Erica Scott: Life, Love and Spanking

Ruminations, opinionated observations, darkly humorous blathering and the occasional rant from an outspoken spanko and unapologetic attention wh–, um, hog.

Archive for the category “cane”

The more I experience…

…the less I know, it seems. Specifically, about implements.

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The above photo contains but a mere sampling of what’s out there to use on a spanking bottom. I’ve probably felt them all at some point or another. You’d think after 20+ years, I’d be an expert on implements and how they feel. But, aside from some general knowledge, I remain woefully in the dark. Which doesn’t help my ass any.

This post was precipitated by my getting together with an old FetLife friend for coffee last week, someone I haven’t seen in seven years. We chatted it up for a couple of hours and of course the subject of implements came up. He showed me a picture on his phone of his “punishment paddle” and I immediately said that would be a hard limit for me.

I’ve often said I don’t like wood and I prefer leather. However, “wood” is ridiculously general — it doesn’t account for the myriad types, thicknesses, etc. All wooden implements are not created equal. All woods are not created equal. I have heard many times that some are lighter, some are dense, some are quite tolerable and others are practically unbearable. But damned if I know which is which.

I do know that thick, heavy frat-style wooden paddles are a hard limit. When I said nay to my friend’s photo, he asked why. I said it’s just pure pain to me, no pleasure whatsoever, and the pain is BAD. I can’t absorb the impact; it thuds me down to the bone. “Even if it’s lower on the butt? Maybe people are hitting you too high with it,” he suggested. Nope. Even if it’s on the fleshiest part of my sit spots, I feel this horrible, heavy thud deep within my sit bones, and it’s wretched. I’m a tad more willing about other wood, like lighter paddles, hairbrushes and spoons, but even those are hard for me to take. I will take them on video a lot more willingly than in a private scene that’s for mutual pleasure, because they really don’t pleasure me.

So, generally, one would think leather is the ticket for me, right? Not necessarily. Because all leather implements aren’t created equal either, damn them. Thickness comes into play again, as well as wear. A buttery soft, well worn flexible strap feels entirely different from a stiff brand new one. Straps can run the gamut from a sensual snap to sheer agony. And I can’t tell just from looking at them which it’s going to be. I have made godawful mistakes in choosing implements at parties before: sometimes the most innocent looking items can be utter torture. Conversely, sometime the items that look the meanest can be fairly innocuous.

I like leather implements in general. But one of the worst things I ever felt was a double razor strap. Yeah, it was flexible. It was also thick, very heavy and very thuddy. I have made many people laugh by saying it felt like being hit with a side of beef.

And speaking of flexibility — if the give of leather feels so much more acceptable to me, then wouldn’t it stand to reason that other materials with give would also work?

Again, not necessarily.

I recall a scene at a party, many years ago, when I was playing with a top I knew well, and I knew the feel of his implements. He had a strap I loved to hate, and he wielded it with precision and evil intent. After I’d played a prank on him, he put a blindfold on me and then proceeded to strap the bejesus out of me. From the start, it hurt like hell, like nothing I remembered. I screamed and squawked and fussed, and he laughed at me. “What’s wrong?” he taunted. “It’s just my strap! You’ve felt it before! What’s the matter, are you losing your tolerance?” I gritted my teeth and bore it, took all he gave, even though my mind was screaming, “What the hell is wrong with me? Why can’t I take this? Why is this hurting so much?? Aaaaaaaagh!” Perhaps I was having an off night? A really off night?

It wasn’t until the next day that I found out from his girlfriend that the strap was NOT leather — it was rubber. Hence the blindfold, so I couldn’t see it. Grrrrr. I was marked like crazy, too. Deep bruises.

So now rubber is pretty much a hard limit as well. Although I guess Delrin is a sort of rubber, or similar? I will take a Delrin cane, although they hurt like a bitch.

Even canes don’t all feel the same. If I say in a general statement that canes are OK to use on me, what am I letting myself in for? I’ve never experienced a Singapore-style cane, nor do I want to. But a proper rattan caning, with a thin whippy one, in the hands of someone who knows what they’re doing? Intense, but in the right head space, amazing.

I have felt everything, I think. From canes to belts to brushes to carpet beaters to tawses to crops to paddles to whips. I used to pride myself on what I could take. Nowadays, I find my desires changing. I still like to play hard… but only, ONLY if it’s someone whom I know is going to be measured, even, and careful. I no longer have any tolerance for stray shots–too high, too low, wrapping to the sides. I don’t like unevenness in cheekage. These days, I appreciate accurate and skilled players more than ever. The types I can trust with anything in their hands, no matter what it is, and know I’ll be safe and given just the right amount of pain. It’s a rarity, I’m afraid. Tops can be wonderful and kind and sensitive and skillful and many wonderful things, but still not adept with all the toys.

Perhaps now that I’m older, now that I’ve been doing this for a while, I don’t feel like I have to prove myself? (And to whom… to the scene, or to my own self?) I no longer have to show the world that I can get my ass beat all to hell with everything but the weed whacker. Or maybe I just don’t want that much pain and damage anymore? I really don’t know. But it does make me wish I understood the makings, the physics of implements better, so I could make the best choices for my play. Because, like everything else, I want quality over quantity.

But of course, there’s always hands. 🙂

Speaking of everything but the weed whacker — remember this?

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Anyone else find they have been fooled by implements before? Or that something they used to like is no longer acceptable? Vice versa? Has anyone’s tolerance levels changed?

50 Freaks 2016, part 3

OK, enough already with this; I need to finish it. No excuses today, as I have finished my work and I’m also feeling somewhat human again. There are still tons of pictures I haven’t gotten yet, but oh well. I have to record this before my fevered brain forgets everything.

Saturday was the most up-and-down day, I think. Poor John has stomach distress during the night and wasn’t feeling well when we got up. There was a gathering Joe calls TTYL (Tights, Thongs, Yoga pants and Leggings) in the suite from 1-3, so we went for a quick bite in the café. (They closed Café Siena, which really bummed me out — I loved that place! But they sorta resurrected it in a smaller version now called, most originally, The Café.) I got John some Pepto-Bismol and he managed to eat some breakfast, but he wasn’t looking good. When we arrived at the suite at 1:20 for TTYL, there were about six people there. I took one look at John, slumped on the couch, and made a decision. “Come on,” I said.”Let’s go back to our room. Nothing is happening here, and we both need sleep.” He protested once, weakly, then gave in.

Damn. I had really cute leggings on, too.

Anyway. We slept through the afternoon, missing all of TTYL. At 5:00, they were having Club Finn, a new gathering for this party, which was to be a kind of a spa setting for the spankees (massages, baths, chocolates and other treats, sensual flogging, etc.). Normally, I would have loved to try this, but I was so worried about John and feeling disconnected again. Had it not been for SC and Alex texting me to ask where I was, I might have gotten back into bed and slept through until dinnertime. SC asked if we were “ready for a bath,” and there was no way I was going to turn down a repeat performance of our bath time last year, so I pulled myself together and met them at the suite, which was now hopping.

Unfortunately, the big tub was already in use. But SC took one look at my face and said, “Let’s go use the tub in our room. It’s smaller, but I think we need some girl time.” So the three of us left the main suite and headed by to SC & Alex’s room. Yes, the tub was substantially smaller, but it was still lovely. I felt myself relax and my spirits perk up as I sat with my besties and had some down time and giggles.

Pictures, you say? But of course. Thanks to E for assuming camera duty.

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Jeez, my poor butt. Me on the right, Alex center, SC left. There is one more that’s a little naughtier, but I haven’t gotten SC’s OK to post that yet. Maybe later. 😀

I came back to our room to wash my hair and dress for our dinner at the Steakhouse. We’ve booked the banquet room at that restaurant every year and it’s always delightful; we’ve even had the same server each year. John managed to get up and dressed, insisting he was OK to go, but I didn’t believe him; he was white as a sheet. When I was ready, we met at SC & Alex’s room, then went to 960, where our group gathered and then trooped down to the Steakhouse.

There was a change this year, which was a bit off-putting. We’d always had access to the full menu, so we could have lots of variety, order sides, share stuff, etc. This year, the management decided to get pissy and tell Joe that he had to accept a limited Prix Fixe menu at a flat $50 per person, beverages not included, no substitutions. Humph! Fortunately, one of the choices was salmon, so I was fine. But still. John, who was getting sicker by the minute, managed to coerce our server into just bringing him a salad, no dinner. However, he only made it through a few bites of his salad before he put down his fork and looked like he was going to face plant right into it. I couldn’t stand it anymore. “Please,” I begged him. “Don’t put yourself through this. Go back to our room and go to bed.” He always tries to be so damn stoic, but this was ridiculous — he was clearly very sick. Finally, he gave up, handed me some cash to pay for dinner, and left.

The rest of the dinner was a little subdued for me. I had good company: Across from me were E and SC, Alex, and Maddy Marks and her man Siq (yes, that’s pronounced “sick”). To my right were Princess Kelley and her daddy MrOMK (who very kindly shared his chocolate cake with me). But I missed John. Still, I was relieved he’d stopped pushing himself and given in to go rest, and my salmon was delicious, so I made the best of it. We all looked really nice, having dressed up. There were many LBDs, but Alex was in fire-engine red and Maddy was in white. Me? I bucked the solid color trend altogether — I wore stripes.

After dinner, I went back to our room to check on John; it was around 10:15, I think. He had been sleeping, but woke up and seemed to be doing a little better. I told him I’d be going to the suite and he should stay and rest. He asked if I was going to change out of my finery into something more comfortable, and I said not yet — they were have a midnight presentation of the Spanking Blogg Awards, and there would be pictures, so I would get into PJs after that was done. He said he would try to make it to that. I went down to get him some more meds, came back up and gave them to him, freshened up and then headed to 960.

What can I say about the awards presentation, other than it was one of the highest points of my weekend? I won 2nd place Creative Blogger and 3rd place Lifetime Achievement for a spanking model. The latter was especially mind-boggling, considering I started out doing this as a lark and never imagined I’d end up doing it for 15+ years. And Joe, bless his heart, had gone all out; he’d had trophies made for not only the 1st place winners, but 2nd and 3rd as well. So he made a nice little presentation of it. And of course, John did make it. The applause that resounded when my name was called was especially gratifying too. ♥

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Afterward, the winners in attendance piled into the hallway where the lighting was better and others weren’t around, so people could take pictures, including John Osbourne of TripleAAA, who put this whole awards thing together on his blog and to whom we all owe a huge thanks! It was a little crazy with so many cameras on us and all the rotations of models, producers, etc. — we didn’t know which camera to look at! But here’s a nice shot of some of us, and someone already gave us IDs. As you can see, Michael Masterson, the kingpin of Real Spankings, was in our midst. It was great to finally meet him. He’s not a party-goer, so this was new for him. I think he had a blast.

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Here, we were clearly confused as to where to look!  🙂 Eve is in the center and John Osbourne is on the left.

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There were many more, but this is all I have so far. So many wonderful winners and I was so very thrilled.

John seemed OK to sit quietly on the couch and observe, so I milled about. Eve Howard shot this pic of T&S and me — I was a bit horrified when she sent it to me. I looked utterly exhausted, my face in shadows. I tweaked with the lighting and exposure and made myself look human, but still tired. I think the lack of sleep and worry over John was taking its toll. Still, it’s a nice shot with a long-time friend. 🙂

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Late in the evening, Michael InspectHerHide approached me and said he was leaving the next day, and he’d love to do a final scene with me. I had not played at all that day, so I happily agreed. Once again he took me back to his room, where he proceeded to pull the padded bench at the foot of the bed into the center of the room, piled it with pillows and bade me to lie over it. He then opened the curtains to let all the moonlight and city lights in, and dimmed the room’s lights. A delicious spanking and strapping ensued. Michael is another one I can trust with anything in his hands — I knew the strap strokes would fall with precision, and they did, every one. Right down to the grand finale — forty strokes on each cheek. So OK, I played only once on Saturday, but it was one hell of a scene. Thank you again, Michael. So many lovely scenes over the years with you and me.

John had left to go to bed a while back, and I managed to stay in the room until 3:30 before I thought, “What the hell are you doing? Go get some sleep.” And so I did.

Sunday, we slept in. John felt a bit better, although we mutually decided to skip brunch and went straight to the suite for Strict Dave’s CP Court at 1:00. I got coffee for both of us and brought John a baggie full of crackers to nibble on. Court was fun and crowded as always — Alex had left early that morning, but SC & E joined us and sat close by. Afterward, SC came and chatted with us for a while, since E went to the roulette table. We were joined by Johnny, who brought us a plate of chocolates and raspberries left over from Club Finn — nice of him!

There’s been a party event the past few years called Judicial Punishment — kind of a role-play, where the tops get dressed up as prison guards and the “prisoners” wear orange t-shirts. The punishments are delivered on the St. Andrew’s cross, and the choices of implement are cane, prison strap, or paddle. I’d always thought it sounded kind of brutal, but then I talked it over with Joe and learned a few things I didn’t know. Not only did you get to choose your implement, but you could also choose the number of strokes, the level of severity (light, medium, hard, very hard), and the guard who would give them. Knowing that I had so much control and it was more of a head space thing than anything, I decided to give it a try.

It was at 5:00 that afternoon, and several women had signed up for it. This time, the choices of tops were Johnny and StrictDave, with Fineous and Snow Mercy acting as guards and Joe doing all the announcements and counts. The “prisoners” were kept sequestered in the bedroom as we were called out, one by one. We were supposed to be very, very quiet, but there was a fair amount of whispering and giggling going on. We couldn’t help it — it’s nerve-racking sitting there waiting! Joe, when announcing each stroke, would make a noise sort of like a “Hup!” After hearing several of these “Hups,” I commented that Joe sounded like he had the hiccups. That sent us all into such giggles that Strict Dave came in to glare at us all.

Finally I was called in, and was handcuffed to the cross. Johnny and I had negotiated 12 cane strokes, medium. But something got screwed up and Joe announced six! Argggh. Six was nothing! But it was still fun and intense and going into the “aftercare pile” (a large area piled up with blankets and pillows) was fun. A fun lineup picture was taken also… nope, don’t have that yet either. (sigh) But soon!

SC & E were going for dinner and a show on the Strip, and John & I were tired anyway, so we decided to sleep a little bit, then went for a late dinner on our own at the oyster/sushi bar in the hotel. John was well enough to manage a small meal, for which I was grateful. It was time for the final night of the party, the ultimate wind-down.

So much chatting that last night. It’s going to be a while before the next party for us, after all. Harley (we enjoyed rehashing the silliness at our shoot the weekend prior), Maddy and Siq, T&S and his lovely girlfriend Bella Bijou, my sweet Pruxie, the ever-spunky and adorable Sarah Rocks, whom we hadn’t seen since 2010 at FMS, Ten and her boyfriend M, Samantha, JaiBug, and so many more. My voice was starting to go hoarse and I was coughing a bit, but I figured that was due to all the talking.

John O. and I did a fun scene front-and-center on the massage table, with his hand, strap and cane. He took me up and down with tap-tap-taps and biting little strokes, nothing horribly hard, because well, my butt was thrashed. It was delicious and I felt like a purring contented cat atop that table. Funny how the cane can be such an evil thing, but it can be quite sensual as well when the top moderates the stroke.

I have yet to experience a party weekend without a Fineous flogging, but I feared this one might be the first. Until he suddenly appeared around 1:30 a.m., sat next to me and said, “I was afraid I wasn’t going to catch up with you this weekend. You got a scene left in you?” Of course I did. Off we went to find bed space in the bedroom, and I got a delicious double flogging over my entire body, like a perfect firm massage to end the weekend. When I came back to earth, I saw that SC had returned and she and John were deep in conversation. We moved into the main room and were joined by Joe. As I sat there in LaLaLand, I suddenly felt very cold and shivery. Looking back now, I can see it was the beginning of my illness, but I chalked it up to subspace. Glancing across the room, I saw Siq on the couch and it looked like he had a pile of blankets next to him, so I made my way over there. I was just reaching for one of them when I realized that buried under that pile was Maddy, sleeping. Ooops! Fortunately, a kind soul directed me to an unused blanket and I swaddled myself in it, returning to my chair.

Strict Dave joined us, and after a while, turned to me and said, “We haven’t played for a while. Have you got anything left in you?” Ah, damn. I didn’t. I really didn’t. Not even a feather stroke; I was done. So, although playing with Strict Dave is a wild and intense ride, I had to regretfully tell him no. “Next time?” “Yes, please!” Shortly thereafter, John and I pulled ourselves together and said our reluctant final goodbyes. We didn’t get to bed until nearly 4:00… and the alarm was set for 7:00. Blech.

I don’t know how John did it — he managed to get up even earlier than that and get a load of stuff down to the car while I slept on, oblivious. His stomach was better, but now he was starting to cough. Oh, we were a pair! But I felt better after a shower, and we got ourselves all packed, checked out, supplied with coffee, and on the road by 8:00. I was tired and my throat was raspy, but again, I figured it was lack of sleep and interaction overload. We made it to John’s in a record four hours (with one stop for Dairy Queen smoothies and their restroom), and I helped him unpack his stuff before I headed home.

So. I managed to get home, refill the gas tank, unpack the car and deliver it back to Enterprise. They took me home, and then I unpacked my suitcases, sorted through the mail, and fired up the computer. By around 5:00, I noticed my back was aching and I felt even more fatigued than before, so I crawled into my bed for a while. When I woke up at 8:00, I wondered how a bus had gotten into my apartment and run over me. I was full-on sick. Stayed up just two hours, then went back to bed at 10. And I did not get out of bed until 3:30 the next afternoon, no lie. Well, except to use the bathroom. Fever, chills, body ache, cough, blah blah blah. I thought about the unbelievable timing. What did I say before the weekend? Something along the lines of “I just want to be well for the party. Afterward, I could get pneumonia for all I care.” OK, so I didn’t mean that literally, but it damn near happened anyway. But I don’t care. The only reason I had to get out of bed this week was because I had work to do. Otherwise, my schedule was blissfully open, and I’d arranged that on purpose, but I didn’t know just how necessary it would be. I managed to get two books edited after I came home this week, but nothing else. Tonight I will straggle over to John’s — he came down with this flu thing too, so we can cough and commiserate. It’s going to be a rainy weekend and we can bundle up and veg out. I am content.

Another 50 Freaks come and gone. (Technically, this time, it was 106 Freaks.) Again, a lot of ups and downs, and some real-life interference encroaching (not just my own, but with friends too, unfortunately), but overall? One hell of a weekend, yet again. Thank you, Joe, and all your helpers/assistants who worked with you to make this happen and keep it going. Thank you, John O., for your wonderful work in gathering our awards. Thank you to my play partners, my friends, people who stopped to talk to me, hug me, smile at me, give me happy moments. SC and Alex, I ♥ you two to bits. And of course… my beloved John, without whom none of this is really possible, because it wouldn’t be anywhere near as much fun doing it alone.

Over and out. Have a great weekend, y’all.

Third Anniversary

Told y’all I’d be back when I had something fun to post. Actually, I have a great deal to say, but that will keep. For now, I’m in celebratory mode.

On July 25, 2012, I met Steve for the first time. Three years later, we’re still happily enjoying our play partnership and friendship. Yesterday, he showed up at my door, his arms laden with goodies for me — a huge bouquet of flowers, a bag of gourmet chocolate-chip cookies, and a sweet card, with a Starbucks gift card inside. I felt kinda bad that all I had for him was a card, but he assured me that I didn’t have to give him anything, that *I* was his gift. 🙂

Post warm-up, he mused, “I want to put three stripes on your bottom and write ‘Happy anniversary’ on it.” Since I don’t mark that easily, this would take some planning. We decided to use my Delrin cane, and he would strike each of three spots repeatedly until a nice stripe showed up. Ouch. But I was game.

“Hold still,” he admonished, as I felt him writing all over my butt with a Sharpie. He practiced a few strokes of the cane on my pillow, getting his aim sharpened, and then we proceeded with our little masterpiece.

And here it is. Observe the three stripes. Also, observe that Mr. Clever used my butt crack to serve as the “i” in “Anniversary” and “Erica.”

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“We are not amused…”

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After that, he went to work with a few other implements, obliterating the stripes and leaving me gleefully glowing and pleasantly sore.

All kidding aside…

When Steve came into my life three years ago, I was reeling from ST’s abrupt exit. From the beginning, I shared my abandonment/rejection issues with Steve, and he said, “I’m not going anywhere.” Since then, those four words became his mantra with me. He has said them countless times — when I was feeling insecure and fearful, when we had disagreements and misunderstandings, whenever I needed reassurance. We have had our ups and downs, but three years later, my top is still here.

Thank you, Steve. For all the intense, pleasurably painful, fun, cathartic, and edgy scenes, for being a good top, a good friend, a good man. For not going anywhere.

And aren’t my flowers beautiful? 🙂

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Don’t try this at home

A bit of silliness from last night. You know, being spanked in this position is very awkward. The blood doesn’t know where to go — to my head or to my bottom.

Tops are evil. I know, I’m not telling you anything new. But I thought it was worth reiterating. New Guy comes over here with his toy bag stuffed with implements, plus a case with two canes in it. Oh, and wearing his belt. You’d think that would be plenty of instruments of correction, right? But nooooooo. On the way, he actually stopped the car, got out and cut a fresh green switch. @#$%!!!!!!

“I think you need a good switching, young lady.” Whatever. I think you need a lobotomy. (No, I didn’t say that out loud. I should have; had nothing to lose!)

Last night was quite different from our play last Monday. Whereas last week I’d been strung out with tension and was ready for a good cry, this time I couldn’t stop giggling. I felt like my blood had been infused with champagne bubbles and everything tickled me (well, except for those damned implements). Fortunately, he has a good sense of humor and played along.

After a long OTK warmup (I swear, I can feel his hand getting stronger each week), he stood me up and then piled a couple of pillows on the side of the bed. I started to lie on them.

“Did I tell you to lay down?”

“No,” I replied. “And you didn’t tell me to lie down, either.” Oh, the glee. Y’all know how much I love correcting a top’s grammar. Naturally, he didn’t love it one bit. I swear, you try to educate some people…

I had to bend over and put my hands on the pillows, but eventually he let me lie on them. (Rather, he picked me up and plunked me down on them.) After a healthy dose of his paddles and straps, it was switch time. It didn’t last very long, though. It broke.

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He was unfazed, though. He still had plenty left to work with. And it was able to impart quite an impression before it met its demise.

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Usually I wind down after a while, settle into my zone and shut up, but last night, I simply couldn’t; I was sassy to the end. I’m glad it’s not always like that, because that would get tiresome for both of us, but sometimes, it’s fun to be silly and light-hearted. However, his spanking/switching/strapping wasn’t light anything.

Still haven’t broken him of asking stupid questions, though. At the end: “Hmmmmmm… how many should I give you with these?”

“How the @#$% should I know?” I snapped.

“Well, that’s good for at least ten,” he said, laying ten hard ones on me. Then he stopped. I thought he was done, so I started to get up.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“I thought you were done!”

“No, I said at least ten, for saying… oh, now I forgot what you said.”

Helpfully, I reminded him, “I said, ‘How the @#$% should I know?’ “

Sheeeesh! Try to be helpful!

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At 9:30 he had to leave, but not before he gave me a sample of all his toys again. He didn’t want me to forget how they felt, you see. Plus, it tweaked him that I’d already faded. My bionicity seems to have returned. Today, except for one tiny mark off to the side where the switch wrapped a little, I am completely unmarked. Sore, though. Definitely sore.

My apologies if the pictures are a bit large. Blogger is acting up today, and after the first image, it wouldn’t let me upload any of the others. So I had to do it the old-fashioned MySpace way: upload the images to Flickr, copy the picture code and paste it into the blog. I don’t know how to resize or adjust the photos when I do it that way. But at least I got it to work! Not bad for a computer-challenged sort.

Rainy day, sore bottom… all is well in my little world at this moment.

Thanks, New Guy. (He likes that name, BTW)

Shadow Lane party, Part 4 (Sunday)

You know, I was going to start this installment with two items I’d forgotten to mention earlier, but now I’ve forgotten one of the things I remembered I forgot. Ugh. Oh well, it will come back to me. The other thing I neglected to mention was from Friday night in the ballroom. On FetLife, I jokingly have chocolate listed as one of my fetishes. A very sweet man named Ben, one of my Fet buddies, greeted me that evening and presented me with a box of chocolates! Nice, huh? Thank you, Ben. 🙂

Oh! Just remembered… On Saturday night, the NS people also had a suite party, which we went to first and spent some time before hitting 901 later. Thanks, guys! You’re the best, and it was wonderful having you all here again.

I slept in until 11 on Sunday morning, then showered and dressed. We were supposed to meet Mir for lunch but she was running late, so we met her in the gym and told her we’d keep a spot for her at our table. I needed to eat, because I had a throbbing headache and had to get some Advil into me. Down at Cafe Siena, we found Danny and Sophie and joined their table; shortly thereafter, we were joined by Ann, a newbie to parties who had bravely come by herself and Tony had introduced her to D and Sophie, who took her under their wings. Craig was at the table right next to ours, with Gia, Lizzie, Jada and Missy. J leaned over and whispered to me, “Ask Craig why he has only four women with him.” LOL!   

Very strange thing: Even though we were one table apart, our party had a different server from Craig’s. While we had the best of service and got our food immediately and accurately with all the special requests observed, Craig’s group had been seated before us and they were still waiting for their orders when we were nearly done. I don’t know what happened, but I think the five of them were ready to eat their napkins by the time their food came. Fortunately, they had bread. But what a pain! Some people don’t like Cafe Siena because the service is hit or miss, but I love it. And I like the food too; they have healthy choices. Plus it’s right by the elevators and a main walkway and has an open plan, so people can find you easily as they go back and forth.

After lunch, we headed for 901, where Strict Dave was once again holding his famous CP Court. When he had them at FMS and SSNY, he was able to use a hotel conference room, but this time he had to make do with a large suite. Bob the DJ generously set up the sound system so it worked out well. J, Mir and I got there early to grab a good seat and we were able to snag one of the couches. Turned out to be a good move, since the room got packed and most people had to stand.

I love CP Court! CO Carolyn was the defendant twice, and so was Craig. Craig had purposely arranged to get his fire kit to SL so he could do fire play with Carolyn, but when apparently when the designated time for their scene came, she had put body lotion on and you’re not supposed to do that, so Craig told her she had to go shower. She didn’t feel like doing so at the moment, so there was Craig with all the stuff set up. He asked if anyone else wanted to do it, and Kate (of Kate and Michael) stepped up. She loved it… but unfortunately, she instinctively did exactly what Craig told her not to do. You have to remain stock-still, but she felt the heat and wriggled around, making the fire spread. He doused it immediately, but she still got a faint burn on her back. Craig felt awful, but Kate didn’t blame him — she blamed Carolyn! (playfully, of course) As for Craig, he got called up for “irresponsible texting” — he’s already told that story on his own blog. 🙂

When it was over, Andy and a couple of others said to me, “Why weren’t you up there?” I just smiled sweetly and answered, “Because I didn’t do anything!” I cringed for a moment, waiting for the lightning strike, but it didn’t happen.

After we all cleared out of 901, AZ Carolyn and I went back to her room to have some girl-talk time. We so rarely get to chat and we had lots of catch-up to do. So many times on these weekends, I say I’m going to make time to just talk with my friends, but it ends up not happening because of all the other activity and distractions. I’m very glad we both made it work this time!

Back in our room, I found J asleep so I joined him. After our nap, we got up and I changed into a white skirt and black-and-white top. I had the cutest pair of black-and-white checked panties with little blue hearts on the waistband. We were supposed to meet AZ Carolyn and Sue for dinner at Senor Miguel’s in the hotel, so I texted Craig to see what he was up to. As it happened, he was already there with a big group of people; did I want him to hold seats for us? Is there room for four more? I asked. No problem.

So we went down to the restaurant and found our group — what a fun table! Twelve people, including Craig and Gia, Sophie and Danny, etc. I sat at one end and we made two spaces for Carolyn and Sue, but then Carolyn called J and said she wasn’t feeling well, so they didn’t make it. I felt a little lonely at the far end, but both Danny and Craig made it a point to get up and come over to sit with me and visit, so I got to schmooze a bit. Mostly I listened while J and Missy talked about biking; she’s an avid biker too. Unfortunately, the conversation veered into their experiences with accidents, which I could do without! However, when the food came, they dropped the subject.

I don’t like Mexican food as a rule, but I can enjoy a simple dish like fish tacos. These were wonderful — seasoned broiled red snapper, cabbage and tomatoes on corn tortillas, with a squeeze of lime. They gave me a sauce too, but I pushed that aside. Creamy AND spicy; blech on both counts! I know, I know… such a fussy eater I am.

After dinner, suite party time! Matt opened his room to us, so several of us convened there and it was quite the lively time. I sat at the bar chatting with several people, then Sophie got it in her head that Danny should give me another spanking. “Oh, you think so, huh?” I said. She did. I don’t remember who said what after that, but sure enough, there was Danny, yanking me off the barstool and pulling me over to the couch, where he bent me over the back. He had several new toys he’d purchased at the vendor fair, including a cane with bright shiny red material wrapped around the handle (he called it the “Judy Garland cane,” because the red stuff looked like Dorothy’s ruby slippers in Wizard of Oz).

No warmup this time; he got right down to business with the implements. And it wasn’t enough to just lift my skirt; oh no. He had to take the damn thing off. We made it quite the raucous scene and people were watching and throwing out comments. Then he gave me the first strike with his new cane, a hard one. The tip flew off. Another strike, and another piece broke off. And again, and again. All in all, five pieces snapped off and flew in all directions. He gave up and proceeded to take off his (brand-new) belt — ouch!!! He’d forgotten his well-worn, familiar old belt at home, so he’d bought a new one. Ugh! New belts hurt like hell! But of course, my endorphins didn’t let me down.

My Shadow Lane party was now complete, at least in one area: I’d broken an implement. 😀  After the scene, and some cuddle time on the couch with D, I gathered up the broken pieces — well, four of them. The fifth one disappeared and we couldn’t find it. But here I am with the evidence:

A while later as I stood chatting, Craig came up behind me and said ominously, “I think you need to come with me right now.” Mmmmm… how could I refuse? We went into the bedroom, but both beds were being used. Someone pointed toward the bathroom area and said, “How about back there?” We walked in and found a large, open dressing room/bathroom area; as I recall, I’d played in a similar bathroom with Djinn last year. (Dammit! I didn’t get to play with Djinn this time! So disappointed. But he left Sunday early afternoon, and our paths simply didn’t cross at the right time.)

Anyway, Craig sat on the edge of the oversized bathtub and pulled me over his lap, giving me a folded towel so I could brace my arms on that instead of the cold hard rim. (so thoughtful!) He then produced this nasty wooden paddle he’d bought at the vendor fair…. ugh! You know how I feel about wood to begin with, and by Sunday night at a party weekend, I’m so tenderized I can hardly stand a powerful hand, let alone wood. Fortunately, after a couple of swats with that paddle, Craig heard the distress in my voice and put it away, going back to his hand. (thank you, sweetie) We had a nice long hand-spanking scene, then I sat in his lap and we chatted a while, winding down before we rejoined the crowd.

Lots more talking, blah blah blah, laugh laugh laugh… it grew later and I was getting tired. I hadn’t seen Fineous all evening and I still wanted a flogging from him, so I texted him and told him where the party was. At midnight he finally showed up, but he didn’t ask me to play, just joined us in chatting. I waited — I had made it known that I wanted to play with him, so I didn’t want to push. Craig then texted a few of us and invited us to his suite for a small party, so we prepared to head off, saying our good-nights. Fineous then approached me and whispered, “Do you think it would be OK if I came with you guys?” I told him I was sure it would be, and he replied. “Good. I don’t want you thinking you were going to get away without your flogging.” YES!!

Once at Craig and Gia’s, Fineous first bent me over the dining room table for a brief spanking, then took me into one of the bedrooms where I stripped off my skirt and top and lay on the bed. What can I say about his floggings that I haven’t already said in my rhapsodic tones; he’s a wizard with those things. He started lightly, then built up and up, flogging all over my back, bottom and legs, varying the tempo and intensity, until all my nerves were singing and I was making animal noises. When he wound down, I was mush. I didn’t want to move… I could have shut my eyes and slept there. He gave me lots of time, sat next to me and gave me a nice massage while we talked.

Finally I was able to get up, put my things back on and come out, but my legs would barely hold me up and I was spacy. Several other people had come in and I remembered I’d told Michael earlier that I’d love to play with him, but now I knew I didn’t have it in me; I was well and truly done. I looked for him, but he’d left to play with Lizzie and I couldn’t wait. It was around 2:00 by now and we had to get up very early.

I didn’t want to leave without saying goodbye to Danny and Sophie, so I texted him to see where they were; they were in 660 again. We said goodnight to everyone in Craig’s room. I’m sorry it didn’t work out this time that I had my final scene of the weekend with Craig, but at least I did have my first one with him, and we had four total.

Room 660 was hopping, people were playing “Spanking Blackjack” and beer pong, but I just sat like a lump, struggling to keep my eyes open. We stayed for a few minutes watching the action, but then, reluctantly, we decided to call it a night. Many hugs in the room and at the elevator, and off we went.

Monday morning, J got up before me and took some of our stuff down to the car. We showered and dressed, packed up the remainder and headed down to checkout. Our intent was to eat a quick breakfast and be on the road by 9:00, so we could beat the Labor Day traffic. And this time, we met our goal. Even with seeing Richard Windsor, CO Carolyn and a couple of others, we still managed to get checked out, grab a bagel and coffee, and we were in the car heading out at 9:00.

We got as far as the main boulevard next to the hotel and my phone beeped. I then read the text from Craig: “I need to give you my fire kit.” AAAAGGGHHHH!!!! I’d completely forgotten about that! I cried out to J, “Dammit! We forgot Craig’s fire kit; we have to go back!” He immediately did a U-turn and headed back, and told me to text Craig back and tell him to meet J at the elevators in the lobby. I was so rattled, my fingers were fumbling and I kept screwing up the text, but finally got it finished by the time we parked the car. I stayed there while J ran in.

All was well; Craig found him and gave him the kit, and then J saw Mir and chatted with her for a moment. We hit the road for real at 9:30. And naturally, we hit traffic on and off all the way home! I really don’t believe the extra half-hour made that much difference, but naturally J used it to his best advantage, saying that we made it here in four hours, so I was going to get one swat for every second (not minute, second) that our trip was past four hours. Whaaa?? I protested so mightily, he finally conceded and said, “OK. Tell Craig that he has to give Gia a swat for every second past four hours.” Double whaaa?? I said, “Gia? What the hell does poor Gia have to do with this?” He said, “Well, Craig’s a top, we can’t blame him, and someone has to be punished!” Ladies and gentlemen, Top Logic at its finest.

The trip home took 4 3/4 hours; not bad, really. We went to J’s first and got all his stuff out of the car, I said goodbye and headed home. Another party weekend was over.

Oh, and by the way… I have a faint bruise on my left upper thigh. And oddly, the backs of my calves are peppered with tiny bruises; I can only figure that those were from the flogger. My bottom? White as the day I was born.

Tony, Eve and Butch — congratulations on another great party, and thank you so, so much! Thanks to everyone I played with, and to all who opened their suites to us. Over and out on the Shadow Lane 2010 party report. 🙂

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