For my Easter-celebrating friends…

Hope you’re having a great day, bunnies!

Have fun on your Easter egg hunts:

Enjoy your Easter ham, or lamb, or whatever you choose to eat. And don’t forget dessert: Chocolate-covered snot eggs!

OK, so some people call these Cadbury Creme Eggs. I think my description is more fitting. :-Þ

I know I posted this last year, but I still think it’s none of Beulah’s freaking business:

(Fortunately, a lot more often than Easter, thankyouverymuch.)

And finally, cute as it may be, please don’t do this to your dog.

And don’t even think about doing it to your cat. You’ll probably lose an eye.

Happy Easter. 🙂

Asked & Answered!

It’s March 29, so Q&A month is nearly over. I figured I would take some time today to answer the questions some of you posed to me. I didn’t get a whole lot of people, but several of you asked more than one question, so this will probably be a long entry.

MrJ: So: what are the 2, 3 most interesting changes in the spanking world that you have observed since you got involved? Etiquettes; networks; habits, whatever?

The changes in the video industry, certainly. With the advent of streaming content, Spanking Tube, etc., there is a whole lot more available for viewers than ever before. Shooting a video used to be a big production; now, more often, it’s quick clips, no scripts, no elaborate story line. Also, the party scene has grown tremendously. It used to be that Shadow Lane and Crimson Moon were the only games in town, as far as big weekend parties were concerned. Now we have BBW, FMS, TASSP, and several other smaller groups; many more chances for spankos to congregate en masse. And finally, blogging has changed the posting world. It used to be all about forums and groups (Yahoo and MSN, the now-defunct SSS), but these days, blogs (and picture collections) are in the forefront.

MrJ: Why do you prefer winter over summer?

I don’t like sunshine and heat. My happiest, most serene days are cloudy, gray and cool. Granted, I live in CA, where we don’t have much of a winter. But I relish our rainy, dark days. I sleep better when it’s cool. And I love it when it gets dark at 5:00! Daylight lasting until 8:00 annoys the hell out of me. Yes, I’m weird.

Lea: First, how many implements has your iron ass caused to bite the dust? 😉 Second, what piece of advice would you give to someone new to this?

Ha! I haven’t kept count over the years. Several canes, yardsticks, hairbrushes, and a few miscellaneous items. Oh, and this butter paddle (from Spanking Epics, The Puritan):

It’s difficult to choose one piece of advice for a newbie, since there is so much information. But I would say, “It’s your body, it’s your kink, it’s your choice. Do what feels right to you; listen to your inner voice, rather than what others may dictate to you about how you should do things. If something doesn’t feel or sound right, then chances are, it isn’t. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do, or play with anyone you don’t want to. EVER.”

Jade: Do you think it’s best to get a warm-up first before getting spanked with hard implements like the tawse or hairbrush? Is it just a myth that having lotion rubbed on your bottom before a hard spanking stops the skin from tearing open? How many videos have you been in altogether? 

1. Absolutely, I am a big fan of warm-ups. I realize that some think they have no place in pure discipline scenes, but even a brief one helps the body and mind prepare for harder play. 2. I couldn’t say; every situation is different. But it seems that if the skin is very dry, it would break more easily. I don’t see a downside in using lotion (although some say it increases the sting!). 3. I had to think about that one a while! If I’m recalling correctly, between full-length videos and several smaller clips, I believe I’ve done 34 total.

Anonymous: Does having a blog ever get sort of “cumbersome” in that when you’re experiencing things, instead of just letting go and experiencing the present, you’re already thinking about how you’ll write about it?

I wouldn’t say cumbersome, since I love blogging. But sometimes, yes, I catch myself thinking about blogging while in the middle of a spanking experience. Not necessarily writing it out in my mind, though. More like, something happens, something is said, etc., and I think, “Oh! I’ll need to remember that for the blog!” But if I catch myself ruminating too much, I repeat Alex’s mantra of “Be here, now” in my head and force myself to focus.

Anonymous: I don’t intend for this be be a nasty question, but I know it’s not every one’s cup of tea, or water. But I’m just curious. Does the spanking thing ever get old, boring or mundane and have you ever considered a different fetish for a change of pace? For example, something like doing an enema video? I know Enemarotica is always looking for fresh, talented and beautiful women. You are a gorgeous lady and it would be a huge hit with at least one of your biggest fans. And I’m sure such a video would be a best seller and make a lot of money.

Fair enough. First, spanking never gets old for me. I might have my times when I don’t feel like it, but overall, it would be like sex or chocolate getting old. Or breathing. 🙂 Second, I never did videos for the money or the selling appeal, although I was certainly happy if they did well. I did them because they brought me joy, and there was something so perversely delightful about getting paid for doing something I loved anyway. There are a lot of things I could have done in order to shoot more (topping, F/F, other fetishes, etc.), but  that wouldn’t have been fun for me. As for enemas — remember, I had eating disorders for 20 years. I abused my body with laxatives, enemas and diuretics to purge myself of a couple of pounds so I’d be happy when I stepped on the scale. So enemas do not have a sexy connotation to me in the least. Not going there on video or in private.

Kaelah: Your relationship with John is an open one in the sense that you are both free to participate in kinky play with others. Could you imagine to give up that freedom under any circumstances?

The short and easy answer is no. But yes, easy for me to say when I don’t have to make that decision. However, I don’t think I could sacrifice that freedom and joy of playing with others. I love John dearly, but he does not fully meet my kink needs (nor I his), and I can’t see being in a relationship where I couldn’t indulge my need for spanking. I went without it for too many years; I won’t go without it again.

Ronnie: Who would you want to play the role of you in a movie? What’s your least favourite implement?

I’ll answer the second one first, ’cause that’s easier! 🙂 It would be a toss-up between those thick, thuddy wooden frat paddles and anything made of rubber. You might think that because rubber is flexible, it feels somewhat like leather. NOT!!

The first question is a toughie. I was thinking about a lot of the mainstream actresses around these days, and they’re too young and classically beautiful (Angelina, Scarlet, Anne Hathaway). It would have to be someone kind of quirky, who could handle sarcastic humor and laughing at herself, but could keep it real for the serious scenes. Maybe Sandra Bullock?

Anonymous: Is there anyone in the spanking film industry you would like to play with that you haven’t had the chance to work with up until now? Second question: Is there any scenario or script you would like to role play (either on film or in your personal life) that you haven’t done before?

Don’t even have to think about the first question; Eric Strickman, AKA Uncle Eric. I’ve never met him (although we’ve chatted online), but I would certainly love to. Have had a little spanko crush on him for years! Here he is spanking Samantha Woodley:

As for the second question — you know, I need to come up with some new ideas. I’ve been so lucky, being able to play out so many of my favorite fantasies and scenarios (the damsel in distress, the older bottom/younger top, etc.), and I need to refresh my spanko bucket list. One scenario I always thought would make a cute video (and I haven’t seen it to this date, although it may exist), would be an irresponsible taxpayer being audited by an IRS agent.

Loki: I was always curious as to the reasons behind your weekly play. Why do you do it and would it be a good idea for others?

I didn’t always have these weekly sessions. For many years, when John and I were going to a lot more local parties and I was shooting now and then, I got a lot more spanking fixes and I only played one-on-one in my apartment periodically. I had play partners, but I would see them every couple of months or so. The regular thing started with Danny; he and I would see one another every other Monday. And then when I started playing with ST, his schedule was completely conducive to seeing each other weekly, so we did so. It just sort of evolved.

A lot of spankos are involved in relationships where they play regularly with their mate (particularly DD/HOH couples). John and I don’t have that dynamic. And I crave spanking — it fulfills me on so many levels. Hence, I find that the weekly intense fix helps me deal with the dearth of parties and shoots and so forth. Plus, I love the deep connection I have been able to forge with my tops in recent years; something that isn’t quite as achievable with once-in-a-while play. I can’t speak to whether or not it would work for others, but it certainly does for me. 🙂

And finally —

Bobbie Jo: When are you going to write that book about the CHoS?

I need to, don’t I. (sigh) I certainly have enough material for it! It’s a matter of organizing and categorizing it into sub-chapters, then fleshing it out with explanatory writing. It would certainly be a different type of book in the spanking realm. At first I thought I should next write a full-length spanking romance novel (you know, kind of like Fifty Shades of Grey, but with good writing?). But now, it seems everyone and their kinky cousin is doing that. Anything I could produce would just get lost in the steamy shuffle. 

Yes, I really need to do this. It’s a matter of finding (or making) the time.

Thank you, everyone who posted a question! Hope i answered to your satisfaction.

Have a great weekend, y’all.

Overwhelmed with kindness

Don’t worry, kids. One of these days I will get back on topic. No Chrossing for me this week, for sure! I was going to write up a nice long post of answers to the questions some of you posed to me, but I’m postponing that. Instead, I want to reflect on how kind people can be. I bitch a lot about cluelessness, small-mindedness and idiocy, so every now and then I need to switch up the focus.

Thank you to everyone who commented on my past couple of blogs, and thank you as well to those who read them. My blog hits soared the past couple of days, which almost never happens except when I’m Chrossed. I guess a lot of people could relate to the subject matter. Anyway, I’ve been really touched by the kind and thoughtful words people have shared with me, both on and off the blog.

Yesterday, when I was in that fragile, post-meltdown state, I got an unexpected email from, of all people, John’s co-worker. One line: “John said you needed this,” and he’d attached a photo. It was a picture of his 18-month-old daughter, sitting in a sandbox, seriously focused on her bright purple plastic pail. John knows there are few things in life that make me smile bigger than an adorable toddler. I may not want my own children, but I definitely appreciate how cute other people’s kids are! That picture lifted my spirits.

Later when I spoke with John, I mentioned how all my new computer components are sitting in boxes on my living room floor (I have to make an appointment with my computer guy to set everything up, transfer files, etc.). John said, “Excellent! Let’s celebrate your new computer,” and he suggested we go to one of our favorite restaurants on Friday. Then he said to remind him to go to the bank on Saturday so he could cash a check. Yes, he’s buying this computer for me. What a guy, huh? ♥ 

Today, I received a beautiful PM from a friend who wishes to remain anonymous, but I got permission to quote part of it, because it’s too lovely to keep all to myself:

I just want to tell you that despite your needs, which are many, but don’t all of us have lots of needs?, I think you have turned into a tremendously strong woman. My God, you are a writer, and in some ways you are the doyenne of spanking women. So many women look up to you for how to act in a classy way at a spanking party, and so many men crave to be around you at a spanking party. You glow at the parties and you set a standard of beauty and playfulness.

I do believe I’m speechless after that, so I will end here. 

Friends are the antidote to life’s occasional suckage. I love you. Thank you for loving me.

FINE

You know that old cliché about how you should never believe a woman when she says she’s “fine”? What nonsense. When I tell you I’m fine, I’m fine. In fact, I’m not just fine, I’m FINE.

Fucked up, Insecure, Neurotic & Emotional.

No, I can’t take credit for that one.

There was another reason why I was sad this weekend, but I didn’t want to get into it last night on the blog. After Saturday, I really, really wanted to have some quiet, quality time with John yesterday. I wanted our usual brunch time very much. However, his sister had called him and asked him to trade days with her this week. So… he was taking his mother to lunch yesterday.

You’re asking, “Why didn’t you go with them?” Simple. I am done with seeing John’s mother. I did it every Saturday for seven years, and I can’t do it anymore. She complains constantly, and after what my mother went through, and what my stepfather is still going through (without complaining, I might add), I can’t stand to listen to it. I’m afraid I’ll lose my temper one of these times.

It nearly happened, right before my mother died. We picked John’s mom up one Saturday, and she asked how my mother was. I said, “Well… unfortunately, she’s in end-stage hospice right now. She’s dying.” She didn’t say, “Oh, that’s terrible,” or “Oh, I’m sorry.” What she said was, “Oh… Me too!” Before I could catch my breath, John intervened with a quiet but very firm, “No, Mom, you are not dying.” But shortly after that occurrence, I knew I was done with this. So, I went to lunch yesterday by myself, and then went home. I figured, it’s OK. It’s one day. I’ll see Mr. D in the morning, and everything will be all right again.

Then this morning came. He was due at 10, and I’d been ready since 9:30. But… to make a long story short, he overbooked his schedule this morning, and things ran late. Between that, the traffic, and the struggle to find parking because my goddamned street has no parking on Monday from 10 to noon, he came to my door at 11:45.

I was beside myself. I didn’t want him to see it. I hate when I get like that. So I struggled and struggled to keep it together, taking deep breaths and looking everywhere but at him. I managed to tell him that this was really, really unfortunate timing, and I’d needed him to be on time. It was a bad weekend and I was not doing well. I apologized for overreacting.

“Don’t apologize,” he said. “You have absolutely nothing to apologize for. This one is mine; I f@&ked up this morning.” I still couldn’t look at him. If I looked at those kind, concerned eyes, I’d lose it. But then he quietly asked, “Do you want me to go?” And I lost it anyway. 

The short version? We did not play today. Instead, he stayed with me for four hours, and I spent about three of them crying. I just couldn’t stop. He was so sweet to me… hugged me, smoothed my hair, got tissues and wiped my eyes and face, let me talk about everything. And I was so damned embarrassed, I wanted to hide from him.

Funny about depression and sadness. As much as I crave attention, as much as I want to be seen, I don’t want to be seen at all when I feel this bad. I wish I could be invisible, simply disappear out of sight until I get a hold of myself. So no one can see what I consider the raw ugliness.

Somewhere in the midst of it, I hiccuped, “Well, in case you weren’t aware of it, this is what depression looks like.”

“Hmm,” he mused. “You know, it’s not scaring me off. Not at all. I told you, I’m not going anywhere.”

Later, when I had calmed down a bit and was starting to feel the shame of the emotional fallout, I apologized to him again. And once again, he told me I had nothing to apologize for, and he was so sorry he added to the stress of my weekend.

I sighed. “You shouldn’t have to deal with this. You didn’t sign on for all this drama — you wanted a play partner.”

“Yeah,” he replied. “And look what I got instead… this beautiful woman.”

Oh, Jesus Christ. If I cried one more fucking tear, I was going to dry up and blow away.

Emotional excess is exhausting. When he left, I knew there was no way in hell I was going to the gym. Not today. I had precisely enough energy left to take a shower. And even that was a stretch.

He asked if I’d like him to come back tomorrow, and we’d play. Tempting as that is, I said no. Since today was a complete wash, tomorrow I need to be an adult and do stuff. I need to work. I need to work out. 

Should I have pushed forward and scened with him today? Maybe. But I don’t think so. My head was in the wrong place, and sometimes, spanking is not the answer. (Did I just say that???) Better I should wait until we can both fully relish it. Today, I needed kindness, an ear, a pair of arms.

And because I got it, tomorrow will be better. Thank you, Mr. D.

OT: A bit sad

Please forgive me while I talk about life a bit, y’all. I am sad tonight. Nothing that I can do about it, and it will pass. I feel like talking about it, and yet I don’t want to bother anyone with it. So I will put it here for whomever chooses to read it.

My stepfather turned 95 on Friday. Freaking ninety-five!! We drove out to his place yesterday to take him to dinner. He was happy to see us, making his usual jokes and not complaining at all, but I still ached for him. He’s so feeble now, so stooped over, walks very slowly with a cane. It takes him a long time to get up and down, but he never asks for help. He is not supposed to drive anymore, but he still does once in a while. He had someone coming over a few times a week to help him out, but that didn’t work out at all and now he’s completely on his own again. He can’t even take a bath anymore, which he used to love, because once he gets in the tub, he can’t get himself back out. His eyes have gotten so bad, he can’t read anymore — something else he loved. What the hell kind of life is this?? He forces himself to eat, because he’s never hungry anymore. He used to be a strong, strapping man of 6′ 2″ and about 180-190 pounds. Now he weighs 149. Christ… I used to weigh more than 149.

He misses my mother. I wish I could say the same, but truthfully, I do not. I miss who she was, but I said goodbye to that person years ago. I wish I felt some sort of connection to her, wanted something that was hers. But my mother and I never had the same taste in things; not in decor, not in clothes, not in jewelry or accessories. She wore pins and brooches and chunky beads; I like delicate necklaces and bracelets. She loved scarves; I don’t get scarves, or how to wear them, at all.

When she was still somewhat lucid, she used to tell me, over and over, that she wanted me to have her pearls. I knew nothing of these pearls or what they looked like, but she kept talking about them and I knew it meant a lot to her that I should have them. However, she couldn’t remember where she put them.

After she passed away and M was asking me if I wanted anything, I mentioned the pearls, but he knew nothing about them and had no idea where they were either. Recently, after she’d been gone for nine months, he finally found an old jewelry case high on a forgotten shelf. In it were several pairs of costume earrings and a few pins. And a double-strand choker of pearls.

So, he finally gave them to me this weekend. I waited to feel something; a thrill, a connection, a sense of continuation from mother to daughter, an eagerness to wear them myself.

I felt nothing. Sure, they’re pretty. But they’re not my style at all.

The clasp was intricate and complicated, and neither John nor I could get it open. So I wrapped the pearls up in a paper towel and put them in my purse. After we said good night and left, John promptly fell asleep in the passenger seat. I cried quietly for about a third of the 1-1/4 hour ride back home, making sure I didn’t awaken him. I’m not sure why. I just felt so damn sad and sorry for my stepdad. But I didn’t feel like talking about it; I needed to focus on the drive.

When we got home, John asked for the pearls and after playing with a clasp for a while, he finally got it open, and he immediately put them around my neck. Again, I waited to feel something. They were cold, very heavy and uncomfortable on my neck, and that was all. I couldn’t wait to take them off.

This makes me sad. I have things of my father’s that I love: some of his books, his poems, one of his Emmys, pictures. But nothing of my mother’s connects me to her, emotionally. Not even those pearls.

As you might remember, a few months ago, my stepmother gave me a necklace that she’d worn for 50 years. I loved it from the first moment I saw it, and I feel such pride and joy in wearing it. She’s not even related to me, and yet her piece of jewelry means more to me than my mother’s. If my mom knew this, it would break her heart.

I guess it’s a good thing that she’s not here to know.

I wish it were different. But it isn’t, and that’s just how things go sometime. I can’t conjure up a sentimentality I don’t feel.

Anyway. I am seeing Mr. D tomorrow morning, same as last week. I don’t even care about the schedule flip-flop. I need to see him, and sooner is better than later. My head is spinning on my shoulders and needs to be screwed back on.

Later this week, I will write up my answers to your questions. Meanwhile, it’s not too late to post one, here.

Rant: You want to do WHAT to yourself??

OK, kids. It’s been a while since I posted anything controversial. Lest you think I’m mellowing in my advanced age, never fear. I have just as many “WTF???” moments as ever. And lately, I’ve had a few over some of the stuff people do to their bodies.

Yes, I know. Don’t judge. Live and let live. We all have different ways of expressing ourselves. Blah blah blah. I get that. But come on. There are some things that permanently alter the body in ways that can be only described as mutilation. I can understand the desire for pain; I certainly have it to some degree. But I do not want permanent damage or alteration to my flesh.

No, I’m not talking about tattoos. I have no issue with tats, even though I don’t have any myself. As long as you think carefully about what you want forever inked on your skin (in other words, don’t do it on impulse, on a bet, or in a drunken stupor), and do it safely, then have at it, I say. If I were to get a tattoo, I know exactly what I’d choose. A “tramp stamp” (on the small of the back, just above the bottom) of a pair of lips puckered into a kiss, and underneath that, an arrow pointing downward. 🙂

I’m not talking about piercings, either. OK, some of them are extreme. I can’t help but shudder when I see rings through nose cartilage or studs on tongues. But here’s the good news about piercings: If you get sick of them, you can let them heal up and go away. Should the day come when you decide you’re sick of jewelry snagging on clothing and tearing your pink bits, you can remove it and the holes will reseal.

This, however, will NOT reseal:

What in God’s name possesses people to do this to their earlobes? And this wasn’t even the largest hole I saw while perusing pictures. And if you think this is unattractive, you should see what the flesh looks like when you take the jewelry out. And you’re stuck with that. Forever. Unless you have some sort of elaborate cosmetic surgery to repair it.

Why stop there, people? Why not slit the earlobe vertically, pierce both pieces and hang little weights on each one? Then, after the earlobe pieces have stretched into strings, you can tie them together into a bow. How festive! You could paint them red at Christmas time. Or blue for Hanukkah, if you’re so inclined.

I’m also not going to touch on the spectrum of burning/branding/scarring. My mind can’t wrap about that and I don’t want to offend anyone. But there is a specific form of body alteration that I can’t comprehend to save my life, and it begs for a hearty “WTF????” It’s a form of penile mutilation, called subincision. Essentially, it’s a split dick. The underside of the penis is split lengthwise. Deliberately.

I will spare you the photos of that. But I’ve seen one, up close and personal. It was at a BDSM party (naturally), and a young man in attendance was fully naked. The first thing one noticed about him was the multiple piercings, everywhere. All over his face, several on his ears, his nipples, his genitalia. The guy had more metal on him than a Kay Jewelers. But when he showed us his subincision, I damn near ran from the room. 

“Oh, my god,” I hissed to John. “How… why? How does he pee??”

“Sitting down,” John replied. I will never forget that image. And I can’t help but wonder what happens when this guy gets a little older and regrets his youthful folly. Sure, all his piercings will heal if he wants. But that split dick is forever.

Earlier this week, I saw a funny e-card that read: “The newest rising trend is anal bleaching. Good idea, since some assholes really need to lighten up.” I laughed. Then thought, “Wait a minute. Anal bleaching? WTF??”

So I Googled it, and sure enough, it’s real. They actually do it in salons. It started out as a porn star thing, but it’s not just for porn stars anymore.

Who the hell even thinks about stuff like this?? WHY? I mean, has a woman ever been rejected because her back door is the wrong hue? Maybe in an HBO version of Seinfeld:

Jerry: Betty Jean is really hot, but I’m gonna have to dump her.
George: Why??
Jerry: Well, ya know, it’s her a$$hole. It’s too dark.
George. Oh. Yeah. Hate the dark a$$hole.

I also read further about the damage that can be inflicted upon that oh-so-tender tissue if the procedure is done improperly. Yeah, don’t try this at home with a mirror and a bottle of Clorox.

Better yet, don’t do it at all. Just say no to ass bleach.

Yeah, I suppose I’ve offended some body modifiers, and I regret that. But I really do wish some of the extremists would think very carefully about how permanent these alterations are. You have one body, and you have to live in it the rest of your days. It’s your house, not your amusement park.

Rant over. Have a great weekend, y’all. OH! And happiest of birthdays to our very own Wolfie! 😀