Zille Defeu’s Fetish Fantasies

Posts Tagged ‘spandex’

Last night I finally got what was coming to me.

I had really not wanted another weekend to go by without my punishment (the story of how I earned my punishment here) actually being done and out of the way. It was hanging over me, and I was going a bit crazy from that. But of course last weekend I had my period (and I don’t know if my Master was being kind, or just avoiding any over-emotional ramifications) and then he was super-busy all week with work stuff, coming home late and exhausted. And you can’t just say, “Well, look, I know you’re tired and all, but I need to be punished now, so get over here and beat my bum!” Heh, well, you could say it, and if you do please tell me your results, but I’m not stupid enough to try it!

Anyway, yesterday started with a lazy weekend morning (poached eggs and toast and tea and lazing on the sofa with laptops and books) and then we had a gazillion errands to run, and got back home around 5:30. We were supposed to meet some friends at the dungeon later, and I was anxious, hoping that the punishment could be done before we went, so that if we did a scene there, it would be post-punishment and relaxed and happy.

I got permission to go do my bath/shaving, and we had run out of hot water, so it was a very thankless affair. Afterwards, I begged to lie down in bed for a bit, to warm up, and he joined me, snuggling me and warming my body with his own – which is very effective; he gives off such lovely heat! – and it was very comfy, and we could have just slipped off into a nap. But I really didn’t want a nap right then!

We have this thing where we indicate “I am thinking it’d be nice for something sexy to happen now” by body language and looks. Neither of us almost ever has to announce things with words (although I do love when he orders me gruffly into the bedroom!); it’s all a matter of pressing up against each other in certain ways, or touches becoming longer and more caress-like, or our eyes meeting and understanding being exchanged by seeing the fire in the other person’s eyes and letting a reciprocal fire flare up in your own.

Anyway, I was sending off signals as hard as I could (although a person who didn’t know us would probably not have noticed any change at all, I don’t think) and he of course noticed and laughed and told me I was a slutty girl. I asked if that sort of thing was on the menu, or if he was feeling sleepy and wanted a nap. Well, he allowed, maybe some sex could happen. At which point my frustration bubbled up in me and I said, “Oh, please, can’t we get this punishment over with?! Everything we do is overshadowed by it for me, and it’s driving me mad!”

He didn’t seem to mind me speaking up. He pulled me around to face him in our cuddle, my head resting on his chest, and my hand pushed down to take up its duty on his cock, which had somehow become a statue carved out of adamantine….

He informed me that as I had three black marks in the punishment book, my punishment would be tripartite: two sets of ten from the paddle, and because the last infraction was not too grievous, a final set from the cane. Well, I’d been feeling kind of horny up until that point, but faced with twenty from the paddle, that ended right quick!

He had me go put on white spandex punishment shorts (which not only do not provide the least amount of protection, but I think may actually make it worse!) and then stand in the middle of the room, with my hands on my knees (which I do realize was kind of him, not making me grab my ankles, but I really didn’t appreciate it in the moment!)

I took the first thwack okay, although it had enough force to rock me on my legs. Okay, I told myself, the first is just horrible because you’ve forgotten what the paddle feels like – now that’s over and you can just grit your teeth and take the next nine. Whack, the second slammed into my ass, and then, like a wall crumbling, all semblance of self-control just fell to pieces, and I started crying. By the third hit, he had his hand on me to hold me in place, and I don’t know what number it was when he gave up and ordered me to lie over the side of the bed, because I was in too much misery to care.

Unfortunately, as much better as it was to be laid over the side of the bed, for some reason that changed the angle of his attack, and now, instead of getting both cheeks thwacked with equal force, now my right cheek was getting the brunt of it, and I was right on the edge of getting out of position and trying to high-tail it out of there! But I held on, somehow, although when the first ten ended (and how was all that agony only ten whacks from the paddle, how?!) I did say, while grabbing my right cheek with my hands somewhat hysterically, “Ahhh! They’re all landing on this one!” which was about as coherent as I could get at the time, and thank the gods he understood that I was just trying to let him know what was going on, not criticizing or complaining.

Very kindly, he switched to the other side for the next ten, and really, it was much appreciated that he didn’t ask “Are you ready?” because I don’t know if I could have squeezed out a, “Yes, Sir” at all! He had kindly agreed beforehand that I could have my penis gag (which has become kind of a pacifier for me in scenes, and brings my volume down considerably, which I think the neighbors appreciate!) for the second ten, but as he was fastening the buckles at the back of my head, I can’t say it brought me any real comfort.

And, as the second set progressed, it was actually not helpful in another way, because it fits down under my chin, and thus caught all the saliva that came pouring out of my mouth as I made incoherent cries of agony, and also it comes up to right under my nose, so the mucus that started pouring down as I cried also got caught up in the big mess my face had become. There was no grace under fire, no dignity left to me. Well, except that I didn’t break position: my feet danced, my back arched up a few times, but I never left my spot. (Honestly, I find it best if you just don’t even consider it an option!)

He let me calm down for a moment before the final set from the cane. I felt much more confident about those, because by now I’m an experienced caneé, and can take my licks with dignity and self-control. Well, not that day! He went for the heavy nylon cane Read the rest of this entry »

So I need to renew my driver’s license, and for reasons too boring to go into here, I need to take the written exam. I’ve needed to do this for quite some time, but have been putting it off, and off, and off. Now, next month, my current license will expire, so I have to actually go do this thing.

My Master and I have worked out a way to make studying the DMV handbook more fun – for both of us.

The set up goes like this: my Master puts me over the convertible step-stool, i.e., the Chair of Doom. Then he asks me questions from the sample tests the DMV provides. When I get an answer wrong, I get a certain number of strokes from the cane (which he sets before we start, although he seems to feel completely guiltless about changing that number whenever suits him!)

I’ve been fantasizing about this for the last few weeks. (And, to be honest, not studying overly much. That DMV handbook is written in such a way as to make your mind wander within a page, I swear!) Last Sunday we had our first study session.

My Master was in a spandex mood (and, it seems, having some ‘80s nostalgia!), and so had me in spandex short shorts and a thong leotard. I must say that I find such outfits really quite humiliating. I think most short shorts make my thighs look fat, and a thong leo is simply embarrassing to wear at the best of times. But he loves it – I mean it really turns him on! So I just try not to look in any mirrors, and let his eyes be my mirror, so I can feel as sexy as he sees me. It’s generally not easy at first, but gets easier as the scene progresses and his lust is obvious and continuing….

Once the outfit was on, he couldn’t wait to get started. I, on the other hand, was not in a great headspace. It was my first day of my “period week” in my menstrual cycle, and PMS was still in full swing. When he said it was time for the scene, I responded with alacrity, because I’ve found that if I have to beg out of a scene, I regret it for months later, every day that scenes don’t happen and I find myself thinking wistfully back to that scene that could have been. So I pretty much have to be bleeding from the eyeballs these days for me to even consider asking for a reprieve, and I certainly wasn’t going to give up a good scene opportunity just because I felt cranky and slow and tired. I even put on the thong with good grace!

But as the scene was getting started, a wave of self-pity rolled over me. My pain tolerance was at it’s lowest; why did we always have to do a scene on the first day of my period? I didn’t really want to be in pain, anyway. And other whinging, which I happily kept entirely internal.

My Master I don’t think noticed my inner turmoil – he was too busy enjoying the view of my spandex-clad bottom. He was so excited that he couldn’t keep his hands off: he suddenly changed plans, put the chair back into its chair shape, and put me over his knee for a warm-up spanking. (This did leave me a bit bemused, because he’s normally completely uninterested in a warm-up!)

He started in on the spanking, and I tried to get myself in headspace. He moved up the intensity scale pretty quickly, and my self-pity increased accordingly. Finally I burst out crying, more from the unfairness of it all than from actual pain. He lifted me off his lap, and started setting the chair up for the study session. He decided on using a tawse, first.

I got my first question wrong, and he thwacked my bottom a few times. I got the next one right, and then the next one wrong. And somewhere along the line, my self-pity and stupid headspace vanished, and the scene was just good and fun and sexy and hot.
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There are so many good shots from this gallery from Her First Punishment that I couldn’t choose just one or two!

The combination of corporal punishment and exercise is so terrible and humiliating … that it makes for supremely hot fantasies! I mean, when you are running around or doing push-ups, you are vulnerable (esp. because the coach is somehow never out of breath, and you always are!) — and then you add to that the wearing of some humiliating pys ed outfit — or worse, you are stuck running around naked! It doesn’t get much more vulnerable and humiliating than that! And then to add to it the application of the tawse (see below) or the plimsoll or even a cane — and suddenly you are out of breath, stuck doing some activity where you can’t defend yourself or hang on to any shred of dignity, humiliated, and in pain!

It doesn’t get much more intense than that! There might be other ways to get to that end point — but if you are staying within the schoolgirl fantasy, this is pretty much the best means to that end! Don’t believe me? See for yourself… (click on images to go to the gallery)

(Noto bene: This post was written last night, while my Master was out doing some errands. Pictures from the birching are here.)

The birches mumbojumble gave us have been sitting in a vase for a couple weeks, now. Giving me a frisson of anticipation every time I walked past them. Today was the day they finally got used on my naked bottom.

Sometimes, you plan scenes – detailed, intricate role-play. Sometimes, scenes just happen.

My Master and I were putting some shelves in our lovely new wardrobe (and thanks to our dear friend, whom I think I shall give the name “Mr. Stag,” for wasting his weekend helping us get and assemble our wardrobe!) We finished all the work we could do, and my Master lay down on the bed. Something in the way he did so gave me the hint that kinky stuff would shortly follow. So I climbed on the bed and started running my hands up and down his legs … trying to indicate my receptivity. I hadn’t really been in a place where I was actively thinking about sex … but knowing he was took me from naught to sixty in no time flat!

After a period of meaningful eye-contact and rising horniness, I finally stopped fondling his thighs, and lay down beside him. In doing so, I brushed against him, and suddenly realized he was as throbbing erect as possible! He told me it was time to finally get my birching, and fear shot through me – but I couldn’t help grinning like an idiot!

He pointed out that only bad girls got birched. I responded that perhaps it was time for my bad girl persona to come out and play … maybe she had stayed out all night, doing things she wasn’t supposed to with boys. He was right there with me, and brought in the running role-play fantasy we have of the bad girl and her ever-so-patient housemaster, who has taken her under his wing (a cane-wielding wing!) and who is trying to prepare her (by way of tenderizing her bottom at regular intervals!) to send her off to a training institution (we’ve already given it a name: “The Lausanne Institute”) so that she can be his perfect girl.

Well, my Master likes a challenge, because my bad-girl persona doesn’t give in gracefully! No, she fights and whinges and generally makes as much as possible that much harder for herself! Yes, he likes the challenge! When I deliberately do or say something that gets me in more trouble, he gets such a glint in his eye! And then he hands out a serious thrashing!

Well, after we’d set up our story-line, he told me what to wear, and to make a birch rod and bring it to him. On went the navy gym shorts and gym skirt, a white shirt with blue tie, and grey sweater and white knee socks. (Because I was a bad girl, I pushed the socks unevenly around my ankles, and didn’t tuck my shirt in. I also left one button undone, as I was sneaking back in after a night of debauchery, and thus should be a bit mussed!)

Then, I had to make the birch rods! Very kindly, mumbojumble had provided some sample rods, so I had immediate examples to hand. The birch twigs she gave us were quite long, so I made two shorter length rods, one with the thinnest ends, and one of the thickest ends. (When it comes to pain, my Master can always count on me to be thorough!)

Then I went and knocked on the bedroom door, heart thumping my my chest, trying to bring up all my bravado and attitude, so I could get into some serious hot water….
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I was going over old blog entries that I wrote before my Master and I got together, and I found this one, from when he taught a class on fetish photography, and I was one of the demo models! Read the rest of this entry »