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 “Las Vegas”

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. πŸ™‚ 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. β™₯

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. πŸ˜€ 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. πŸ™‚

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. β™₯ 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. :-Þ

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. πŸ™‚

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. πŸ˜€

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. πŸ™‚

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. πŸ™‚ 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:Β 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. πŸ˜€

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. πŸ™‚

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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!” πŸ˜€ 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. β™₯

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. πŸ™‚ 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. β™₯

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. πŸ˜€

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. β™₯

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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! β™₯

Homecoming

vegassky

The picture above was taken from the car on the drive to Las Vegas a few years ago. And tomorrow morning, we will be on the same road.

I am so excited, and so nervous. This party feels different, because it is. I’m not the same person I was when I last attended. I took a year off parties, and thought for a very long time that I was completely done with the scene… and the scene was done with me. Now I’m coming back with a different perspective, having come full circle. Now, all I want is to see some dear old friends, meet some new ones, and have a few days of fun and play. I have no other expectations. Just a sense of gratitude that I’m being welcomed back, at least by some. And the others don’t matter.

So, it’s the usual whirlwind of preparation and checking off lists. And trying to finish work. And packing. And on and on it goes. As always, you’d think I was leaving for six months instead of 4 1/2 days. I’ll be bringing way too many clothing items — the advantage of driving instead of flying. So far, I managed not to get sick, or to cut my thumb open like I did the day before a few parties ago. (I did get Krazy Glue all over my fingers last night, but Google was helpful in solutions on how to get it off.) Also as always, I don’t think I’ll exhale until we’re in our hotel room. I mean, things happen. Once while on the 15, we noticed a few wisps of smoke passing through one area. Roughly 10-15 minutes after we passed it, that area exploded into a huge brush fire and the freeway was closed. These are the things I ponder before a Vegas trip.

A dear friend referred to this party as a homecoming of sorts for me, and that’s how I’m thinking of it. You can’t go home again, not to the home as it once was, but you can change your perspective and appreciate Home 2.0. Which is what I intend to do.

(deep breaths) See y’all on the flip side. To friends who are attending, see you SOON!

So anyway…

I feel like I want to write something here, even though I’m not sure what that is. I used to think I had to have something special, something of interest or intrigue, to post, but perhaps this blog can also be a place for me to ramble.

I miss playing. I really do. No, it’s not physically essentially like air, food and water. But it is emotionally essential. It’s a part of my makeup. Even when times are funky and I’m down, the cravings come when I least expect them.

People ask, “Isn’t there anyone available to play with you?” That’s not the question. It’s more like “with whom I want to play.” Because despite my neediness, I still prefer quality. I would rather go without than settle for an experience that doesn’t fulfill me. That’s the weird dichotomy of spanking, for me. The good ones can be so rich, so intensely wonderful and memorable in every way. But the not-so-hot ones? They are almost repulsive. It’s like having sex with someone you’re not drawn to. Why would you? Just for the sensation of being screwed? I’ll never want sex — or spanking — that much.

And, unfortunately due to circumstances of recent times, I do not feel safe or comfortable seeking what I need. Because the last time I admitted to neediness, to vulnerability, it bit me in the ass. Not in a fun, sexy way, either. So even though there are those I would indeed enjoying seeing for some play, I will not be the one to ask.

Regarding the party at the end of February… because I know how the gossip train is in this scene, I figured my hesitation about it would get back to the host, and his feelings would be hurt, which I do not want. So I headed things off at the pass and wrote him a long message, explaining what was going on with me and that my desire to withdraw from everything had absolutely nothing to do with him and I loved him dearly. He wrote back to me with such sweet words, I wept. I am a treasured friend and the party wouldn’t be the same without me. That he really wants me to be there, so please, please come.

So. I booked our room. That has to be done in advance. As for the rest, I have a month and a half to think about it. Everyone says I should go. Part of me wants to, so much. But the ugly, bleak voice within that seems to have taken over in recent weeks keeps saying no.

What else am I thinking about… oh, just random stuff. Like, remember I mentioned watching the Twilight Zone marathon over New Year’s? We happened to catch “It’s a Good Life.” Y’all know that one, don’t you? It’s the classic about the town that is being held hostage by a monstrous child, six-year-old Anthony Fremont? A child with too much power, but a complete dearth of empathy or caring? Who hates everyone who doesn’t like him, eliminates necessary things simply because he doesn’t care for them? Just one tiny little man-child, running the town according to his whims, making everyone suffer.

I was especially remembering the part where the party guest gets drunk and loses it, pleading tearfully to the others in the room to please, PLEASE, somebody, grab something heavy when he’s not looking and lay it across his skull, and end this once and for all?? Of course, no one did, but they all wanted to. The poor guy died for his outburst. And then for good measure, the little bastard changed the weather so it would ruin all the crops.

Why am I thinking about this so much? Eh, no particular reason…

Have a great weekend, y’all.

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? πŸ˜‰

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.” πŸ˜€ 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. β™₯

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. πŸ˜€ 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. πŸ™‚ 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. πŸ™‚ 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.

Better late than never, I guess

I am buried six feet under in work and really don’t have time for personal writing, but you know, I just have to make time, before I forget it all. I don’t know who reads these party reports anymore, but I still like to get them down for memory’s sake. Settle in; this will be long, as I’m going to attempt to do it all in one installment.

Here is one of the many fun signs Joe made up for the party suite, and damn, he wasn’t kidding about this.

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So let’s begin with last Wednesday. It seemed, for me, the party was going to end even before it began. As the afternoon wore on, I started feeling the ominous and unmistakable signs of a cold coming on. No. NO! Goddamn it. You couldn’t wait just one more week, you stupid fucking germs? I went to the nearest pharmacy and bought a crap ton of cold medications — cough drops, nasal spray, saline nasal rinse, decongestant, Nyquil. Figured if I was going to have a damn cold during the party, I was going to drown it in drugs.

Got home and decided to try to ward off the cold with the saline rinse, and commenced to struggle with getting the tight plastic wrap off the neck of the bottle. There was no pull tab, and I picked and picked but couldn’t get the wrap to budge. So I grabbed a knife and started trying to maneuver it between the bottle and the plastic… and slipped. And felt the tip plunge into the pad of my thumb.

Holy crap, the blood. So much of it. Everywhere. Who knew a cut slightly longer than a quarter inch could make a kitchen and bathroom look like a slaughterhouse. “It’s a sign,” I thought. “We shouldn’t go. I’m sick, I’m clumsy, this is going to be a disaster.”

But of course, I calmed down, cleaned, bandaged, and soldiered on.

The next morning, got the car packed and headed to John’s, and then we were on our way. I wasn’t feeling well, but my excitement seemed to be overriding it, so I took some meds and stuffed my purse with tissues. The drive went smoothly — well, almost. After we made a bathroom stop, John took out — of all things — a tray of sushi he had in the cooler for a snack. As John drove, I held it on my lap, opened it, and then reached out to my left to offer him the tray… at the same time he reached right to take a piece. We collided, the tray flipped, and a cascade of raw fish, wasabi and ginger splattered over me and across the passenger door.

Oh, and did I mention that the rental car agency hadn’t had the car I’d requested when I went to pick it up, so, in apology, they gave me a free upgrade to a Lexus??

Pulled over, managed to clean up the mess, back on the road again. Amazingly, I guess I got it all, because the car didn’t stink of fish the rest of the way. (And we thoroughly cleaned it with a sponge and soap later, once at the hotel). Despite these mishaps, we made it to the hotel in one piece.

Thursday night was the usual meet and greet, lots of hugs and kisses and squeals of joy (well, more like croaks, from me). So good to see everyone again. I tried my best to keep my hands germ-free (hand sanitizer), used tissues copiously, etc., but I’m sure my cold was spreading. The only thing that made me feel a little less guilty was that there were several others at this thing who had some sort of affliction or another. I wish I could name each and every person I greeted and talked with, but I know I’ll forget some and my brain is a bit foggy at this point, so it’s best if I don’t try.

I played just once that first night, and it was a quick, light scene, over jeans, with my beloved InspecterHide Michael. He is often my first scene at these gatherings, which makes me happy. He was with a young woman, new to parties and the scene, FetLife-named Ellie3, who was the most adorable pixie you could imagine, and was as sweet as she was cute. I was happy for her, watching her plunge in with both feet, experiencing everything the party had to offer.

We had brought lots of snacks to keep in our room, so we didn’t go to dinner that first night. Later on, Joe ordered pizza for us all, but I didn’t have any. My appetite had pretty much gone AWOL. I can’t remember when we left to go to bed — probably on the earlier side (read: before 3:00 a.m.).

Friday, the cold felt more full blown, but I got up, showered and dressed, and we went to meet a dear friend for lunch at Cheesecake Factory, hanging out there eating and chatting for a couple of hours, which was lovely. However, when we came back, I was full-on sick. So I crawled into bed at about 4:00, fell right to sleep. John woke me at 7:00.

Him: You want to go to dinner?

Me: Uh uh.

Him: You want me to order room service?

Me: Uh uh.

Him: You want to go to Joe’s room?

Me: Uh uh.

Him: You just want to go back to sleep, don’t you.

Me: Uh huh.

So, with much convincing, John left to go join the party, and I crashed back into sleep, not waking up until about 10:15. Somewhat fortified by all the sleep, I decided to get up and make an attempt at an appearance. Since Friday night was designated as a pajama party in the main suite (optional, of course), I didn’t have to dress up. Put on a little makeup so I wouldn’t terrify people, and John came by at 10:45 to check on me, finding me ready to go. And so I finally came to the party, and even managed to do a couple of scenes — a second one with IH, who took me to his room (cool and quiet) and gave me a lovely strapping, and my first scene of the weekend with another one of my favorite people, CalNation (I’ll call him CN). I managed to do some chatting, because there were so many people I wanted to talk to, but a lot of the time, I just sat on the couch, curled up in my jammies, watching the scenes. It was the end of our second night there, I’d barely played, hadn’t even seen Alex and SpankCake yet, and I was so damn frustrated with this cold and feeling like I was only running on a couple of cylinders. I was determined to rally for the rest of the weekend, even if it killed me!

Saturday morning when John got me up, I could feel the difference. The cold had fully settled into my sinuses and throat, but I didn’t have that heavy, sluggish, sick feeling I’d had the day before. Time for fun! There were a couple of events planned for the afternoon in Joe’s room, and then we had plans to go to dinner with Alex, SC and her beau R (sadly, Paul didn’t make it this time, as he was in the UK). First, we went to lunch at DuPar’s with our friend Mir, and at 2:00, showed up for TTYL (a creation of Joe’s: Thongs, Tights, Yoga Pants and Leggings). I wore new yoga pants. Joe’s room was set up with a couple of massage tables for people to scene on, and I got onto one to play with SDSpanko, another great player with implement prowess. Among other things, he had an oversized leather strap that looked like it was more suited to flogging an elephant. Just to show how looks are deceiving — it looked terrifying, but it actually felt kinda good! Intense impact, but not super thuddy, and the warmth from it radiated and tingled. Yum. I also did a second scene with CN; I so love playing with him! He has this delicious way of gathering my hair in his hand, or pulling my upper body up close into him with his left arm as he spanks with his right. And he’s so damn cute. πŸ˜€

At 4:00 was Club Finn (named for the premier flogger for our gatherings, Fineous), which is sort of a kinky “spa time” for the ladies. We get massages, sensual floggings, hair-brushing (on our hair), champagne, raspberries and chocolates. The tone of the room calms and everyone is welcome to stay, but Joe said, “Guys, if you’re here, it’s best if you’re pampering a lady!” And so I took off my shirt (I was in a sports bra), and sat at CN’s feet while he delivered a neck, shoulders and upper back massage that had me melting into the carpet.

Quick nap, clothing change and makeup, and we were off to Alex and SC’s suite to pick them up for dinner. We went to HoneySalt, a restaurant John and I had never been to, but A & SC had and they loved it, so we went on their word, and a good word it was, too. What a cool place! Great service, wonderful food, and the company was perfect. The five of us laughed and ate and drank — I was fortified with decongestants so I wouldn’t be blowing my nose every five seconds. I even splurged and got a glass of sparkling rosΓ©… which hit me like a ton of bricks. I guess, combined with the cold meds, it had the effect of three times the amount I’d drunk! A, SC and I shared an absolutely obscene dessert — a brownie, topped with a chocolate chip cookie, topped with salted caramel ice cream — and John and R had sorbet and port. John and I had another one of our collisions; he moved the glass toward me so I could take a sip, and I reached my hand out at the same time… and knocked the damn glass over. I was mortified, but John assured me it was OK.

Aaaand then there was the guestbook. As legend has it, last time Alex and SC were at HoneySalt, SC was a bad girl and wrote salacious things in the guestbook. So this time, Alex said she had to behave herself… but she didn’t. She started writing something, but the pen they gave her ran out of ink. So guess who pulled another pen out of her purse so SC could continue? (Raising hand) I suppose that makes me an accomplice. Anyway, I won’t try to explain what she wrote/drew on the guestbook, but Alex then took the book and wrote underneath: “I’m sorry!” I then grabbed it and wrote, with an arrow pointing to SC’s writing: “We don’t know her!” SC wrote: “Yes they do!” I wrote: “No we don’t!” And that’s how the guestbook was left. I don’t know we can show our faces in there again. But I’m sure we will.

Back to Joe’s suite for the night — the theme of Saturday night’s party was purple (for no other reason except that it’s Joe’s favorite color). So there were purple balloons and banners, and everyone was encouraged to wear the color. Not many men I know can pull off a lavender suit, but Joe did it. John found a shirt that was a sort of a maroon, which is close enough. Alex came in a purple cheerleader outfit, and SC was quite the stunner in black stockings, heels, and a black and purple corset. I had a dress in a purple print, and underneath, I was wearing a new purple bra and panty set.

(Here, I will sideline and apologize because I have zero pictures of my underwear, or of any of my scenes. I wish I did, and I regret it. But I guess I was off my game, wasn’t thinking ahead, and didn’t see to it that any shots were taken. Boooooo. But here is a fun shot of John and me; we were playfully slow-dancing to Bob the DJ’s music and our friend Sam snapped us. I like the dark effect! β™ͺ dancing in the dark…β™«)

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The rest of Saturday night is kind of blurry — no doubt due to meds, wine and general sick muddled-ness. Lots more talking and laughing. John Osborne and I went off and did a nice long private scene in his room, which was a wonderful break for me — I loved being with everyone, but the noise was making my congested head explode. I also seem to recall being spun around and bent over the bar top in Joe’s room, double teamed by John and IH. I cannot imagine how that happened.

Another scene was with a new guy who calls himself Mr. Woodland — what a hoot he is! We had a lot of banter and silliness, and I found myself wishing the scene would go on longer, but it was our first time playing. It seemed he enjoyed my bratting, so I was only too happy to comply and give him some, including giving him a new nickname (which I can’t say here, because it has to do with his real name. Oh well!).

At midnight, Joe had arranged for a presentation to honor Bob and Ariel, long-time party goers who, years ago, opened their suite to everyone and had extraordinary room parties. They had taken a sabbatical for several years due to health reasons, but now they are back, and Joe wanted to acknowledge their well-earned reputations as scions in our scene. A few people got up and spoke, including Mir and me, and the speeches ended with a poem Eve Howard wrote for them. Joe presented them with a plaque, too.

I keep thinking I had other scenes that night, but damned if I can remember. IH was leaving in the morning, and he and I were so hoping to get in one last scene before I went to bed. But unfortunately, he was committed to some others first, and while I tried to wait, it was getting late and I was running on fumes. So, reluctantly, I had to say goodnight and goodbye to my friend. There will always be next time. And with that, John got me back to the room and poured me into bed around 3:30.

Another side note: The energy at this party was high and positive. Even in my state of cold-ish blechhh, I could see this. Regardless of personal opinions and politics, and all the animosity that has gone down in recent months, it seemed to have all been left at the doorsteps. Joe wanted that, and I’m glad we all worked together to give it to him, and to ourselves. Like his sign said, we damn well needed it.

Sunday morning, after a shower and hair wash, I went to get us coffee while John went to the suite to snag us seats for Strict Dave’s Punishment Court. We had a full house for that, and he did not disappoint: the cases were hilarious. And of course, Alex took SC to court for her antics at HoneySalt (SC lost). John said she should have called him as a witness, because he would have thrown me under the bus and said that I gave her the pen.

Backtrack a bit — a few months ago, Alex, SC and I were shopping, and we came upon a tank top that we had to have, so all three of us bought one. The plan was for us to wear them at this party, named 50 Freaks, but you know how plans go sometimes. Poor Alex was so busy and stressed out and overloaded before coming, she forgot to pack hers. So, you’ll just have to imagine her as a third person in this picture (although she did take it for us).

SC and me, getting our freak on:

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After Court, several people went for a very late brunch to a nearby bar and grill, but John and I decided to pass on that and just hung out in the room for a while until we were ready to go nap. Sunday night had no activities planned, just free for everyone to come and go as they pleased, so we lingered in our room, packing some of our stuff, and watching the last hour of the Oscars (what a crazy upset that was!) After that, we went for a light dinner at one of the hotel’s restaurants and at a little after 10, rejoined the party for the last night.

I think at this point I need to mention Michael Masterson. I thought we were going to play, truly I did. A while back on FetLife, he had written a post talking about how he operates at parties, and he said he never asks people to play. That if you want to play with him, a surefire way to make that happen is to brat him. So, because I figured it was time for me to grow a pair and face the Mighty Masterson, I bratted him on FetLife. And I got added to his personal list.

So, I’m not really sure what happened. We had several encounters at this party, lots of greetings. I was playfully sassing him throughout; at one point, I even reached out with my foot and nudged him as he was passing. He came over, hugged me and said, “Bad girl, don’t kick me!” I answered, “I was just trying to get your attention!” On Sunday night, I was sitting on the couch with Jaibug, and he came over, complimenting my outfit for the evening and saying he liked my glasses. Were they new? “No,” I replied. “I had them on last time. You just weren’t looking at me.” “Oh, that’s not nice, bad girl,” he scolded. Then he proceeded to pick up a purple balloon. “You’re getting three; count them!” he warned. And then he bopped me on the head with the balloon, three times, as I counted them out loudly.

After, he asked, “What do you say?” Without hesitation, I called out, “Fuck you, sir!” He pulled a paddle out of his back pocket and said, “Would you care to rephrase that?” Shrinking up against Jaibug, I answered meekly, “Screw you, sir?” I thought that was going to be it, but he just laughed, said I was too much, and went to get something sharp so he could loudly pop the balloon, now in my lap.

He did ask if I was going to the next big party, and I said no — it’s either tonight, or he’ll have to wait until Shadow Lane. “That sounds like a challenge,” he said, to which I answered, “Take it as you will!” with a cheeky grin.

But still, it didn’t happen. Was it because I was sick? Was he being cautious? Was he just too busy? I dunno. Whatever the reason, I remain still untouched by Michael Masterson. Damn. He was autographing butts this weekend and everything. Oh! Almost forgot — on Sunday night, when I was trying to maneuver around tightly packed bodies and furniture to reach my purse, I kicked over Michael’s beer, which was sitting on the carpet beside the couch! Ugh! I was so effing clumsy this weekend! Oh my God… I was afraid he’d think I did it on purpose to brat him! (The girls do the most outrageous things to this man.) He thundered, “Did you just kick over my beer??” but when he saw me with both hands clapped over my mouth, I think he could see it was truly not intentional!

Because it was the last night, and I was already sore, not to mention sick, I was trying very hard to make my best choices for who I wanted to play with. If I had been well, I would have agreed to more scenes, but as it was, I had to prioritize. I played with JC, because I like him so much and he and Piper are always so sweet to me. He didn’t use any of his implements, even though he had a massive toy bag. I’ve told him on several occasions that he doesn’t need a single one of those things — he’s got a hand that could make me say mercy, and I can’t say that about too many!

And of course, because it isn’t a party weekend without a full-body double flogging from Fineous, I got to indulge in that later in the evening, off in one of the bedrooms. Next to us on the other bed, Princess Kelley and Sir Siq were double-strapping the bejesus out of Maddy Marks, but I was so spacey and floaty, I completely tuned it out, although occasionally their banter drifted into my ear and I smiled into the pillow. The flogging relaxed me, took out all the knots and tension, and I felt very serene afterward. I got back into my clothes, but then decided to go back to our room to change out of my skirt, sweater and heels and into yoga pants and t-shirt, and I dispensed with shoes altogether.

More chat, more hanging out, more watching. Things weren’t even beginning to wind down; clearly, this last blowout was going to continue all night. All weekend, Joe and his girlfriend Mackenzie had taken care of us all, keeping us fed and hydrated, entertaining us, organizing us, making sure people were happy, and Joe had doled out plenty of spankings. Now, here it was 2:00 a.m. on the last night, and I overheard Joe said it was time for him to let go and become Malibu Joe (which is his code name — I have no idea how it originated — for getting blotto drunk). I can’t blame him; hosting these weekends is damn hard work! But I knew this was my last chance, so as he headed toward the bar, I intercepted him and said, “Noooooo, not yet, Joe! We have to play!” He laughed, and we were able to grab one of the massage tables where a scene was just ending. I lay on it with a pillow bolster under my hips.

As I’d mentioned, I was “out of shape” for this party. My scenes, while wonderfully enjoyable, were also somewhat painful. A part of me was wondering if I was going to ever feel like my old self again. And then Joe started. And the magic happened.

He warmed me up with his hands, then started in with implements, often using one in each hand. Floggers. Straps. That thick heavy strap that SDSpanko had used. Something else. I had no idea what it all was. The party went away, I closed my eyes, and all I did was feel and hear impact. I trust Joe 100% with anything in his hands, so I didn’t have engage any part of my brain being concerned about stray shots. As the scene progressed and he paused, my mind screamed, “Don’t stop. More. Harder. Please.” I didn’t speak, but I know I was raising my butt up higher, because Joe read me and continued. He checked in with me once, I said all was perfect, and we got even deeper into it. For that few minutes, I wasn’t sick. I wasn’t tired. I wasn’t out of condition. I was in the bliss of subspace, the blows feeling like kisses. I could have gone on and on and on, even though guttural groans were now coming out of my throat and Joe was doing a finale of slamming his hands onto both my cheeks at the same time. Oh, so good. I collapsed onto the table, one foot hanging off the side, and just breathed as he massaged me, rubbed lotion into my punished skin. So. Very. Good.

Somehow, I peeled myself off that table (people were waiting to use it, after all), set my clothes to rights, and gave Joe a massive hug, sending him off to Malibu-land with my blessing. After that, I was so spaced out, I didn’t want to talk, so I found a free spot on one of the couches and curled up, wrapping myself in a warm blanket that had been left there. And I just watched everything for a while, until I was joined by MaMa Blue and a lovely young woman whose scene name I don’t know, so I will just call her B.

In retrospect, I should have ended the night there. I was played out, it was late, and we were getting up at 7:00 a.m., just a few hours from now. But on these final nights of these spanking/socializing extravaganzas, one gets a strong attack of FOMO (Fear Of Missing Out), and I wanted to linger to the last possible minute, wring out every drop of enjoyment and camaraderie.

But then something happened. No, not to me directly. But it was something that triggered me deeply, and I got very upset. I tried to brazen it out, but then abruptly I got up and left the room, going into one of the bedrooms. There, I guess exhaustion and sickness and the sudden tsunami of emotion overtook me, because I burrowed into a chair at the far wall of the room, wrapped the blanket around me, and wept. Quietly, but still. People saw me. There was a very intricate bondage/suspension scene happening on the bed, and I did not want to disrupt that. John, MaMa and B came into the room, sat around me, shielded me as best they could, so people wouldn’t see me crying. I kept trying to pull myself together, but then I’d break down again. John went to find tissues for me and couldn’t find any, so he ended up bringing me a roll of toilet paper. One sweet woman who goes by the name RBG (I call her Ruth Bader Ginsburg) subtly slipped over and brought me a bottle of cold water. MaMa showed me cat videos on her phone and sang “Here Comes The Sun” to me; such a tenderhearted soul she is.

No, I don’t want to say what happened that upset me. Because I know I will be judged for my feelings, or I will be perceived as judgmental myself. And I just don’t need that shit, you know?

I suppose I should have just left. But I knew if I did, I wouldn’t come back, and I so wanted to say my final goodbyes. So there I sat, for about an hour. Finally, at 3:45, I was ready to get up. But by then, I was so wiped out, my eyes were swollen, I was so tired I felt delirious, so I really didn’t get to make the rounds of goodbyes after all. The party was still in full swing, so I hugged the people closest to the door and then walked out, not even waiting for John, who was saying his own goodbyes.

Not a nice way to end a party weekend. I wish it hadn’t happened. But I also cannot let it taint all the rest. Because in the end, it balanced out, sickness and all, to be a damn good party.

And so, we tumbled into bed about 4:45 a.m., only to arise a couple of hours later. I was so wiped out, the room actually spun when I got up, and spun again when I was in the bathroom; it looked like the floor tiles were swirling under my feet. But once I showered, I regained my equilibrium; we finished packing, loaded the car, checked out, got coffee, and were on the road by 8:00. I think this was the earliest we’d ever left, but it worked out well. Even with two stops (snack and bathroom) and a grocery run for John, we got back to his place by 1:00. Somehow, I got myself home, brought the rental back (bye bye, Lexus! You were luxurious!), settled in and collapsed, sleeping all afternoon and well into the evening.

Tuesday I lay low. I was still processing what had happened, and I was sick as a dog now. But by Wednesday, I had recovered enough to get back to work and start catching up with online stuff. I even exercised a bit, although there was no way I was going to the gym, not with all the hacking and sniffling I was doing.

I was plenty sore, but unmarked. Still, I find myself afflicted with “sandpaper butt,” so I guess I’ll need to exfoliate in the shower at some point! So, so happy to play again. I hadn’t realized just how much I missed it.

Back to reality. My entire March is slammed with work, and I don’t think there will be much down time. It’s OK. I had my play time. And I need the focus, because it keeps me (somewhat, anyway) out of trouble. So I don’t know how much posting I’ll be doing. This is it for a while, I think.

For everyone who talked to me, played with me, hugged me and cuddled with me despite my having the plague, laughed with me, ate with me, made me forget life for a while… thank you. I love you all so much. Joe and Kenzie, “thank you” isn’t enough for all you did for us, and continue to do. MaMa and B, for your compassion and support when I was in a bad way, I am so grateful. And if I forgot anyone I played with, I am SO sorry. If need be, I’ll come back and edit, add stuff I omitted.

On a final note: three women, on three separate occasions during the weekend, unexpectedly said very sweet things to me, so kind and genuine that I was nearly touched to tears each time. To The Bad Alex (yeah, I know you renamed yourself The Real Good Alex, but we all know that’s BS), Ashley, and Sum_Nightsdream, thank you, ladies. β™₯

Thanks for reading, if you’ve gotten this far. Have a good weekend, y’all.

And awayyy we go…

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This time tomorrow, John and I will be en route to Las Vegas. Four days of kinky fun with approximately 200 people, I think (?) Maybe a bit less. This particular gathering began in 2013 with just 55 of us, but it has grown every year. (The photo above was taken from inside the car on a recent Vegas trip.)

I have been cranking out work like crazy, and I’m treating myself to a full week off. Sometime in between bouts of work, I managed to shop a bit and buy some new underwear, some cute PJs and some yoga pants. (I shopped for a new dress but didn’t find one, but this is a very casual weekend and there will be only one occasion to dress up.) Oh, and Alex, SC and I bought matching tank tops with a very cute and apropos saying on the front. Hopefully we’ll be able to coordinate wearing them at the same time and get a picture.

The weekend will be fairly unstructured, but there are some events planned and we already have a couple of lunch/dinner dates set up. I have purchased copious snacks and drinks for our room, gotten a fresh pedicure (I never bother with my fingernails because they are so wretched from a lifetime of picking at them, so I just cut them short), booked our rental car (picking that up shortly), and this afternoon I will start packing (to be finished in the morning). Every trip has the sameΒ set of rituals; John and I have this down to a science after doing it for so many years. One would think I’d relax a bit and just trust that we’ll get there, like always.

But I never do. Fortunately, John is ever tolerant of my insanity.

This should be an interesting party. As I’d mentioned before, I haven’t really played in a few months. So I feel like I have a virgin bottom all over again, although I know it doesn’t work that way. My tolerance may not be at its peak, but I’m sure it will be like muscle memory and come back to me. However, I may have done something really stupid.

I may have slightly bratted Michael Masterson on FetLife. You know, the Michael Masterson? The Real Spankings Institute guy? The Spanking Blogg “Best Male Spanker of the Year 2016” winner? I’ve never played with him before, although we’ve chatted at a few parties in recent years. I’ve commented on here how he is the most bratted man at any party and what a good sport he is. I never thought I’d be one of the bratters, though.

It’s official. I’ve lost my @#$%ing mind.

Ah well. Pacing, Erica. Remember, stretch it out over four days. (Famous last words.) Wish me luck, y’all.

The ride there should be OK. It will be Thursday, not Friday, so no end of week rush hour. Coming home may be a challenge, as it will be on the side of the 15 freeway where a huge sinkhole opened up during the recent rain. But who cares… that’s next week.

So looking forward to seeing old friends and making new ones! Will share all that’s fit to print after we get home. πŸ™‚

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