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 “play”

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. 😀

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 rosé… 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! ♪ dancing in the dark…♫)

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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. ♥

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

Shadow Lane 2016

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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.

Pre-party warm-up, Part 1 and 2

Before I get into anything else — yesterday was John’s and my 20th anniversary. We met on Friday, August 30, 1996… it’s been one hell of a twenty years, filled with love and loss and discovery and heartbreak and joy and all the things that make up a relationship. I love you, John. ♥

See my pretty anniversary roses?

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So on to Part 1 — now that it’s done, I can talk about it. I shot video with Alex and Paul on Monday! Every time I think I’m retired, someone decides I’m not. 🙂 Another one of Alex’s clients wanted a custom video, but this one was much simpler and shorter, no script, and included the three of us. First time Alex and I have ever been spanked together on video, even though we’ve been friends for years. So much fun! Plus, since they had me there, they’d decided to shoot two more clips with me for Northern Spanking’s site. Alex’s long-time friend Rafi was handling the camera, so we were in good hands.

For the custom clip, Alex provided a dress for me, since she knew exactly what her client had in mind. For another, she gave me cute blue silk PJs, and for the third, I wore my own dress. All three scenarios were high-energy, and they were done quickly. I got there at 4:30, and we were done shooting three clips at 6:30! I hung out there until about 7:15; they were all going to dinner, but I regretfully had to pass on that, as I needed to get back home and do some work.

Sorry, no pictures yet, but I’m sure there will be some soon! Meanwhile, I got a nice warm-up for the party, what with Paul’s three hand spankings plus a nice little belt thrashing at the end of the third clip. I ♥ Alex and Paul!

Part 2 — yesterday, Steve came over for the first time in three weeks. We had planned it to be just a visit, no play, as I was short on time, plus he had pulled a back muscle backpacking the week before. However, as we sat on the couch chatting away and I got to talking about the shoot, I mentioned how Alex had taken a selfie of the two of us before I left. It was outdoors, and close up, and I hated how I looked in it. There she was, her face smooth and fresh and perfect… and then there I was, looking tired, with bags under my eyes. Ugh ugh ugh. I looked like her grandmother. Yes, people, I Photoshop my face pictures, a little. Mostly to wipe out the eye bags/crinkles; what can I say, I’m vain. But when I showed the photo to Steve, he scoffed and said he thought I looked beautiful. I pooh-poohed his compliment, said he was prejudiced, and he had a thing for old ladies.

His demeanor changed. “I want you over my knee, right now,” he said.

“Steve, your back!” I protested. “Come on.”

“Over my knee, right now,” he repeated.

“No!” I insisted.

“‘No’ is not an option. Now.”

He was serious. Well, how could I argue with that? He hates it when I put myself down.

Just a little taste, he said. To tide me over until Friday. Just enough for a little warmth and color.

(Ha! I’ve been editing books written by British authors and I almost typed “colour.”)

But I digress… (and no, this isn’t Photoshopped)

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Off he went shortly thereafter and I was back to work. I’m finally catching up — I’m down to my last work assignment and should have that done by tonight.

So the countdown commences. Clearly, I am nervous. Last week, I had three red blotches on the left side of my face, along my jaw, and I thought something had bitten me. But this week, my right cheek has two more puffy red welts and there’s a third next to my right eyebrow. Stress hives… It’s so much fun being me, kids. I ran out last night to get some Zyrtec (antihistamine) and today the three blotches are red dots, so they should be okay by Friday. Meanwhile, my computer is straggling along — I’m having my hard drive replaced sometime after I get home — and my landline isn’t working, so I have to deal with AT&T after I get home as well. But all will melt away and disappear once we’re on our way to Vegas.

Off to the gym for my last pre-party workout, and then home to… what else… work! Happy Hump Day.

My answer to my question

Last week, I tossed out a mini-poll to readers — rather than restate, I will paste what I wrote:

I have an informal poll for my bottom/sub/DD or D/s practicing readers, whatever you choose to call yourselves.

Say there’s something kink-wise that you don’t really care for, but your top/dom/whatever loves it. Say it’s not one of your hard limits, and the next time you’re scening, he says he’d like you to do X. (As I always do, for simplicity’s sake, I’m assuming the M/F orientation. Feel free to switch it up in your mind.) You groan and say, “Oh, do I have to?”

Which of the following two answers would you prefer to hear? (in a calm, deliberate tone, of course)

A: “You know better than to ask me that. Yes, you have to, because I said so.”

B: “No, you don’t have to; this is about consent. Use your safeword if you need to. But it would please me if you did it — do you want to please me?”

Something I probably should have clarified: I’m aware that A and B don’t represent the wide variety of possible answers. If I’d wanted to broaden the scope of the poll, I could have added more, like:

C: Neither. I don’t care for roleplay/scene banter.

D: Neither. I would choose to comply right away without resistance.

E: Neither. We play for fun only, so there is nothing done that pushes limits.

And so on. However, I had a specific purpose in mind — narrowing the choice down to those two, because I was curious about the knee-jerk reaction to them and what readers thought.

So what’s my choice? Mine is A.

I can hear some of you out there. “What?? Since when? No one tells Erica what to do.” Ah, but remember the context. This is within scene with a trusted top. I have already chosen to give my choices over to him. And within that frame, him asserting his will is hot as hell.

But what about B? Isn’t that preferable because it makes it clear that the choice is mine? Not as I see it. In fact, I think A and B are the same — they both take my choice away (so to speak, because, as mentioned, I’ve chosen to give it away). How is B taking my choice away, rather than giving it back to me? Because, if I were in submissive mode, or if I were a submissive player, a lot of my scene well-being would hinge upon pleasing my top. So, when he says, “No, of course you don’t have to, but if you want to please me, you will,” then that’s my answer. Implied is the continuation: “And if you don’t, I won’t be pleased with you.” Which is passive-aggressive and manipulative, IMO. Screw that. The top is saying it’s the bottom’s choice, but it really isn’t. I’d much rather be flat-out “ordered” to do something than be psychologically coerced into it by the implied threat of disapproval/disappointment.

Thoughts?

By the way, does anyone know if Chross is OK? He hasn’t posted since April 30.

Fun post ahead

I’m still here! Just been busy with work, but today has been amazing so far. Steve picked me up this morning and we went on a road trip into the Santa Monica mountains, to hike and get up into some mischief. It was fresh after a rain, and everything was sparkling and clear and the sky was as blue as I’ve ever seen it. It was 56 degrees and so a bit chilly, but by the time we’d hiked up to a remote area, I’d warmed up enough to shed my clothes. All of them. 😀 He took a bunch of pictures, but they’re on his camera and he has to go through them, crop, reduce, fix lighting, etc. He promised to send them to me sometime tomorrow, and then I’ll write in more detail.

Back home working, until it’s dinnertime and then I’m meeting Alex and SpankCake. It’s the first time we’ve seen each other in 2016; been too long! Lots to catch up on. Big weekend play party at the end of February — must make plans!

Work has been steadily copious, which is great. I definitely have enough to take me through the rest of the week. In other news… no, I am not watching any of the political stuff. No debates. No caucuses (cauci?). Hell, I don’t even watch the news at night anymore. So I’m remaining as blissfully ignorant as I can. Today, a friend on Facebook posted that he “hates caucuses.” I commented, “What’s wrong with caucuses? They’re the easiest plants to take care of.” 😇

So anyway, more to come! Meanwhile, I’ll leave you with today’s head-scratcher, a search phrase I just discovered:

spanking skakanka

WTF is that??

 

 

According to Erica: How to enter the scene and find play partners

Back in November when we did Love Our Lurkers Day, one of my de-lurkers asked, “How do you get into the scene and find a top?” I replied that I would delve into that in a separate post in the future. Then December came with all its holiday distractions and health issues and so forth, and writing went to the back burner. Now, since I didn’t end up seeing Steve this week after all (hopefully next week), and I’ve finished my work early, I thought I’d finally tackle this topic. (Grab a beverage. This is looooong.)

Please keep in mind — this is all subject to individual opinions and experiences. I am posting only according to my own. Yours may vary.

First, getting into the spanking scene. Lucky you, you’re living in the Internet age; literally everything out there is at your fingertips, waiting to be discovered and perused. Now you just have to do the search and put yourself out there. Sure, easy, right? (insert sarcastic face here)

Social media is very helpful. As much as it is loaded with minefields and can have a bit of a bad rep sometimes, for newbies I would suggest joining FetLife, which is like Facebook for kinky folks. Yes, it can be overwhelming — there are millions of members, and myriad kinks, some that will no doubt scare the bejesus out of you. And yes, there are some pictures that may give you nightmares for the rest of your natural life. But if you keep your focus on spanking, that will weed out a lot of what’s not needed.

Because you cannot search FetLife without joining, create a name and a profile. Fill out the profile; it doesn’t have to be epic, just an intro to who you are and what you’re seeking, your likes, dislikes, whatever. I also recommend putting up photos. They don’t have to be of your face, or even of you. However, if you put up a picture of a spanking scene you like, be sure, whenever possible, to credit where it came from, who it is, etc. If you don’t know, then put something in your caption like “Source unknown: anyone know?” Nothing pisses people off more quickly on FL than posting other people’s photos without proper credit.

After that, you can start looking around the site, finding friends, joining groups, etc. The search function can help you narrow things down. For example, when I plugged in “Spanking Los Angeles,” I got this:

fetlife

I know this is tiny, sorry. But it says that there are 10 groups and 28 events, as well as listing members who have both spanking and Los Angeles in their profile. You can start there, looking up events, munches, etc. in your area. Of course, if you live in a well-populated large city, you’ll have more choices than if you live in the middle of nowhere. But people do often travel to meet friends and go to functions, so there is hope.

Back in the days of AOL dominance, there were chat rooms and groups and bulletin boards where people could post. Those went by the wayside a long time ago, unless there are some holdouts I don’t know about. Even the written blog is giving way to the Tumblr photo blogs. But still, there are ways to connect. You have to start somewhere, so FetLife is my best guess. If others have suggestions, please feel free to add them in your comments.

Once you’re there, read away. Check out the groups. Send friend requests and notes of intro to people you like. Be as open and friendly as you can be, while still maintaining your safety and privacy. Don’t give out personal information too quickly (your full name, email address, phone number, etc.). Women especially — befriend other women, so you can bounce things off them, have them to give you possible references, etc. I know we’ve all heard about the Mean Girls on these sites, and they do exist. But I’ll like to think that for the most part, we look out for one another.

It takes a leap of courage to take things offline and to physically attend a munch or a gathering. I would suggest, if they are available to you, go to munches first, which don’t involve play, just socializing in a restaurant or other public place, so there’s no pressure. When you’re new, listen a lot. Gather as much information from as many sources as you can. Be a sponge. There is much to learn. If you go to a munch and don’t care for it, try a different one. Pick out someone who appeals to you and ask them if they know other places to recommend. It’s all about connection and networking. The Internet does make it a lot easier, but also a great deal more complex. Be as patient as you can. If you’re seeking spanking and you end up at a munch that is more BDSM oriented, don’t fret. If you mention what you’re into, there are bound to be some people who know something or another about where you can home in on a group more specific to your desires. As I’ve mentioned before, when I was new, I went to a lot of BDSM functions and parties before finding the spanking parties.

OK, so you’ve waded in, looked around, perhaps make a few friends/connections. Now, how do you find a top? The first word that comes to mind is carefully. Very, very carefully. (For the sake of simplicity, I’m going to phrase the following as woman seeks man. Please swap out the pronouns in your mind as you read if it helps.)

Best case scenario: You go to a local munch, meet Mr. Wonderful, chat him up, meet one on one for coffee, and things click. Or you make some new friends who introduce you to Mr. Wonderful, vetting him in the process (although you still should do your own vetting). Hey, a woman can dream, and some people are lucky that way. But if not, then once again, you have to put yourself out there and take some leaps of faith. Carefully.

There used to be a lot more sites where people could put up a personal spanking ad, but now, they seem to have dwindled. There is a site called Spanking Personal Ads, which I can’t personally vouch for, but it looks to be pretty thorough and easy to navigate. When you write a profile for an ad site, be as specific as you need to be. State very clearly what you’re seeking… and what you’re not. Hate to say it, but on these sites, you’ll be more successful if you post a picture of yourself. Again, it doesn’t have to be your face, or you can pixelate/blur your face. But a potential playmate is going to want to know what you look like. Or, at the very least, write “photo available upon request” in your profile.

Females tend to be inundated as soon as they join one of these sites. Pick through the correspondence carefully — be prepared that some of it will be icky. But there may be gems as well.

Another potential site is good old Alt.com. Granted, I’ve posted more than my share of insults of that site over the years. Because it encompasses a lot of hard-core kink, you’ll see a whole lot more than spanking in there. You’ll see more dicks than a urologist. And I’d say 80% of my Correspondence Hall of Shame entries came from there. BUT. Again, patience. There are good people in there, too, and it doesn’t hurt to post a profile. Don’t pay for a membership; you can have a free one. Granted, it’s limited — you can’t contact people directly; you can only respond if they contact you. But it’s still worth a try. After all, I met Steve on Alt.com. I also met ST before him on Alt, and despite the way things ended between us, ST was a wonderful top.

When you start corresponding with men on these sites, I can’t emphasize this enough: Listen to your gut instincts. If someone is too pushy, tries to get you on the phone or to meet in person too quickly, if they are rude or crude, or if they simply give you an off vibe and you have no idea why, pay attention to that. Don’t try to talk yourself into something that doesn’t feel right, because you think you should, or because they try to coerce you. Newbies often fall into this trap — I did. Fortunately, I was never seriously hurt or abused, but I had my share of bad scenes and experiences, ones that could have been avoided. Always trust your gut.

If the man is local and wants to meet, I recommend doing so in a public place first. Some people meet for a meal, but I prefer coffee, so that food isn’t a distraction and I can concentrate on the person. Anyone who gives you resistance about meeting in public first? NEXT!

You may have a lot of these coffee dates. One of the reasons I had many in my earlier days was not just for safety’s sake, but I wanted to see if there was in-person chemistry before I committed to anything. No matter how great someone seems online, you really don’t know what they’re like until you see them up close and personal. Sometimes what works online falls flat in person. If this is the case, be kind, but let them know (gently) that you don’t think you’re a match. I never commit to playing with anyone (even at a party) until I’ve met them first. (Yes, I learned this from mistakes I’ve made.)

But say you click. Say the in-person chemistry is even better than online. You want to play with this guy, and the feeling is mutual. This is where you take the leap of faith, where you take the risk. Where you really, really have to listen to your instincts. Because you are about to make yourself vulnerable.

I don’t have to tell you about the bad things that can happen; you’ve heard them all. They’ve happened to people I know. It breaks my heart and makes me furious every time I hear bad stories, because I know they cause damage and reluctance and suspicion, and end up hurting the good players out there. I cannot blame women who have had bad experiences for giving up; it’s terrifying. And some may argue, with validity, that some fun spanking play isn’t worth risking your life for. But… damn. There’s so much good stuff, so many joyous experiences to be had, so many truly wonderful people to know. Please, please, if possible, don’t let the bad turn you away from the good.

Common sense is key. Don’t invite someone into your home, or go to their home, without a good solid feeling that they are trustworthy. (Do as I say, not as I do, with this one. Yup, I’ve had a couple of men come over in the past when I hadn’t met them publicly first. I was lucky that the experiences were awesome and hot. But it was still stupid of me.) Some women like to set up what’s known as a “safe call” — they let a friend know what they’re doing, and either the friend calls to check on them, or they agree to call the friend to let them know that they’re OK (and if the friend doesn’t hear from them, they call 911). I personally have never done this, but it adds an extra layer of safety.

Remember — you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. Even if you’ve gone through the vetting and the talking and the planning and the stating of limits and he’s finally with you, you can get a bad vibe at the last minute. Don’t hesitate to call things off if you do. I have. Had a guy come over once — we’d emailed, exchanged photos, met for coffee, clicked. But when he arrived and we started to play, he immediately pulled my cheeks apart and made a crass comment about my winking eye. I ended the scene right then and there and told him goodbye.

If the guy does nothing wrong, but the scene just doesn’t do it for you, then honor that. It’s not fun for either of you if it’s not working. Please don’t be discouraged if you have some dud meetings, or dud scenes. They happen. Move on to the next possibility and keep your eyes, mind and heart open. Through experimentation, you will learn how to balance healthy precaution with trust.

All this may sound like a lot of work, with no guarantee for return. But speaking for myself, after nearly 20 years, I’d say it’s all worth it. The joys and pleasures of finding good play partners far outweigh the inconveniences of weeding through the masses to find them. And having friends, a social circle of people who get you, get your kink, is priceless.

I could go on and on, and I’ve probably forgotten half of what I wanted to say. But for now, I’d say this is enough. Again, please feel free to ask more questions, or add your own input to this.

Oh, and on a personal note that has nothing to do with any of this: In the Spanking Blogg’s Lifetime Achievement Award for Spankees, I won third place. First place is the amazing Amber Pixie Wells, and 2nd place is Leia-Ann Woods. I’ve met both and they are lovely. Congratulations, and thank you to everyone who voted for me. I really am honored by this, considering that I got such a late start. I mean, I got into the scene and started doing videos and so forth at an age where many are retiring already. What a ride it’s been. It’s nice to feel appreciated. 🙂

Have a great weekend, y’all.

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