Zille Defeu’s Fetish Fantasies

Posts Tagged ‘spankosphere’

Am sitting at the local café. School must have recently ended for the day, because it’s stuffed to overfilling with schoolgirls. (And schoolboys. But I’m afraid my point of view on teen and pre-teen boys is that they are mostly just zitty, unwashed little monsters which it’s best to ignore whenever possible. A perspective I wish I’d had when I was a teenage girl!)

It makes me think of Abel and Haron, and their ability to turn any situation into a spanking one. (Although if I couldn’t manage to make a spanking situation out of a café full of schoolgirls, I shouldn’t be entrusted with a keyboard and WordPress account!)

So, here goes my “perverting reality.”

Breckenridge Academy, California’s most prestigious prep school, lets out for the day at 3:30 PM. It’s a time of day which Frank Sarchimor, coffee-shop proprietor, dreads. His café is just a block away from the academy, and he almost thinks he can hear the final bell ringing in his head every day.

At 3:40, his clean, well-lighted café is suddenly deluged with a range of kids who are loud, prone to shoving or just general clumsiness (he’s had to move the sales displays behind the counter), and just generally unmannered and unruly. After backing up the line at the counter so that customers are frustrated, they all also order iced blended mochas with shots of flavoured syrups (as if they needed the caffeine and sugar!), which throws his baristas into a frenzy of trying to get these complicated drink order fulfilled, which slows things down all the more. And the kids don’t tip, of course, which makes his baristas cranky.

By about 5PM every day, his beloved café is trashed. Straw wrappers everywhere (how did they get them to stick on the ceiling?) empty plastic cups, crumbs from brownies and rice krispy treats which had been used as projectile weapons between flirting boys and girls. Frank has to chip in on the clean-up every day, because if he doesn’t he fears his baristas would just go work at another café, and he’d finally just gotten them trained up right! The signs he keeps putting up on the walls, to “respect others and keep the noise down,” to “please have your order ready when you got in line,” and to “please bus the tables yourself,” are roundly ignored.

Then, the final nail in the coffin. Frank came out from his office after a particularly intense period of sound and fury to discover that a number of the thick coffee frappes had been spilled across the floors and tables and chairs like a Jackson Pollock piece. With java chips. The last two kids were sauntering out of his café, two girls in what seemed to be much shorter than regulation pleated skirts, blouses unbuttoned to show as much cleavage as possible, and insolent looks on their faces. Frank lost it and started yelling at them, demanding they come back and help clean up the mess they’d made. They just looked at him in patent disbelief, stuck out their tongues, and ran out the door giggling.

Frank made an appointment to speak with the head of Breckenridge Academy the next morning.

Mr. Morgans welcomed Frank to his office the next day. Frank had been concerned that, given the attitude of the spoiled brats who’d been frequenting his establishment, that his concerns would be brushed aside. But Mr. Morgans and he had a very satisfactory meeting of the minds, which led to Frank returning later in the day for a special school assembly….

When Kristin and Susan saw the coffee-shop guy on-stage with Mr. Morgans, they had yet another fit of giggles. How ridiculous that this little man had complained about them and their classmates! The Academy kids brought good money to his café, and had as much rights as any of his other customers – just ‘cause he didn’t like kids was his problem, not theirs!

Their giggles died away when they suddenly became aware that Mr. Morgans had called them both up onto the stage. They suddenly became intensely aware that the gym teacher had dragged a vaulting horse on-stage.

Mr. Morgans’ mood was not improved by the fact he had to call them up more than once, and that they came dragging their feet and slouching….

Mr. Morgans explained that while he knew Kristin and Susan were not the only offenders, they would serve this time to be an example for the whole school – Mr. Sarchimor and his café would be treated with respect, or more disciplinary actions would be handed out. If Mr. Morgans had to punish every student in the school, he would, and they had better believe it. Breckenridge Academy had very high standards, and the students would live up to those standards, or learn how to do so the hard way.

First Susan, then Kristin, had to lean over the horse, and suffer the embarrassment of their skirts flipped up. Mr Morgans himself personally attended to the punishment, using a paddle which was the subject of school myth, but which had, obviously to the detriment of the student body, not been used in years. It was worn quite smooth from years of being applied to errant school-children’s bottoms, but the smoothness did not in any way mitigate either the pain of the impact or the hideous stinging burn that lasted long after the stoke.

Image Courtesy of Girls Boarding School

It was twelve each, due to the fact that this bad behaviour had been going on for some time, now. Well before the twelfth whack, Kristin and Susan were howling, their faces red and wet with tears, their eyes puffy, and their noses requiring frequent sniffs to keep from embarrassing them further.

The assembly was silent, except for the occasional gasp of sympathy. Although some of the kids looked somewhat less terrified and more simply fascinated in the show….

As for Frank, he got to watch the whole thing. He was very satisfied seeing Susan and Kristin reduced to blubbering and very sorry girls, and he deeply enjoyed every moment of their stuttered apologies.

He was so pleased, he invited Mr. Morgans down for a cup of java, on the house. And over the steaming beverages, they shared some ideas for future school assemblies.

Because, after all, the youthful memory can be so short, can’t it. You just can’t keep down those high spirits. No, there would be plenty of reason to bring out the paddle in the future, and Frank was more than ready to help keep up the standards of the Academy and the community.

Okay, okay, so I just liked that title too much to call this post anything else. And it is vaguely relevant!

Some weeks ago (and this is how terribly behind I am in this blog – my apologies) my Papa Otter and I went to Gallifrey One, a Dr Who convention. I had not thought we were going to be able to go to it, and then Papa Otter surprised me on Valentines Day with tickets. I had really wanted to go, not just because of the general Dr Who-ness, but because Mija and Paul and Bridget (et famille) would be going, and who wouldn’t want to be part of that gaggle of kinky geeks?!

The only downside of the surprise Valentines tickets was that I had almost no time to put together a Dr Who themed outfit. I was wracking my brains whilst on the phone with Mija, and then she suggested, “What about that episode where Romana is dressed like a schoolgirl—” and I interrupted her crying out, “Yes, of course, ‘City of Death’!”

I had the dress, the blazer – but not the fabulous red shoes, red tie, or straw boater. So I had to scramble to find them (yay for the interwebs!) and Mija said she’d loan me her boater. The result was thus:

Wikipedia tells us:

Seeing her [Lalla Ward’s] costumes as an important part in creating the role of Romana, Ward clashed with costume designer Doreen James, rejecting the silver catsuit James had designed for her for the story. Ward came up with the idea for the schoolgirl costume she wore in conjunction with Tom Baker, recalling, “I thought it would be fun to wear something that little girls probably hated wearing because it might cheer them up… I didn’t bank on the fact that I’d also get loads of letters from their fathers saying ‘Cor! School uniform!’”.

Now add to this the fact that Lalla Ward and Tom Baker were a couple at the time of shooting…. Now, as one can obviously read into that quote – at least if you are spanko-minded – Tom and Lalla obviously had that schoolgirl uniform on-hand for a specific reason – and possibly Lalla was not as surprised at the reactions as all that…!

Anyway, we had a brilliant time – it was like there was a mini-spanking contingent at the con! As a panel at the con pointed out, Dr Who has always embraced people who were “other,” and alternative sexualities, which makes it a safe haven for kinky folk who like sci-fi. (Although, let’s face it, if you’ve seen the attendance lists of your local s-f convention and your local dungeon, you’re mostly seeing the same names, so it’s not like the people at this con need a safe space the way people at a Southern Baptist Convention might….) And I think one can safely assume The Doctor likes a bit of spanky-bot-bot – I’m mean, he’s a man of the multiverse and all, he’s been around the block a few times, picked up some exotic practices along the way….

The question I have for spankers is “Who would you spank on Doctor Who?” And for spankees, same question, vice versa!

I’ll go first: I’d like Tom Baker, Christopher Eccelston, and David Tennant to spank me. Preferably all at the same time! And I’d probably enjoy switching with Captain Jack. (This probably goes without saying…!) Okay, have at it, you lot!

I had a picture of me from a reading I did at Good Vibrations promoting Bottoms Up: Spanking Good Stories, but I didn’t really have any reason to post it (it being rather in the past by this point in time), so it was just sitting around on my computer, and I kept thinking, “I need a reason to post this!” every time I ran across them.

Well, Ms Cassandra has just given me not only a good reason, but a lovely compliment as well. I quote from her blog:

I walked over to the Barnes & Noble to look up two particular erotic short story anthologies. I didn’t find those anthologies, but saw Rachel Kramer Bussell’s spanking collection, Bottoms Up.

I know a woman whose story was published in that anthology. I THOUGHT I’d read it; it turns out that I hadn’t. Her name is Zille Defeu, she’s a blogger and she was the organizer of the recent San Francisco Corporal Punishment party. At the Barnes & Noble I flipped to her story. Big mistake — it was terrific. I’m thinking, shit, there’s no way I’d ever get published again if THIS is my competition.

What a lovely compliment from Sandy — it was very kind of her to post that!

And now that I’ve used my excuse for this post, I can finally put up the picture of me from the reading!

Don’t I look all calm and collected and stuff? I was terrified! I can do public speaking, but that doesn’t mean I enjoy it! Rachel has video footage of at least some of it, I think, and I probably sound reasonably sanguine about the whole thing … but inside I was quaking in my boots. But I’ve sternly told myself that if I am going to work at being a published author, I’m going to have to do readings — it’s part of the job description! And the only way to get less nervous about the whole thing is for it to become something I’ve done so much it’s a walk in the park — boring, even! (It’s rather hard to be nervous and bored at the same time, I find!)

I have to run and fold laundry now, but I’ve got so much to catch you all up with (tons of pictures!) and now that the party is over and my life is less in-complete-chaos, I want to get back to proper blogging!

I’ve been away from this blog too much recently, a combination of travel, holidays, and some poor health, and it’s been taking me forever to catch up with my friends in the spankosphere. But the fault is not mine! So many blogs have been pouring out really brilliant stuff recently.

First up, I’m totally jealous of Adele Haze, who did a kinky 12 Days of Christmas. That’s just the hottest thing ever. (And, unlike Leia-Ann Woods, I am still a “a spanking virgin of 2010” so when I say I’m jealous, I really mean it!)

Spankingblog.com posted the coolest Krampus picture as his Christmas gift to us this year. Thanks!

Kami did a scene with HH which gave her the wondrous revelation about herself as a spanko. While I personally would like to be left alone while I exercise (it hurts enough, thankyouverymuch, and when I work out I’m just focused on moving my body correctly or if it’s yoga, maintaining proper alignment, so I don’t need painful distractions) I agree with Kami that yes, everyone wants to see girls in gym shorts take a caning. At least my Master does, and his tastes have not just rubbed off on mine — completely supplanted (or at least modified) most of my fantasies.

EmmaJane visited a very dark fantasy recently. It really worked for me! (Although if you have abuse issues, I don’t recommend you try it – it’s all-too well-written.)

And The Spanking Writers always set a high standard, but even they have been sharing the most brilliant stuff recently. The pencil between the teeth story, for one, and a Christmas spanking, and then … well, I was totally bowled over when they honoured me with “Hottest Kinky Blog” in their The 2009 Spanking Writers Awards. I still haven’t thanked them properly, and honestly I don’t really know how – it means so much to me!

I was reading Graham’s lovely recent post and thinking how I wanted to share it with a friend who hadn’t come out in the scene until she moved from her home state to the other side of the country.

But then Graham linked to Caroline Grey, who’s An Expat from Vanillaland post I had somehow missed (which would have been terrible, because it’s brilliant!) and I got all caught up in thinking about about any number of topics, because there are just so many thought-provoking things piled in one after another: the concept of a spanko-self (called by your scene name) vs your “real” self (the name you were given); the fact that when you get into the spanko scene you get pulled in and in, deeper and deeper down the kinky rabbit hole, until you get burnt out on it and need a little vacation from Kinkworld (although once you’ve become an “expat from Vanillaland,” where do you go for vacation?); and then there’s the whole notion of Kinkworld itself — a place that exists simultaneously and yet solely in your imagination, on-line, and at spanking parties or kinky rendezvous.

Happily, for me, since Zille is not just a scene name but has become my preferred nickname, and since I’ve been very open with all my more vanilla-y friends for years, I’m so long an expat from Vanillaland that I barely remember what it was like there (and infrequent visits, like my recent one back to my parent’s house, leave me feeling very much like I don’t belong there) … but when I get burnt out (like I obviously was over the past few weeks), where does that leave me to go?!

Well, I just get off the computer, really. Pretty much the major connection to Kinkworld for anyone is the interwebs, so when I feel a bit crispy ’round the edges, you’ll sudden hear the sounds of silence (the wind in the web, the sounds of digital crickets…) from me — it’s because I’m reading novels and re-watching Star Trek: that’s where I go!