Okay, so flexibility isn’t all bad…

A couple of weeks ago, I wrote this post about trying to get together with a new potential play partner, and how he’d issued a last-minute invitation that I had to turn down. We left it that he would contact me after he was back from a two-week vacation and we’d try again. I assumed this try would be a bit more planned.

Then this past Monday afternoon I got a text from him, essentially saying that a Tuesday late morning meeting had been canceled and he could come to my place for a couple of hours; sorry for the last-minute notice but could I swing it?

Oy.

Have I mentioned I really suck at spontaneity? My first reaction to it is always to be rattled. Fortunately, because it was a text, I had some time to think about it. Last time, I said no, because I had legitimate reasons to do so — a lot of work, stressed out over car problems, etc. However, this time, work was under control, car was fine, my place was reasonably tidy, and I really had no reason to say no. And if I kept saying no, eventually he was going to stop asking.

I texted back and said that I had really hoped our first time wouldn’t be last-minute and rushed. And he replied, “My whole life is last-minute and rushed, but I understand and I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable. We can try for something next week. Or we can get together tomorrow and just talk about limits and so on, if you prefer.” And with that, I I knew I was going to say yes, come on over. I mean, he was being so nice and trying to work with me; the least I could do was attempt to meet him halfway.

Yesterday I got up early (well, early for me, 8:00 a.m.), got dressed and ready, and settled in to work until I got a text from him saying he was on his way. He was already forewarned about the horrible parking on my street. When he arrived, we sat and talked for about an hour. As he’d mentioned before, he had played many times in the past, but hadn’t for quite a while, so he was open to any guidance. I didn’t want to bombard him with too many limits and preferences at the outset, so I gave him the two immediate hard limits: 1. scolding is okay, but no name-calling/berating. I don’t do the degradation thing; and 2. stay the hell away from the back door. As for tips, just a couple: cup your hand to the bottom cheek, so you get a crisp smack instead of a dull thud, and make sure to give each cheek equal time. “You’d be surprised to know how many right-handed tops are constitutionally incapable of spanking a left cheek,” I added.

And so we played! Turns out he’s ambidextrous, so he can use both hands equally well. (groan) He’s a big guy (6′ 4″) and has the big strong hands one would expect to go with his height. We didn’t use any implements this first time, but he sure as hell didn’t need any. He built up slowly, getting a feel for things, and I was delighted and giggly at how good it felt. I mean, you never know with someone until you’re actually in the position and it’s happening. It’s like a first anything — first kiss, first sex, etc. But I was quite pleased.

Oh, and he really took to heart the bit about giving the left cheek equal attention. At one point, he was whaling on that one cheek over and over and over until I finally blurted, “For fuck’s sake, I’ve got two of them!” He laughed and said, “Well, you said…” Yeah, I said. Me and my big mouth.

Here’s the best news — the scene was good enough for me to slip into my zone, that realm of spaciness where I just feel, bury my face and make noises, stop thinking. I knew I was toast when he asked if I needed a break, and I mumbled, “I don’t know… you decide.” So he went a while longer and then he chose when to end things, which is exactly the way I like it. Even better… I think (I hope!) he enjoyed himself as much as I did. He was very complimentary.

We talked a bit about our opposite personalities — me being a planner and a scheduler and him being one whose schedule was always in flux — and he said he appreciated that I’d stepped out of my comfort zone and accepted this play date with little notice. Hopefully we could plan things out a bit better in the future. At least he knows where I’m coming from, so we’ll see how this goes.

After he left, a little after noon, I had work and workout facing me and I didn’t feel like doing any of it, I was so spacey. However, after some coffee and food, I perked up, got a second wind, and I ended up doing a killer workout and getting all my work done. Slept like the dead last night! Today I have some deep muscle soreness, but I’m not marked, except for one small blotch in the center of my left cheek and a few speckles underneath the right one. Perhaps last week we got into implements too soon? Who knows. Sorry, didn’t get any pictures. Maybe next time.

In summation — yesterday, a FetLife friend asked, “Isn’t it so great to fucking play again??!”

Yes. Oh, yes indeed, it fucking well is. ♥

Mr. Woodland Returns

And he was well worth waiting for. beaming

It had been, what, two years? Longer? I lost track. But it was so lovely to see him again. He had come straight from a work meeting, so he was in a coat and tie and looked spiffy as ever. We had a lot of catching up to do, so I broke out the cookies and Reese’s and we sat and chatted for an hour or more. Then at an appropriate ending point, he said, “Okay, let’s get you spanked!” Yes, let’s, shall we?

It had been a busy day, work and working out and getting ready. And of course, since I almost never wear makeup these days, and was feeling especially joyous, I wanted a picture. Once again, I’m reminded of just how much spanking takes me to my happiest place. Not just the act of it, but everything about it — the rituals, the anticipation, the camaraderie, the endorphin surges, the stress release, and so on. When I have dark times and depression, I need to remember that sometimes I feel like this.

Where was I? Oh, yeah.

We began on the couch with me OTK. He’d brought a toy bag this time — this was new! On previous visits, he’d just used his hand and his belt (and he’s wonderfully proficient with both). He said he’d bought some new things and wanted to try them out/break them in. (Thanks a lot…)

Even before we got to the implements, Mr. W commented that I was marking already, to which I scoffed. Please! He asked how I felt about being marked, was I okay with it, etc. I said I was — he asked how much marking was acceptable. I wouldn’t say this to just anyone, but I trust him, so… “I’m all yours.” “Okay, remember you said that!” he teased.

He remembered that I’m not fond of wood and prefer leather, so he brought out this very nifty little strap that I liked immediately. There were a few more things, I don’t remember the order, some I enjoyed more than others. “I need to put you over that ottoman,” he mused. “You can do that,” I answered. “Oh? Can I?” Oh, dear. “What — should I have said ‘you may do that’?” He laughed. “Yup, there she is!”

It was fun — I was giggling my head off. He was bantering with me, complimenting me (“I remember this ass! Ah, I could slap this all day long!”). We slipped right back into our comfortable groove. Once again, he mentioned that I was marking, and once again, I pooh-poohed it.

We moved to my ottoman, so he could “get a better swing.” gulp Once I was situated, he used the leather strap again and a few other things, and I was at that point where I was teetering between pain and the beautiful abyss of the sub zone. Then, reluctantly, he stopped.

“You are really marking,” he said. Nooo! Surely he’s exaggerating! I can’t be marking! I don’t mark! Not this soon, anyway! But he took my phone and snapped a picture, and showed it to me. Oh… my. (please forgive the extreme close-up)

But no way did I want to stop, so I told him it was okay and we continued for a little longer. And then… he said, “You know, I think you’re done.” While I didn’t want the scene to end, I fully appreciated how conscientious and caring he was. He didn’t want to cause harm. Every top needs to take a page from this man’s playbook. I asked if he would finish me off with his hand, and he happily did so.

He’d worked up a sweat, and I wanted to do something nice for him, so I sat in my recliner, had him sit on a pillow at my feet and I gave him a head and neck massage. I’ve been told I’m good at those, and I know he enjoys them. Then we relaxed on the couch for a while to talk and wind down. He asked if I was okay, did I need him to stay longer, and I said no, no, I’m fine, I feel great. And I did.

After he left, I wanted to get some more pictures while I still had color. My phone wouldn’t cut it, so I set up my trusty old digital camera with the timer.

It had faded a little, but you can still see the whitish spots in the center. (And for those of you who notice other things, that Beatles tumbler was a gift from my dear friend Jay.)

Of course, we can’t have Erica pictures without the Erica smirk.

Once done with that, I settled down to relax for the evening. I was deliciously sore and blissful.

Okay, so what’s with this marking nonsense? Pshaw… it would all be gone today, right?

Wrong. This is twenty-four hours later.

Well, kids… I hate to say it, but I think we need a moment of silence. The Bionic Bottom is no more. My once impervious flesh that faded immediately and self-healed is merely a memory. sniff Damn. Shocking, I know. I suppose if I went back to regular and constant play, I might toughen back up. But damned if I don’t have newbie butt again. Oh well… if this is my sole casualty from the pandemic, I should just shut up and deal.

Anyway — I received expression permission from Mr. W to post this; if any of you are on FetLife and would like to check him out, you can find him here. My friend, you are a gem and a gentleman. Thank you. Don’t be a stranger. ♥

So… what would you say?

There are two types of spankos who exist on Facebook: people who use their real names and keep their FB pages and posts vanilla, or people who are open about their kink and often (but not always) use a fetish-y name. I got a friend request there from a guy with a regular name, but he had spanking pictures all over his page, so I figured okay, we’re kindred spirits and I accepted the request.

I then had access to his full page and when I scanned down it, I saw this:

Jesus, Murray and Jehoshaphat — before I could ponder that, first I had to scrape myself off the floor and the walls and go take a cold shower. What is it about a handsome man in a suit?? (BTW, no, this isn’t the FB guy.) After that, just for grins, I posted the picture on both FetLife and Twitter to see what others might have to say about it.

One FetLife friend commented: “This is easy. ‘You’ll wrinkle your suit, Sir.’ ” That one cracked me up.

But then a Twitter friend reminded me about this recent post regarding my awkward incident with a top’s dress pants. So of course, now I had my own answer.

“Well, sir, you may have a very uncomfortable encounter with your dry cleaner after I spooge your slacks.”

Of course, then he’d probably still spank me and then order me to take the damn pants to the dry cleaner myself.

Which, by the way, I would do. Because there’s just something about a handsome man in a suit… wait, I already said that. Dammit.

On a completely different note, this FB guy I friended sent me a message, saying hello, thanks for accepting the friend request, and was I into spanking as well. I said yes, I was, but I tend to be very subtle about it on FB out of respect for vanilla friends.

He then replied, “Cool. Are you trans?”

Um… what?

Okay, maybe I’m out of touch. Is this a standard “getting to know you” question now?? Or was this wildly inappropriate to ask right out of the gate? I am truly baffled. It’s not the question that bothers me; it’s the timing of it. “Hi, nice to meet you, are you trans?” Jeeez.

After sitting in stunned silence for a moment, I wrote back that I am a cisgender female, and that’s a very odd question to spring on a perfect stranger. He replied that he meant no offense and then dropped the conversation. Good grief.

Sometimes, I just can’t with people.

(sigh) Have a great weekend, y’all. Be safe. ♥

Finally!!!!

No, it isn’t July 4th. And no, it’s not raining. California is in another damn drought. Still, this wonderful caricature Dave Wolfe did of me years ago suits the mood.

After over a year of pandemic isolation, I finally got to play on Monday. And it was glorious.

As many of you know, I had been corresponding for months with a friend I knew from way back, whom I hadn’t seen in many years. He came to a couple of Shadow Lane parties and we’d played, and then he dropped out of the scene to move out of state and start a family. When he first suggested driving here to visit me and play, my first thought was, “Why would you want to do that? It’s one hell of a long drive!” Personally, I detest road trips and even the 4-5 hour drive to Vegas makes me nuts.

Luckily for me, C doesn’t share my distaste for long drives. He figured what with the pandemic still going on, it was safer than flying. And he enjoys books on tape. So… this was going to happen. He was already fully vaxed, so he asked me to let him know when I was. When that finally happened and I told him, we made a date. He booked a hotel. And we were on.

Holy crap.

As I’d mentioned earlier, I was really, really nervous. Not about him. Even not having seen him for, what, 15 years, I knew I would be in very good hands. I knew he was a heavy player, but also a kind and caring one. No, my worry was about myself. I mean, aside from quickie impromptu scenes with John, and one really godawful attempt at self-spanking, I hadn’t been spanked since February 2020. I felt like my tolerance was shot to hell.

Also, let’s be real. Aside from going to John’s on the weekend, and the occasional necessary errands, I’d basically been sitting around my apartment in sloppy clothes and no makeup for over a year. I didn’t feel presentable, let alone sexy or spankable. I felt… unattractive.

So, the fact that someone was willing to go to all that effort in order to spend some time with me was a good antidote to all those damn negative voices in my head. ♥ I jumped in, said let’s do this, and didn’t look back.

He teased me with emails: “Two weeks and counting!” “Almost here!” “Getting nervous?” Each message got the intended result; I squirmed and grinned and felt all the butterflies. On FetLife, I had said something or another to a top and he’d replied that he thought I “needed a reminder.” C saw this and posted, “I believe Erica will be getting a reminder very soon.” Oh, gawd…

Finally, Monday arrived. I got up early, and for the first time in I’ve forgotten how long, I put makeup on. I’d thrown out a lot of the old stuff since it had been sitting for over a year and bought fresh. I had asked him if he had any particular requests for what he’d like me to wear. He suggested I dress comfortably and lightly. I could do that.

Our meeting time was noon and I showed up at his hotel at 11:53. I had to call him from the lobby, since their elevators were key card operated. He came down to get me and enveloped me in a huge bear hug. I have missed soooo many hugs the past year! We went to his room and fell into chatting and catching up immediately. But after about 45 minutes, it was time to play.

I had plugged my phone in to charge and I checked it one last time before we started. And of course, John had sent me a text:

So, what kind of slutty trouble are you getting into — or are going to get into — today? Names, places, and what you did wrong. Now, young lady. … Have a nice day. Hi C!

Knowing that was John-speak for “I give you my blessing,” I laughed and we began. I assumed the position across his lap on the bed.

This is hard to describe, but I’ll try… from the first moment, the first smack, the feel of it, the sound of it, I felt a burst of euphoria. I’m home. I’m in the right place. This is where I belong. And as the sensations slowly built up and intensified, those feelings escalated until I wanted to laugh with sheer joy.

My yoga pants didn’t stay up for more than a minute. My panties soon followed. And I remembered just how spot on and amazing C’s hand was. How he switched things up and kept me guessing. How he knew exactly when was the point to stop for a second and when to continue. He checked in with me just enough. At one point he asked if I wanted water, but I said no thank you.

He took this picture after warm-up. (!)

After that, we changed positions and I laid over pillows on the bed. He had brought a backpack filled with implements, but he let me choose. I said nix to the wooden paddles and yes to a couple of different leather straps and a hairbrush. Honestly, he doesn’t need implements. His hand is a mighty force, and it never seems to tire or get sore. I told him about the times I’d made men’s hands blister and bleed, and he just chuckled. I don’t think he’ll experience that in his lifetime.

I felt so connected to him. At one point, my hand was flexing on the bed near my face, my fist opening and closing. Then I felt him reach over and squeeze my hand, holding onto it. I see you. I care about you.

So we kept going, and going, and going. I lost track of time. It was starting to hurt, but the pain intertwined with the pleasure and joy and I just wanted more more more. I could feel the power and energy behind his swats and I rejoiced. I can still do this. I’ll still got it! Oh my god, he’s amazing… Can I stop time and just stay here?

By the time we’d come to the end, I was drumming my feet on the bed and hollering into a pillow. My carefully applied makeup was smeared down my face and on the linens (sorry, Marriott) and my breath was coming in deep gasps. And I couldn’t. Be. Happier.

Ow. Been a while since I’ve looked like this. I missed it.

He asked how I feel about lotion, and I said it was very welcome. So he went to get some… and it turned out he didn’t have any. Oops! I giggled and gave him a hard time about it, but it was fine — I had some in my purse. I’m sure my skin must have sucked it right up.

We both had a drink and came back down, lying on the bed, snuggling, talking. So much to talk about, so many things to catch up on. I asked him how long the drive was — he said 10 hours. He was going to stay overnight and then drive back the next day. I didn’t want to go, and yet I figured after a while I should get on back home, let him relax. I had people waiting for check-in texts from me. ♥

I had parked in the hotel parking garage, but when we went down to the front desk and I asked about validation, the man said that lot was for guests, not guests of guests. Oh, dear. He took the card I’d gotten, checked how long I’d been there (4 1/2 hours), futzed at his computer for a minute, then said, “You know what, forget it. You got free parking. When you drive up to the gate, just press the call button and I’ll let you out.” Thank you, kind sir!

So C walked me to my car, we exchanged another warm hug, and I was off.

I felt kind of loopy and wound up for the rest of the evening. He’d sent me the pictures he’d taken, so I posted a couple of them on FetLife. Been a long time since I’ve had any pictures to put up there. The reactions were gratifying.

So, remember when I was crowing “I’ve still got it!”?? Yeah. I woke up yesterday morning and groaned, “The hell I don’t.” Wow. Sitting hurt. Walking hurt. I felt like I’d been playing for four straight days at a party instead of doing just one scene. When I attempted to do a workout, my body was yelling and swearing at me through the whole thing, especially during the lower body exercises.

And I enjoyed all that, too. Although it was very hard to focus on work, I admit. I finally had to take a break, because of course I needed a “day after” picture.

C checked in Monday evening, then let me know when he’d gotten home yesterday. He checked in this morning as well. So important. I wish more tops knew that.

And in anticipation that I might get droppy, my sweet SIS Jay sent me a box of See’s chocolate. ♥ Chocolate and depression are mutually incompatible, you know.

So… when the euphoria fades, when the marks and soreness disappear, I suppose I am in for some drop. A sense of, okay, now what? Where do I go from here? How do I bring regular play back into my life, and with whom? But for now, I’m not going to think about that. I’m just going to bask in the feels and smile. And be grateful.

Thank you, C. You gave me more of a gift than you know.

Ah, memories…

Most of you guys know I edit kinky erotica. Today I was working on a book and one scene had the woman stripped naked and about to go over the man’s knee. He was still fully dressed in a good suit, and she expressed concern that she was going to make a mess of his pants. He smirked and said, “That’s what dry-cleaning is for.” He then went on to taunt her that he’d probably tell his dry-cleaner all about it and how it got there.

Art imitates life, or is it the other way around? Whatever. Reading this, I was reminded of the time a couple of years ago when I was playing with D. We only had three scenes, but holy damn, I was fiercely, unusually attracted to this man. And when we played, well, you know… bodies do what bodies do. I secrete when I’m beat. And D always came over from work, so he was in a suit.

Cut to a couple of days later — D emailed me and teasingly informed me that he’d had to take his suit pants to the cleaners because of a prominent stain. (“Did I do that?”) I got the giggles over that, but what made me guffaw was when he went on to tell me that the cleaner had asked what it was! D, not expecting the question and feeling flustered, muttered something along the lines of, “Uh… I dunno… something fell in my lap.”

He said the cleaner gave him a funny look.

Still laughing.

Have a great weekend, y’all. ♥

♪ Vaccinated and it feels so good… ♫

Look, look! Here I am in all my bare-faced, I-haven’t-worn-makeup-in-fourteen-months glory, after receiving Moderna vaccine #2.

So hey, now besides having a chip on my shoulder, I have a chip IN my shoulder as well! (snicker) Still waiting for the 5G to kick in, though.

Side effects report: Last night was a bit rough. Woke up in the middle of the night with a fever and aching all over. But after a Tylenol/Advil combo, that settled a bit and I was able to get a little more sleep. Today… sooooo sleepy. Having a hard time focusing. But no more fever or pain. Quite worth it, I’d say.

I got lectured on Twitter for talking about the side effects, saying it would discourage people on the fence about the vaccines. Oh, please. Seems to me people should know what to expect — and to know it’s all temporary and they will be just fine. Also, the high of knowing this is done supersedes the discomfort.

I sent this picture to my friend in Oregon, saying mission accomplished, I’m vaccinated. He replied with this:

Two weeks and you get to bury your face in a pillow while I remind your bottom what a good spanking feels like!

Oh my God. This is really happening. I’m going to play for the first time since February 2020. (The light playful stuff with John doesn’t count.)

I would imagine the nerves are going to set in, big time, as it gets closer. I know I’ll be in good hands, but damn, it’s been so long! How will my body react? Will I have any tolerance? This is the longest I’ve gone without playing, by far, since I first got into spanking 25 years ago.

And even more concerning… after over a year of basically sitting on my ass and watching time tick by, what is said ass going to look like from a top’s view? Granted, I’ve never stopped exercising. But still, working out at home doesn’t replace the gym. I’m still not willing to go back to mine, though. So, along with the building’s treadmill and my weights and bands, I treated myself to a piece of exercise equipment. It’s called The DB Method, came highly rated online, and is essentially a squat machine.

DB stands for Dream Butt. One can hope.

In other play news, it looks like Shadow Lodge over Labor Day weekend in Vegas is a go. It’s being capped at 200 and Joe is asking people to be fully vaccinated. I hope people will bring their vaccination cards, because I for one will want to see them. I’m certainly bringing mine. It’s a bit scary, the thought of being around so many people in a small space after all this time of isolation, but hopefully things will feel a lot safer in four months.

Honestly? I am in no hurry to go back to being among people. My reclusive tendencies really took over in this past year. But I need to play. I need to feel those feelings again. I need that connection, that release. I’ve missed it so very much. I’m hoping that I can find someone local once again. But first things first — gotta get back in the saddle, so to speak. Less than two weeks… !!