Zille Defeu’s Fetish Fantasies

Posts Tagged ‘tawse’

Ages and ages ago I wrote about a scene my Papa Otter 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 Papa Otter 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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I don’t even know where to start with this overwhelming weekend!

Yes, yes, I can hear you, “Begin at the beginning and when you get to the end … stop.” Okay, okay….

We left on Friday, and Shadow Lane was already in full swing when we got there. It seems people had arrived as early as Tuesday, and some were leaving Monday or later. It seemed smart when we had bought the plane tickets not to spend too much time there, when we were unsure of how much we’d enjoy it, but by the time September rolled around, we’d made enough friends in the spanking scene that it meant we didn’t get enough time to talk as much as we’d have liked with our new friends. Next time – longer trip, more partying!

The Mystery Minx was our main priority, as she lives quite far away from us, and we’ve already become quite addicted to her company. Happily, we did manage to get some quality time with her….

Anyway, we got there Friday afternoon. I had been stupid the night before, and had not taken a sleeping pill, and I ended up with terrible insomnia, because I was as excited a kid going away to summer camp for the first time. (This is not as unlikely a comparison as one would think…!) But it did mean that I felt very tired when we got to the hotel, and really not ready to sudden go to a huge party with hundreds of strangers, a few friends whom I knew from online, and about three people I knew in person!

The Minx was knocking at our door the minute we got to our room, and seeing her was brilliant. She and I had done the girly thing, and bought each other a million little gifts, so we got some room service and babbled excitedly at each other. The only problem was that I just wanted to stay in the room and hang out with her all night … I was terrified of going down to that party.

I’m not sure if you have figured this out about me, but “I only play extroverted on TV.” I’m really just a shy geek who’d rather stay in and discuss science fiction or spanking with her friends. (Or yes, have a small orgy, but it’s only ever been a small one, I tell you, and only with people I know and like!)

I had somehow managed to forget my shyness, myself. I think the last time I was this nervous was my first SkinTwo RubberBall, but even then I knew that I wouldn’t have to be conversing with that many people: we’d be in a crowded space that would be have too much thumpy-thumpy loud music to encourage much in the way of discussion.

But at this event, I’d actually have to talk to people! [gasp] And suddenly my powers of scintillating and effervescent conversation seemed to have fled altogether. And I was nervous about my outfits: it’s one thing to be a schoolgirl in a room full of other kinks. But I was about to be a schoolgirl in a room full of schoolgirls and headmasters….

I tormented the Minx with text after whiny text, “Help! What are you wearing?” “Which knickers should I wear?” “I don’t want to be the only one in uniform!” She finally responded by bringing down Young Bridget (both of them looking delicious in their uniforms!) to braid her hair in my room and try and get me to mellow out. (Showing wisdom and compassion far past her tender years, I might add!)

So, down we all went, and I felt a bit better for being in a group. Although I must say that walking through a Vegas casino in a group of uniformed schoolgirls was one of the more surreal moments in a life that I thought had already been stuffed full of very fantastic and bizarre experiences! (At the aforementioned RubberBall, getting into a cab as Queen Elisabeth I, with a Cardinal in leather – my Master – and a gorgeous woman dressed like Jessica Rabbit – but in rubber – was one of those! At least the cabbie seemed amused!)

Things continued to improve on the way in, as I finally met Tony of Shadow Lane in the flesh, and chatted a bit with him. The food was odd, but edible (I ended up eating a large plate of tasty roast beef and fresh, very ripe, melon slices) and then I couldn’t poke at my food anymore, I had to actually start talking to all these strange new people. (Well, okay, no stranger than me, in general, just strange to me!)
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Wow, how this month has flown by. Damn, there went that summer, and I really don’t feel I had enough time to fully enjoy and appreciate it!

Now that it’s September, I realize I’d better finish this serial, before events overtake me again – i.e., before I go to my first ShadowLane party!

So … that Saturday…. My Master and I knew that Mystery Minx would be coming over for another sleep-over (this one actually planned!) on Sunday, so this was a day for us to connect as a couple, before bringing the wonderfully bratty third back in.

My Master has been in Daddy-mode a lot recently. So much, that I’ve been considering calling him “my Daddy” over here on this blog, because our energy has transformed so very much from where we started, that I feel it deserves recognition. I’ve always been his girl – that much has not changed (and I hope it never does!), and as a title works well in a number of situations, from high-protocol Master/slave, to a school-setting roleplay.

Of course, that title might squick the pure-spankos who come over here even more than “Master.” I mean, “Master” sounds all BDSM-y and possibly pushes emotional buttons, but how many more buttons does “Daddy” push?! And we’ve talked about it, and while it would be a good solution otherwise, “my Sir” is not for us, because it’s not a natural part of language, e.g. the way “my Lord” is. (Errr, the English language, I should specify, as “Monsieur” is exactly that. But if I called him “Monsieur” we’d both fall over laughing, unless we were doing the whole bloody scene in French! Which, come to think of it, could probably not be accomplished without massive giggling, anyway! Now German, that would fit a scene very, very well…. But I don’t think he’ll take to “Mein Herr,” either, and honestly, that leads to visions of clicking my heels and saying, “Yavol, Mein Herr!” and then falling over in giggles as well….)

But I’ve wandered off track – thinking about it, I’ll use “my Daddy” for the rest of this post. Those of you who read it, please leave me a comment letting me know how you feel about it – does it work? Or does it squick you out?

So, here we go – I started over my Daddy’s lap; hand-spanking and then the mean slipper. Once I was crying out and bouncing around, I was put over the edge of the bed and he decided to work through a large selection of his tawses, as we’d just found the missing Campbells (they were, if you can imagine it, in the toy bag!)
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So, after Mystery Minx and my Master (Now if we can get Miss Maggie Mayhem to join us, we’ll have some serious alliteration happening! Also, I can’t imagine how much trouble we would all get in! My Master would have to call for back-up!) came down to join me at the café, we all went out for lunch. If you have not had lunch with Mystery Minx, it’s an experience worth having! She spent the whole time zinging rubber bands at my Master and just generally being an adorable brat. It was like dinner and a floor show!

After lunch, it was back to our apartment, and as you have read, the Minx got herself in more trouble (do not hand that girl a water pistol, or you will, damply, live to regret it!) And then she put up resistance to going to the bedroom for the disciplining she’d more than earned, and I got to watch a fabulous full-on brat scene – and take notes! And so I sat down to write that first entry, getting more and more fascinated by the sounds emanating from the other room.

They came out and joined me in a while, but our Minx was not in the least subjugated, or even slightly regretful, and water pistols and rubber bands kept being fired. Also, a spontaneous wrestling session ended up knocking us off the sofa at one point, and then even I got to take the clothes brush to her bottom, as my Master held her down!

This led, eventually, to both of us in the bedroom, and I watched the stubborn Minx getting her next round of discipline. She was very stoical, and took what she’d gotten herself in for with just decorative protests. I was called in to hold her arms while she took a pretty intense caning, and I held her firmly, but gave her encouraging squeezes in between the strokes. You can’t help but feel as comrades in such a situation, and I winced with each stroke. Afterwards, I gave her such a big hug – I was as proud of her as a mama duck would be with a duckling!

We’d all gotten up quite an appetite, so some Korean take-away was in order. We all sat down to watch St Trinian’s (which she’d never seen!) but she got fidgety and got her hands on a water pistol again.
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Okay, okay — I have acceded to your demands (and even threats – for shame, Fyre!) and gotten the next part of the adventures up for your delectation….

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But as the whacks resound from the bottom of the imp in the other room, it reminds me of the whacks my bottom received from HH. Once over his lap, his hand started raining down hard – HARD – on my bottom. I was gasping and squirming in no time.

And then … he informed me my knickers would have to come down. And darned if I don’t feel embarrassed and anxious, as if I hadn’t been making porn for years and you can’t google for pictures of my pink bits on the web! Anyway, my unexpectedly delicate sensibilities were not of concern to either my Master or HH, so down my knickers came, me blushing madly (although OTK, with your head down, it’s hard to tell if you’re embarrassed or it’s just all the blood rushing to your head!)

The spanking then proceeded, and kept up for a while. It was one of those periods in time when you need it to be over because the pain is pushing you right to the edge, but at the same time you never want it to end. I continued gasping and squirming.

But it was nothing like the squirming I’d be doing once HH started to apply his infamous hairbrush to my bottom. Yikes, that stung! I think at that point he had to grab my arm, because there was no holding still while those smacks rained down on me!

Then, HH picked me up, and told me to go over to my Master and restate to him what I’d done wrong, and that I’d learned my lesson. It was really well done, because if I was overwhelmed, I could have just apologized and things could be concluded. But I was soooo not ready for things to be over, so I put on my brat-hat and earned myself some more CP, this time in the form of the tawse. And, since I’d upped the ante with my bratting, he upped the ante from his end (that would be, onto my rear end!) by putting me in a very compromising position: knees on an ottoman, with my hands on the ground … and my bottom very much up in the air, with all my tender bits really exposed. “This is going to huuuuurt…” I thought as he picked up the tawse and started in on me. And I was right! That strip of leather wrecked havoc all over my bottom and the tops of my thighs. I was doing breathing exercises (yes, yelping is a part of breathing exercises!) and just holding on for the ride.

Again, HH gave me a chance for contrition, and the CP to be over. But I still didn’t want this wonderful time to be over – I was high on adrenalin and thus continued in my recalcitrant ways. So it was time for the cane (the man travels well-prepared for any contingency!) I was then on the sofa on my hands and knees, another “not particularly favourite” position (as in, I can’t just let the side of the furniture hold me up!) and I knew I was in for it.
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