Brief interruption here…

Just breaking off from the goings-on of the day to say that it looks like I’m playing tomorrow for the first time in what feels like forever and I’m excited and I’m nervous AF and I can’t concentrate on my work to save my @#$%ing life and why isn’t it tomorrow yet and what should I wear and and and…

deep breath

Okay. Back to work. It’s been a brutal week, emotionally, but I am so hoping it will end with a dose of joy and much-needed feel-good chemicals.

Stay tuned…

EDIT 2/15: Late afternoon today has been rescheduled to 1:00 tomorrow. Stay tuned a little longer…

Good things DO come to those who wait

And thank you to a dear friend who just told me that and gave me my blog title. ♥

The waiting ended up delivering; I heard from both B and D on Tuesday morning. First, I am in possession of a flight reservation up north next Wednesday to see B. Now that all the travel unknowns are knowns (yeah, I know that’s not a word, too bad), I know I will still have butterflies, but more of the good kind, as opposed to the “how many different ways can I eff this up” kind.

But that will be a story for next week. Yesterday, I played with D for the first time.

He emailed me on Tuesday morning and asked if I could play Thursday at around five. I had some things planned, but I was able to shift stuff around and I told him yes. We exchanged some more emails — he said maybe you can pick out some implements you like and put them out on the side for me to use after I warm you up. I replied that I could, but maybe I could just leave them where they are and if he wanted them, he could get them himself. 😛 Testing the waters, you know. I still wasn’t quite sure how he feels about playful bratting; I thought perhaps he liked it, but you never know until you actually do play. He also mentioned that he’d seen some of my video pictures where I was wearing garters and stocking, and if I was comfortable doing so, would I wear some for him. That was an easy enough request, one I was happy to do. My final note to him on Tuesday evening was “*sigh* Is it Thursday yet?”

The next day (Wednesday) I was climbing the freaking walls. I had set aside the whole day to just stay home and get stuff done; laundry, some cleaning, and lots of work. But the whole damn time I was squirming in my computer chair, with this endless litany in my head… Why isn’t it Thursday. Why isn’t it Thursday. And in the midst of this, an email popped in from him, one line:

Don’t worry, Thursday is approaching fast. I shall see you soon.

OMFG. What timing. How did he know??

Yesterday arrived. I got up early, had breakfast and did a couple of hours of work. Or I tried to, at least. He was torturing me, sending me a picture of a ruler from his desk. He said that rules — and wills — are meant to be broken. I sent back that so are ruleRs, and I was notorious for breaking things, sending a pic of me with a snapped cane.

Around noon, I gave up on work and took a break to do a workout, which I would have done anyway, but I really needed it now. By the time I was done with that and had showered, it was 2:00, so I still had time to do some work before I got ready.

My friend J was texting me to tease me a bit; at 4:00, I get “Only one hour to go!” I texted back: “Do you know how hard it is to put on makeup when your hands are shaking??” It’s true. I thought I was going to put my damn eye out.

By 4:30, I was nearly ready, and I was too wound up to work, so I went to catch up with Words With Friends. When I pulled up my move, I saw my letters were E B E T H R A. I don’t believe in messages, but if I did, this surely was one. My mind instantly rearranged the letters, and I got this:

A good reminder, no? (I was able to play the word, too, tacking the second E onto the T in TALE.)

And speaking of shaking hands, I had forgotten how incredibly difficult it is to hook garters onto stockings. It occurred to me I never do this by myself — I don’t wear garters unless I’m on a shoot or all dressed up at a party, and in those cases, there’s always John or someone else around to hook them for me. So I wrestled and fumbled and cussed mightily, but finally got the damn things situated in ten minutes. Just in time, too. Once again, he was on time, texting me. My apartment is security and rather than have him fussing with the intercom, I told him I’d come down and let him in.

He brought me chocolate. Two kinds. Both milk, my favorite. I don’t know how he knew; I hadn’t told him which kind, only that I loved chocolate. ♥ I know a lot of bottoms get gifts from tops, but I never expect them, and I’m always so tickled when I get a surprise like that, much like when B showed up with that espresso pot for me.

He was still in a coat and tie from work, so I took his jacket and went to hang it up, but he stopped me for a second, and then pulled that same ruler out of the pocket. Uh oh. By the way, I had kinda sorta done what he requested. I did select four implements — but I didn’t lay them out on a table. I put them where they belonged — in the trash can by my desk. 🙂

We didn’t spend too much time with preliminaries. He stood up, taking off his tie, and proceeded to unbutton his cuffs and roll up his sleeves. Slowly. Deliberately. I damn near died right there. “I hear you’re having a problem focusing,” he said. He sat down, and over his lap I went.

First times are always a little strange, in that we don’t know each other, he doesn’t know how much I can take, I don’t know what will spur him, he doesn’t know my body language and my various “tells,” etc. As one would expect, he started out very lightly. I have no issue with that; erring on the side of caution is better than jumping right in and tearing someone’s ass apart from the get-go. He picked up the ruler after a while with his hand — and after a few swats, the thing broke. No lie. The metal guide thingie running along the edge flew out, he said. “I told you I break stuff!” I cried, laughing hysterically. Time to get serious here.

Next, he had me lean over my desk so he’d have more swinging range, and explored the trash can’s implement contents. At first he was light with them, but then I put my hand on my mouse like I was going to open something and said, “Do you mind if I do some work while you’re busy back there?” Yeahhh… I think that did it.

He moved me around a bit, had me on all fours on my couch, kneeling at his feet while he sat in my recliner — and then he settled into a dining room chair, picked up my heart-shaped wooden paddle, the one that had been made for me years ago, and said, “Come over my knee.” The remainder of the scene took place there, and things ramped up exponentially.

You guys know when I am really starting to feel it, I can’t keep my feet still. Both my shoes flew off. He was a little concerned with how red I was turning. We took a brief time-out and he asked if I was sure I shouldn’t go look at it. No, I said. I’m okay. I get really red, and then it fades. I appreciated that he cared, and I took a chance then. I know some would say this is topping from the bottom (I hate that expression), but I thought it was more like giving someone new to me a bit of guidance. So I quietly said, “You can go harder and faster if you want to.”

He did.

His hand wandered up my neck and his fingers went into my hair… and then his fist tightened. The paddle was coming down faster. And then it slipped out of his hand and landed on the floor out of his reach, but within mine. “Would you hand that to me, please?” he asked.

Taking the chance to catch my breath, I gasped out, “Give me one good reason why I should do that.” He laughed, and answered, “So I can continue your spanking.” In reply to that, I picked up the paddle… and tossed it a few feet away.

Again, I was taking a chance. Some tops don’t like that kind of playfulness. But he responded well, powering down again with his hand. Next break, he said, “I guess I’m going to have to go get that paddle.” I was already in transition, so I murmured, “I’ll get it for you.” And I did.

We were nearing the end. My legs were trembling, my feet were twisting together, I had my hand clamped over my mouth to muffle my reactions. I suddenly reached a point of breaking, and I blurted, “Oh my God, D, please, please, PLEASE!”

He stopped. Right in time. More would have been too much. He went exactly where I needed him to go.

I slumped to the floor, and he gathered me up into his arms, where I clung to him and trembled all over until he pulled me up and guided me to the couch. There, he soothed me, caressed me, whispered to me. “You let go of all the bad stuff, didn’t you,” he murmured. Oh, yes.

After I’d calmed down a bit, he asked for some lotion, and had me stretch out on the couch so he could massage my butt and lower back. I felt very comfortable stripping off my dress, and that massage was heaven, so comforting.

“Would you like some pictures, so people can see how red your butt is?” he asked. My first thought was, “It’ll be faded by now,” but I said sure. Yeahhhhh… turns out I was quite mistaken.

I was really surprised. And very pleased. “Remember — you asked for it!” he reminded me. I assured him I most certainly did, and I don’t regret a single swat of it. I needed that. I needed that so, so badly.

I put my dress back on, and we relaxed for a bit, eating some of the chocolate he’d brought, talking, and then he had to go. It was 7:15. I sent him off with warm hugs and thank you’s, texted John to let him know I was okay, straightened up the living room and took a shower. The rest of the night was floaty, spacey, in that surreal place. I did a little more work, answered email, and crashed in front of the TV. I was ravenously hungry and food tasted so good. And more chocolate.

This morning, I woke up to find a very sweet follow-up email, checking in on me, sharing his thoughts about our scene. I especially liked the sentence, “I thought this was a nice start.” The word “start” implies that there is going to be more, yes?

I don’t know what will happen and how we’ll work it. He lives close, but works far. He works two jobs. And I’m unavailable on weekends. So it might be challenging. But I am hoping he wants to play more as much as I do.

In a strange place today, emotionally. Still kind of floaty, but more focused. Very, very sore, but happily so. And feeling a bit of disbelief and unfamiliarity with the sense of well-being. I feel like I’ve been waiting for it for so long. What with the issues from last year, plus my shoulder and my back giving me trouble, I didn’t think I could ever feel really happy, really blissful again. I thought the two times with B were a fluke. Even yesterday, there was a niggling little part of my brain telling me that D might cancel. There’s always going to be that glass-half-empty side to my psyche, I’m afraid. I get something good and then wonder when it will go away, and how.  Enough of that for now, dammit. At this moment in time, I feel good. Some doors have closed, but finally, it seems windows are opening. John always says, “Stay in the day.” Hard to do sometimes, but he’s right. This day is all we have.

Have a great weekend, y’all.

The waiting…

…is the hardest part, as the old song goes. I am in that pre-play mode, edgy, restless, uncertain about details but with plans in place (sort of), and I’m jumping out of my skin. The urge to play is very strong these days, and when it’s so close I can practically feel it, it’s very hard to concentrate on things. You know, like work.

First, regarding B, he has invited me back up north to play, during the week of July 22. I suggested Wednesday-Thursday, like we did last time, which would be the 24-25. He said he will look into flights and so forth. I have not heard back with a confirmation, but I am assuming (hoping!) it’s going to be a done deal. Another quickie adventure! This time, I think it will be a lot easier and less nerve-racking, as I know what to expect, the right train to get on, the ins and outs of the airport, where to find the cheapo parking, how to get an Uber, etc. Oh, and B has promised me a “special non-punishment caning” when I visit. Hmmm. I am eager to experience this — I think I have before, but it’s been a long time. The cane can actually be quite sensual when it’s used lightly, rhythmically. However, I’ve also been promised another strapping, so there will be all sorts of feels. And to that I say, bring it! 😀 I look forward to seeing him again.

And second, I had a coffee date last week. I had mentioned a local man contacted me on Alt.com and his message was actually articulate, respectful and friendly, and he attached a photo with no dick in sight. I replied, and after a few messages, we moved to email and exchanged various bits of stories and information. He is a switch, very much into spanking, sounds like he’s had a fair amount of experience. After about a week of emails, he suggested we meet for coffee, and suggested last Friday morning. Despite living not far from me, he works two jobs and has a very busy schedule, so I had to be flexible, although Fridays are tough for me because I’m busy wrapping up work and getting ready to head for John’s. So we agreed on Friday.

Then, last Tuesday, I had no work. This always gets me a bit edgy and I was trying to come up with things besides a workout that I could do with the free time. D had just confirmed our Friday coffee, and I casually wrote back that I wished it could be today, since I’m at loose ends with no work. He then came back with the suggestion that he could leave work early and meet me later at 5:00 that day, if I liked. Yes, please! I was at the gym when I got that message, but I was almost done and it was about 2:30, so I had enough time to finish up, go home, shower and change, and get myself to the meeting place at 4:50, where I got a coffee and sat to wait.

He showed up at 4:57 (prompt! That’s a huge plus with me). And since he was coming from work, he was in a suit and tie. I know I’ve talked about this before, but there is always that “Mystery Date” moment — (Christ, I’m dating myself) — “Will he be a dream? (ahhh…) “Or a dud?” (uggghhh…) I mean, you exchange pictures online, but you never know until you see each other up close and personal. I think we both had an “ahhh” moment, if I could judge by the look on his face. So, first hurdle overcome. Whew.

He got his coffee and suggested we sit outside, since it was nice out and no one else was out there, and I said sure. The next hour flew by, while we talked about a lot of different things. The conversation was easy, friendly, no awkwardness. And I knew I was in trouble when I couldn’t stop looking at his hands. Large hands, with blunt-tipped fingers. I imagined him removing the suit jacket, unbuttoning the cuffs of his crisp white shirt and rolling up his sleeves. Slowly. Fixing a stare on me the whole time.

Breathe, Erica.

When we said goodbye, he said he would contact me soon with the some ideas of when we might arrange some time to play, and gave me a hug. We had exchanged phone numbers. But of course, I’ve had these meetings before where I don’t hear a word afterward. I figured now all I could do was wait and see.

The next morning, I got a sweet follow-up email from him. Said it was nice to finally meet, that he enjoyed talking with me… and that he had wanted to ask during our visit if we could go back to my place and play, but he wasn’t sure of the etiquette. But we’d have to do it soon.

Well.

I wrote back that I’d enjoyed meeting him as well, and my only problem today was that I was having trouble focusing on work for some reason.

He wrote back with this:

Well, we will have to schedule something soon so that we can get you re-focused. I wouldn’t want you neglecting your work. That would be very naughty, & I love to punish naughty girls. 

Okay, scrape me off the walls and the ceiling now…

Later that day, he sent another message, asking if by any chance I was free the next day (Thursday), because he might be able to swing something at noon — hopefully his arm. Oh, crap. Of course, I would have a hair appointment at noon! And my hairdresser is always booked way in advance, so there was no postponing it. (sigh) Sooo… in the interim, I sent him a couple of my fiction stories, since he said he liked reading about my adventures.

And then Friday, he wrote back with feedback to the stories. He liked them. Talked a bit more about some of his experiences. And then ended with this:

We will have to find some time soon. By Monday hopefully I will know if there is a day next week we can play. I can hardly wait to feel that sexy bottom of yours warm up under my hand.

Holy freaking mother of God. How in ever-loving hell was I supposed to concentrate on work now?? Somehow, I did get my work done and sent before I had to pack it in to go to John’s. And then it was time to table everything for the weekend.

So… now it’s Monday, and the wait continues. The uncertainty lingers. The flight for B is not yet reserved. The play date with D is yet to be determined. And so I wait, and wait, and wait… and wonder what’s ahead. Wondering if it’s finally my time, after a really long-ass bleak year, for the most part. Hardly daring to think that maybe my luck is swinging in a different direction, if there will be more good times, people to count on, interact with and enjoy. Or will it all get jerked away again, because that’s how life seems to go? Because there’s still a part of me that doesn’t believe I get to keep good things? That the tastes of them that I’ve received recently are just flukes?

Fuck that.

I. Deserve. Good. Things. And good people. So, deep breaths. And patience.

Stay tuned…

Guess what’s on my brain?

It’s been a while, kids. Two weeks ago when Steve and I had our outdoor adventure, the focus was more on exhibitionism and very little on spanking. Last week, Steve was away on a ski trip. And this week, he has a cold.

In times like these, I find that pretty much anything and everything makes me think of spanking. Can any of you relate? I’m sure you can.

Yesterday, I had my first appointment with a new chiropractor. I have lifelong back issues and I have been seeing one chiro or another since I was twelve. Recently my regular guy closed his practice, and I’ve been searching for a new one. Finding a good chiropractor can be quite the needle search, as many of them want to claim your body and soul and have you lying on their tables in perpetuity.

But I liked this new guy. He was quite jovial, but clearly knew his stuff, and he’d gotten several five-star Yelp reviews. He kept marveling at how “little” I was, which is ridiculous, but I guess he does get to wrestle some rather sizable bodies. Plus, he’s a big bear of a man at about 6′ 3″. “What do you weigh, about forty pounds?” he joked as he manipulated my spine.

At one point he left me for a minute or two while he checked on another patient, and then popped his head back in the door.

“You doing OK there, little girl?”

I am embarrassed to admit the ridiculously intense jolt of arousal I felt when he said that. Of course, because it’s a phrase a grown woman might hear during spanking play. Even though I’m not into age-play, the phrases “young lady” and “little girl” have always pushed my buttons. I covered up my embarrassment by answering, “Wow, it’s been a while since anyone has called me that.” (Actually, it hasn’t.)

It was pretty amusing when he was checking out my sciatica and commented that I had a lot of tightness in my butt muscles. Gee, I wonder why. I wanted to ask if twenty years of regular ass pummeling affects the surrounding muscles and tissues, but refrained.

Then last night, Jimmy Fallon had one of his “Tight Pants” skits. For those of you who are unfamiliar, it’s one of those comedy bit that is so dumb, it’s funny. Basically, Jimmy lives in a small town where he’s the only one who wears tight pants, and so he dances around in tight white jeans, a brightly colored shirt and a bowl haircut, bragging about his tight pants. Then someone else — a guest star — will challenge him, also wearing tight white jeans and a bowl haircut. Challengers have included Will Ferrell, Christina Aguilera, and of course, the greatest ass in tight pants, Jennifer Lopez. Jimmy always ends up getting threatened and chased out of town.

In case you’d like to see the short sketch, go here (it’s worth it just to hear Lopez call Fallon “a little bitch”). But be forewarned: the inane “Tight Pants” song will worm its way into your brain and never leave.

So of course, all this business of tight pants and butt wriggling makes me think of next week’s spanko extravaganza in Vegas, where I will get to wear my own tight pants (and have them taken down). I want and need this party so badly, I’m jumping out of my skin.

And finally, a blast from the recent past — remember my Spanking Court clips? I had mentioned a while back that although the studio was out of business, their entire clip library was being re-edited and re-released, little by little. Last week, I saw on Twitter that they released one of mine — the one where the judge ordered the court disciplinarian to give me 200 strokes with a heavy wooden paddle for mouthing off. Holy crap. I think that was the hardest scene I’ve ever done on video, and it was the first one where I cried on camera. You can read about it here. Aptly, the clip has been named “For Crying Out Loud.” So of course, memories of past shoots have flooded my brain.

So there will be no pre-party warm-up for me. But it’s OK. Just have to get through this week and next, and my massive itch will be scratched repeatedly.

Hurry hurry hurry February 25!