oh, yeah that hurts, I forgot about that!” (laughs) But this time I was not getting that at all – I was craving it and needing it so much that I was just able to handle these now ever increasing amounts of pain (because as I was getting hit I was getting more sensitized) and he was trying to hold me down and I was trying to squirm away, he was just grabbing the nearest thing and um … I just got to this place where I could accept so much pain and I needed it … so much … and I know that doesn’t seem like an altered state, but for me a lot of the time there’s this whole thing of having to process the pain, and work through it and accept it. This, this time I was so … gone into my own need that … um … there was no having to deal with accepting the pain. There was just a feeling of, “Do it again! Now! Harder!” And that is, is for me, an extremely altered state.
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Our weekend in the mountains was mostly a success. Firstly, we loved the cabin, and will be going back there — we’ll call it our “secret mountain hideaway,” in honour of a friend of ours who uses such terms on a regular basis. And the plan is to shoot more porn there — it’s perfect!
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I was packing our bags to leave, rather reluctantly, as it had been the most wonderful weekend getaway, and I didn’t want to go back home to work and other forms of reality, when he called up to me, “Girl – come down here!”

I always have this immediate pang of “Eeeep! What have I done wrong?!” when he calls me “girl,” like that, but I didn’t think I’d done anything wrong, so I smoothed down my nerves, and called out, “Coming, Sir!” and went down the stairs (that I’d been beaten upon earlier that day) and saw him sitting down, wearing only shorts, on the sofa. It was about 5 PM, so the light was starting to slant goldenly into the room, pouring over him as he reclined on the white micro-suede sofa.

I immediately knew what he wanted, and excitement and happiness bubbled up in me. As soon as I got down to him, I kneeled between his legs and pressed my face against the bulge, breathing in not only the smell of him, but also the smell of salt water from walking in the ocean earlier. The combination of musk and salt tingled in my nose. The wood floor beneath my legs was warm and remarkably comfortable, making me feel like it was exactly where I’d always belonged.
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