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 “John”

Back home, full circle: 50 Freaks 2020

I figured since my last post featured a photo of the view from the car on the way to Vegas, I’d post a pic of the view on the way home for this one. No clouds this time, but look at the snow!

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I used to post these reports in multiple entries, one for each day of the party, but I stopped doing that and now it’s easier to simply write one loooooooong post. So settle in and get comfortable.

What a party. So many thoughts and feelings. So many laughs. So many hugs. And yes, soooo much play. ๐Ÿ™‚ I played with nine different men, four of them more than once. Not too shabby after a year off from play parties!

Before I get into the day to day, I wanted to say a few things about my experience overall. The welcomes I received were unbelievably gratifying — so many hugs, so many utterances of “I’m so glad to see you,” “I missed you,” “Glad you’re back.” No one asked me about what happened (many of them knew, as these things tend to get around), and the particular name was never mentioned in my presence. (John said a few people talked with him about it, but every time was with nothing but concern for my well-being.) I was able to relax back into things without feeling anxiety and paranoia over what people were thinking, if they were thinking anything, because I simply didn’t care. It’s done. And I didn’t regret coming back for a single minute. It was time.

The party was quite large and I think I knew only about half the people, maybe two thirds. It didn’t matter. The people who mattered to me were there, and I got to see them, talk to them, have meals with them, hug them. I focused on what was, not what had been or what wasn’t. I decided I was going to go with whatever the flow brought my way and let go of my need to predict/control everything.

And I had a fan-freaking-tastic time. โ™ฅ

So without further ado, here come the highlights.

Thursday: The drive passed without event. Of course, you’re thinking, why wouldn’t it? (sigh) Not with my brain. Y’all know what I go through beforehand with all the fretting about worst-case scenarios. But we made it, and in good time too.

The past couple of months, I had been bantering with Zack on Twitter. He was fairly new to the scene, coming to his first national party, and already had a long list of indiscretions I’d committed (including “breathing with attitude” — I kid you not), so I was looking forward to meeting him. He was coming from Kansas City (oh, that’s in Missouri, not the Great State of Kansas, FYI) and was sharing a room with Abby and “Jaibug,” so I texted him as soon as we settled in, and we dropped in to meet him and to see Abby again (Jai wasn’t there yet). It was mid-afternoon and we were tired and grubby from the drive, so we didn’t stay long, but of course Abby got spanked while we were there. She took it in stride and she and I tossed a stuffed penguin back and forth during the whole thing. ๐Ÿ˜€ Yes, it was going to be a fun weekend.

Thursday night is a blur of greetings and hugs. I don’t remember much about that evening, except that a quickie fun warm-up scene with Zack was my first (of many; I think he and I must have played about five-six times?). And before I get into more details, I have to stop and say that as fun as Zack is online, he’s even more delightful in person. Oh, and hugs-wise, of special note was getting tackle-hugged by Sarah Rocks. I do love that woman! She doesn’t just hug you — she hurls her whole body at you. One of the most infectiously happy people I know. ๐Ÿ™‚

Then just before midnight, “InspectHerHide” Michael showed up with his lovely wife “Ellie_3.” I love these two people so much; Michael has been a highlight of my play parties for many years now, and the addition of his adorable bride has made it even better. As I passed through the crowded room, looking for him, several people stopped me. “Did Michael find you?” “Michael’s looking for you!” Finally I saw him across the room talking to someone, and I sneaked up behind him and kissed his neck. Oh, I’d missed those Michael hugs! And of course, immediately after the long hug, he took me by the hand and pulled me into the bedroom, where we had our usual raucous first scene of the weekend. Without belaboring the past year overly much, I just have to mention that Michael, during my disappearance, never stopped checking in with me with sweet, supportive texts. And when I finally told him, months after the fact, what had happened and expressed my deep fear that no one would believe me, he said the three kindest words he could: “I believe you.” Like I said, I love this man. โ™ฅ After the amazingly-intense-for-a-Thursday-night spanking, I curled up into him and we stayed on the bed for a long time afterward, just holding each other close and talking, catching up. It was delicious.

So, so good to see Joe (DrLectr) again, and to meet his girlfriend P. As always, there were plenty of snacks and beverages, and pizza late that night (you really never have to go out to dinner during a Freaks weekend, but people do anyway). I don’t remember how late we stayed that first night; I know that when we did go, the party was in full swing, but we had three more nights to go, so we headed relatively early. (That means before three a.m.)

Friday: Okay, you guys know me and my routine(s). At parties, when I’m not playing or talking, I’m sleeping. I hate mornings. I don’t care who is doing what during the morning hours; they can do it without me. I stay up half the night and then in the morning, while John goes to the gym, I sleep and sleep until he wakes me up around 11-11:30. Then I drag myself out of bed, grumbling, shower and dress, and head out for the first meal of the day.

Yeah. Zack, Abby and Jai blew that all to hell. :-รž

Zack, a morning person and an avid exerciser, had cheerfully announced that he was going to get up at 6:00 a.m. to work out. He wanted to know who would join him. I said, “Oh, honey… you’ve never been to one of these parties. People are just going to bed at 6:00 a.m. You try to get anyone up at that hour and you’ll have a mutiny on your hands.” Abby was more succinct; she told him she’d kill him if he woke her before 10. So he let go of that idea, and John joined him in the gym around 9:00.

As per our usual routine, John came back to the room around 11, stripped off his gym clothes and crawled into bed with me to wake me up. I’d barely opened my eyes when there was a very loud Knock knock knock! at our hotel door. What the… John threw his clothes back on and went to see who was there — it was Zack, Abby and Jai, who came in and Jai and Abby threw themselves onto the bed with sputtering, spluttering me, as I pulled the covers over my head and swore profusely. Of course, they all laughed at me, and Zack took pictures of me hiding in the bed, so I finally had to bite the bullet and get up (at least I had PJs on!). They wanted to go to lunch, so I pleaded with them to wait so I could shower first.

While I went about my ablutions, John just had to get a picture:

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I finally got myself pulled together and we went downstairs to eat. They have a shop that’s a bagel/breakfast shop at one end and a Subway at the other, so it’s got something for everyone and we pushed a couple of tables together so the five of us could sit and eat, and chat.

Friday afternoon didn’t have any activities we planned to attend, and on Friday evening, a group of people were going to the Cosmopolitan for a show, so it was going to be a low-key early afternoon and evening. I figured we’d just chill, sleep a bit while we could, then I’d wash my hair and get ready for the evening. But I’d no sooner slept for about a half-hour than guess who came knocking at the door again?? All right, you guys… I give. Clearly, this weekend was not going to be like my usual weekends, and I could either be a pill and a killjoy, or I could just go with it and forfeit some of my sleep. I chose to go with the latter, and I have no regrets. ๐Ÿ™‚

After showering and doing my hair and makeup, we headed to 960 for the vendor fair. My dear long-time friend Andy (the photographer who took that long-ago picture of me in front of the mirror) was selling his canes, so I did a brief demo with him.

Shenanigans ensued as the evening progressed. At one point, I was sitting on the couch and Abby came bounding in, scampered up to me and said, “Wanna have some fun?” She then pulled a roll of duct tape out of her purse and said, “Zack’s in the room; let’s duct tape the door shut.” Sounded like fun to me!

However, I guess we made too much noise in the hallway. We were trying to stifle our giggles, but it was impossible to mask the loud ripping sound the tape made. So, we’d barely gotten one strip around the top and side of the doorway when Zack opened the door and tore the tape, and just stood there, smiling down at the two of us crouched on the carpet. Busted… He had to make a phone call, but promised he’d deal with us later.

And of course, he did. Abby first, and then me. Neither of us took him seriously, though. In fact, while I was OTK, I untied his shoelaces. And then Abby tied the laces from each shoe into a knot, binding his feet together. ๐Ÿ˜€

I was delighted to see that my friend Brandon was at this party — I hadn’t seen him for a couple of years, but we go back twelve years (geez, where does time go??). Sometime mid-evening, he sat in front of me and announced, “I’m going to spank you!” “Oh, yeah?” I said. “You and who else?” “Me and this!” he replied, holding up his right hand. Oh well, when you put it that way… We went into the bedroom, where we saw Zack and Abby on one side of the bed, so we took the other side. The four of us had a fun scene, all playing off one another. Check out Abby and me — do we look like trouble, or what?

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Zack also took a minute or so of video of the four of us and our silliness on the bed. He posted it on Twitter. It’s been well received, gotten 71 likes so far.

Brandon then had me get up and lie on the bed, and he gave me a strapping with his belt. I had forgotten just how good he is with that thing. Yummmmyyyy. Thank you, B.

Things are blurry as far as what happened when, but later that night, several of us were on one of the beds (me, John, Zack, Abby, and the Infamous Kat) when Roy came in. Ah, Roy. What do I say about Roy. I’ve known him for what, about five years now? Maybe six? We play a couple of times at every party. And we have this Thing, this chemistry, this crazy attraction for one another. Soooo… we flirt, we banter, we dance on the lines without quite crossing them. And dammit, it’s fuuuuuuun. And sexy. And harmless. John laughs about it, bless his non-possessive heart.

Anyway, he sat on the bed and started playing with my bare feet. He’d just gotten there that evening, so we hadn’t played yet — and then he said, “We need to play.” No argument from me there! “Big bathroom? Our spot?” he asked. Yup, we have a “spot.” Some of you might remember, that happened one party a few years ago when there was absolutely no place to play and we ended up going into the larger bathroom and he sat on the padded vanity seat. We’ve gone there ever since. Even got this picture two years ago.

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We settled into our spot and started our scene. Oh, my. It went on for a long time. Roy is one of a handful of tops I know who can do pretty much anything and it’s okay with me. I feel like a hypocrite sometimes, because I bitch and moan and preach about tops doing things I don’t like, and yet Roy can do them and I have zero complaint. What can I say… that’s just the way it is. So when he began slapping along my inner thighs and down the backs of my legs, I didn’t protest. Well, until it hurt, then I winced. And then he said, “I’m sorry, baby–” and I completely forget how he ended that. “I’m sorry, baby, but you know you need this.” “I’m sorry, baby, but you know I have to do this.” Something like that. All I heard were the first three words and the rest blurred as I dissolved into girl goo. ๐Ÿ™‚

People commented later about the marks on my thighs. My answer? “It’s Roy. Roy can do whatever he wants.” I’m so bad…

You know, after that, I don’t remember much, so I’ll end Friday night on that note. I think we left the party around 3:00. Oh, wait — we did have cake for the amazing Madame Samantha’s birthday at 11:30.

Saturday: This time, our morning trio of visitors didn’t come as a shock to my system. By now, I was laughing about it. They hung out while I showered and dressed, and then of course one thing led to another and I ended up getting a “good morning” spanking from Zack.

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Isn’t he cute?? And yes, that’s Roy’s handiwork on my thighs.

After lunch, John and I had some time to ourselves before the “Service Spa” event. Joe started doing this a few years ago; it’s like a mini-spa for the female bottoms, with massage tables set up, chocolates, champagne, and pampering. Each table was doing something different, and a couple of men (Zack and Michael) sat off to the side, brushing hair. Andy was there doing rhythmic sensual caning, which I love, so I got on his table and blissed out while he used two canes in a gentle tapping rhythm that was stimulating and had just a teeny sting to it but didn’t hurt. So many people are afraid of canes, but they have no idea how many different ways they can be used. And really, a cane is only as scary as the person holding it. Implements aren’t ever the culprits in a bad scene, I don’t think — it’s the bad tops wielding them.

Roy showed up about forty-five minutes into it — another one of our Things is that he always gives me a massage. I sat at his feet on the carpet and zoned out while he massaged my neck and shoulders, my scalp. Jeeezus, that man’s hands… (Side note: I know Zack also gave me a massage at some point during the weekend, and he’s really good at it also, but I can’t remember which night it was! Everything kind of runs together in my mind as far as sequence goes.) I was thoroughly relaxed after all this and then hung out on the couch talking until it was time to head off and get ready for dinner.

Steak house time again! Every year, Joe books us the small, cozy banquet room at the hotel steak house, and we get a group of fifteen. There’s usually a sign-up sheet for it, but this year there wasn’t for some reason, so there was some confusion and more people wanting to go than the room could handle, but it ended up okay. I showered and dressed up, and when we got to the restaurant, John and I ended sitting right near Joe and P, which was lovely. The group overall was great — Djinn was there, Peaches, Zack and Abby, Jai, and some others I didn’t know, but we all had laughs and wonderful food. I had a glass of Moscato that was delicious, and John and I both got the salmon and split a side of grilled asparagus.

Later that night, there was a birthday party for Dirk — Dirk and Roslyn have been in the scene forever and Joe adores them. It was such fun — the theme was the Roaring ’20s, and several people were in costume. There were colored lights and music and some dancing, and a whole lot of alcohol (the place was turned into a speakeasy and people were walking around the room passing out Moscow Mules and other mixed drinks, plus champagne). I had a glass and a half, and that on top of the Moscato got me a bit tipsy. Oh, and Moscow Mules are delicious — who knew?

Michael and Ellie were leaving early Sunday morning, so of course I had to have one more scene with Michael before they left. This one was shorter than Thursday’s, but every bit as enjoyable. I also played with a gentleman I’d just met named Andy — he was very tall and polite and had a delightful accent. I think (?) he was born in Germany, but had lived in Sweden and other places as well. After we played and I was sitting in his lap, he did something I loved — he stood up with me in his arms and spun me around before putting me down. ๐Ÿ™‚ I giggled like crazy; it was unexpected and sweet.

The rest of the night is the usual blur of cacophony and bodies and watching people play. John and I discovered this time that it was good to take mini-breaks now and then when the noise and the crush got to be too much. Just a few minutes away would refresh us and then we could re-join the party. But we still can’t do the all-nighters so many others do, so we called it a night around 3:00-3:30 once again.

Sunday:ย Abby was flying home that morning, so she had asked if she could come by our room to say goodbye. Of course I said yes. So the three of them stopped by around 11:00, and we all hung out for a while, talking, before we had to send Abby on her way. Zack and Jai left, saying they’d be back, and I had assumed they were taking her to the airport, so John and I decided to shower. John was in the shower, I was naked with a towel wrapped around my hair… and there was a knock at the door! Whaaaa?? I snatched up a second towel to wrap around myself and went to answer it — turns out Zack and Jai didn’t drive Abby anywhere, they just put her in an Uber! And of course John chose that moment to come out of the bathroom, holding a washcloth over his privates (damn, I wish we’d gotten a picture of that!). I then went in to shower, with all this teasing going on in the background of how they were going to come into the bathroom and watch (they didn’t).

We went to Subway again, and this time were joined by Mir, Tall&Strict and Sean. It was a nice long lunch with several sub-conversations going on, and Zack had Abby on his phone on FaceTime so we could all say goodbye to her again before her plane took off.

Sunday early afternoon at these parties usually has the wonderful staple of Strict Dave’s Punishment Court. But sadly, Dave and Stacy had to cancel unexpectedly, and so Joe, with the help of Crashdance, RBH and others, put together a series of spanko games with teams and participants. We got there late and missed the first half of it, but got to see the games of Trivial Pursuit, Family Feud and Pyramid. Pyramid was especially funny, because it was all spanking terms. “Young Lady.” “Six of the Best.” “Bare Bottom,” etc. I wished I had gotten in on the game — I knew almost all the movie/TV/video trivia.

After the games ended, a bunch of us stayed in the room hanging out, and John and I met this delightful couple, M and B, who live in L.A. and have a small group that has munches and little parties periodically. As it turned out, I had watched B scening the night before, and was mesmerized by his scolding technique. He kept a running commentary going, his voice calm and even, with no sign of any rote phrases or trite drivel — damn, it was hot! I told him so. We chatted them up a bit and then watched a fun scene with RBH strapping the two of them plus Chloe for some prank that involved quinoa (you had to be there). While this was going on, I found a giant blow-up bat that was labeled, appropriately, “Super Bat,” and thought it would be a fun idea to bop Zack in the head with it. Repeatedly. Until he decided to address it. ๐Ÿ˜€

However, our scene was cut short when he noticed the skin on my sit spots was a bit thrashed and dry, and in dire need of some lotion. He was concerned that if he continued, my skin would break. (It probably wouldn’t, but I fully commend and respect a conscientious top.) So, plan B — I dashed back to our room to get lotion, and he spent some time massaging some into my poor beleaguered butt.

Then we took a selfie. I am sleepy-faced and have zero makeup on, and I don’t care — I really like this picture. ๐Ÿ™‚

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Zack had to leave at 5:00 for his flight home and he’d checked out of his room, so he put his stuff with ours and hung out in our room that afternoon. Back story: in our weeks of banter, he’d often mentioned how hot he thought it would be to throw a spankee over his shoulder and carry her off to her fate. Having experienced that myself, I agreed, it was indeed hot, and I told him he was welcome to try that with me if he’d like to. And soooo… we did it. He picked me up like I was a sack of feathers, put me over his shoulder and carried me up and down the hall. And of course, we had to get a picture… (John took this one):

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When Zack left, John and I decided to sleep for a while, so we’d be fresh for the Sunday final blowout. Usually on Sunday nights, our thing is to go to the Oyster House restaurant in the hotel for dinner, but we decided to pass on that, since the party suite was having pizza again. I almost never eat pizza — it’s the only thing with cheese that I actually like — but a slice of it sure tastes good in the midst of all this activity. (I always want a second piece, but I have to refrain because I know it will make me sick to my stomach.) So, after packing some of our stuff and getting ready, we headed to 960 somewhere around 10-ish. Things weren’t quite hopping yet, but by 11, it was mobbed.

B came and asked if I’d like to play, and I said yes, I’d love to. We’d just met, but as I mentioned, I had watched him play and really liked his style. He likes role-play, and at a party, I’m game for it. But when we got to the bedroom and he stood before me, taking my hands and saying, “So, I heard from your school today,” I couldn’t help it — I burst out laughing. Then I said, “School?? Do you know how old I am? Pick something else!” He laughed, and then swung right into something about breaking curfew. (Which was equally preposterous, but I decided to go with it.) We had fun; he used his hand and belt (he checked in with me beforehand, asking about limits and preferences), and as I’d seen him do, he kept up a running commentary through the scene, allowing me to interact with him and banter. He was testing the waters, checking how I was by asking “Are you sorry yet?” I knew this was his way of saying, “Have you had enough of should I go on?”, so I said, “Yes… sorry-not-sorry!” Ruh roh… wrong answer! After another few flurries, he asked again if I was sorry, and this time I said, “Yessir!” ๐Ÿ˜€ It was a perfect little scene.

We spent some time chatting with Kat and her hubby, and with Mir. I went off to get a caning from Andy M, which was great fun. I love his precision with canes; I always know I’m in good, safe hands with him. Oh, and of course I had to have a second scene with Roy. We tried to grab our bathroom spot, but this time, the bathroom was occupied with two girls in a bubble bath and several others standing around talking with them. So we nabbed a spot on one of the beds. During aftercare, he said, kind of out of nowhere, “I don’t like it when you go missing. I don’t even know what happened, I just know it was some bad shit. But I’m so glad you’re back.” Little things like this really made my weekend. โ™ฅ

Did I mention that the pizza was supposed to arrive at 11 and it didn’t get there until 12:15? By then, I was ravenously hungry and lightheaded, not having eaten since lunchtime (aside from a few peanuts in our room), so it seemed like the best thing I’d ever tasted.

Of course, no party is complete without a Florentine flogging from Fineous (gotta love alliteration, right?). He and I have played on Sunday nights for… well, ever. If I don’t find him, he finds me. It’s our Thing. He had a massage table this time, so I stripped down to just panties and stretched out for my sensuous treat. Nobody flogs like Fineous — it’s indescribable, and so very relaxing. Perfect for winding down a party weekend.

After I somehow managed to stand up and put my clothes back on, I drifted over and found John talking with Mir and T&S. The conversation was animated, and as I got closer, I became aware that the subject was politics. Noooooooo. Not now. No. Please. T&S was ranting about you-know-who, and although I agree with him, I just couldn’t bear to listen to this now, not when I was so blissed out. So I groaned, “Mercy!” He kept going, so I said it again, louder. He still kept going! Then John said, “Hey, didn’t you hear her? She just safe-worded twice!” T&S laughed then and said, “Okay, okay, I’ll stop.” Yeahhh… don’t be killing my buzz, dude.

It was getting late, and I assumed that the flogging was going to be my last scene. I had hoped to play with Joe, but he was so busy and I knew the chances of that happening were slim. So I curled up next to John on the couch and prepared to just hang out there and chill until we decided to leave.

I assumed incorrectly. ๐Ÿ™‚ As I hunkered down with John, I looked up to see none other than Paul Kennedy. I had not seen Alex and Paul for a long time (missed them both hugely!), and I think the last time Paul and I played was when I shot for Northern in 2018 — I’ve always loved playing with him. Well, looked like it was about to happen again; he didn’t say a word, merely stepped up to me and took my hand. Nice.

He had a short, thin cane with him (uh oh), and we went and found a spot on one of the beds, where he took me OTK and gave me a long, deliciously hard hand spanking. By the end of it, I was moaning into the bedspread, but when he let me up, he just smiled and said, “We’re not done.” And he had me bend over the side of the bed.

I know Paul is an expert caner, but I have never been caned by him before. Oh. My. GOD. He had a technique I have never experienced before, not in all these years. In general, I’ve had cane strokes delivered one at a time, with pauses in between to absorb them. Sometimes the top will do a bit of tap-tap-tap with the cane before the major stroke, just to get the positioning right. Paul did the tap-tap-tap as per usual… but after a while, the single hard strokes became double strokes. And then triple. And finally, quadruple. Each stroke would be in a slightly different spot, not all on top of each other (thank god!!), but have two, three and four hard slices in a row was mind-blowing. Oh… and did I mention he caned my upper thighs as well?

Holy crap.

This was definitely a Sunday night finale scene. It was hard. It challenged me. And I was in the best of hands.

When he pulled me up, I was speechless. I was breathless. My mouth was hanging open, but no sounds came out, just strangled gasps. He then laid a finger over my lips, pulled me into his side, wrapped his arms around me and said, “Shhhh… I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

Sweetest of words.

It took me a while to come back down to Earth, and Paul let me take my time. Then after I pulled myself back together, he led me back out and took me to John, leaning over and kissing the top of my head before making his exit. Thank you, Paul. โ™ฅ

Wouldn’t you know it… as I stood there, my legs like butter, my entire lower half feeling like it was on fire, that’s when Joe came over and wanted to play! Ah, Joe, you know I love you, and I adore playing with you, but there was no way. I told him so, and asked if he would give me some lotion aftercare instead. He took me to a table, got some lotion, and whistled when he took a look at me. I think he understood why I couldn’t play with him! After lotioning me, he took some pictures. Here I am, in all my caned glory:

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The redness had faded, even in just that few minutes. But this is a pretty good representation. Stick a fork in me; I was done.

We lingered a bit more, but at 3:30, even though the party was still in full swing with no signs of dwindling, we knew it was time to go. So we said our last good nights and headed back to our room, where we staggered into bed at 4:00, sleeping for three hours and getting up at 7:00 to shower, pack up the rest of our stuff and check out. I was so tired, I was practically delirious, but I just went into automaton mode and did what needed to be done. We made good time, and after getting coffee for the road, we were in the car by 8:00.

Right about now, it’s time for another back story — long ago, my second spanker ever, a southern gentleman, had a very sexy southern drawl, and during/after play, he was fond of saying, “How’s your butt, baby?” I told John about this, and he’s been saying it to me all these years as a joke.

Anyway… we’re in the car driving away, and a text comes in from Zack. I read it, and laughed so hard I nearly cried.

“Hey Erica! I think you are probably under way now and I’ve got something I need to ask you… How’s your butt, baby?”

I said, “John put you up to that!” and he answered, “I have no idea what you’re talking about!” (Also a John phrase.) Well played, guys. ๐Ÿ˜€

The drive home was uneventful. We stopped in Barstow and had double-scoop ice cream cones for breakfast, because vacation. As always, the ride was filled with post-party chitchat, analysis of scenes, recollections of conversations. And yes, with me squirming in the seat and sitting with my feet up on the dash to take the pressure off my butt. Been a while since I’d been that sore. And I loved it.

Would you believe it’s taken me three days to write this thing?? No rest for this girl — I unpacked and settled in on Monday and took that night off, catching up with people, but Tuesday it was back to work. Reality hits hard after these weekends, but I haven’t felt droppy, just tired and a little overwhelmed with stuff to do. Speaking of which, I need to get back to work and do a ton of laundry. However, last but not least…

Thanks to so many people for contributing to my beautiful weekend. I really do feel like I came full circle and I’m back where I belong. Not in the same place I was before, but still a good one. I have a stronger sense of who my friends are, and I am deeply grateful for them. But more than anyone else, as always, I must thank my beloved, the man who is always with me, who has seen me through everything, who rejoices and mourns with me, who supports me, who has never left me. I love you with all my heart, John. โ™ฅ

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Thank you for reading! (Oh, for those who may be wondering — the cane stripes on my thighs have morphed into beautiful bruises, and my sit spots still look a bit mottled. However, my butt is pristine once again. I still got it. :-D)

EDIT: There are so many more people I encountered this party that I didn’t mention here, and I’m sorry. But if I were to mention everyone and everything, I’d be writing this post until Labor Day. Still, for those who shared a hug with me, a few minutes of conversation, thank you. Every one of you was part of my experience. Just a few, in no particular order: Pharaoh, Sha and your beautiful girls; Katerina; KentuckyGirl; Alex Reynolds; Brad; Djinn; Keagan; Gary; SweetEnticement; James and Korey; NaughtyMichael. and probably others I’m forgetting and please forgive me… thank you all! โ™ฅ

Yes, we’re strong, but…

Earlier this morning, a conversation on Twitter got my mind going. A friend was saying how hard it is to let go, to admit that she needs/wants to be taken care of, that her strong, independent and take-charge personality won’t allow it. How many bottoms — women and men — have struggled with this? We work. We function. We struggle and juggle. We make decisions. We pay bills and take care of others. We are responsible. And yet… for many of us, there’s that tiny inner vulnerable person who just wants to give up the control and hand it over to someone stronger.

Me too.

(For the sake of simplicity and my own viewpoint, I’m going to assume the strong female/stronger male dynamic, but please feel free to substitute whatever works for you.)

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How do women reconcile their strength, their feminism and independence with that inner need to be taken down, spanked, held and comforted? I’ve heard that question for years and years, and I still don’t know the answer to it. I only know the need is real.

I am fiercely independent to a fault. I am a loner. I have lived alone since I was seventeen years old. And I hate needing people. That is one hell of a clash with the part of me who wants to lie over a man’s lap, feel his strong hand spanking me, and then disappear into his arms. Who wants to hear his voice in my ear, softly crooning, “Shhh. Good girl. That’s my girl. I’ve got you.” Who wants to sob until his shirt is soaked with my tears… knowing he won’t think my crying is ugly.

An old (and honestly, really sexist) song from the movie “Funny Girl” comes to mind, in particular the lyric, “You are woman, I am man. You are smaller, so I can be taller than.” I’m not a small woman; I’m 5′ 7″ flat-footed. I accepted years ago that a lot of men (and play partners) aren’t going to be taller/bigger than I am, and that’s fine. But guess what… yup. There’s still that part of me that yearns to be tiny, that loves the fact that John is 6′ 2″. When I’m barefooted and he’s hugging me, he likes to say, “What are you doing down there?” My answer is always the same: “Looking up at you.”

Does that make me weak? A traitor to the feminist cause? I don’t think so. I’m not looking for a caretaker or a protector. I don’t want to be absolved of all responsibility, to be permanently removed from adulthood. I just want the chance now and then to be vulnerable, to let go and know I have a safety net. To know that if I crack my hard exterior and let the softer, inner me show, that side will be cherished, not crushed.

This is an old picture of a former play partner. Sadly, he showed himself to be someone with whom I can no longer share my vulnerability.ย  But I still love this picture. And I want this — not him, but this — back in my life again regularly, in my home, in my moments of softness. So, so, so damn much.

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I hope I find it again.

Have a great weekend, y’all.

Birthday treats

(This is long. But it’s about 50% pictures.)

So I had another birthday, this past Sunday, 9/22. It was a fairly low-key weekend — spent it with John, who fussed over me and took me out for a lovely dinner Saturday night. I got some very nice greetings via Facebook, Twitter, and email. And some fun presents!

The first was an early surprise from Jay — a hot/cold beverage Beatles tumbler, printed all over with their songs. Check it out! Also check out my bare naked… face. On second thought, don’t.

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Makes me smile every time I drink from it. Thank you, my friend!

Next, last Friday, I got a small package in the mail. I didn’t recognize the return address; some talent agency in Hollywood. To digress for a moment — most of you who have known me for more than five minutes know about my almost life-long celebrity crush on David Selby, who played Quentin Collins on the old cult classic horror serial Dark Shadows. So imagine my surprise when I opened the package and found this:

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(Damn, that man’s face still takes my breath away.) But who sent it? I flipped through the book, thinking a card might fall out or something, and then saw this:

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I know his autograph. I have it on many things. And for about two seconds, my heart was pounding.

Calm down, Erica. David Selby doesn’t know it’s your birthday. David Selby doesn’t know your address. David Selby, if he would remember you at all, it would be as that pushy woman who planted a kiss on him at the Dark Shadows Festival nine years ago.

Then I checked the rest of the mail, and saw a card from my buddy Dave Wolfe, of Wolfie Toons. And put two and two together. Sure enough, he was behind this. Wow. What a cool and thoughtful surprise. I love you, Wolfie! Thank you for being my friend all these years. โ™ฅ

When I came home on Sunday, I found a big beautiful bouquet of flowers on my doorstep (from John) and an Amazon package from my friend Lily Starr. The contents made me laugh out loud. Lily has a Chihuahua named Buster, and she knows how much I adore Chihuahuas. I know they have a bit of a rep for being scrappy and yappy and cranky, but I think they are just so damn cute. Anyway… she sent me a stuffed Chihuahua so I could have my own “Buster.” I put him on my desk next to Grumpy Cat, who as you can see is thrilled…

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As it happens, this birthday did not include any cake. Booooo! But Lily made sure I had a version of my favorite cake anyway. ๐Ÿ™‚

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And in case you’re wondering, it is absolutely delicious. I know some coffee aficionados (read: snobs) think flavored coffee is plebeian, but I don’t care. I love it!

Did I mention flowers?

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Yeah, I got a lot of flowers. ๐Ÿ™‚ I love flowers. My place smells so nice.

Finally — this isn’t really a birthday present, but John found this guy being given away (it had to be from a child who had outgrown him, because he’s in perfect condition) and brought him home for me.

Isn’t he CUTE???

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I named him Marlon. Marlon the Minion. However, John couldn’t seem to grasp the concept of this name.

John: “Hey, can we bring Marion to lunch with us?”
Me: “Who’s Marion?”
John: “You know, Marion.”
Me: “No, I don’t. Who the hell is Marion?”
John: “The minion!”
Me: “That’s Marlon. Marion is a girl’s name.”
John: “It’s a man’s name too!”
Me: “Yeah, but it’s a sissy name for a man!”

(And yes, before some of you get on me, I know that John Wayne’s real name was Marion. I don’t care. I couldn’t stand the SOB, and he had a stupid name to boot.)

Later:

John: (taking the minion to my car) “Don’t forget Marlo!”
Me: “Marlon! Marlo is a girl’s name!”
John: “Isn’t there a guy named Marlo? You know, a cop or something?”
Me: “You mean Detective Philip Marlowe?”
John: “Yeah.”
Me: “Marlowe is his last name, honey. And besides, he’s fictional.”
John: “Oh.”

Anyway, I’m really too old for a giant stuffed minion, but I’m keeping him regardless.

I told my therapist about all the goodies when I saw her yesterday. She gave me a wry smile and said, “Wow… some people actually like you. Imagine that.”

Yeah… imagine that. :-/

It was a sweet birthday. As for the much overdue birthday spanking? (sigh) Latest on that is maybe next week. Maybe. Ugh. D said he’s still drowning in work, but maybe he can squeeze in some time — he suggested coming over early in the morning before he goes to work. My reply to him was I don’t care if it’s in the middle of the night, at this point. I swear, if I wait much longer, we’re going to look like this:

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(thanks to Jay for sending me that!)

And thanks to everyone who sent greetings, good wishes, presents, cards, whatever, and for thinking of me. It means a lot. โ™ฅ

The ephemeral nature of kink intimacy: Can it be real?

And if it can, how do you know when it is?

ephemeral

[ ih-fem-er-uhl ]SHOW IPA

adjective

lastingย aย veryย shortย time;ย short-lived;ย transitory:

theย ephemeralย joysย ofย childhood.

 

lastingย butย oneย day:
anย ephemeralย flower.

 

(Why do you show off so damn much with your million-dollar words, Erica?) I can’t help it. I like them. But you can’t complain if I provide the definition, right?

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Note: I’m aware that many of my readers are married to or monogamously involved with their spankers, and don’t play with others. This post is more for those who do play with others, whether or not they have a primary relationship… a situation that can be a lot more confusing. Leave it to me to choose the more complicated route.

According to general societal patterns (you know, those “normal” people), here’s the blueprint: Couples meet, however they meet. They exchange names. They talk, share basic information. In the course of a few hours, a few phone calls, a few dates, whatever, they learn more about one another. Preferences of all kinds. Music/book/movie tastes. Political leanings. Fears. Hopes. Dreams. Failures. The jigsaw puzzle of personality gets filled in, a piece at a time. In the course of this time, there are physical exchanges, often starting with kisses. Then a little more, and a little more, until we have full-on sexual intimacy.

Now we kinksters, we do everything ass backwards (word play intended). Oftentimes, basic vetting aside, we play first and ask questions later. We have physical intimacy first. Instead of that slow burn of growing attracted to one another as we learn more, we burn hot from the get-go, act on chemistry over personal knowledge, invite others into our homes, our beds, our bodies, our playrooms, etc. before we’ve even begun to invite them into our hearts or our day-to-day lives. Oftentimes, that last part doesn’t happen.

Personally, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that. It’s kind of hot. If I wanted to go the traditional route, I would have. I tried it for many years. It’s overrated.

Funny and perfect case in point: When D came over a few weeks ago, we’d met only once, and briefly. Essentially, I brought a strange man into my home, my space. I felt completely okay with that. We played. We had intense and close-up contact. I laid myself out, physically and emotionally. He inflicted both pain and pleasure. He saw me raw and open, exposed.

Afterward, when I was lying on the couch bare-ass naked with him massaging lotion into me, I dreamily turned my head and asked, “What’s your last name?”

He told me. I told him mine. And the massage continued.

I’ve been doing this for so long, this feels perfectly normal. But I know there are tons of people out there who would be shocked at the idea of someone seeing their bare ass (not to mention exposed genitalia) before said someone learns their full, real name.

This is what I call “pseudo-intimacy.” It’s an intimacy quickly forged out of a strong cocktail of physical attraction and a shared desire, a common bond of kink. But is it real intimacy — whatever the hell that is? And if it isn’t, can it become so? When does a play partnership cross over into a real friendship, a relationship of sorts, where people care about one another?

Most of you know the story of how John and I met. I placed an ad; he answered it. We chatted once on the phone. And then we met for coffee. We talked at Starbucks until they closed, then went for a walk. He ended up pulling me over his leg in the alley behind Starbucks and spanking me, until we heard the telltale jingle of a leash and a man appeared, walking his dog (and getting quite the eyeful). We then proceeded to John’s vehicle where he spanked me some more, gave me an orgasm, and he took my panties, claiming I’d have to see him again if I wanted them back.

This is not your typical “first date.” We were both seeing other people at the time.

Cut to the present — on August 30, we’ll be together 23 years. Somehow, that initial pseudo-intimacy became real, blossomed into something much fuller. It can happen.

But it’s complicated. Because of the nature of what we do, it’s easy to confuse pseudo-intimacy for something real. It’s easy to fall for the actions, thinking you’re falling for the person. When in fact you really don’t know them at all.

I remember my very first spanker. Saw him a total of three times, played twice. Paul. I never did learn his last name. But he changed my life. In one afternoon, in the time span of no more than an hour, he put me on a path of no return, opened me to a vast new world to explore and experience. That first spanking meant more to me than losing my virginity did.

At the time, I remember feeling like I’d fallen in love with Paul. But even then, in my haze of hormones and endorphins and wonder, I knew that wasn’t it. Of course I wasn’t in love with him. I was in love with what he gave me. But of course, sometimes, when your emotions get involved, it’s hard to compartmentalize it like that. The boundaries blur. Your mind says one thing, your body says another, and your heart says yet another.

No wonder so many scene relationships go sideways.

I have been thinking back on some of my play partnerships over the years, many of which have been chronicled in my blogs. All the time I’ve been with John, I’ve played with other men, all with his blessing. I am lucky that way. A lot of these partnerships simply faded away, due to various life circumstances. A couple, I really regret losing. Two come to mind that did indeed blossom into real friendship, much more than just the physical act of getting together to play.

Danny Chrighton and I were play partners for over three years. But we were also the best of friends. We didn’t just play. We hung out. We did stuff together. He and John were buddies. Our play chemistry was awesome, but beyond that, our closeness was true. He knew me, and I knew him. There was mutual trust and respect. And the only thing that ended it was distance, when he moved out of state. I loved him. I still do. I miss what we had, to this day, even though I haven’t seen him in years.

Then there was ST. Same deal, we met through an online ad, got together to play. From the beginning, we were consistent; he came over every Monday evening. We hung out and talked after playing. Our play was sometimes edgy, dancing on the boundaries and limits, maybe at times a little scary… because I trusted him. I knew within that he would never really hurt me. And on the flip side, we had our silly times, like when he showed up at my place on Halloween, masked and dressed as “Super Spanko.” I knew all kinds of odds and ends about him; the farming community, population 350, he’d grown up in; the names of all his siblings; how much he adored his dog.

We were friends/play partners for over two years. And… then he met someone. There was a mutual attraction, a couple of dates. He told her about me. She said, “I don’t think I like that.”

And just like that, we were done. The last time we played, I wept. I told him I loved him. He said he loved me too, and he always would. But then I never saw him again.

Does that mean that what we had wasn’t real? Is something real when it can be tossed aside so easily? Or is that simply just another sad fact about the nature of relationships? I don’t know.

I bear him no resentment. I did hear from him briefly once, via email. He’d bought a house. I hope he found happiness. He was a good guy; he deserved it.

I suppose the point of all this rambling is — damn. I’ve been doing this for over twenty-three years, and I still get muddled and mixed up emotionally over what’s real and what’s simply born of the intense, instant intimacy and vulnerability. And if I still get taken in by it, how the hell do scene newbies handle it?? How do they navigate the sea of feelings that can be stirred up when you put yourself into someone else’s hands? When they cut through layers and layers of outer bullshit and go straight to your core? When you gift each other with trust and vulnerability, and then it’s gone as quickly as it came?

In a perfect world, pseudo-intimacy would indeed develop into something more real, and more lasting. We could keep those wonderful feelings and experience them again and again. Where real life wouldn’t take them away. Where no matter what relationships go in and out of each person’s life, the core friendships and caring remain.

Is that too much to ask for? I know some say that I don’t have a right to expect this: that I have a relationship, so I shouldn’t want for this too. Well, guess what. I do anyway. I guess I will never stop yearning for it. Because I know it’s possible. And don’t ask me what the man is getting out of it, if he’s not my primary relationship. I sure hope to hell that all the men who have been my play partners over the years got something out of it.

Because I sure did, and I don’t think we could have connected as deeply if they didn’t.

Anyway. I should be working. But sometimes, I just have to ramble. And hope that it resonates with someone out there. Thoughts, anyone? Your own experiences with this?

Catching up a bit

Aside from the op-ed post that I copied and pasted last week, I haven’t written for a while. Couple of reasons: one, I’ve been too freaking busy with work. And two: what with all the godawful stuff going on in reality, it felt somewhat disingenuous and forced to post about happy spanky stuff. But life goes on. So I figured it was time to update just a little.

In the past couple of weeks, we’ve had two birthdays — John’s and mine. I had a bit of a struggle with mine, as just a few days before, my play partner and I had officially ended things and I was dealing with residual sadness. But John went all out to make it a happy time for me, starting with flowers a week early and then taking me to Walt Disney Concert Hall for the L.A. Philharmonic on the actual birth date. I’d never been there before, so it was quite the adventure. The architecture of the place is pretty bizarre (oh hell, it’s just plain ugly), but the auditorium itself is breathtaking and the acoustics are perfect.

My birthday flowers:

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Full house at the Concert Hall:

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We got all dressed up, and later went out for a nice dinner. It was a lovely birthday.

I got some cool presents too — lots of Beatles stuff! A Beatles clock from Lily Starr, a HELP! placard from Alex and Paul, and coffee table books and a poster from another friend (I’m not sure which name to use for her, so I’ll leave that blank).

Last week, I got to have a fun little adventure. Alex contacted me and said one of her clients wanted to do a double session with her and me. I’ve shot custom videos for her, but had never participated in one of her sessions before, so I was game. Her client was from out of town and had booked up a bunch of sessions with several of her friends, so mine was in the middle of three last Wednesday. I hadn’t seen Alex since Shadow Lane, and Paul since a couple of months before that, so it was great to see them again, even though I didn’t get to talk with them too long. Alex’s client was into role-play and we did two half-hour scenes; he turned out to be a lot of fun and I enjoyed myself a great deal.

Even better? Catching up with Alex, I finally got pictures from her birthday party last July!

Before this photo was taken, I had been trying to launch myself onto a floating pool swan… and fell over off the side of it, getting thoroughly dunked. I blame my innate clumsiness, and the vodka-spiked lemonade might have had something to do with it also. Anyway, I was hanging in the background while Alex was taking pictures, and she called out, “Erica, get in the picture. I don’t care if your hair is wet!” So here we are: Alex, me, Ulf, Lizzy McAllister, and Maddy Marks. Happy bunch!

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And here’s a really nice shot of John and me, with downtown L.A. behind us:

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Fun times. Anyway, work-wise, I dealt with famine for the first half of this year and now I am feasting to the point of gluttony. I get stressed when I feel like I can’t control my workload, but I’d rather be busy than not. Other stuff keeps coming up, appointments need to be made, but I’ll take care of them one at a time in the order of importance. One friend has been asking to meet me for coffee for the past several weeks, and I’ve put him off so many times, apologetically, that I finally decided I’m never going to find time, so I just have to make time. We’re meeting up tomorrow afternoon and catching up. Oh, and I have to break away on occasion to work out.

I miss playing. A lot. But I suppose the other advantage of being busy with work (other than the money) is that I don’t have much time to dwell on it. Even if I did have a play partner right now, I don’t think I’d have time to play with him! (sigh) So, that’s all on hold for now. Life feels a bit unbalanced, but things have a way of righting themselves. I am just going to plow on and hope for the best.

And hey, it’s almost the holidays! (Oh, fuck…)

Shadow Lane 2018

This is late; I’ve always tried to do my post-party blogs as soon as possible after I get home, so everything will be fresh in my mind. Alas, that was not to be, as I had to jump right back into work that kept me chained to my desk for the rest of the week. Plus, I seem to have caught a cold. So reality hit hard and fast without any time to bask in the kinky afterglow, but, oh well. However, we had a great time! And I even managed to get a few pictures. So while I probably won’t remember everything in as great a detail, I can put out a basic timeline with the highlights of our weekend.

Incidentally, it seems I was worried for naught about my condition to play. Over three days, I played twelve times, four each day… and came home with not a mark on me. Not even a speckle.

Friday:

We got on the road on time in the morning, but the rental car (a Volvo! I got a free upgrade when they didn’t have the class of car I’d requested) decided to be problematic, giving us a warning that the tire pressure was low and we needed to “check and recalibrate.” We hadn’t even gone twenty miles. Crap. In a panic, I called the rental car place and the guy told me we needed to go to a Pep Boys or a Firestone, because they have a contract with them. I pleaded with him to please look one up for us, which he did, and gave me a Pep Boys that was out of our way, but not by a whole lot. So we drove to the address… guess what? No Pep Boys! By now, I’m in a state of apoplexy, so John got out of the car, looked at all the tires, then got back in and said, “They look fine to me. I say we just go.” And so we did. We lost about an hour, and I was a wreck imagining that we were going to have a blow-out or something, but that never happened, and we still made it to Vegas by 3:00. Fun start! But all was well once we got checked in and settled into our room.

After sleeping a bit, we changed and went to Joe’s (DrLectr’s) suite (960) for the end of the Vendor Fair. There began the mass of greetings and hugs and introductions. Our timing was a bit off, though, because shortly thereafter, people dispersed and went off to eat dinner, and the room parties weren’t starting until 9:00. So back to our room we went, noshed on some snacks and relaxed. I grabbed the newspaper and was checking out the front page when John said, “Oh, I need to get a picture of that, give me your phone.”

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What, he’s never seen a woman read the paper before? ๐Ÿ˜‰

Later, we went to the Shadow Lane suite for a while, and then back to Joe’s, where I soon did my first scene with Roy (CalNation on Fet), who is always a favorite. There was a gentleman at this party who was new, and I struck up a conversation with him. He confessed that he had been on the receiving end, but he didn’t really know how to give a spanking. I invited him to come watch Roy and me, so he could see how it’s done.

Of course, the room was packed and all the available play space was taken up, but undaunted, we simply headed into the bathroom. Our friend politely watched and asked permission to take pictures, and we said yes.

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^^ I love this guy! Wish I could see him more than twice a year.

And of course, I can’t have a party weekend without a scene with Joe, who never fails to deliver.

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His suite, besides having two bedrooms, has a very large living room area and he gets three or four massage tables to set up for scenes, for anyone who wants to use them — they’re great for strappings, as you can by what’s lying next to me on the table.

Steve Fuller was there! He and I go way back, so it’s always a treat to see him. We had a lively scene in the bedroom, with him fabricating some nonsense or another about how I’d been “mean” to him. Say what? He’s as sharp as always; when he started moving down onto my thighs, I blurted “Hey, what are you doing down there?” To which he answered, “Mind your own business.” (How my own ass and thighs are not my business, I’ll never understand.)

Lots more chats and greetings and hugs — I was worried that our dear friends InspectHerHide and Ellie3 weren’t there, but it turned out they just arrived Friday night. Always soooooo happy to see them! IHH was jet-lagged and tired, but he said if I didn’t mind a lighter Friday-night scene, he’d love to play. Well, of course. Usually I like him to be my first scene of the weekend, but their late arrival made that not work out this time. But better late than not at all.

More hugs, more talk, and finally it was time to head to bed. Of course, things continue in 960 until the wee hours of the morning, but you know, I need to sleep. So off we went for the night.

Saturday:

Club Finn at noon in 960! An event that Joe conceived of a few years back, Club Finn is named after Fineous, our resident flogger. It’s like a spa time for the ladies — massages, sensual flogging, foot rubs, hair-brushing (hair, not backsides), plus champagne and chocolates. Roy had said he wanted to pamper me, but he was a bit late, so I signed up for a turn with a professional masseur who was attending the party and had even brought his own table complete with the face piece at the end. Oh, that was so good — too short, but he had a long list of ladies waiting. When I climbed off the table, I saw Roy sitting and talking with John, so I came over and sat at his feet, and he commenced to massaging my upper back, shoulders and neck for a wonderfully long time. Even after he was done massaging, I didn’t want to get up, so I sat with my head on his leg while we talked with others around us. So I daresay I got a lot of pampering in that hour and three-quarters! Also had a fun chat with Kat (InfamousK on Fet), reminding her of the time she reduced John to a stunned silence when she referred to him as “Erica’s bitch.” ๐Ÿ˜€ Later, when I was pestering John to stop talking already so we could go eat, he said, “Don’t be a b-witch!” Kat overheard. “B-witch??” “Yeah,” John answered. “I figured it’s nicer than, you know, that other word.”

“So,” Kat replied, deadpan, “does that mean I can call you Erica’s b-witch?”

Aaaaand once again, John was speechless, while Kat and I fell over each other on the couch laughing.

Finally, we went with our friend Mir to grab a bagel, and were joined by Mr. Woodland, a really great guy I’ve played with a couple of times before. He’s local, and we keep saying we should get together and hang out, but we never seem to make it happen. We hung out chatting and munching, and then it was time to head back to our room for a nap.

Later that evening, we went to another Suncoast party tradition, dinner at the steakhouse. We started doing that at 50 Freaks in 2013 and it became an annual thing; we’ve even gotten the same server (Laurence) every time. This time, even though we had the banquet room that can accommodate eighteen, we had a smaller, more intimate group of nine. I wore a new dress (John took a picture before we left):

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It was such fun — we sat across from Mr W and the stunning and statuesque Switch_Delta, and like every year, John made a toast to Joe and picked up his dinner. We figure that’s the very least we can do, after all he does for the parties — the open 24/7 suite, the snacks, the drinks, the events. I didn’t get champagne this time, but I had several sips of John’s “dessert,” a glass of 30-year aged tawny port. Oh, so good.

Later, it was back to 960 for the black-light DJ’ed dance party. At midnight, we had a surprise birthday cake for Ellie3, whose birthday was Monday. After that… I dunno. I’d played a couple of times (including a fantastic first scene with a man who goes by the name TanerHyde, yes, one n), but I was feeling a bit out of sorts. It was just too noisy in the room with the music — no one could have a conversation. It’s a tough call, I know; a lot of folks like the music loud and you can’t please everyone. People were going off to the bedrooms to play, but if you just wanted to talk in the main room, it was pretty difficult. My throat was getting sore and I was starting to feel overwhelmed. When I realized John was feeling the same way, we decided to take a break and go back to our room for a bit.

When we went into the hall, we found IHH, Ellie, Mr. W, Djinn and a few others sitting out there, having their own mini-party. Turns out the music was too much for them as well. When John and I walked by, we got a chorus of “You’re not going to bed, are you??” No, no, we reassured, just taking a break. Mr. W announced that he’d SEE ME shortly, and then everyone started clapping, making spanky sounds, as we walked away. “Erica’s in trouuuuuubllllle!” Ellie sang. (This was the last night they could do that, since everyone on the 9th floor was in our party. The next day, a few vanillas moved into some of the 9th floor rooms after some of our party left, so we had to keep all noise out of the hallway. Booo!)

We took a break in our room, freshened up a bit, and headed back out. People were still sitting in the hall, so we sat with them for a bit, but then I really, really wanted to play. So we went back in.

It was worth it; I ended up having a fabulous scene with Mr. W. He has a very strong hand, and when he started using both hands, I protested. “Hey! That’s cheating! You can’t use both hands!” “No?” he said. “Well, how about if I use NO hands?” When he leaned back on the bed and reached for his waist, I thought, oh shit, me and my big mouth. Sure enough, next thing I knew he had his belt whipped off, doubled over, and whacking me.

“Soooo,” he teased. “Two hands okay, then?” Argh. Fine. So not fair.

At least I liked a lot of the songs Bob the DJ was playing. I even danced a little when he played Aretha. But I was relieved when the music ended at 2:00 a.m. and we could talk again. We hung out chatting for a while longer — at 3:00, the party was still in full swing, everyone playing and talking and laughing. But by then, I was wiped out. Much as I wanted to stay, I knew I was done for the night. Besides, we had to get up for Strict Dave’s Punishment Court the next day at noon. We got to bed between 3:30 and 4:00.

Oh, wait! Almost forgot — a lovely, lovely man from England, whom I met several years ago (he came with the Northern Spanking group back in 2009) approached me and said he had a gift for me. Imagine my delight when he gave me a Beatles coffee mug! Not just any Beatles mug, either; instead of just one image, the entire cup is plastered with Beatles album covers all the way around.

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How cool is this?? I was so touched. Thank you, my thoughtful friend. โ™ฅ

Sunday:

John got me out of bed at 11:00 (yeah, we don’t do breakfast in Vegas); I showered, dressed, and went to get us coffee while John went to 960 to help set up for Dave’s Court. It was the usual great fun, with a lot of laughs. I haven’t been taken to court on a case for a few years — so far, I have a perfect record of winning all my cases (although I usually manage to get penalty swats from Dave anyway for dropping the f-bomb, which is considered contempt. Did I mention I do that on purpose?).

After court, John and I went downstairs to eat, peeking in to DuPar’s to see if anyone we knew was there. Turned out Bob the DJ and his wife S were just about to have lunch and asked us to join them, so we got a booth and had a nice late lunch and a great talk. I love how you never know who you’re going to meet up with at these things, the impromptu meals, etc.

At 5:00, there was Judicial Punishment in Joe’s room. That’s where they have “prison guards” and the women sign up to be “prisoners” and take a designated amount of strokes with either a cane, a paddle, or a strap. And all three are big and heavy versions of said implements. The standard amount is eight, although some do six and others do ten. The prisoners get to choose their guard (there are three), the implement, and the level of strokes — Light, Medium, Hard, or Severe. It’s all done sort of tongue-in-cheek melodramatic; the prisoners wear orange shirts and panties, and we’re each called out, one by one, to take our strokes, which Joe announces very emphatically. I’ve done this event a few times; I kind of consider it a personal challenge. The strokes are hard (I always choose the cane), but I figure I can take eight strokes of pretty much anything. Plus, I always pick SanDiegoCorey as the guard, and he knows I like it harder than medium, but not super hard either. Afterward, each woman heads for the “recovery area” (pillows and blankets piled up on the floor) and the next one comes out.

So I took my eight strokes, bent over a table with other guards holding me down. By stroke four, I was hollering. By the last one, I was kicking my feet. But I did it. ๐Ÿ˜€ What can I say, it’s a head space thing.

After that, people were hanging out talking, and I was approached by a rather handsome man I hadn’t seen before. He introduced himself (I’ll call him J) and said this was his first Shadow Lane party, but he’d been in the scene for over ten years. He was very polite and we talked a bit; he asked if I’d like to play later, and I said yes. More on him shortly.

John and I have a tradition on Sunday nights at these things: since things don’t really get started until 9:30-10:00, we take a long nap, get up and ready, do some preliminary packing, and then head to dinner around 9:00 at the Oyster House, a charming little restaurant in the hotel. It’s a perfect place to get a light bite, the food is good and we usually end up seeing people we know there. After that, we headed for 960 for the final blow-out.

The room was packed, they’d gotten pizza, and people were playing — the massage tables had various scenes going on, as per usual. I started chatting with Djinn and Mir, which went for a while, until one of them said, “Whoa,” with a mildly horrified face. I turned to see what they were looking at. Behind me, a couple was playing on one of the tables. She was kneeling on the floor, her upper body draped across the table… and he was behind her, kicking her in the back. Hard.

Oh, fuck.

Yeah. That again. The “Your Kink is Not My Kink and It’s OK, But You Still Can’t Do That At A Spanking Party” bit. This couple had clearly wandered in from the BDSM community, both dressed in black leather, and didn’t realize this isn’t a @#$%ing dungeon; this is for spanking/flogging/caning, but kicking and beating the shit out of someone is generally not appreciated in the main room. It got worse… she ended up sprawled face down on the carpet beside the table, and he was stomping on her. With his boots on. On her low back, on her butt, interspersed with more kicks. To be fair, she didn’t look like she was objecting to it. But fuck that. You do not play like this at a spanking party. You just don’t.

People started asking “Where’s Joe?”, but he had left the room temporarily. Meanwhile, I couldn’t stand another minute of this. I looked across the room and saw J, the man who had talked with me earlier. I walked straight up to him. “Still want to play?” I asked. “Absolutely,” he said. “Then, please, do me a favor,” I implored, taking his hand. “Take me away from this awful scene and make me forget I ever saw it.” “I can do that,” he grinned, and he took me into one of the bedrooms.

Oh. My. God. What happened after that was one of the most delicious scenes of my weekend.

We talked a bit beforehand; he had a small toy bag, and he checked in with me about what was OK to use (the only thing I said no to was a nasty looking wooden paddle). He said he liked to build things up slowly, keep people guessing, alternate spanking with massage, things like that. Sounded good to me! So we did an OTK warm-up with his hand, and then he had me lie on the bed, with a pillow under my hips. And then he proceeded to use all his different toys, at different levels of intensity, speed, etc, with long pauses, wonderful massage strokes… I never knew what he was going to do next. He’d lull me into a relaxed state with an extended massage, and then WHACK! he’d snap a strap on me. Sneaky devil! And I loved it.

The scene went on for quite a while — I lost track of time — and when we were done, I was just a pile of mush on that bed. “So, did I make you forget?” he asked. Oh, you betcha. I asked him if he was on FetLife or any other social media, but he said no, he’s very private. So, since he isn’t local, I guess I won’t see him again until next year. *sigh*

When I came back out into the main room, I asked what had happened with Mr. Kicky-Stompy. Several people were upset (so no, it’s not just me!), and someone texted Joe and told him to come back ASAP. When Joe came back, the woman was still sprawled on the carpet, and the man was standing over her, taking off his pants. I do not want to think about what he was about to do. Joe stopped him and said, “I’m sorry, but you really can’t do play like this here. If you like, you can come back after 4:00 a.m. — people tend to do the darker scenes then.” And that was that. Good call. By that hour, the mainstream party has gone to bed and just the die-hards are still up.

I know if I were to talk about this on FetLife, I’d get a ration of noise about it, people telling me I’m narrow-minded and judgmental and non-accepting of other people’s kinks and blah blah blah. But you know, IDGAF. I saw plenty of scenes like this when John and I used to go to dungeon parties… and that’s why I stopped going to dungeon parties and started attending spanking parties. Because I don’t want to see a man kicking the shit out of a woman. Sheesh, draw and quarter me.

Anyway… I had one more delicious scene with Roy, harder than the one on Friday, and we both worked up a sweat, as the bedroom for whatever reason had gotten very warm. I had been waiting for him; he’d come up to me earlier, asking if I wanted to play, and of course I said yes. But then he said, “Give me about a half-hour, okay?” Argh. Figures, while I was waiting for him, two people asked me to play, including John Osborne of Triple A Spanking. I felt so lame, saying I was waiting for someone to come back and play, but it was the truth. I told John, “If he doesn’t come back, I’m all yours!” But then he did come back. Sorry, John, if you’re reading this! Next time!

And finally… how do I end my party weekends, kids? With a flogging from Fineous. The perfect relaxing, intense ending. As luck would have it, one of the tables in the main room freed up, so we didn’t have to use the hot bedroom. I stripped everything off but my panties, stretched out on the table with a wedge pillow under my hips, and gave myself over to the magical Fineous and his fabulous floggers. It went on and on… I could hear the noise around me, the talk, the laughing, the smacking, but somehow it all blurred and receded, and all I could do was feel. I was so relaxed, my arms were dangling limply off the table sides. After the flogging, he continued with a full-body massage, neck to toes, and ladies and gentlemen, I was done. I was in LaLaLand, blissed out, happy, blood thrumming and fizzing, feeling great. Perfection.

I was looking for John, but couldn’t find him. Someone said, “I think he’s in the bedroom,” so I walked in, and what did I see? John on the bed, with Joe’s utterly adorable girlfriend AyleeInTheory (Fet name) across his lap. John never plays at these parties… but apparently she asked him. And this girl is tough — she self-identifies as a masochist and she plays hard, even though she’s a little bitty thing. So she could take John’s heavy hand. I was delighted to see this. ๐Ÿ™‚ I like to see John having fun, and I knew it tickled him that this cutie-pie approached him for a scene. He’s actually an excellent spanker, but he never shows off his prowess at these events, preferring to talk and let me do the playing.

And then it was time to go. We had to get up at 7:00 a.m., just a few short hours from now. So, reluctantly, we went around saying our goodbyes, collecting hugs, then went back to our room and tumbled into bed around 4:00.

We were checked out and on the road by 8:00. Made one stop in Baker, and then pushed through all the way home. There was traffic, so it took us about five hours, but we made it without any mishap (and no, we didn’t blow a tire). Good news — when I brought the car back the next day, I told the manager about the warning light and the hassle trying to find a Pep Boys to no avail because of incorrect directions, the stress, etc. She was apologetic and very nice, taking 20% off the bill. Good customer relations!

So goes another Shadow Lane. It came and went too quickly. But it was a fun, pretty much drama-free party. I got to play quite a bit. John had a great time too. Neither one of us got sick. There were several people I really missed seeing, but I did my best to focus on who was there, not who wasn’t. I wish I could see these people more than twice a year. Maybe when John or I win the lottery, we’ll travel to every party. ๐Ÿ™‚ In the meantime, I appreciate the good times we get to have, and our friends. To everyone who hugged me, talked to me, played with me, made me laugh… Alex Maddy Adriana T&S Jai Scott Jen Michael Kevin Mark Katy Kate Stephen Kelley Loren Pat Samantha Sarah John etc. etc. etc…. I love you guys. Sorry I can’t mention each and every one of you, but you know who you are. See you next time.

(whew) Have a great weekend, y’all.

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