Blech. Every day, I look at how long it’s been since I posted something, and I think I really should come up with an entry. And then every day, I got nothing. I really admire people who are faithfully coming up with regular entries in this time of Covid. I don’t seem to be able to. All I can do is toss in a brief update or two and essentially restate the same crap over and over. It’s now been a year since I last played. You can’t really keep up a spanking blog when there’s no spanking.
All we have right now is correspondence. And lest you all think everything I receive is CHoS material, fortunately, that’s not the case. It’s amazing how a well timed email can perk up my day. Like this one, out of nowhere, from my friend in Oregon who wants to come here when it’s safe. Who the hell knows when that will be… but at least it’s on his mind.
So… I want you over my knee! Nice slow warm-up…then hard hand, leather, wood, maybe cane.
Oh, yeah? I wrote back, “Wood belongs in the fireplace.”
To which he replied: Wood belongs across your bare bottom.
Oh, my. And then last week I woke up to this:
I think that an early morning, good hard spanking would be the best way to start your day! Hard hand spanking, then a morning of no panties or pants allowed.
(sigh) I said that coffee and cereal sounded so mundane after that. However, I’ll pass on that last part — it’s too cold! Yes, even in CA, it’s too cold to sit around half naked.
From another periodic correspondent, a local one:
So when you get your vaccine, may I beat you?
Why yes, yes, you may. (Oh, and before people complain about the word choice, he and I established long ago that “beat” is his preferred word for “spank” and he would refrain from using it if it bothered me. I told him it didn’t.) This man remains one of my biggest frustrations. We met for coffee at the end of 2019, hit it off, thought something really good was going to come of it. But as timing would have it, he had a family situation come up at the holidays and went back East to stay for a couple of months… and then Covid hit, pretty much putting the kibosh on everything.
So it seems that the future holds some play for me. But how far in the future, who the hell knows. I am not high on any of the priority lists for vaccination. And since I’ve come this far being able to stay well due to diligent observation of safety precautions, I don’t want to get careless now. So far this year, the national parties are being canceled once again. I’m wondering what kind of long-term effects Covid is going to have on these gatherings. Therefore, it’s looking more and more like I need to find a local partner or two, because I don’t think I’m going to be able to see my scene friends again anytime soon. I’m kind of out of the loop these days anyway… have lost touch with many of them.
Haven’t lost touch with Jillian Keenan though — she included me in another one of her multi-part group videos! I love participating in these. This time, she asked several people to talk about their favorite implements. Part 1 is Jillian herself, then the incomparable Ariel Andersen, talking about about leather belts (yum), and then yours truly. If you’re so inclined, you can see it here.
In other news… there isn’t any. I had a bit of a scare a couple of weeks ago when I got a callback on a routine mammogram. I had to go back for a second mammogram and an ultrasound; that’s never happened before. I was told repeatedly that this was common, but guess what… I was still scared out of my mind. And I had to wait a week between the time I got the call to when I could get an appointment for the repeat procedures. However, the good news was that I got the results immediately — tiny cyst. That’s it. I made it back to my car and then broke down and cried, I was so relieved. After that, hell, I’ll take dullness and routine, y’all.
Hey, kids. Told you I’d be back when I had something positive to talk about. So far, John and I have avoided Covid-19, and the wildfires scared the crap out of me, but didn’t impact John’s house after all. Thanks to the people who checked in with me while I took a break.
Podcasts, you say? I should give some background first. How many of you enjoy watching free videos on Spanking Tube? Have you heard of the gentleman who calls himself “agoodspankin”? He has been shooting videos of himself spanking women since 2010, and has posted about 100 of them on ST. He has quite the mystique, because 1. he has a great voice and his scolding is delicious, and 2. he never shows his face, although you can see his nice build. (By the way, ladies, I’ve seen his picture — he’s easy on the eyes.) Anyway… he and I go back a long time, maybe to 2005? He wrote some spanking books in the early 2000s, and he and I had connected online by then and he asked if I would edit his books. Of course I said yes, and he even put a “thank you” page and a couple of pictures of me at the back of one of them (“Never Too Old to Spank”). He also was instrumental in my discovering Lulu Press for self-publishing my first book in 2007.
Recently, he decided to start doing spanking podcasts. He did the first two by himself, mostly introductory stuff, and then he started interviewing people. His third podcast was of two young women from Georgia, both of whom had played with him and one or both of them, I forget, did a video with him. A couple of weeks ago, he contacted me and asked if I’d like to do an interview. Well, I’ve seen the buzz this man gets on Twitter, how the spanko bottoms go gaga over him and even the spanko tops are impressed and say they could learn a lot about technique from him — my immediate response was “I’d be honored!” He lives on the opposite coast, so we couldn’t meet in person, but he said we could do it over the phone and he’d record it through that, then he could edit it.
Long story short, we did it last Monday. He tries to keep his podcasts around an hour… but we started talking, he got to asking me questions (about growing up spanko without the internet, parties, videos, and so much more) and before we knew it, we had been talking for over two hours. He said he’s going to make it a two-parter, and today he messaged me, said he’s edited it and it sounds really good. When he posts it next week, I’ll link you guys to it. In the meantime, you can read about him (and check out some of his videos, if you’d like), here on Spanking Tube. I had so much fun doing this with him. And talking about our favorite subject was such a blast, we ended up talking on the phone an extra hour past the interview.
Oooh! Just noticed that Ronnie has included the Never Too Old podcast in her latest “In With The New.” Part One of our interview will be put up this coming Wednesday.
Next — I MET JILLIAN KEENAN! The journalist! The author of “Sex With Shakespeare”! The one who has the YouTube channel with the “Kinking Out Loud” series! A few weeks ago, she messaged me on Twitter and asked if by any chance I had some free time to join a socially distanced outdoor meeting close to me, this coming Wednesday. Say what? I said I was working, but if it were indeed near me, I could duck out for a couple of hours. She then asked what parks were closest to me, so I gave her two. Shortly after that, she said she’d checked with “the others” (I had no idea who) and everyone liked one of the parks I’d suggested, so we’d meet there at 4:00.
Mind you, I had no idea what this was about, or who else would be there, but who cares? It was Jillian! It was a chance to have some fun and actually be out among humans! Usually I need to know every detail beforehand of anything I plan to do, but this time I said screw it, just go. It was a pretty day, warm, and the park was gorgeous. Took me a while to find them (the park is huge!), but I finally did.
As it turned out, Jillian and her boyfriend were passing through California on their way back from a very long hike (one hundred eighty-five days!) on the Pacific Crest Trail, and they decided to get together with a few people from here, including a few of the patrons of her YouTube channel. And me!
We had a group of nine, sitting several feet apart from each other on the grass, all wearing masks. Jillian and Dan were so charming — warm, friendly, funny. Her patrons were all very nice. I didn’t know any of them, except for one man who came later, and he looked familiar — turned out I’d met him at a Shadow Lane party two years ago. Small world. Anyway, we all took turns talking, Jillian asking us questions, and two hours zipped by very quickly.
John had said beforehand, “You have to get a picture with Jillian!” So I made sure I did. We’re masked, but you can still tell we’re beaming, right?
What a nice break from pandemic isolation this was! And just a reminder: You can watch/subscribe to Jillian’s videos on YouTube, here.
Hmmm… there was something else. What was it… oh, who am I kidding. I can’t ignore the giant orange elephant in the room.
I suppose people are imagining that I’m dancing, laughing, jumping for joy, gloating, beaming, and so on, right about now. You know what? No. I’m not.
The past eight months have been hell. Pandemic isolation with no end in sight. No play. No meeting up with friends (except for the one time with Jillian), even for a cup of coffee. Wildfires consuming my state and threatening John’s house. Shootings. Protests. And the straw that broke my back: the death of the great Supreme Court Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg. Followed by having to watch the GOP spit in the face of her legacy, her dying wish, and shove in Amy Coat-hanger Barrett as her successor. What a disgrace. And while thousands upon thousands died (and continue to die), Mango Mussolini sat on his golden throne, ALL-CAPS tweeting, grandstanding and lying, and didn’t give a shit about any of us.
Today, Alex Trebek died. I was a huge fan. Heart is broken once again.
About twelve years ago, my dear talented friend Dave Wolfe, upon finding out that I love rain, drew this joyous caricature of me.
I haven’t felt like this for a very long time. I feel beaten down and tired. I ache — body, heart and soul. I’m sickened by what I see in a country I used to be proud of. I know Joe Biden is not the Messiah. I know there is no instant fix to what is broken. We are anything but the “United” States. Our country is divided. I don’t think I will see things resolve in my lifetime. I am still scared of the future.
But I can timidly exhale. I can go to sleep and not be afraid of what I might wake up to. I can feel like the country is in the hands of a man, not an overgrown monstrous child. A child who, as I write, is throwing tantrums, screaming “I WON” and “FRAUD” to his base, and refusing to concede. He is going to make this the most contentious and ugly transition in history. He will fight it to the death, and he will pull every trick he can. He gets his way, all the time, no matter how he has get it. So why wouldn’t he now? Therefore, no joy here. Just a very cautious hope.
Still, I feel like I’ve been offered a cup of warm, soothing cocoa after four years of nothing to drink but orange Kool-Aid laced with battery acid.
Joe Biden is asking for unity. For us to stop hating each other and heal. I would like that, but I don’t see it happening. Still, I feel like things might move in a better direction. (They pretty damn well have to.) Someday, this @#$%ing pandemic will be handled properly and we can all get our lives back. Well… not 238,000 of us, but you know what I mean. And maybe, just maybe, I will feel that unbridled joy again. But right now, I am shell-shocked. For a while, I’m just going to cry. Exhausted, grieving, and yes, relieved.
When I started this blog back up after a year of hiatus, I said I didn’t want to talk about politics. This post is an exception; I don’t plan to make a habit of it. But I have one more thing to say.
For the past four years, some folks of the Republican persuasion have taunted and insulted me. They have called me: Libtard. Retard. Snowflake. Whiner. Crybaby. Ugly bitch. Granny porn star. And more, but I think you get the idea. Posted pictures of horribly unattractive people and likened me to them. Oh, and let’s not forget sneering at me to suck it up, because Trump would be my president through 2024.
Well, you lovely people… first, shame on all of you. I hope you feel good about yourselves. And second — expending all that energy hating on me so hard had to burn a whole lot of calories. Perhaps you’d like to replenish some of them with a little snack.
Godspeed, and go fuck yourselves. Because I don’t forgive you.
Hoping for better days. For those who are still hanging in there with me, thank you. ♥
Many of you are aware that the uber-talented Jillian Keenan has her own YouTube channel, and has been posting videos about our favorite fetish, spanking. There is no actual spanking in these videos, but they’re not necessary, because the content is rich and funny and thought-provoking, and there’s something for everyone. Sometimes Jillian appears in these by herself; other times she has guests appear. Before Covid struck, she had many videos stocked up with other people in them. She does a great job of editing; the videos have a fully professional feel to them.
A couple of months or so ago (I’ve lost track of time this year), Jillian contacted me and asked if I’d like to contribute to a compilation video she was putting together of various spanking folks talking about how to handle play (or the lack thereof) during the pandemic. She said it could be very simple, just a quick video on my phone. I happily agreed. I was thrilled to be included. Also, it gave me an excuse to put on makeup, something I hadn’t done since when, February? Also, I’d just managed to get my hair cut, in between times the salons were shut down, so I had good hair. Vanity, thy name is Erica.
I shot it and sent it off; she let me know she got it and that she was very happy with it. I figured she had to collect all the other contributions and edit them together, so it might be a while.
Well, guess what — it went up this past weekend! John and I watched on Saturday. She got a wonderful collection of spankos together for this, from all over the world (Ariel Anderssen, Princess Kelley and Stephen Lewis, Pandora/Blake, Madame Samantha B, Pharaoh, Miss Rachel and Cassidy Lau), and what she did with all the bits of film was incredible. I thought she was just going to show us in turn, doing our spiel, but she cut us all together, going back and forth, taking turns — she did it in a way that made it look like we were all having one big conversation with one another. It was awesome! In fact, she ended up with so much material, she decided to make a Part 2. I think she used enough of my footage in Part 1 that I won’t be in the second one, but who knows.
Anyway, here tis:
Please leave her a nice comment if you liked this! And give a watch to her other videos if you haven’t already. She has many. And if you wish to support her efforts and become one of her patrons, that’s an option as well.
In other news, I am officially in hell. We’ve had a record-breaking heat wave here in So. CA, and the power companies have been stretched to the max. It hit 114-115 both days at John’s house; his A/C is pretty strong, but we ran it day and night. It felt like an inferno outside. And I was scared that any minute, we’d have one of those rolling blackouts. Yeah, global warming is a hoax, my ass.
Yesterday when we went to pick up breakfast, my car nearly overheated. We got back, John looked under the hood, said all looked okay and it was probably just the extreme heat and the overload of blasting the A/C. I was still really nervous though, and anxious to get the drive home over with. John’s A/C was still working, but the heat had driven ants into his bathroom, which was swarming with them. He put out traps, but it takes a while for them to take effect.
I drove home, and sure enough, the car was fine. I didn’t blast the A/C this time, just halfway instead of full blast, and the temp gauge stayed squarely in the middle. I got my groceries and was so relieved when I got home. Ah, I thought. Now I hunker down, work, stay indoors and cool until this damned heat breaks.
Until I opened the door to my apartment and was not greeted with that welcome gust of cold air. Oh, no. No, no, no…
Yep. Our building’s A/C crapped out. And there’s nothing that can be done until at least Tuesday because of the holiday. I’m sure the demands for A/C repair are through the roof with this heat wave.
Swell. My apartment was 85 degrees. People said “Go back to John’s.” But I didn’t want to. I was afraid to keep pushing my luck, driving in this heat. Plus there were those damned ants. And his lack of WiFi, his glacial internet speed — I can visit fine, but I can’t get anything done there. Besides — guess what? Yup, he had a rolling blackout last night. Just for a couple of hours, but still.
What could I do? Nothing. So, since yesterday afternoon, this has been my new normal. I have several fans going. I have a spray bottle on my work table and I keep spritzing myself with water every few minutes. No, I’m not wearing any clothes. The lights are all turned off. I’m drinking cold water. I filled my bathtub with cold water and every now and then, I go take a dunk in it. Last night, I slept with two frozen bottles of water inside socks in my bed. And so it goes. As long as my power holds out, I will get through it. If it goes out, then I’m screwed. But hopefully it won’t. It hasn’t so far.
Goddammit. We were supposed to be in Vegas this weekend, having an altogether different kind of hot time. (sigh) Screw you, Covid. (And here’s the irony; Vegas would have actually been cooler!) To add insult to injury, I have two large, madly itching welts on my right leg. Ant bites??
This too shall pass. Please send all your ice-cold vibes.
In lieu of last week’s discussion about Jillian Keenan’s book, particularly the portion where she expresses her feelings about non-consensual spanking (read: of children), I thought it was time for another Erica-inspired meme.
It is good. It’s smart, literate, interesting, and bold. It’s honest. And it accomplishes one hell of a feat: it links spanking and fetish activity with Shakespearean plays and characters, bringing both into a magical reality in which Jillian interacts with several of them. There are one hell of a lot of books about spanking, and a lot more about Shakespeare. But I daresay this is the first that combines the two, and entertainingly so.
I do have a confession to make. You know that Sam Cooke song, “Wonderful World”? “Don’t know much about history, don’t know much geography…” Well… I don’t know much about Shakespeare, beyond the bare basics. Sure, I know the story of Romeo and Juliet (but really, who doesn’t?). I know that the quote “Alas, poor Yorick” is from Hamlet (and I also know that the oft-added “I knew him well” is a misquote). I know that King Lear’s daughters were named Cordelia, Regan and Goneril (although every time I see that latter name, I think of gonorrhea. What the hell kind of name is Goneril, anyway?). But other than that… I have never read a Shakespearean play. (hanging head in shame) So, while I do wish I could have related more to the Shakespeare part of Jillian’s book (and that’s my shortcoming, not a criticism of SWS), I nonetheless found that aspect intriguing. And I found myself admiring and relating to Jillian more and more as I read.
At a glance, you put us together and we are very different beings. I am twice her age. She has worked and lived all over the world; I’ve lived in one state all my life, and my travel is limited to seven states and Mexico. She embraces change; I crave stasis. And yet, I felt those tendrils of kinship with her. Because I know that in one major area, she gets me, and I get her. We both have that gene, that wiring, that thing, whatever the fuck it is, that draws us inexorably to spanking.
(Side note: Funny how even within that commonality, we differ. She can’t stand the word “spanko,” while I think it’s a perfect term and use it often. But out of respect for her, I will refrain from using it for the remainder of this post. 🙂 )
When I read of Jillian’s childhood and adolescence, and all the feelings and desires around spanking that caused her shame and a sense of otherness, I realized I’d been wrong about one of my long-time assumptions. I know everyone is different, of course — but in general, I thought those in the Millennial generation had an easier time of exploring and reconciling with their kinks, because they always had the Internet — and its wealth of information and connections — at their fingertips. How could anyone feel alone when they had that? But I was mistaken. Apparently, Jillian went through as much angst and self-loathing as I did. Fortunately for all of us, she did manage to embrace her spanking fetish much earlier than I did.
When she spoke of her first spanking, I remembered mine. When she talked of how it’s so much more than just a hand striking a bottom — it’s about headspace, it’s about scolding or certain verbiage that accompanies it, etc. — I nodded, and frequently said “Yes” out loud. At her insistence that this is not something that we choose, but it chooses us, I did a fist-pump.
I have referred to Jillian Keenan as brave before, and I continue to do so. Yes, a lot of us write and blog and talk about our kinks and how they impact our lives. But Jillian does so, openly and honestly, while revealing her full, real name to the masses… including the haters out there. While others battle to keep from being outed, she outed herself, and risked everything. That, to me, is fucking brave. That is conviction. I certainly couldn’t do it, as proud as I am of my place in the kink world.
For years, I have tried to explain why I think spanking and BDSM are different. Yes, the former is a subculture of the latter. But they have a fully different look, feel, language, clothing, etiquette, and so on. I said that I was OK with visiting a dungeon, but going to a spanking party felt like coming home. For this, I have been accused of being elitist, exclusive, of perpetrating the “us vs. them myth.” On FetLife, when I stated that I considered myself more of a “spanking purist,” one dreadful woman went so far as to say that anyone who uses the term “purist” is probably also an advocate of “ethnic cleansing.” Right — so preferring spanking over whips and chains makes me akin to Hitler?? Fuck her! But then Jillian came along with her book, and on page 141 (hardcover version), she explained the difference in two sentences. Perfectly.
I spent enough time at a dungeon in San Francisco to realize that although BDSM is a broad term that includes spanking obsessives, like me, we also belong to different subcultures, with different aesthetic styles and mind-sets. I fit in at that dungeon only as well as a gay man might at a lesbian bar: we could relate, but it wasn’t my place.
How. Freaking. Brilliant. Is. This? She nailed it. If people still don’t get it after reading this encapsulation, then they never will.
It was just one of many “aha” moments I had, reading this book. When she claimed that spanking yourself is like trying to tickle yourself, it just doesn’t work, I laughed in commiseration. At her confession that she had a fondness for Star Wars-themed spanking fanfiction, I thought, well, is that any different than my writing Dark Shadows-themed spanking fanfic, with Quentin Collins spanking me? Oh, and how many times have I lamented that I can’t stand having my nipples touched, that it seems all the sexual wiring that was intended for my breasts went to my butt instead? So you can imagine how I crowed when Jillian referred to her own backside as a giant clitoris hitched to the back of her pelvis.
Even when the topic made me uncomfortable, I appreciate how it made me think. Jillian posits that children, even at a very young age, have emerging sexual identities. I agree with this, especially when it comes to the vague notions of kink. How else can we explain our fascinations with spanking as children? How so many of us played spanking games, looked up “spanking” and all its synonyms in the dictionary? Jillian goes on to opine that if a child has an emerging spanking fetish, and early sexual feelings around it, then spanking said child is sexual assault.
She’s taken a lot of heat for this statement — again, the bravery thing. Granted, I have always been uncomfortable with the idea of spanking kids. But I figured it was simply because it’s a crappy thing to do to a helpless little person and it sends the wrong message (“I’m bigger than you, so I get to hit you, but you can’t do that to anyone else.” “I have control over you, and I can hurt you if I choose to.”) Granted, that last quote is fine if it’s between consenting adults — but children cannot consent. Still… sexual assault? Then I thought back to my own childhood.
My mother hit me a lot. She was impulsive and temperamental and would usually slap whatever she could reach at the time — my face, my arms, my legs. My primary reaction to that was helpless rage; I so wanted to slap her back. However, my memory of a single OTK spanking from my father is altogether different. It was so long ago, but I’ll never forget how I felt. Humiliated. Betrayed. Ashamed. I ran outside, wept into my dog’s fur, and wished I could simply disappear into thin air. I never wanted to face anyone again. Why such an extreme reaction? And even now, thinking about it makes my flesh crawl. Could it be because my little self was already feelings those tendrils of fetishism, and the confusion was unbearable?
You may agree with Jillian. You may not. But I believe she knows what she’s talking about, and her views are worthy of respect. Only one of us can truly say how wretched childhood spanking can be, I think. Because for us, it’s so much more than the temporary pain.
I really am rambling here, so I will stop now. In short: If you happen to be both a Shakespeare aficionado and a spanking fetishist, Jillian’s book will be an extra special treat for you. But you don’t need to be both in order to get plenty out of it. Because there is much to be learned on both subjects. And if you are just becoming aware of your own inner spanking enthusiast and are looking for someone to learn from and relate to, here she is.
However, Steve the sadistic fuck big meanie called it “getting mouthy.” Which, apparently, called for thigh abuse attention.
I took this about two hours after he left. You’ll notice that the butt color is completely gone, whereas the thigh color remains. Humph.
In other news, my order came from Amazon:
Yes, Jillian’s first book is out! (That’s Jillian Keenan, of course. Apologies for my wayward finger blocking part of her name.) Jillian is a brilliant and bold voice for us and I highly encourage supporting any and all of her writing efforts. You can read more about it (and order it!) here. I confess, my Shakespearean literacy leaves much to be desired. But I suspect I’ll know much more by the time I’m done reading.
And finally, in today’s potpourri, here are a couple more inane search phrases I discovered:
Can be loving, affectionate, loyal, quick-witted, playful, sensitive, empathic, tenderhearted, mercurial, stubborn, sarcastic, impatient, perfectionistic, contrary, opinionated, cranky, antisocial, restless, kinky, exhibitionistic, rebellious, incurably flirtatious, or any combination of the above, depending on the day. Questions/comments/want to say hello? email@example.com