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 “SpankCake”

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.

20170226_150013

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…♫)

resized_20170226_211648

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:

img_0277edited

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.

OT: Car problems, eye woes, and makeovers

Sorry I’ve been MIA, everyone, but it’s been a strange, hectic week with nothing fun, kink-wise, to post. So please bear with me while I give an off-topic ramble of an update.

In the “only you, Erica” file, we have last Saturday night. I was at John’s, and we were walking in the town square. There are always plenty of people out with their dogs, and I love dogs. So I have made a habit of stopping and petting them whenever it’s feasible. (I always ask the owner first.) I seem to have a knack with dogs, as they’re usually responsive to me. Anyway, we saw a young woman with a bull terrier (I don’t know if you can picture one; they are not really large dogs, but they have distinctively shaped large heads). I crouched down and began petting him, and he hunkered down on the sidewalk, wagging his tail furiously. After a bit, I stopped and started to get back up, and I guess he got excited, not wanting the petting to stop. So, as I was bent over him, he suddenly and very quickly lunged upward… and the top of his head slammed into my left eye.

The dog was fine. I, however. was seeing stars. I had my glasses on; I don’t know if that helped absorb the blow or made it worse. At least they didn’t break, thank goodness. My eye didn’t swell or turn red or anything, it just hurt. I figured it would be OK. The owner was very apologetic, BTW.

But the next day, I wasn’t OK. I could see, but I had floaters and flashers in my left eye like I’ve never had before. It looked like clumps of dust were swirling around in my vision, moving in every direction I looked. So that night, I called my HMO’s after-hours number, spoke to an advice nurse, and he said I should try to get in to see an eye doctor the next day (Monday). Easier said than done with my HMO, of course, but after long waits and two call-backs, I had an appointment at 2:00.

Good news… I do not have a detached retina, which requires laser surgery and can lead to blindness if not attended. I do have what is officially known as vitreous detachment — which, in laymen’s terms, is floaters. A big new crop of them, due to this trauma. The doc dilated my eyes and performed several tests; said my retina was fine. There’s nothing that can be done about floaters; they come with age anyway, but this blow really exacerbated the situation. He told me one of two things will happen: this latest batch will fade away in time (could be three to six months), or I’ll get used to them. (sigh)

“Oh, and your vision will be blurry and you’ll be sensitive to light for the next four-five hours,” he added. “How am I supposed to drive home?” I blurted. He said I could if I had sunglasses, which I did. I was supposed to drop my car off to the shop, which was just a couple of blocks away from the hospital, to get a smog certificate for renewing my registration. But, in my distracted state, I forgot the damn DMV document I was supposed to bring… so, with badly impaired vision, I had to drive all the way home and then all the way back to the mechanic. Not my day.

It got better. After I got home — unable to do any work because I couldn’t see — my mechanic called me. Long story short, I went in just to get a freaking smog check and oil change, and it turned out I’m due for a bunch of other maintenance services. Oh, and my right side view mirror holder is broken, and the entire contraption is hanging by a wire. (I knew that; I just kept shoving it back in place.) He can get a replacement from the dealer, but it will be black, not silver, so he’d have to take it to the body shop and get them to match the paint, which would make it cost a lot more. Or… I could get TWO new mirrors, both in black, so they’ll match. Fine. Whatever. Order the fucking things and just fix it.

Steve couldn’t come by Tuesday, and I had no car, so that gave me a full day at home to catch up on work, considering I’d lost so much time on Monday. Got my car at 8:00 that evening; it cost me $1060. Oh well. It’s only money, right?

Onto Wednesday. I needed a break. My workload wasn’t huge, and Alex and SC and I had planned to go to Sephora to get makeovers. (Sephora is a well-known beauty shop with copious skin products, and they are famous for their mini-makeovers. They’re also famous for their high prices. But the makeovers are $50 — if you don’t buy anything — and I had my $50 gift card from Steve, so I figured I’d go for it.) Mind you, I am incredibly unsophisticated when it comes to makeup. I use drug store products. I hate foundation. I never use eye shadow, and I’ve never even tried brow pencil. So I figured I’d learn some new tricks, if nothing else, and would look really smashing for a couple of hours!

So we met at the mall, had lunch, and then headed to Sephora — SC and I had our appointments at 1:00, and then Alex at 2:00. It was a fun process, sitting and having the technician fuss over our faces, transforming them. They ask you what you’d like to focus on, what your preferences are, etc. I said I wanted a polished look overall on my skin, without caking on foundation, and I wanted to see what really done up eyes would look like. Oh, and cover-up for my under-eye bags/circles. Products, products, products — I don’t think I’ve ever had so much makeup on my face. Contouring, priming, shadowing, highlighting. But the finished look was… wow. I looked like me, and yet not. I kept trying to get a decent selfie, and even SC tried to get a couple of shots for me, but I didn’t like any of them. So, I kept the one I found the least objectionable. Ready? Look at Ms. Glamour…

20161012_142101

SC and Alex looked stunning, of course. We took a shot of the three of us, but I’d have to block out SC’s gorgeous face, so there’s no point in posting it.

So… here’s where they get ya. You see these results, and you’re hypnotized. Oooh! I want this! and this! and this! I bought only a quarter of the stuff she used on me… and still spent about $140. (Only $90, deducting Steve’s gift card. They don’t charge you for the makeover if you buy $50 or more of products.) And you know what? There’s no way I’m going to be able to reproduce this on my own. But… I guess it won’t kill me to have some decent products. Although I must confess, she did a lousy job on the under-eye concealer. She put a ton of it on… and later that afternoon, I glanced in a mirror and was disconcerted to see that it had settled and caked into my wrinkles, emphasizing them like a beacon. Ack! There has to be a concealer out there that doesn’t do that!

The three of us shopped around for the rest of the afternoon — SC had also brought replacements for the corset she’d bought that was too big for me. They didn’t have the same one in my size, so she actually bought two others and brought them for me to choose! So we had a fashion show in the mall restroom. 🙂 They were both gorgeous, but one fit a bit better than the other.

Got home around six, and got a few hours of work done. I had planned to go to the gym after our expedition, but I was too wiped out.

Funny side note: when it came time to take the makeup off, I went through two Neutrogena makeup remover cloths and one Eye-Q makeup remover pad, and scrubbed my face in the shower with soap and water, and yet when I was drying off, I still had raccoon rings under my eyes, so I used another Eye-Q pad on them. The next morning, I used some toner on a cotton ball and swiped it over my face… and it came up completely saturated with brown. For God’s sake — how do women who wear this s#$% all the time get their skin clean??

Anyway. My car is well. My bank account is depleted. My eye is driving me nuts; it definitely makes my work a bit more challenging, seeing crud float in front of my eye while I’m staring at the computer. So I take breaks often. This too shall pass, I hope. Who else do you know who has been head-butted by a dog??

Have a great weekend, y’all.

Great minds think alike

On Wednesday night, Alex, SpankCake and I met for dinner and chat. It was also a belated birthday celebration, since the three of us weren’t able to get together a couple of weeks ago. We’re all so busy lately and these times are precious.

They both came with presents and cards. So, for my betting friends, what are the odds of the two of them independently finding and buying the exact same birthday card? Well, they did.

20161007_100322

In case you’re wondering, the inside reads:

Wait, it’s your birthday? Even better.

There was cake, of course — German chocolate and coconut-lemon. Alex found a vintage magazine in a used bookstore: a mint-condition 1968 issue of Teenset — The “Yellow Submarine Special,” with a full color spread about the Beatles’ Yellow Submarine and all kinds of other cool late 60s rock stuff. Fun! SC gave me a corset, black with a pretty floral print. I wanted to try it on to check the fit; the café had single bathrooms (one for women, one for men), so we piled into the ladies’ room, locked the door and I tried it on — it’s much easier getting into a corset with help! It was a size too big — I don’t have the boobage to fill out the top, so it gapped open. SC said she’d exchange it for me, no problem. Of course, we had to get a picture! People knocked on the door, but hey, let ’em use the men’s room; there’s never a wait for that!

The lighting was poor and we’d been in deep shadow; I was able to lighten it somewhat in photo editing. It’s still a cute shot, no?

img_4166edited

Love love love these women so much!

John was disgruntled that I got to have so much fun (and cake) on his birthday. But I will make it up to him this weekend. Yesterday I baked scratch brownies for him; damn near ruined them, when I got distracted by a text and forgot to take them out of the oven. I was in such a rush to get them out, I burned my forearm on the oven rack. (sigh) Such a klutz! But it’s minor. At least the brownies are OK.

Have a great weekend, y’all.

New from Northern Spanking!

A little over a month ago, I joined Alex Reynolds and Paul Kennedy to create a custom shoot for one of her clients. He was very pleased with it and wrote a gracious note to Alex, which she shared with me. Even better, he gave them the OK to post the video publicly on their Northern Spanking site, so everyone who wants to can enjoy it.

It’s called “Protester Punished,” and Paul plays a corporate fat-cat property developer — who just happens to have an environmental activist daughter (Alex). I play Paul’s wife/Alex’s stepmother, and I have my own agenda, which comes out about halfway through the video.

I want to share my two favorite pictures — sorry, nary a bottom in sight, but I love all our facial expressions! Here’s the one I call “Uh oh, Alex is in trouble…”

Protester.jpg

I especially liked Michael Masterson’s comment about Paul’s face, that he has “a ‘Joker’ smirk.” You can’t unsee it, can you!

And then, when the tables turn, it’s “Uh oh, my turn.”

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

 

For those who would like to see some action shots, you can go here for a gallery of them. Click on each thumbnail for a full-sized picture.

Speaking of Alex, I am seeing her and SpankCake on Wednesday for a belated birthday dinner and one of our marathon chats. It’s been a long time and we have much to catch up on. Wednesday just happens to be John’s birthday — I won’t be seeing him until Friday, but perhaps we can take a selfie birthday greeting and send it to him while at dinner. 🙂

In other news… there is no other news. I have much work to do and I’m just taking this quickie break to catch up. Hope everyone had a nice weekend!

Put another candle on my…

Are you ready for some Friday cornball nostalgia?

When I was a kid growing up in Southern California, we had a local kiddie program called Sheriff John’s Lunch Brigade. And a feature of the show was when Sheriff John celebrated his viewers’ birthdays — complete with this cheesy little number:

I know, it’s nauseating now. Heck, I found it to be a bit much even as a kid. But my point is, you’re supposed to put a candle on the birthday cake. But the other day, we had a candle, but no cake. So Steve improvised.

20160920_135320_resized

Yes, that is a lit candle. And get your minds out of the gutter; it’s not inserted, it’s just perched. He knew I was terrified (I hate fire, passionately), so he lit it, snapped the picture and blew it right out, warning me to hold still. This was an act of supreme trust, let me tell you! He wanted to do this last year and I wouldn’t let him. I don’t like flame anywhere near my skin. But I knew now that he’d be careful and wouldn’t let anything bad happen.

And, since he’d drawn that pretty Sharpie heart, he had to color it in. Didn’t he do a good job?

20160920_135652_resized

OK, so he went outside the line a little on the right. Nobody’s perfect. If you look carefully, you’ll see a faint bit of pink on each mid-thigh. That’s where the “ones to grow on” went. (groan)  I don’t want to fucking grow anymore, thank you!

It was a lovely birthday. I got lots of online greetings, and although yesterday was a work day with laundry and gym and other everyday responsibilities, I got to take a break and have lunch with SpankCake. Alex is out of town, or else she would have joined us, and the three of us will convene for the full celebration in early October. Meanwhile, it was so great to see SC; we’ve all been so busy and had fallen out of touch, so we caught up a bit and had a nice lunch. And she brought me flowers and a balloon! ♥

20160922_133952

Anyway, now I must return to work; it was an extremely busy week, but I am coming to the end of it and am wrapping up everything that needed to get done. It’s almost weekend time! Oh, and it’s supposedly the first weekend of fall… really? It’s going to be in the triple digits here by tomorrow or Sunday. Fall, my a$&.

Have a great weekend, y’all. 🙂

Girls’ Night IN

Last night, Alex, SpankCake and I convened at SC’s house for dinner and catching up. It had been way too long! We ordered in from GrubHub, sat around in very comfy A/C and talked the hours away. What else do girls do when they have a night in? Do shots and have a pillow fight? Paint our toenails and do our hair? Please! That’s amateur stuff. We watched spanking porn. 😀

GraceAlexmepornedited

SC has a reallllllly big screen, as you can see. Neither she nor Alex had ever seen “When Danny Met Erica,” so we watched. I must confess, it was more than a little squirmy, watching my own private bits flashing and gaping on such a huge screen. Still, it was fun to share my favorite video with them. They both pronounced it “hot.” Damn, I miss you, Danny Chrighton.

We also watched the finished result of the custom film that Alex and several of us shot for her client back in February. I think it’s safe to say I’m never going to wear a pillbox hat or gloves for the rest of my natural life. But we all gave it our best and it had been so much fun. Props to everyone involved. And no, sorry, this will not go public!

And this lovely evening was on top of a visit from Steve earlier in the day. It was kind of a thrash-and-dash, as he had a doctor’s appointment and a lot of other things to do in preparation for a four-day hiking trip he’s taking. Blech! Better him than me! But it was still enough time to lay on some sting and leave me pleasantly glowing for the rest of my workday until I met up with my pals.

Today it is going to be 90 degrees. Sounds hot, but after Monday’s 112, I will take it. My A/C could not keep up with 112, but it can manage 90s. I may even brave the gym.

Oh, and happy #NoPantyDay! That’s a thing, in case you didn’t know… June 22.

An All Hallow's Eve Visit From Super Spanko!!

Post Navigation

%d bloggers like this: