Zille Defeu’s Fetish Fantasies

Posts Tagged ‘tawse’

Ages and ages ago I wrote about a scene Mr. Defeu 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 Mr. Defeu 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!

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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!

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 friends 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!” Finally the Minx and 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 – Mr. Defeu – 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!)

Meeting the people I’d befriended online was very nice, although one does always have in mind that one has to try to be as witty and sociable in person as one is in blog comments and on Twitter, and honestly I think I write better than I speak.

But I bucked up and did my best. Mr. Defeu and the Minx and Headmaster Tony from Florida Moonshine ended up making a circuit of the ballroom, with the two of them introducing us round to their friends. I was just getting a bit of equanimity when suddenly it was suggested that it was time for a spanking. Next thing I know, Mr. Defeu had found a good place to sit, and had ordered me over his lap. I just looked at him in horror – I was so embarrassed, it was as if I’d never played in public before in my life! His tone grew stern, “Over my knee, girl,” and I went to bend over his lap. “Wrong side,” he told me, and I struggled gracelessly trying to get up from a half-executed manoeuvre, and orient myself in the other direction, feeling like a total fool.

I lived through it, obviously! But it taught me that I need to start looking at things differently when I go to spanking parties. There is a place in between just being a performer (and I’ve done a lot of performing at fetish night clubs, so I know this space all too well!) and a private scene between Mr. Defeu and me (which is where I’ve been, really, for most of the past three years!) There is a place where you are not performing, but where you are able to do some kinky fun stuff in public and have it be real, but not so profound that you can’t handle an audience. I have to learn abut that middle place!

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!

Mr. Defeu has been in Daddy-mode a lot recently.

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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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 Mr. Defeu 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 Mr. Defeu 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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