Zille Defeu’s Fetish Fantasies

Posts Tagged ‘tawse/belt’

This would have been an “Educational Video Report” for Mr Defeu, except that I didn’t get to write it for him, due to being overworked by the jobby-job, and then, on Sunday, we watched the video together, from the CD of “Educational Videos” he made me over a year ago (how time flies!)

I must say, “Dr. Zubatski’s Treatment X is the best video of the bunch. The actors are hot (well, the girl, albeit very cute with a nice ass, does have scary “high hair” from the 80’s, but one soon begins to overlook it as the action commences…) and they are really “in character.”
The action progresses well, from light spanking to heavy spanking, to what I think was a martinet, to riding crop, to cane. And the pair are very comfortable with each other. I would assume they were a real-life couple, even.

I enjoyed the video so much that I didn’t make it to the end before masturbating to orgasm, last week while Mr Defeu was away.

Once he got home, I had an idea….

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She waited outside of the Headmaster’s office. She was already near tears from fear and humiliation, so she did not know how she would ever get through what was ahead of her with any dignity.

She sat there, very still, very tense, wondering over and over, “Oh, how could something like this have happened to me?!”

It wasn’t her fault that she felt the way she did about the Headmaster. Lots of other girls supposedly had crushes on him, too. He had such piercing eyes, and an infectious smile – and he smiled often. And he was so smart! She knew how brilliant he was because the history teacher had suddenly gotten very ill and Mr. Sinclair had stepped in and taught the class for a few weeks. She had always loved history, but it had never been so sparklingly alive for her before. Oh, and he was so witty – his lessons were sprinkled with humor, and when he told a joke, his eyes got all twinkly.

But despite the fact that he was so much fun, he was quite demanding. She loved that, too. He had pushed the students much harder than the other history teacher, doing daily quizzes and weekly essays. She loved the work – not only was it interesting to study, but as she did her homework she thought about Mr. Sinclair and pretended he had assigned the work for just her, and that he was waiting to read her assignment with all his attention. She put so very much effort into her papers, making sure every word was spelled right, every period and comma in its right place, and of course, tried to make her writing interesting and her conclusions original so that they would catch his eye.

Every paper or test that got less than an “A” made her want to cry. Had she disappointed him? Made him think she was just like the other students, who didn’t care about school, about learning … about him….

He was also a severe disciplinarian. She had known about that, of course – everyone did – that the kids who broke rules or were otherwise badly behaved were sent to his office and were strapped or even caned! But she had only heard about it – she had certainly never had it happen to her! She didn’t see how people could be so stupid as to break rules when it was clear they were going to be caught and punished. She just didn’t understand why you would say impolite things to a teacher or not do your homework. And the school uniform – she loved wearing it! She felt so neat and well-turned out in it. When she looked in the mirror in the morning, she felt her ironed shirt-collar and pleats made her look so much more mature than those girls who wore their shirts and skirts all sloppy and un-cared-for.

While she had known all the rumors about the punishments for the disobedient, she had never witnessed any before. But, while he was teaching her class, several times a student got a bit out of hand. And, when they did … they got it on the hand. Immediately. Right in front of the whole class. With a scary-looking thing the Headmaster called a “tawse.” Three strikes on each palm, and oh, how much it must hurt, from the reaction of the soon-subdued students. Watching, she felt the strangest feelings. Fear, of course, and relief it wasn’t her up there. But at the same time, she felt all tingly down her spine and down … there. And she was jealous of the attention Mr. Sinclair was paying to those utterly undeserving miscreants. She would always feel strange for the rest of class. Even for the rest of the day; it would pop up in her mind at strange times and make her feel those feelings all over again.

It was a terrible moment when he announced that the old history teacher was now recovered and would be returning the next day. She thought she would burst into tears right there in class! She would never again get a chance to listen to him talk, no longer be able to try to impress him and get him to notice her by raising her hand first to answer a question, or by sitting in the front row with her best possible posture and earnest attentiveness to his every word.

But then … he said that he had really enjoyed teaching them for the past few weeks, and that he would start having a weekly study group for those who were interested. She had stopped breathing, so intent was she on listening. When he explained that this would involve extra assignments, graded by him, she nearly passed out. Now, she could really get him to notice her!

There were only six other kids in the study group – to be near him with so few others around was nearly too much for her – yet she wished they’d all quit the group and leave her alone with him! She started to make good progress, she thought, because now he knew her name. He smiled at her when she answered his questions in the group, or when she handed him her assignments. She nearly died of embarrassment when he gently teased her for raising her hand in the group session, when he had given them permission to just speak out with their thoughts, but, still, his eyes had been so very twinkly then, and she liked that she had made him smile. And then – he passed her in the hall, as she was getting books from her locker, and he had smiled and said hello and had even said her name – right there in the hallway! She’d stammered, “Sir…!” and blushed, sure that every person around her would have seen the interaction, would know how much it had meant – but, somehow, no one seemed to have noticed.

That night, when she had gone to bed, she didn’t just think about him until she fell asleep, like she did every night. This night, she just felt so … funny … that she had to reach down to the center of those feelings … and touch herself. She pretended it was his fingers touching her, and she replayed hearing him saying her name over and over in her head – and, as she exploded with sensation, she whispered his name into the pillow.

But then, just as everything seemed to be going so well, the disaster, the catastrophe occurred. It was a lovely day, and the courtyard behind the library seemed like such a perfect place to study during lunch. Usually, she had the place to herself, but today when she opened the door, she first heard voices, and then saw three of the “coolest” girls in school sitting around the table, in their messy outfits: the shirts unbuttoned in the front, the skirts not only un-kept but also somehow shorter than everyone else’s. And – they were smoking! She was just about to duck back in the building, unseen – when she heard them mention the Headmaster!

She had to hear what they were saying! She swallowed the lump in her throat, and, pretending to be braver than she was, she casually wandered over to the table and sat down at the empty side. The girls ignored her, as they always did. She made a pretense of dumping her books out of her bag onto the table, and searching around in them, like she was looking for something she had lost. Happily, the girls kept talking despite her presence – it was like she did not exist, and for once she was glad of it.

Susan tossed her head, concluding her tale of misbehavior and apprehension, and ended, “And so I had to go down to his office the next day!”

Becky laughed and said, “You must have been in soooo much trouble!” The other girl, Angie, just took a drag from her cigarette.

Susan tossed her head again, and flicked her wrist, ashing all over the table in the process. “Well, I wasn’t scared. And besides, it’s cool because then you get to be all alone with him!”

Hearing that, she swallowed hard, jealousy and hatred flaring through her, but she kept quiet and rearranged her pile of books and papers.

“So what happened?” Becky demanded, “What did he do to you?”

“What did I do, is more like it,” Susan started, “He gave the stupid lecture about being disappointed, blah blah, and then said that he was going to give me twelve from his cane.”

“Twelve?!” interrupted Angie. “He was really angry, then!”

“Yeah, but who cares.” Susan said, stubbing out her cigarette on the table and lighting another. “It’s worth it, because then you bend over his desk – you gotta keep your back arched so your butt looks really good – and then he pulls down your panties….”

By now she had stopped playing with her books altogether, and was just staring at Susan, mouth gaping. She hadn’t known all of this! He took down your panties?! And saw you … exposed like that?! Her hands were shaking as the new knowledge ran through her like wild-fire.

Susan started to say more, and she was hanging on the words to come – but then the sounds of the door from the library opening cut across the barely started words. She panicked! She couldn’t be caught with these girls – they were smoking! She looked down at the pile of books with dismay building to terror – there was no way to get them all back in her bag in time! She had just started scooping them up ineffectually when she heard, from right behind her, the Headmaster’s voice saying her name, asking her, “What’s all this?”

She looked to the girls to see what they would say – and they were gone! They must have fled the courtyard while she was still flailing around with her books. And then she saw, on the table … several stubbed out cigarettes and scattered ash, blowing around a bit in the light breeze, as if to draw attention to themselves.

And so now here she sat, outside Mr. Sinclair’s office. She kept thinking about the way he had said her name in the courtyard. It wasn’t warm and friendly like he had said it before: when she turned in a neatly done assignment, when he praised her insight on a topic, or … in the hallway that time. No, this time his voice was cold and hard – it had chilled her, scared her, left her feeling alone and utterly friendless. The memory of it left her feeling the hard wood of the chair under her bottom all the more; the quiet of the waiting area was ominous.

Finally, the door to his office opened and he was standing in the doorway, gesturing to her to come in. She felt like she was about to be executed – she had never been so scared in her life! She had never, ever, been in trouble before!

He had only moved somewhat to the side, so she had to pass him quite closely as she walked through the door. He was looking down at her with such a distant expression that she thought she would loose control and start crying right there. She held herself together, though, because she didn’t want him to think she was a baby.

“Very well,” he said coldly to her. “You are in a lot of trouble, young lady.” She trembled. “Smoking on school grounds – in your school uniform – is simply disgraceful behavior. A student such as you should attempt to be an example to the rest of the student body. What kind of example do you think you were just now? A very bad one – brazenly disregarding fundamental school rules.”

Tears pricked her eyes. She should never have sat down with those girls! She knew they were bad news, she should have been strong and walked along, not listening to their vile gossip. Oh, she had indeed done badly, even if the Headmaster did not know exactly what her sin was, she still was in the wrong. It was the worst moment of her life.

“I must admit I am shocked and disappointed,” he continued, “I had expected so much more from you….” Now one tear leaked out – she could not hold it back. He had noticed her, had appreciated her! And now it was all over! He would never like her now. Never care for her….

He was looking closely at her. “I do not want to believe that you would do something like this. And indeed, you do not smell of cigarette smoke. It could be that you simply showed some very poor judgment in your study companions this afternoon….” Her heart jumped. He was so very wise! He would figure things out and then he would like her again! His voice seemed not-quite-so-cold as it had been….

“However, I did not see your companions. If you will tell me who they are, I will be able to speak with them and discover the truth of the matter.” He raised his pen, and looked at her, ready to write down the names.

The names rushed into her brain. She had hated Becky and Susan since they had started going to school together, years ago. They had used to call her names when they were all younger, but now they just acted like she was a non-person. Angie was new, but of the same mold, a girl who managed to act both snobby and slutty at the same time.

Their names were on her tongue, but she could not say them. That would be tattling, and she didn’t do that. She looked at him with mute pleading: that he would understand her situation, that maybe he could figure out who it was on his own….

“Come now,” he told her. “You’ll have to do better than that. I have to punish someone for smoking in the courtyard. Either you, whom I have caught apparently red-handed, or the real culprits. But for that, I need their names. Tell me them and I will let you off with only a warning not to get involved with troublemakers again. But if you don’t tell me …” his voice was suddenly sharp and very cold in her ears, “It will be the cane for you.”

Her jaw dropped. But – but – he knew she was innocent! How could he cane her for a crime she did not commit?! And – his eyes – even though his face was stern, his eyes were all twinkly, more than she’d ever seen before. Was he – happy? How could he be? What was going on?

There was no choice for it. She could not rat on someone, not even horrid creatures like Susan and Becky. She swallowed what seemed like a very huge lump in her throat, and managed her first words since she’d walked in his office, “Sir – I can’t – I am sorry.” It was all she could get out. She tried to express in the “sorry” exactly how regretful she was. But he didn’t seem to notice it. And for herself, she was suddenly hearing echos of Susan’s voice in her brain, “Then you bend over his desk – you gotta keep your back arched so your butt looks really good – and then he pulls down your panties….”

“Right,” he said, and got up very suddenly. She twisted her hands nervously as she watched him open a closet door in the back of his office, and she gasped to see a stand full of canes, and rows of straps hanging off the back of the door. He picked one cane right out stand, as if he knew among the multitude exactly which was which. He turned, and flexing the cane in his hands, he told her shortly, “Go to my desk. Bend over it.”

She felt almost nauseated with nerves. Numbly, she moved to the desk, as he had told her, and made herself lean over onto it. She felt afraid to rest her weight on it – it was his desk, after all – he spent every day at it. It felt so strange to just lay across it so abruptly and uncouthly.

It also felt strange knowing he was looking at her backside. Bent over like this, her skirt must be showing a good deal of the backs of her thighs. She could feel him looking at her. Her fear was diluted for a moment with those feelings she always felt when she was around him, but now a million times stronger. Perhaps this was not quite so terrible….

His hands had reached out and pulled her skirt above her waist, tucking it up. She shuddered. This was the first time he’d ever touched her – and for it to be this intimate of a touch! She could barely get her mind around the fact that next he would be – he was! – putting the tips of his fingers in the tops of her panties – against her very skin! – and pulling them slowly down. She stopped herself from moaning, just in time. She didn’t want him to think she was a slut, like those other girls! But, oh, she did wish he knew how she felt about him!

She didn’t have long to deal with the turmoil of those thoughts, however, for he started speaking again. “Since you have obviously never had problems with obedience before, you will not get a maximum punishment. However, due to the serious nature of this offence, it should be a discipline you remember. Therefore, I will give you six strokes of the cane.”

Six! That was so many! She didn’t even know how one would feel, although she imagined it was pretty terrible. Again, she wondered, “How can he do this to me?” but at the same time some under-part of her brain was reveling in the fact that she was bent over his desk, panties down at her knees (and slipping ever lower), exposing to him her naked bottom. And – from the feel of the cool air on her most intimate skin – even more than that! But it was okay – he had taken her panties off himself. She wasn’t a slut. She tried to focus on the fact that she was about to get caned. But it was hard when she was so naked and exposed for him.

Suddenly, her attention was focused for her. A horrible swishing sound happened behind her. She flinched – almost jumped off the table – but then she realized that she had not actually been hit. Would he hit her that hard?

Then she felt the cold length of the cane tapping lightly against her bottom. “Hit. Right. Here.” is what the taps seemed to say. She almost started to speak – to beg him not to, to offer up the names of the undeserving girls for whom she was taking this punishment. But thankfully he did not give her time.

The cane slammed into her at some unknown speed, and all she could do was gasp. And then pain … came up out of somewhere deep, and she didn’t know what to think or what to do with it. She just lay there in shock.

Again – she heard it-felt it-PAIN! This time she made some sort of cry, and grabbed the desk’s side instinctively, the shock of the first blow knocked away by the pain of the second. She panted like an animal in pain.

And again! Now she had learned to fear not the initial blow, as startling as it was, but those moments after it. And there they came, a multitude of indescribable sensations that swept away all rational thought from her mind, leaving her just in her pained body.

He stopped for a moment, and she gasped to get her breath under control: it was ragged and unsteady, and she realized she was half-sobbing.

“How many was that?” he asked her, still stern, but with depths in his voice she’d never heard before. “Three, Sir!” she choked out. “You’re doing well,” he told her, “Just three more now.”

The gift of it rushed through her. He told her she was doing well! She was doing well! He was pleased with her! A deep pleasure arose that had never come from turning in a paper or getting an “A – good work!” in his handwriting. And then she understood. She was not taking this punishment for those contemptible girls. She was taking it for him. He liked doing this – she could tell, even though he had not said anything of the sort. And if he liked it – she would do her best to make sure he liked doing it to her best of all – better than Susan or any other girl who had lain across this desk!

Was her back arched? She should make sure her bottom looked good! She pressed her belly to the table, and tilted her hips up a bit. Was that it?

It must have been – because the cane bit into her with even more passion than before. She cried out without control – and then managed to get back down to panting, feeling ashamed of the outburst even as stars still burst behind her eyes. She rested her forehead on the desk, trying to stay in control of herself, although she had to admit, honestly, that she wasn’t really doing a good job of that. Her legs shifted to help deal with the pain, and she tried to force herself to tilt her hips up again. And then she felt it.

The wetness between her legs that shocked her, first, for being there at all, and then secondly in the betrayal of her own body against her. Oh, he would think she was a slut indeed if he saw that! He could not! Oh, how to keep her terrible secret…!

While she still struggled with that, the cane surprised her again, catching her low on her bottom. She yelled out, really getting out of control now. She tried to gather herself in – just one more now and it was all done – but she found she could not. She felt tears running down from her eyes up her face to pool on the table. There was nothing she could do….

She felt his hand, suddenly, stroking the weals. She felt his nearness with all of her self. He felt along each stroke, all over her ass. She shivered, and again held in a moan. She was getting wetter, too. Oh, if he just kept his hand away from ….

Too late! He gave a muffled sound of surprise, and his fingers dipped into the crevice between her cheeks. “What’s this?” he asked her, as his fingers spread the sticky juices around. She did moan now – just like a whore, but it was too late – he knew it all now. “Well – you have quite a secret you’ve been hiding there, don’t you?” His voice was definitely warmer, and it gave her hope. Maybe it would be okay, somehow?

“You’ll like this last one then,” he promised her, and she wasn’t at all sure of that, but she didn’t care anymore – if he would touch her like that again. He stepped back, leaving her feeling all swollen with desire – and, taking a moment to line things up, gave her the worst strike of all. She screamed shamelessly – but wasn’t she shameless now, anyway? She didn’t understand what was going on, but that was not an issue anymore because he had put down the cane and come back to her with both hands running over the raised lines of aching flesh, telling her how good she was, what a good job she’d done taking all that. She luxuriated in both the touch and the words – she didn’t think she’d ever been so happy. She was crying, and she kept right on – not really making much noise beyond an occasional sob prompted by a rougher touch of the weals. She didn’t move – she was so scared he’d stop – so she lay there and let him touch her all he wanted.

His fingers slid over her cheeks again, and one hand played idly over the welts while the other hand’s fingers moved right to where the wet was coming from, and then slide inside her.

She moaned again, uncontrollably, and came on his fingers. She could hear his breathing speed up, and his fingers started moving deeper and faster, making her come over and over. “Oh! Oh –” she cried out, as shocked by these sensations as the ones she’d just experienced from the cane. “Oh?” he asked her, and deftly made her come again.

It was a question that was still in the air as he withdrew his fingers and pressed himself against her. She could feel under the rough fabric of his trousers how hard he was. She felt herself pushing back against him to let him know her answer – and while she shocked herself, she was glad that she was completely out of control so that she could freely let him know how she felt – what she needed.

She heard the belt unfasten, the zipper pulled down, and the rustle of fabric. She felt what must be his cock – his cock! – slide across the welts on her ass. It was so silky, yet so hard – she had never known that cocks felt so smooth!

He placed himself at her opening, and she had a moment of hoping he had felt – that he knew what he was going to do to her. She had of course dreamed of him taking her virginity, yet she had never really dared to think it would happen.

He pushed the head of it inside her – she was tight, but the fingering he’d given her had lubed up her labia enough to let him slide in. But as he pressed his cock further inside her, she started to feel a burning sensation, of being stretched too much. The pain rose, with her gasping as much from the pain as from the excitement of being penetrated for the first time – by the only man she’d ever wanted to be doing just that. She was so tight that he had to pull out and get a better angle – and then he thrust in again – hard – with the intention of getting his full length inside her. Oh! The pain shot through her and she started to cry, again.

This only seemed to swell his cock all the harder. He groaned, and started up a rhythm. The pain decreased, and the thought that he now had taken her virginity aroused her so much – and that he was even now sliding his cock in and out of her while she lay over his desk, marked by his cane – that she could not help but feel the pleasure increasing inside her and mingling with the pain.

He grabbed her hips and moved faster, and she moaned as his body slamming against her ass sent shootings of pain up from the weals. But all sensations were one now – pain and pleasure both combined to make her orgasm on his cock, first once, in a sudden start of sweet rushing pleasure, and then again and again, squeezing him within her.

She was gasping for air, unable to cry aloud anymore, by the time he sped up still further and made the most beautiful sound she had ever heard. She felt him go rigid for a moment – everywhere – and then he let his body fold down onto hers. She listened to him breathing and started crying a little more, no sobbing now: just tears of happiness streaming down her face.

Through the tears, she looked over and saw the cane. She hoped her next paper would get not only an “A” but a “Please see me after school to discuss,” as well. Why shouldn’t girls get disciplined for being good as well as bad?

Lexie walked down the empty school hallway filled with excited anticipation. All the other students were gone for the day, but Mr. Sinclair had asked her to come see him when school was over … and she couldn’t have planned things any better if she’d tried!

Ever since her parents had moved her to this stupid country, everything had sucked. It was always gray and rainy and cold – not like California. The food was all wrong, and she missed burrito shops and gourmet pizza and vegetarian food (it had been really fun to make her dad suffer through tofu for a few months while she went through her “vegan” phase.) And she missed all her friends – she’d had lots back in California but here she hadn’t made any. Everyone spoke with those stupid accents, and way too fast at that, and when teachers asked her a question or other kids said something to her, she always missed some important word or two, and then everyone treated her like a total ‘tard when she asked what they’d said.

And the school! She’d been in twelfth grade back in America and somehow now she was a “sixth former” – what the hell was that about? And the classes were way harder than the ones back home, where she could spend class gossiping and checking out the hotter guys in the class, and still get straight “A”s. And her friends back home – at first they listened to her tales of misery and the suck-ass-ed-ness of it all with sympathy and a “Wow – that blows!’ at every pause. But now they didn’t seem to care anymore – they were dating hot guys that should have been hers, and they didn’t even have time to catch her up with the vital 411 – like they didn’t even care anymore.

And the teachers! Back in CA, she had some hot teachers. That guy who taught health class wore these really tight jeans…. But here, all the teachers were old and gross. Well … except for Mr. Sinclair. Read the rest of this entry »