Zille Defeu’s Fetish Fantasies

Posts Tagged ‘spandex’

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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N.B. — I started this on Monday, but the week overwhelmed me a bit — the jobby-job needing more catching up with. But, here finally, is my first scene report since the accident!
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I don’t want to count how long it’s been since we had some proper playtime, because that would just be depressing, but the dry-spell is over, YAY!

We did actually have a mini-scene last week, but it really just illustrated how much we both were missing our usual naughtinesses, and ended up being kinda more depressing than not playing, esp. since his arm was hot and swollen and sore after….

But, Saturday, I was snuggling with him on the sofa (naked, like you do…), and suddenly there was raging erection! Amusingly, the first thing that popped out of my mouth was, “Oh! But I need to shave!” He considerately allowed that if I were to give him some hands-on (and mouth-on) attention for a bit, then I could run off to the bath and shave as quickly as possible without removing vital bits of dermis.

And so it came about!

And I found myself face down on the bed, wearing black spandex hot pants, while he rummaged in the Drawer of Doom for just the right tawse. I normally start to feel a bit of (perfectly reasonable) apprehension in those right-just-before-it-starts moments. But this time I was so ready, so “bum randy” as one of my favourite spanking stories has it, that I just lay there thinking, “I want this, I want this, oh how I want this,” and not feeling anything but eager and ready.

Being the kind and gentle Master that he is [cough] he actually started with a warm-up for once! But I was so rarin’ to go that I just was not even in a place to appreciate the mild strokes, and so I showed that in the best way I’ve found for a submissive partner to demonstrate “more please”: I lay there without making a sound. Nothing like that to ramp up your Evil Sadist – he wants to see you squirming and yelping, damn it! And, in short order, I was!

After turning things from 0 to 11 with the tawse, he went for the belt. (He has an old brown one which is too battered for wearing, but has the perfect patina to be a Dreaded Instrument of Discipline – Only I adore the belt, so it’s less Dreaded and more Oh Yes Please!) His arm didn’t seem to mind the vigorous workout he gave my bottom!

After that it was over the side of the bed for the leather, um, thing, which is shaped like a paddle, but still flexible like a tawse. But, even with that, I was still revelling in the sensations and emotional experience of being beaten. Sure, it hurt, but it was filling up an empty ache that had been growing like a black hole inside me, and that ache hurt far worse than that leather paddle-thing!

Then it was sex-time (wheee!) and he did a thing he loves which is to pull my pants aside and fuck me with them still on. I’m quite fond of it myself, as it makes me feel like I’m just being used – that he can’t even bother to undress me properly, but he’s just tugging the fabric aside and sticking himself in me … hmmm, I’m going to either have to move on from this deliberation, or go take a moment with Mr. Buzzy!

Anyway, I was quite pleasantly surprised that he was going to fuck me whilst standing, as since the accident it’s all been me on top, for the very good reason of his broken leg! But that leg really didn’t seem to bother him or get in the way on Saturday, and we enjoyed a lovely timeless period of our favourite position (me bent over the side of the bed), which we haven’t done in far too long.

Then, being him, he decided I needed a caning. I actually really love his habit of spanking me, fucking me, caning me, fucking me – rinse and repeat! It stretches out the scene for longer (and I want them all to last as long as possible!) and it combines, or at least stacks, the painful and pleasurable sensations so that I get a wonderful sensory confusion.

The caning hurt a good bit – as it generally does! – and I was dancing in place by the end of it. As he’d start each set of six, I’d wonder (philosophically, as there was nothing I could actually do about it!) if I could make it through the set. What I love about the spanking dynamic is that as a spankee, I can have those fears (which make the whole thing so much better, of course!) and as the Spanker, he can get me to take more than I thought I could, he can help me to be both that strong and that yielding. It’s pretty amazing, when you think about it!
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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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January ended with a bang! No, not the crack of the paddle against my bottom (thank all the gods of spanking, and um, bottoms) but just in a happy, happy weekend that makes me look forward to February even more!

Saturday was just plain good. The early part of the day was spent lazing around. I gave myself a mani/pedi as my Master did stuff on the computer, we watched an episode of Gordon Ramsay’s The f Word (thanks Mr. Stagg for the tip!) and Skins – Vol. 1, and I continued my re-reading of Maia.

After tommy-toe-toasties we went to bed and my Master read me a story from Janus Magazine while we cuddled naked, and then held me and whispered about terrible things he’s going to do to me (involving me being tied down and tormented with stinging nettles!) while sticking his fingers into my disturbingly wet pussy (at least, I’m disturbed! I shouldn’t be so turned on by nettles! I’m so attuned to his desires now that whatever he wants to do to me gets me excited, no matter how much of a bad idea it might be to a sane and reasonable person!) and then I gave him a blow-job while he probably thought more about tormenting me with nettles (whatever it was, he came very hard, one of those orgasms that just goes on and on), and then we snuggled and felt very pleased and satisfied about the whole affair.

In the evening was a local absinthe party, and we were taken by Miss Maggie Mayhem. Before the party, we took her out for Thai food – a new place we hadn’t tried before and it was a big success. We spent a long time in the restaurant talking and flirting and enjoying good food and good company.

We stopped off at home so us girls could do final wardrobe adjustment and reapply lipstick, and ended up spending too much time there as well. This was a problem because poor Maggie, due to a scheduling matter entirely out of her hands, had another date that evening, who was meeting her at the absinthe party and spiriting her away to another shindig. Well, we made her quite late to the absinthe party, and I ended up keeping her even later since we had promised each other to kiss all each other’s lipstick off, and I wasn’t letting her go until she’d lived up to her end of the bargain!

Strangely, her date didn’t seem to mind Maggie and me doing some serious tongue-wresting, breast-rubbing, thigh-humping, standing by him in the middle of the roof (decorated with little lanterns on strings, with tables and chairs and heat-lamps). It was quite cold up there on the roof (and I wasn’t wearing much: black spandex leggings with my favourite high-heeled black ankle boots and a tight black sleeveless shirt with a sheer lace back — no bra or pants, of course!) but while I was making-out with Maggie, I really didn’t notice it at all!

Sadly, a sense of social fairness forced me to let Maggie go about her evening (I hadn’t had a chance to get drunk, yet, was the problem. If I’d been drunk, I wouldn’t have given a fig what anyone else — except my Master — wanted!

With Maggie gone, my Master and I wandered around the party, looking for something else to entertain us. When we wandered back to the small stage area, we found a band playing, and so settled down to listen to Vermillion Lies.

Then there were a couple gals doing burlesque from Hubba Hubba Review so we hooted and hollered as is good form at a burlesque show (or the gals will be upset you don’t find them sexy!)

In the meantime I was knocking back “Red Dabel” absinthe from the Czech Republic. It was very tasty and went down quite smoothly! And it was an absinthe that is best with the sugar cube flamed, so every time it was made for me I got to watch the blue fire melt the red-soaked sugar cube into the cup, before it was finally doused with the cold water…. Happily, I didn’t get annoyingly drunk, or say anything stupid. I just got very snugly with my Master, and gave him long lustful kisses whenever he turned his face my way.
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Well, Sunday evening’s scene (the picture went up yesturday) was intense! Some other synonyms of that word work well: strong, powerful, forceful, deep, passionate, severe, etc.

It started with the School Uniform Review that my Master had requested some time back, and we both finally had the right amount of time and energy to devote to it.

From memory, I have:

• Three jumpers/pinafores: blue, green, grey. These fit well.
• Skirts in blue, green, grey, and black in varying lengths and styles (from gym skirts to more formal ones) – all have problems that my waist-to-hip ratio is greater than they seem to expect a “schoolgirl’s” to be, which is silly because I am pretty sure I’ve been this size/shape since I was about 16/17. We bought them to fit my waist, which they do, but they’re too tight around the hips. We’ve decided a number of them need to be replaced with the size larger and cut down to fit me. (I’ll be agitating on making all of them shorter, too, but my Master is a pure pervert and likes the longer lengths for reality’s sake or something nasty like that!)
• Blazers in blue, green, grey, and black, the first three have a loose fit; the last has a tailored fit.
• Sweaters in blue, green, grey, and black.
• White shirts in long sleeve and short sleeve. I prefer the fitted ones from Bhs, and would love to replace the old baggy ones from John Lewis!
• Knickers in blue, green, grey, white, maroon, and some cutesy patterned little girl ones. Both cotton and those nasty nylon ones he adores so. 90% in the “high waist, modest leg” fit that I think looks about as sexy as a dead squirrel, and he just adores. It’s the main source of humiliation in my life, and he is really quite unsubtle about enjoying it.
• “Punishment shorts” in blue, green, black, and white, varying from “short shorts,” to knee length. Varying mix of cotton/spandex, or that is, matte/shine.
• Ties and those cute little cross ties that snap on, in varying colours and solids/stripes.
• Socks in white, green, and blue, varying lengths. Tights in blue, green, black and white. Some white and black stockings and matching garter belts, for the older schoolgirl.

Is there any doubt left in anyone’s mind that we are perverts? Thorough perverts and thoroughly perverted!

After much trying on and taking off and trying on again, I ended up in (only) a pair of blue cotton knickers and white over-the-knee socks, over his knee for a spanking. Spanking progresses from “brisk” to “hold on for the ride!” and then he pronounces that the panties are “too loose.” He likes them so tight that my skin bulges out from the elastic. ICK! Someone explain to me how or why that is sexy!

So, on with a tighter pair of knickers. Which we have. Don’t ask how many pairs of knickers there are. He of course needs to start the spanking over again, obviously.

He then tells me that I’ve been a good girl, so I may suggest the next implement he’ll use on me. If he likes the suggestion he’ll go with it. I put forward the slipper and then the belt (because I’m a masochist like that!).

The slipper and the belt are a study in opposites. The slipper looks innocuous, and by all lights it should be just an extension of a spanking. But those slippers are evil, stingy things, and I can’t help but bounce around when he thwacks me with them. He put first one of my legs under his own, then he had to put both underneath, because I was flailing around like a drowning person – as indeed I was: a girl drowning in pain! However, for all the horrible pain they produce, I don’t think the slipper does much actual damage to my bot.

The belt, on the other hand, I just adore. He can bring his arm back all the way for maximum force, and when the belt hits, I always hear the WHUMP! sound it makes and wince, but then as the sensation spreads through me, I think, “Well that’s not so bad at all! Yummm, that’s going right to the pussy, that is!” The noises I make are indicative of this: I make almost growly cries as the belt hits, which I maintain are just the wave of kinetic energy passing from my bottom through my body, which turn into moans of pleasure as my mind processes the pain, and then perhaps a certain amount of aroused hip-movement, but nothing like the frantic wriggling of the slipper. But, looking at my bottom, and feeling how it feels today, I can say with some surety that the belt does some damage to my flesh.

The worst thing about when your Master lets you choose is that you invariably pick something just as horrible, or worse, than he would pick for you! Once, in one of our earliest scenes, the bastard my Master put the whole selection of “toys,” he’d brought with him in front of me, and had me pick three. I didn’t know enough about them to make informed choices, and I also didn’t want to be seen picking the lightest implements, but didn’t want to get the evilest ones, either! He watched with a smirk as I made my fateful choices, and then, after I’d tentatively set three aside, he said, “Oh, really, those are the ones you want?”

“Um, uhhh, did I choose the worst?” I quavered.

“Well, they’re not what I’d have chosen!” he replied, leaving me as much in the dark but infinitely more terrified, and proceeded to use all of them mercilessly on me.

I’d had the slipper over his knee at the edge of the bed, and then he had me lay flat on the bed for the belt (so he could get the best swinging force for the target, I’m sure), and then, that done with, he told me to lay over the edge of the bed on my own, and got down a cane.
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