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 “love”

Time flies…

On August 30, 1996, John and I met for the first time after he answered my ad. And the rest is twenty-four years of a whole lot of history.

Unfortunately, we don’t really get to celebrate in the traditional sense this year. We normally do two things at this time of year — go out for a special dinner, and go to the Labor Day weekend party in Vegas. In the clusterfuck that is 2020, we can do neither.

To add insult to injury, or vice versa, on Friday, John had an abscessed tooth extracted. It had gotten to be an emergency because of problems getting in to see a dentist/specialist due to Covid. I was terrified that the infection would spread, but it seems it didn’t. Still, having a tooth pulled is no fun. I couldn’t even bake him anniversary brownies, since he couldn’t eat them.

We did order take-out brunch yesterday. Then I discovered my order was screwed up when we got home.

Happy anniversary!! massive eye roll

And of course, all weekend we were bombarded with bad news about Portland, Kenosha, Hurricane Laura, and so forth. I confiscated the remote and told John CNN was off the table. (I believe my actual words were, “We are not watching this shit.”) I was worried about two dear friends, both in unpleasant circumstances, and could do nothing for either one.

Powerlessness. Acceptance. Keep on carrying on.

So, feeling nostalgic, and because I’ve been going through and deleting old files (which I really should have done before I got the new computer, but oh well), I came across some fun pictures John and I took early in our relationship. I think this was before Erica Scott came to be.

One day, John brought home a very cool new toy from his work so that we could play with it over the weekend. It was the latest in high tech.

A digital camera.

For those of you who don’t remember the joys of having film developed at Fotomat and having to wait to discover 3/4 of your pictures turned out crappy, blurry, or had a thumb stuck in them, you can’t possibly imagine the thrill of the digital camera. Pre-Smart phones, they were the latest and greatest. But the early ones were laughably clunky, even though they were cutting edge at the time. This contraption John brought home was rather large, and — get this — you actually inserted a diskette. You shot your pictures, then then took out the diskette, popped it into your computer drive, and uploaded your pictures.

So on a beautiful sunny Saturday, John and I went to a hiking area off Mulholland Drive, and spent a couple of hours walking and taking various pictures.

This is a rare sighting of me outdoors, folks.

Mvc-004fl

We found a little hidden alcove and no one else was around, so of course this happened:

Mvc-001el

Look at my handsome man. ♥

John5

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But then, of course, I could only take so much sunlight, and we came home. And then experimented with a different kind of picture.

You know, the sort of pictures of me that are all over the net now… but certainly weren’t then. I think this might be the first time I’d been shot naked since I was a baby. (Please disregard John’s hideous old couch. He and I both have what he likes to call “dead grandma furniture.”)

mejlivingroom4(1)

I had a lot to learn about posing then. But I did have the leg and pointed toe thing going on. 😀

So many experiences in twenty-four years. So many milestones and memories.

People are wishing us well, and some have said, “May you have another twenty-four years.” But honestly? I don’t want another twenty-four years if they’re going to be like 2020. This needs to end. So many friends I know and love have had their worst year ever. I’m trying to hold on to a positive thought, but the damned abyss of depression waits at my feet. So I keep on working, keep on plugging each day, and hope for the best.

Today would have been my brother’s birthday. Of course, that gets all the feels going too. Ugh. But I have to look forward, not back.

Remembering something Jay sent me a while back — I am brave. We all are brave. We are survivors.

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And hey! A week from Tuesday, I get to have my hair cut and colored. Hair salons are back open as of today. Then I can video chat with pretty hair. Because yes, I’m that vain.

Take care, everyone. Be kind.

Community ♥

It’s been nearly a month since I posted, but really, there hasn’t been that much to write about. Well, except one huge thing that happened two weeks ago, and I haven’t had the time to talk about it since because of work and life and so forth. But now is a good breaking point to stop and reflect. Settle in and grab your beverage of choice.

Let’s backtrack a bit; you all know I dropped out of the public scene for all of 2019. It was a really dark time for me, one in which I felt like I didn’t belong anymore, I didn’t know who my friends were (with a few exceptions who stuck with me through it all). Come 2020, I was ready to reenter things. I reactivated FetLife, and in February, I went to a big national party after skipping the last two. I had a fabulous time, felt reconnected and renewed, and was looking forward to further adventures.

Then COVID-19 hit. And everything shut down. No parties. No play dates. No coffee dates. No anything, socially. I’d reentered the scene just in time to have it disappear.

Virtual meetings became the norm. Zoom, FaceTime, Skype, etc. The only way we could see our friends was on a computer screen. But it was better than nothing, right?

Except I couldn’t do any of that. Because I still had this old desktop that ran perfectly well with just one glitch: I couldn’t chat with anyone online. It didn’t have a built-in cam, and I tried three different external webcams, all with the same result: picture, but no sound. I had my computer tech take the system home with him and tear it apart, trying to find out what was wrong, and he couldn’t. So I knew I wouldn’t be able to do virtual chat with anyone until I got a new computer system.

Which I couldn’t afford.

However, my birthday is at the end of September. And John was making noises about how I should start shopping and researching computer systems. I knew what that meant; he was going to buy me a new system for my birthday. He does stuff like that. I mean, he bought me my current system, and insisted I get the best. When I was going to buy a 19-inch monitor, he said live a little, get a 21-inch one. This system has served me well, and still runs well (and quickly), save for that webcam issue. But perhaps it was time to move on. After all, I was still on Windows 7 and Word 2010.

Online, I complained endlessly to anyone who would listen about how I couldn’t cam with anyone. People said things like “You really need to upgrade.” Sure, okay. Wanna buy me a new computer?? Tell me something I don’t know.

A couple of weeks ago, my dear friend Jay and I were having our usual daily email exchange, and she cryptically told me that she’d “done a thing” and had help with it. That I would be getting a package from Fed-Ex that I’d have to sign for, and it would be coming from Zack’s address. (You remember Zack from 50 Freaks; I had several pictures of him and me in my party blog.) Um… what? She said she knew it was my birthday next month and she had planned an early surprise gift. She had one request: when I got it and opened it, she wanted me to record my reactions on my phone.

What on earth had she been up to?? I couldn’t imagine what it was. John couldn’t either.

The package was supposed to arrive sometime Thursday… but then midday Jay got a notification that it was now bumped to sometime Friday. (Of course, they don’t give you a time window — they just say “sometime before end of day.”) Argh. Well, at least I was going to be home all day and evening Friday, right? So we waited.

On Friday, I got up early and got as much work done as I could. Jay had warned me that once the package arrived, I wouldn’t be getting much of anything done for the rest of the day. Good grief, this was getting more and more intriguing. And at 2:15, my doorbell rang. Yup, Fed-Ex. A huge, heavy box. I signed for it and dragged it inside. Then, as requested, I set up my phone to record my opening it. I grabbed a sharp knife and hit the record button.

Oh. My. God.

There was a ton of packing material, piles of bubble wrap, and two distinctly wrapped packages within. Recording all the while, I babbled in confusion as I tore through things, trying to figure out what the hell I was looking at here. And then I saw the laptop case.

No. They didn’t.

They did.

I fumbled and fumfered around with the case; I was so flustered, I couldn’t even get the damn thing open! Finally I did, and then I pulled out the new Asus Chromebook. Oh. My. God.

When I lifted the lid, I saw a couple of sheets of paper within. One was a note from Zack, explaining everything that was included, and letting me know that he had installed software to allow him to remotely get into my computer, help me figure things out, copy over all my files, etc. The other sheet was from Jay. Along with a very loving note, she let me know that this had been a group effort; she’d contacted several people and gotten contributions from them. She listed all of them and their FetLife/Twitter names. And on the other side was a list of messages from all the people. Besides Jay and Zack, ten other people had contributed to this. When I saw the messages, the waterworks started.

Mind you, I was being recorded. So here I was, sobbing, babbling incoherently, sitting on the carpet fumbling about with all this wrapping detritus around me, thanking Jay and Zack, saying how much I loved everyone, that I couldn’t believe they did this, that I didn’t have the faintest idea what to do with this right now because I’m such a techno-dork… and then I shut off the recorder.

Before I finished unwrapping the gift(s).

There was still another package to open. They thought of everything.

Besides the laptop and its new travel case, there was a separate, larger monitor. A separate webcam, because Zack said the built-in cam was a little grainy. Plugs and connectors and other things I didn’t recognize. And a wireless mouse.

The laptop was loaded with software. Microsoft Office 2016, which Zack said was the latest and the best before they went to that Microsoft 365 nonsense that you sort of “rent” instead of buying the program. A full Adobe suite, including Acrobat and Photoshop. Zoom was loaded. Zack had even linked me into his streaming service, so I could watch things from his collection of shows and movies.

Unreal.

I ended up making a second recording to add my thanks for all the other stuff I’d discovered after I made the first one. Yes, I came off like a complete dork. But it was real. It was me, raw, overwhelmed and touched beyond belief.

Priorities. The first thing I did was upload the two recordings of my reactions and send them to both Jay and Zack. I took a selfie, in the midst of my sob-fest, with red nose and wet eyes and the whole shebang. I sent a tweet, linking nearly everyone involved, and attached the selfie, saying words couldn’t express what was in my heart, so here was a picture of me bawling with joy. For the three people who weren’t on Twitter, I texted two and emailed the third.

Zack told me that he’d be available that evening and would help me figure stuff out. After I had my nightly phone chat with John (and I cried all the way through that too), first thing I did was take a picture of the bits and pieces I couldn’t figure out and text it to Zack, and he explained what they were. I connected the laptop to my WiFi. Then we connected via Zoom (first time for me, using that) and then were online together for the next two hours. He was in my system remotely, so he could see everything that was going on, and after I let him into my desktop, he copied over all my files, pictures, and music. He showed me around some of the programs.

During our chat, my signal dropped twice and I lost the connection. I asked him what this could be, and he said perhaps I should reboot my router. I did that after our talk, but then the next time I tried the laptop, the signal dropped again. My desktop is connected to my router via Ethernet cable, so the signal never drops, and it never drops on my cell phone either, so I couldn’t understand why this was happening. I spent some time on the phone with AT&T, and they said my router is fine and the connection is strong. So, that’s the next project with Zack — try to work out why the signal to the laptop is glitchy and how to strengthen it without using an Ethernet cable. But that will be later. Also, I want to try to figure out how to sync my laptop and desktop. I’m still keeping the latter, so I’d like to be able to have whatever I do on one happen on the other, if that’s possible. I have so much to learn. Oh, and my work table now has the desktop, laptop, and extra monitor on it, and it’s too crowded. So I’m shopping for a small side table I can use for the laptop. Oh, and accessories like a lap tray and a cooling pad. And and and… I’m getting ahead of myself. This is all so new and exciting.

Back to that night — after I said goodbye to Zack, I played around with the laptop for a while longer, adding my email accounts, choosing a desktop picture and screen saver, adding my MalwareBytes account. At 10 p.m., I was still so wound up I was shaking, and I realized I hadn’t eaten any dinner. I shut everything down, figuring I’d done all I could for one night, and grabbed a KIND bar and a yogurt. The next day I went to John’s, but I didn’t bring the laptop with me — I figured I wanted to give John all my attention and it would be waiting for me when I came home. John was as blown away by this as I was. I think he was a little disappointed that he didn’t get to buy it for me, and he confessed to being worried that our friends would think he was cheap or something because he didn’t do this first. I assured him that they all knew he had intended to, but they just did it sooner!

So. Even though the bulk of this year has been a clusterfuck, even with pandemics and elections and protests and fires and general mayhem happening all around me… I got a wonderful gift. No, not the laptop and the accessories, although those were indeed wonderful. I got the gift of feeling loved. Of knowing how many people care about me. I still can’t believe all the preparation that went into this. First, Jay painstakingly contacted as many people as she could think of, collected the funds, coordinated the messages, kept in touch with everyone with updates. Then Zack took over, getting the system, loading all the software, packing everything so thoroughly and carefully. (I was popping bubble wrap for a week.) It was a labor of love by all, and I still can’t believe I was the recipient. Even two weeks later, writing about this makes me choke up.

And yes, I’m typing up this blog on my new laptop.

In this awful time of isolation and uncertainty, I feel very much loved. I belong.

I love you, Jay. I love you, Zack. I love all of you who contributed to this. When I finally get all this stuff figured out, I hope to Zoom or FaceTime with some of you.

Although I haven’t worn makeup in months and I have about an inch of gray roots and maybe I don’t want people seeing me after all…

SHUT UP, ERICA!

Take care, everyone. Stay safe and well. ♥

 

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

lasting a very short time; short-lived; transitory:

the ephemeral joys of childhood.

 

lasting but one day:
an ephemeral 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?

Reflections on relationships

Next week, on Thursday, John and I will be together for twenty-two years. On Friday, we will head for yet another Shadow Lane party. That’s sort of become our anniversary celebration. I will be very busy for the next week or so, so I figured I’d squeeze in a post here so y’all won’t think I’ve disappeared.

John and I never married, and we don’t live together. And yet we have been through so much in our years. Countless laughs, many tears. Many of life’s passages, including the losses of both our parents, job losses/transitions, and an illness and open heart surgery that nearly took him from me. When I first met him, he was living in an apartment; now he owns two homes. We’ve shared so many things, so many events. To this day, he still makes me laugh like no other. To this day, no one knows me better than he does.

We love each other. ♥

Here is the part that continually baffles me. I must be doing something right, being able to maintain this relationship for so long. And yet, it seems I cannot keep any other kind of relationship for any length of time. Friends, play partners, etc. They come into my life, they exit. Sometimes the exits are dramatic, sometimes they just fade out. Sometimes they ghost. Sometimes, they’re still there, but otherwise preoccupied. Online, I have several people who enjoy communicating with me. People who don’t even know me send me beautiful words like these:

I’m writing to make sure you understand that there are many, many people out there just like me who appreciate and admire you. You may not know this, but you’ve been an inspiration to so many of us, with your blog, with the films you’ve been in, with your humor and honesty. With your politics. Also, if you’ll forgive me, your incredibly spankable bottom. 🙂

The above is real, and it moved me to tears. But if I’m this wonderful, why don’t people stay?

And for those who are wondering who I’m talking about — please don’t. This post is cumulative. This post is, sadly, about many.

Is this just the nature of today’s relationships? Are we all so busy, so distracted, so caught up in social media and work and life’s constant barrage of insanity that we don’t have time to invest in lasting closeness? Are we torn in too many different directions? The irony is that in today’s age, it’s easier than ever to connect to people. You don’t even have to go anywhere. You can Skype, you can text, you can email. You don’t even have to talk on the phone if you don’t want to (and I don’t). It takes mere seconds to fire off a text to someone. A “Hi, really busy, but thinking of you,” or “Hi, just wanted to say I love you.” And yet, we’re more disconnected than ever.

Or is it that I’m a fatally flawed human who can’t keep people in my immediate circle? Am I not interesting enough, in person? Fun enough? Kinky enough? Available enough? Are John and I together this long because we’re both social square pegs and birds of a feather and all that?

Because I am an introvert and somewhat reclusive, it’s true I don’t open my heart to many. I don’t have the time or patience for acquaintances and small talk. But when I do open that door, it is fully open; I am loving, supportive, deeply loyal. Lately, I’m beginning to wonder if I should simply seal my heart away for good. Because there isn’t much of it left. Over the years, so many people have come in, taken what they needed, and left the rest behind. I’m getting too old for this shit.

So, another party. The sweet torture of being thrust into three days of noise and crowds, feeling overwhelmed, and talking more in those three days than I do in six months — and yet loving it because I’m among my people. Because I can play to my heart’s content. As seems to be the case every damn time now, I haven’t been spanked for a couple of months, so I’m feeling out of condition and worried that the play will be too much for me. And of course, then there’s the other part of me that’s afraid the people I want to play with, won’t want to play with me. But I’ve gone through the proper motions. I bought new panties and a couple of new dresses. I will get my hair cut, get a pedicure. Fake it till you make it (although I detest that expression).

My heart is not in it right now. But I will take my body into it, and hopefully my heart and spirit and joyous spanko side will follow. I will have my beloved with me. The man who has stayed.

Enough of that. Work has gotten busy again, for which I am grateful. Sorry I’ve been MIA.  For those who want to see pictures, here ya go. My new panties.

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And here’s a butt shot from a few months ago. No, I haven’t let myself go and disappeared into a vat of bonbons. I’m too fucking vain for that. :-Þ

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Part of me thinks it may have been a mistake to start this blog up again, but I’m not going to make another dramatic exit. I will write when time allows and when the spirit moves me. When I have something to say.

Until then, have a good weekend, y’all. And be kind to each other.

Shadow Lane 2016

89c3a-vegas

Another year, another post. We got home yesterday afternoon; I managed to unpack everything, but after three nights of not going to bed before 4:00 a.m., I was able to get little else done. So glad I had the foresight to take today off from work. I have slept some, edited all the pictures I took, returned the rental car, caught up with email and other online stuff, and now I guess it’s time to attack the behemoth that is my annual SL report. (Grab a beverage of choice and make yourself comfortable; this is long!)

There were many highs this weekend, some amazing scenes, joyous times with friends. Unfortunately, had some lows too. But I guess with so much intensity and emotion packed into a weekend, it’s inevitable.

It was Shadow Lane’s 25th year of giving parties, so they had a large turnout, both scene veterans and a lot of new folks and everyone in between. Many people arrived Thursday and got the party rolling, so it was all in full swing when we arrived Friday afternoon. There were room events happening, but as is my style, I needed some decompression time after the drive. So we didn’t tell anyone we were there yet, just settled into our room, unpacked, slept a little, then got ready for the evening.

(John and I have a superstition about the first party person we see when we arrive. If it’s someone we know and like and want to greet with a hug, it’s a good omen and a good luck charm for the weekend. This time, the first person we saw (at the registration desk) was Harley Havik. YES! 🙂 )

Joe (Dr. Lectr), as always (love you so much for this, Joe!) had a suite and kept it open all weekend as a Hospitality Suite. Shadow Lane had the suite at the opposite end of the hall and were open in the evenings. Others had room parties, but John and I didn’t get to those, since most of them were theme parties and we aren’t really into those. We did make one exception on Friday night and went to Steven and Tasha’s room, where they were having a Superhero Cosplay party. Some really amazing costumes! The rest of the night is a blur of greeting all our friends (too many names to list, and I’ll forget people), getting hugs, etc., the usual whirlwind. But I managed to get three scenes in as well.

My first of the weekend was with Kinky Coach, whom you might remember is the one who has a tradition of leaving a hickey somewhere on me each year. We had a wonderfully fun scene with many laughs and a very ouchy spatula.

Oh, and the annual hickey has faded, but it was particularly naughty. John was annoyed… that he didn’t mark the other side and make it symmetrical. 🙂

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Back in Joe’s room, while making the rounds, I had a wonderful surprise — someone I hadn’t seen for many years was attending SL for the first time. I screamed when I saw him, he hollered, “Ericaaaaa!” and I ran into his arms, with him lifting me in the air. Remember when I played with a young man I referred to as “Benjamin” (referring to Dustin Hoffman’s character in The Graduate) because I was 50 and he was 21 and I felt like Mrs. Robinson? We fell out of touch — I didn’t use his real name then, but he has since taken on the scene name of Brandon, so Brandon he shall be. He was there with the stunningly beautiful Toska; anyway, long story short, we played once again, first a hand spanking and then a wonderful strapping with his belt. I’d forgotten how good he is with that thing. Lovely reunion!

Last April, I posted about the art of clever bratting and the Lumberjack Incident of 2016, with Ulf Sayer and Kajira Bound. Ulf and Kajira attended their first Shadow Lane party this weekend (although we saw little of Kajira, because the poor thing was sick), and Ulf owed me payback, big time. Friday night, he was in Joe’s suite and he and I ended up sitting down and having a lengthy chat, getting to know each other a bit, and John joined in after a while. I had always heard good things, but I got to discover for myself what a genuinely sweet person he is! But of course, payback was at hand, and I had compounded things by saying that hockey sucks. (He’s Canadian. They worship hockey.) So, my final scene of the evening was lengthy (and I loved every minute). We had never played before, so he was properly solicitous, checking in and asking questions about intensity. He’s a good sport about bratting, so I had a bit of fun with that (Him: “How are you doing?” Me: “I’m fine; how are YOU doing, hockey puck?”). But eventually I quieted down and sank into it. Afterward, he held me in his lap — I was quite spacey, and he said I could stay there as long as I liked. However, it was late and I knew he had to get back to his sick beloved, so reluctantly I got up.

By now it was 2:00 a.m., and John and I stayed until around 3:30 and then finally packed it in.

Saturday: John got me up around 11:00, and after showering/dressing, we went to Tom’s suite, where he was hosting a tribute to Shadow Lane. The room was packed and they had sandwiches and mimosas, but we didn’t partake because we were meeting Alex, Paul, SpankCake and R for lunch. Can’t have a party weekend without at least one meal with our besties! The tribute was very sweet, and the speeches ended at 12:25, which was perfect. We met our posse at DuPar’s (which had replaced Café Siena), and were joined by lovely Princess Kelley, so we all sat and did recon on the weekend so far. I have to say the service wasn’t great and the food was expensive, but what the hell. It’s a complete non-hassle to get to, and the food was good, so we didn’t really mind.

At the end of lunch, Alex got a text from Ulf, saying he was dropping Kajira at the hotel (they were staying elsewhere) for a session, and he was bringing their dog! They have this beautiful big dog–half Akita, and half wolf!–and I’d seen pictures and heard Alex talk of how sweet he was. So a bunch of us ran outside. Oh my… what an amazing dog. I tried to get a picture of him, but it didn’t do him any justice. He is very devoted to Kajira, so when she left to go for her session, he was clearly upset. But after a while of several people petting and soothing him, he perked up a bit, and Ulf brought him into the hotel, where he happily nosed into everything and greeted everyone who came near. I could not stop petting him and I got covered with fur, but I didn’t care. What a special treat! I love dogs.

Sadly, that was the last we saw of Ulf and Kajira; they didn’t come back to the party suites, probably because she wasn’t feeling well. Next time, I hope we see more of them.

After a nap, I washed my hair, blew it out, made up and put on the new dress John had gotten for me. I thought I’d get pictures of it later, but things changed and that didn’t happen (more on that in a bit). Joe had orchestrated a group dinner at the hotel steakhouse, which is always fun, so we all met in his room at 7:00 and trooped to the restaurant, where we got our usual banquet room, and John and I made sure we were sitting across from Paul/Alex/SC/R. It was the usual feast, and John splurged; he and three others shared two bottles of wine! I had a glass of sparkling wine, just enough to make me giggly. My fail-safe order is salmon, but John and I both got the chicken with portobello mushrooms this time and it was sooo delicious! Many laughs and fun stories, and John stood up and made a toast to Joe, which everyone cheered.

I even managed to get a decent selfie of us:

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After dinner, Joe was having what he called the “Silver Soiree” in his suite. People were encouraged to wear silver, but I don’t own anything in that color (except for some jewelry). I thought I’d be OK in my new dress, but as it got close and I heard Alex and SC talking about dressing up, I was bummed. “What am I going to wear?” I asked them. And SC saved the night — she had actually brought TWO silver corsets with her! Along with silver sequined panties, silver shoes, and a huge sparkly silver bow in her hair. She said my black panties and black thigh-highs would be perfect accompaniments; I always defer to her for fashion tips! Alex didn’t have silver clothes, but she had silver glitter, and SC helped her to put it on her face, her lips and in her hair, setting it in place with makeup spray. So I went to SC’s room to get the corset, and back to my own to change. John had stopped in another room, and when he came back and saw me in the corset, he nearly fell on his face. 🙂 He laced the back for me, took some glamour shots of me in it, and off we went.

Wow. The feedback on the outfit was mind-blowing. I got so many lovely compliments, I was beaming from ear to ear. R took this shot of me and SC — doesn’t she look festive and gorgeous? Wish I could show her pretty face.

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I didn’t get a picture of Alex with all her glitter; perhaps someone else did. She looked so cute.

And Samantha took this sweet shot of John and me:

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Play time! I had two scenes on Saturday night — one more with Brandon. This time he asked me to choose an implement from his backpack, so I selected a Shadow Lane short leather strap. It turned out to be a whole lot meaner than it looked — deceptive little @#$%er! (The strap, not Brandon.)

Joe had two massage tables set up in his suite and people were doing scenes on them all weekend. I had been watching a man who calls himself SDSpanko on Fet doing elaborate flogging/strapping/caning scenes — I’ve known him for years, but have never played with him. I knew SC was a big fan, so I confessed to her that I was dying to play with him. She urged me to ask him, and so I did, shyly creeping up as he was ending one scene. And so I was next on the table… Wow. Why did I wait so damn long to ask this man to play? He was fabulous! Used a host of different implements, checked in with me often, massaged my back and hair, and finished me off with twelve medium-hard cane strokes. I was completely floaty after that.

After that, everyone migrated to Shadow Lane’s suite, where people were doing another toast to them. Joe had bought a beautiful sheet cake for them, which was sliced up and passed around, and we stayed until the room got too hot. By that time, it was late and I was feeling the need to be more comfortable. We went back to our room, where I reluctantly discarded my finery and got into shortie PJs, then it was back to Joe’s room for the night.

I was feeling a bit tired, so while John chatted, I sat and caught up with my phone, while I watched the antics around the room. A side note — Michael Masterson (of Real Spankings) was there; it was my second time seeing him, and we got to interact a little more than last time. One thing I noticed, which I commented to him about — that man is the recipient of more bratting than any top I know! It’s hysterical! I watched him get flipped off (three times) by Ten, kicked in the crotch (with a bare foot, but still) by Adriana, Photoshopped into all sorts of ridiculousness… it went on and on. He’s an amazing sport. 🙂 But he gets his payback!

Anyway, while I was sitting there, KC came over and scolded me for using electronics and not being present. I woefully whined that I was tired and sore, and would he please give me a massage? He had me sit on the carpet at his feet, and those dreamy hands of his worked on my neck and shoulders and down my back. I had only played five times so far, but they were all vigorous scenes, and I had reached that point of the weekend where I was yearning to play more, but was getting sore and feeling reluctant to do so. KC commented, “That’s what thighs are for!” And he proceeded to slap mine. So much for my relaxing massage! :-Þ  He had a short, well-worn strap and started using that as well; I was screeching at him and trying to grab it away from him, so he held both my wrists in one hand and cheerfully continued. (When he laid it down, I did throw it across the room. Paid for that, but it was worth it.)

I know more happened on Saturday night late, but damned if I can remember it now. John and I stayed past what he calls the “3:00 a.m. surge,” which seems to happen when things appear to be winding down, but then escalate once more (usually with a flurry of young women running around naked). We got to bed at about 4:00 once again.

Sunday: GET ME COFFEEEEEE! We had planned to attend Strict Dave’s Punishment Court, but things took a detour and we ended up in Alex and Paul’s room. Later, the six of us had lunch at DuPar’s once again (the service was better this time!), and lingered until after 3:00. Alex/Paul/SC/R were heading to the strip for dinner later — we were welcome to join them, but declined. We agreed to hook up later in Joe’s suite, and then perhaps Alex, SC and I could have our bubble bath in the giant tub (which seems to have become a tradition with us). Bidding them all goodbye, we headed back to Joe’s to see if anyone was about. There were a few people hanging around, a trivia contest going on, so we stayed there chatting with people until about 5:00. The plan was then to take a nap, go for a late dinner (just the two of us), and head for Joe’s room around 10:00 for the last blow-out of the weekend.

That was when things went south for me, for a while.

There is a trend at these parties on Sunday evenings: a lot of people leave and go to dinner, maybe a show, on the strip. We could do the same, but there’s just one problem: we hate the strip. Basically, John and I hate Vegas. We are there because the parties are there, our friends are there, but we don’t enjoy doing Vegas-y stuff. So on Sunday night when a lot of our friends disappear, I’m kinda bummed, but I know that they’ll be back, and by 10:00, things are hopping once again. John and I went to the sushi bar for a light bite and were finished around 9:30. We went back to our room, freshened up, packed some of our stuff, and then went to Joe’s at 10.

It was mostly dead. We sat down, John started talking with someone, and I sat alone, waiting, watching the door. Time ticked to 10:30… still quiet. I knew that not only had our four posse friends gone to the strip, but a very large group had gone to the Fremont Street Experience (which I’d never even heard of), but as I said, I figured they’d be back by then. I felt the air going out of my sails a bit, and since John was chatting, I told him I was going back to our room for a bit. A few minutes later, he came to get me, convincing me to come back to Joe’s, that our friends would all be there soon enough. So I did. At 11:00… still quiet. And I thought: “This is it. The party is over. People aren’t coming back. I won’t play at all tonight, and we’re leaving in the morning. The crowd we hang with is young and hip and we’re just not, no matter how much we pretend to be.” I felt abandoned and forgotten, and my mood slipped down, down, down until I knew I was close to tears. This time, I didn’t tell John I was leaving, I just walked out the door and once again went back to our room. There, I texted John and said, “I just don’t want to be there right now. Please text me if people come back.”

So I sat there in our room, trying hard not to cry and failing utterly. I’d fix my makeup, and then cry again. I felt like the party had been taken elsewhere, somewhere I didn’t want to be, but I wanted to be with the people. It sucked. To distract myself, I did a crossword puzzle, and waited. It was 11:15, then 11:30, then 11:45.

John didn’t text me to tell me people had returned until midnight. By then, I was in full weepy meltdown mode. So I took a few minutes to compose myself (during which John texted “Where are you, sweetie?”), and made myself go back.

Finally, the room was hopping again. I saw Alex, but not SC. It looked like the bath was going to fall by the wayside. Sitting against the wall, I fought back even more tears, until Kinky Coach joined me. He picked up on my mood and asked if I was OK. I told him briefly that I hated how everyone disappears on Sunday nights, and he did his best to cheer me up — he succeeded. Aaaaand of course we ended up playing again, with him taking me OTK right there. I was wearing my bright pink panties with LOVE printed on the back side, and several people complimented them, to which I grumbled that I was not feeling the love right now!! Afterward, when I was sitting in his lap, he lifted my dress and looked at my thighs — despite his slapping them the night before, they were pristine. “How disappointing!” he exclaimed… and then he slapped my left one, hard. Then he did it again. Yeah, that did it. Big red marks bloomed immediately. Meanie.

It’s a good thing I like him so damn much.

I went to get water, and saw JC spanking Peaches. He called out my name, and said, “We still have to play!” (He had asked me the night before, but it was 3:00 a.m. and I was wiped out, so I asked for a rain check.) I said absolutely, then pointed to where I’d been sitting and told him to come get me when he was ready. I got my water and went back to sit with KC, John and a few others until JC came to whisk me away.

What a fun scene! We have missed one another the last couple of parties, so he warned me that he was going to “make up for lost time.” (gulp) It was just OTK/hand, which was fine with me. I joke with him about his massive arsenal of implements, and that he doesn’t need any of the damn things — he could make me say mercy with just his hand! By now — maybe because of my meltdown — I really craved playing hard. I just wanted to sink into pain and sensation and not think. He delivered… in fact, I actually wished he had gone on longer. He’s a sweetie; I like him and Piper (his SO) so much.

It is not a complete party for me until I get to enjoy a full-body flogging from Fineous, our party’s Flogger Extraordinaire. But he is always in great demand and I prepare myself each time that it might not happen. However, when I walked into one of the bedrooms after my scene with JC, there he was. “Erica! I’ve been looking for you all weekend! Do you have time for a scene?” But of course.

So we found a free bed and I stripped down to just my panties and sprawled out on my belly. I still had my high heels on; actually, I had forgotten to take them off, but then thought what the hell, they look sexy on. Jaibug was teasing me, saying, “I love how you take off your bra but leave your shoes on!” I started laughing and realized it was kind of ridiculous to leave them on, so I reached back to unstrap them, with Jaibug crowing, “I shoe-shamed Erica Scott! I’m going to announce it on FetLife!” Fineous started, and I sank into oblivion, feeling his wonderful double-flogging technique all over and maintaining only a hazy awareness of what was happening around me. He spent an extra long time on me, and then finished with a lovely massage all down my back, legs and feet with lotion. By then, I was boneless and could have gone to sleep. But I know the bed space is always in demand, so I made myself get up and re-dress.

It was now 2:00. I finally saw SC for the first time that night, and, stupid me, I was reminded of how much I’d missed her and everyone else all evening and I found myself getting weepy yet again. Ugh! I can only chalk this up to the fact that it was late, I’d had little sleep, the party was ending and I was crashing, but I still hated that I was being like this. I couldn’t help it, though.

It’s a strange phenomenon, having younger friends. Sometimes, I feel like I’m half my age. Other times, I feel every minute of it and then some. Parts of Sunday night, I felt like I was about ninety. Someone had commented, a shade belittlingly, about how Joe’s suite was “The Millennial Room.” That bothered me. Is it so wrong, wanting to surround myself with younger people? Or am I just kidding myself, trying to recapture something that’s long gone? I think that was a great deal of my melancholy as well. Damned insecurities. I can be having the best of times, but they still lie dormant and bite me in the ass when I’m in a vulnerable state, as I am at these parties.

Anyway… our beloved Joe turned things around to end the night. At around 3:00, he came up to me and said, “Did you really think Fineous was your last scene?” Oh, that made me so happy. I adore playing with Joe, but he too is very busy, very much in demand, and I have to not get my heart set on playing with him, because it simply might not happen, despite the best of intentions. The massage tables had been moved against the walls, but he pulled one of them back into the center of the room, announcing, “Front and center for you, Erica!” Beaming, I stripped off my dress (and shoes, this time), and draped myself onto the pillow laid at the end of the table. Joe and I then had one of our signature scenes, with many different straps, plus his hand, and I lost myself, feeling it fully, feeling my hands clench and unclench, rising up on my toes with each blow, my own moans reverberating in my ears.

After it ended, Joe lifted my legs and shifted me forward until I was fully on the table, and soothed me as I came back down. When I finally got up, he handed me my dress, and… I couldn’t get it back on. I was so spaced out, I got all tangled up in it (it was a floor-length dress), and after a minute of struggling and wrestling with it, I flung it back off, untangled the thing and Joe had to help me back into it. Strict Dave came over then and said, laughing, “We didn’t see you struggling with your dress. Nobody saw it! Don’t worry!” Oyyyy… that must have been quite a sight. Then Jaibug crowed, “I got to shoe-shame you, and now I get to dress-shame you too!” You know, on that note, it was time to say good night! 😀

So I walked around, hugging people who were there, saying our final farewells. So hard to leave. At one point, I found myself in a hug sandwich with two men, one of them exclaiming, “We love you, Erica! We love this girl!”

I love you guys too. So much.

(Fuck. I’m tearing up again.)

John and I went back to our room for the last time, did some more packing, and then fell into bed a little after 4:00. I’d barely closed my eyes when it was time to get up — 7:00 a.m. A hot shower helped; we finished packing, got coffee, checked out, and were on the road by 8:00. The ride home took five hours — a bit sticky in places, but nothing drastic.

So goes another party weekend. Many incredible highs, a few lows, good play, dear friends, and, as “the millennials” say, a lot of feels. And through it all — John with me, supporting me, loving me, enjoying the good times and helping me through the difficult moments. I love this man with all my heart.

Thanks for reading.

And P.S. I’m sure I forgot things, people, moments. I try to remember everything, but you know how it goes! I will add edits as these tidbits come back to me.

My day of kinky support

As of today, Tuesday, John is still in the hospital, but he may be released tonight. Since tonight and the next couple of days will be a whirlwind of getting him settled and running errands and taking him to three different doctor appointments, I won’t have any time for updating this. So today, while I have a bit of me time, I’m going to catch up with last Tuesday, which really was a great day. I honestly believe it helped prepare me for having my life thrown back into a blender the following day.

Last Tuesday, Steve showed up with open arms and open heart, ready to listen and support. I was feeling edgy and impatient, and even when the spanking I so desperately craved had started, I sniped at his phraseology. When he said “You need this” too often for my liking, I snapped, “Yes, you mentioned that a few dozen times.” That got me thigh slaps. OK, I deserved them. “Got anything else to say?” he asked. “No, no,” I hastily assured him, trying to clear the stars of pain floating around my eyes. “I didn’t think so,” he said. “If you need this, then it doesn’t matter how many times I say it, does it?” (Uh… well, it’s still redundant, but I didn’t say so at that moment!)

After a while, the impatience gave way to what I was really feeling — extreme frustration, coupled with guilt over being snappish and tense with John. Granted, in my defense, he’s a godawful patient and so OCD about everything being done just so in his house that it gives me fits. But still… I was at my wits’ end several times over the past weekend, and I couldn’t wait to go home. So when Steve said, “Take this like a good girl,” I blurted, “There is NOTHING good about me!” “Excuse me?” “I said, there is nothing good about me. I’m sick of all this, I’m sick of him, I just want to run away from all of this and have my life back. I’m a terrible, selfish person.”

“You are wrong,” he replied calmly, not stopping. “You have no idea what kind of person you are, how much you’ve done, how much you continue to do. He’s lucky to have you. You’re not a terrible person, you are exhausted and stressed out and that’s why I’m here.”

And of course, I cried.

He held me in his lap for a long time until I calmed down, pulling in the first deep breaths I may have taken in about a week. “Ready for the ottoman?” he asked. I knew I needed a little more, so I bravely assumed the position while he went to fetch a couple of implements. Only two this time: the Lexan paddle and the crop. Just enough to give me a couple of intense sensations and coax out that last bit of stress.

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Afterward, I actually dozed off for a little bit in his arms. That is a rarity for me, so it speaks to how very tired I was. And how safe I felt.

Thank you, Steve. ♥

But wait, there’s more! I still had my dinner date with Alex and SpankCake later. Alex was running a little late (traffic), but SC and I got to the restaurant early, so we caught up for a half-hour until Alex joined us, and then we were off into another marathon of catching up, airing stress, laughing, talking kink, and just enjoying each other as we always do. We beat our record this time: six hours. We met at 5:30, intending to make it an “early evening,” and ended up leaving at 11:30.

And of course, there had to be dessert. We wanted a brownie sundae, but they were out of brownies. Booo! So we chose a regular ice-cream sundae instead, and made short work of it. Now you see it…

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…Now you don’t. (Alex ate all the cherries, BTW)

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Thank you, my sweet friends. ♥

I feel so out of the loop with everyone and everything, but I guess that’s to be expected. This week, the lion’s share of the spanking scene is convening in Atlantic City for the Boardwalk Badness Weekend (which ends up being more like five days or so), and usually I feel horribly sad not being there, but right now, I just can’t think about it. So I hope all my friends there will have a blast and hold a good thought for John and his recovery.

And hopefully I can get some readership back for this blog! Sorry to have been so silent lately.

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