Dazed and contused

And blissful. Don’t forget blissful.

(Yes, this is a long read. You know the drill. Get a beverage.)

You know, I got the green light from him to mention him by name. But you know me; I tend to err on the side of discretion. And he has an unusual name. So, just in case, for now, I shall refer to him as B. If he chooses to comment on here and reveal his name, then that’s okay too.

B is someone I’ve known for a few years, seen at parties, bantered with a bit on FetLife, but we’ve never played. Which is kind of a shame, considering we live near one another. But it’s just one of those things that didn’t happen. Plus, he has a very busy life, works a lot of hours. And he’s a newlywed with a beautiful bride. (Yes, she is kinky too. Yes, she knew we played. All is copacetic.)

We’d met for coffee a couple of weeks ago to talk, and agreed we both wanted to play. He said I was welcome to come to his house, and since parking on my street is such a nightmare, I thought yes, that would be perfect. We had set it up for last Friday, but he’d gotten called in to work that day, so we switched it to Saturday at 1:00.

I have not been playing, obviously. I haven’t doing much of anything, besides working, going through the motions of functioning, and mourning John. It’s only been recently that I had felt the stirrings of need to play again. But of course, along with that came the bombardment of insecurity and self-consciousness.

I haven’t wanted to be seen lately. I’ve felt drab, deflated, colorless, sad. When I took a selfie, I’d smile, but my smiles never reached my eyes. And I certainly didn’t feel attractive or sexy. Grief takes a toll on one’s psyche for sure. John was so very affectionate with me — always touching me in some way, holding my hand, putting his arm around me, cuddling with me, nuzzling me with his nose, which always made me giggle. I’d gone from that to no touch at all for a very long time. Skin hunger is real.

I also wondered what kind of tolerance I’d have… if I’d have any. If it would feel the same. If I’d be able to handle it without breaking down into a million blubbering pieces.

Oh… and this shouldn’t matter, but dammit, it does. He’s a lot younger than I am. I mean, a lot. And he’s a very tall and attractive man. I was texting with my dear friend and sis Lily Starr before the event, and I confessed that I couldn’t believe he wanted to play with me. (sigh) And she said:

“Of course he wants to play with you. You’re Erica Fucking Scott.”

I laughed out loud. And then thought, goddammit, she’s right. I’m still here. I’m still me. Down but not out. And I’m going to have fun. Because I damn well deserve to.

I showed up at 1:00, and when B opened the door, I was greeted by his behemoth of a dog, a big friendly bundle of part pit bull, part Rottweiler and part something else that’s huge, I forget. And who thinks he’s a lap dog. You know me and dogs… I was in instant heaven. There was a cat, too, but I didn’t get to give him any attention. I tried once; held out my hand to him, and he approached to sniff. But before he could even come close, the dog came barreling over and plowed his way between us. “No! You will not pay attention to anything but ME!”

We chatted a little, and searched for his phone, which he had misplaced, but we couldn’t find it. I even tried calling his phone with mine, but he must have had it silenced. So, of course, it became my fault that he couldn’t find his phone. And then we got down to it.

It was a lovely, multi-part scene, in various rooms and even outside in the back yard. Nice long warmup, strap, and cane — I can’t remember the last time I was caned. Oh, yes, I can — New Year’s Eve, 2022. Long time. But I took it well, I think. And I needn’t have worried about my tolerance. It kicked in immediately, and I found myself craving more and more. In fact, when he said something about wrapping it up, I protested. “What, that’s it?” I blurted. “We’re just getting started!” Okay then. He was happy to oblige.

Ever try to do a serious spanking scene with a giant galoot of a dog hanging around and kissing you? It can’t be done. I spent roughly half our scene laughing my head off. The dog kept coming over, licking my face, my arm, my shoulder. Or he’d park himself on the couch behind us and lick my feet. B was laughing and saying “Leave Erica Scott alone!” (He refers to me as Erica Scott, the whole name. It’s cute. I like it.)

I felt so comfortable, it was easy to let my playful side come back out. B kept moving me around, switching positions, and finally I snapped, “Would you make up your fucking mind??” Oh my. That immediately pushed us into the “That’s it, now you’re really gonna get it” zone. Which, of course, I love.

He finished me with a hard strapping, and that was the first time I found myself struggling a little. At one point I asked him please to slow down a bit, which he did right away, and then I was able to continue. Funny how, even in my peak days, I could take it hard, I could take it fast, but hard and fast at the same time overwhelmed me and still does.

Aftercare was lovely. He held me, rubbed lotion on me, let me come back down to Earth. I was a bit dazed and spacey, to say the least. But amazingly, I didn’t cry. I thought for sure when I played again, I would break down and bawl. But the urge never came. I just felt giddy and blissful. And alive.

I left around 4:00; he had someplace he needed to be, so I had to pull myself together and be on my way. Since we never did find his phone, I promised I’d take pictures when I got home. Which I did.

Ouch. So delightfully sore. I was in a happy, ditzy space for the rest of the evening. Oh, and I was starving, so I stuffed myself at dinner, and had chocolate cake for dessert. Everything tasted sublime.

Oh, and here I am in all my disheveled glory that evening. Hair still rumpled, makeup gone… and miracle of miracles, my smile reaches my eyes this time.

It’s been two days, and I’ve faded somewhat, but I still have marks. Which is fine with me.

Thank you, B. For bringing Erica Scott back out to play. For making me feel safe and comfortable. And for being so lovely and toppy and taking such delicious control. 🙂

In other news… I got through my first Valentine’s Day without John. It was not easy; very emotional day. Friends wrote and texted me, and were very supportive. My grief group met that night, and we all brought pictures of our loved ones to pass around. Many of us cried. My dear SIS Jay, who knew I’d be missing John’s flowers and chocolate, made sure I got some anyway.

And look! A week later, and they’re still gorgeous — even prettier now that the lilies opened.

This past weekend was the Oasis party in Vegas. I admit I felt FOMO, especially looking at all the posts and pictures on FetLife. There are some people I would have liked to see. But I have to stay grounded in reality. And the reality would have been that I’d be utterly miserable and sad there, missing John. It was one thing to go by myself, knowing that he was waiting for me when I came home. And even that was tough. But now? Ugh, I’d feel so apart, so alone. It’s just not something I can do anymore. So, that part of my life is done.

But I will not deny myself pleasure. I need this in my life. And hopefully, it will continue. There will be more sadness, because I lost the love of my life and nothing will change that. But I’m still here. And I must find my joy again too.

Thanks for reading. ♥

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