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 “strap”

Shadow Lane 2018

This is late; I’ve always tried to do my post-party blogs as soon as possible after I get home, so everything will be fresh in my mind. Alas, that was not to be, as I had to jump right back into work that kept me chained to my desk for the rest of the week. Plus, I seem to have caught a cold. So reality hit hard and fast without any time to bask in the kinky afterglow, but, oh well. However, we had a great time! And I even managed to get a few pictures. So while I probably won’t remember everything in as great a detail, I can put out a basic timeline with the highlights of our weekend.

Incidentally, it seems I was worried for naught about my condition to play. Over three days, I played twelve times, four each day… and came home with not a mark on me. Not even a speckle.

Friday:

We got on the road on time in the morning, but the rental car (a Volvo! I got a free upgrade when they didn’t have the class of car I’d requested) decided to be problematic, giving us a warning that the tire pressure was low and we needed to “check and recalibrate.” We hadn’t even gone twenty miles. Crap. In a panic, I called the rental car place and the guy told me we needed to go to a Pep Boys or a Firestone, because they have a contract with them. I pleaded with him to please look one up for us, which he did, and gave me a Pep Boys that was out of our way, but not by a whole lot. So we drove to the address… guess what? No Pep Boys! By now, I’m in a state of apoplexy, so John got out of the car, looked at all the tires, then got back in and said, “They look fine to me. I say we just go.” And so we did. We lost about an hour, and I was a wreck imagining that we were going to have a blow-out or something, but that never happened, and we still made it to Vegas by 3:00. Fun start! But all was well once we got checked in and settled into our room.

After sleeping a bit, we changed and went to Joe’s (DrLectr’s) suite (960) for the end of the Vendor Fair. There began the mass of greetings and hugs and introductions. Our timing was a bit off, though, because shortly thereafter, people dispersed and went off to eat dinner, and the room parties weren’t starting until 9:00. So back to our room we went, noshed on some snacks and relaxed. I grabbed the newspaper and was checking out the front page when John said, “Oh, I need to get a picture of that, give me your phone.”

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What, he’s never seen a woman read the paper before? 😉

Later, we went to the Shadow Lane suite for a while, and then back to Joe’s, where I soon did my first scene with Roy (CalNation on Fet), who is always a favorite. There was a gentleman at this party who was new, and I struck up a conversation with him. He confessed that he had been on the receiving end, but he didn’t really know how to give a spanking. I invited him to come watch Roy and me, so he could see how it’s done.

Of course, the room was packed and all the available play space was taken up, but undaunted, we simply headed into the bathroom. Our friend politely watched and asked permission to take pictures, and we said yes.

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^^ I love this guy! Wish I could see him more than twice a year.

And of course, I can’t have a party weekend without a scene with Joe, who never fails to deliver.

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His suite, besides having two bedrooms, has a very large living room area and he gets three or four massage tables to set up for scenes, for anyone who wants to use them — they’re great for strappings, as you can by what’s lying next to me on the table.

Steve Fuller was there! He and I go way back, so it’s always a treat to see him. We had a lively scene in the bedroom, with him fabricating some nonsense or another about how I’d been “mean” to him. Say what? He’s as sharp as always; when he started moving down onto my thighs, I blurted “Hey, what are you doing down there?” To which he answered, “Mind your own business.” (How my own ass and thighs are not my business, I’ll never understand.)

Lots more chats and greetings and hugs — I was worried that our dear friends InspectHerHide and Ellie3 weren’t there, but it turned out they just arrived Friday night. Always soooooo happy to see them! IHH was jet-lagged and tired, but he said if I didn’t mind a lighter Friday-night scene, he’d love to play. Well, of course. Usually I like him to be my first scene of the weekend, but their late arrival made that not work out this time. But better late than not at all.

More hugs, more talk, and finally it was time to head to bed. Of course, things continue in 960 until the wee hours of the morning, but you know, I need to sleep. So off we went for the night.

Saturday:

Club Finn at noon in 960! An event that Joe conceived of a few years back, Club Finn is named after Fineous, our resident flogger. It’s like a spa time for the ladies — massages, sensual flogging, foot rubs, hair-brushing (hair, not backsides), plus champagne and chocolates. Roy had said he wanted to pamper me, but he was a bit late, so I signed up for a turn with a professional masseur who was attending the party and had even brought his own table complete with the face piece at the end. Oh, that was so good — too short, but he had a long list of ladies waiting. When I climbed off the table, I saw Roy sitting and talking with John, so I came over and sat at his feet, and he commenced to massaging my upper back, shoulders and neck for a wonderfully long time. Even after he was done massaging, I didn’t want to get up, so I sat with my head on his leg while we talked with others around us. So I daresay I got a lot of pampering in that hour and three-quarters! Also had a fun chat with Kat (InfamousK on Fet), reminding her of the time she reduced John to a stunned silence when she referred to him as “Erica’s bitch.” 😀 Later, when I was pestering John to stop talking already so we could go eat, he said, “Don’t be a b-witch!” Kat overheard. “B-witch??” “Yeah,” John answered. “I figured it’s nicer than, you know, that other word.”

“So,” Kat replied, deadpan, “does that mean I can call you Erica’s b-witch?”

Aaaaand once again, John was speechless, while Kat and I fell over each other on the couch laughing.

Finally, we went with our friend Mir to grab a bagel, and were joined by Mr. Woodland, a really great guy I’ve played with a couple of times before. He’s local, and we keep saying we should get together and hang out, but we never seem to make it happen. We hung out chatting and munching, and then it was time to head back to our room for a nap.

Later that evening, we went to another Suncoast party tradition, dinner at the steakhouse. We started doing that at 50 Freaks in 2013 and it became an annual thing; we’ve even gotten the same server (Laurence) every time. This time, even though we had the banquet room that can accommodate eighteen, we had a smaller, more intimate group of nine. I wore a new dress (John took a picture before we left):

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It was such fun — we sat across from Mr W and the stunning and statuesque Switch_Delta, and like every year, John made a toast to Joe and picked up his dinner. We figure that’s the very least we can do, after all he does for the parties — the open 24/7 suite, the snacks, the drinks, the events. I didn’t get champagne this time, but I had several sips of John’s “dessert,” a glass of 30-year aged tawny port. Oh, so good.

Later, it was back to 960 for the black-light DJ’ed dance party. At midnight, we had a surprise birthday cake for Ellie3, whose birthday was Monday. After that… I dunno. I’d played a couple of times (including a fantastic first scene with a man who goes by the name TanerHyde, yes, one n), but I was feeling a bit out of sorts. It was just too noisy in the room with the music — no one could have a conversation. It’s a tough call, I know; a lot of folks like the music loud and you can’t please everyone. People were going off to the bedrooms to play, but if you just wanted to talk in the main room, it was pretty difficult. My throat was getting sore and I was starting to feel overwhelmed. When I realized John was feeling the same way, we decided to take a break and go back to our room for a bit.

When we went into the hall, we found IHH, Ellie, Mr. W, Djinn and a few others sitting out there, having their own mini-party. Turns out the music was too much for them as well. When John and I walked by, we got a chorus of “You’re not going to bed, are you??” No, no, we reassured, just taking a break. Mr. W announced that he’d SEE ME shortly, and then everyone started clapping, making spanky sounds, as we walked away. “Erica’s in trouuuuuubllllle!” Ellie sang. (This was the last night they could do that, since everyone on the 9th floor was in our party. The next day, a few vanillas moved into some of the 9th floor rooms after some of our party left, so we had to keep all noise out of the hallway. Booo!)

We took a break in our room, freshened up a bit, and headed back out. People were still sitting in the hall, so we sat with them for a bit, but then I really, really wanted to play. So we went back in.

It was worth it; I ended up having a fabulous scene with Mr. W. He has a very strong hand, and when he started using both hands, I protested. “Hey! That’s cheating! You can’t use both hands!” “No?” he said. “Well, how about if I use NO hands?” When he leaned back on the bed and reached for his waist, I thought, oh shit, me and my big mouth. Sure enough, next thing I knew he had his belt whipped off, doubled over, and whacking me.

“Soooo,” he teased. “Two hands okay, then?” Argh. Fine. So not fair.

At least I liked a lot of the songs Bob the DJ was playing. I even danced a little when he played Aretha. But I was relieved when the music ended at 2:00 a.m. and we could talk again. We hung out chatting for a while longer — at 3:00, the party was still in full swing, everyone playing and talking and laughing. But by then, I was wiped out. Much as I wanted to stay, I knew I was done for the night. Besides, we had to get up for Strict Dave’s Punishment Court the next day at noon. We got to bed between 3:30 and 4:00.

Oh, wait! Almost forgot — a lovely, lovely man from England, whom I met several years ago (he came with the Northern Spanking group back in 2009) approached me and said he had a gift for me. Imagine my delight when he gave me a Beatles coffee mug! Not just any Beatles mug, either; instead of just one image, the entire cup is plastered with Beatles album covers all the way around.

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How cool is this?? I was so touched. Thank you, my thoughtful friend. ♥

Sunday:

John got me out of bed at 11:00 (yeah, we don’t do breakfast in Vegas); I showered, dressed, and went to get us coffee while John went to 960 to help set up for Dave’s Court. It was the usual great fun, with a lot of laughs. I haven’t been taken to court on a case for a few years — so far, I have a perfect record of winning all my cases (although I usually manage to get penalty swats from Dave anyway for dropping the f-bomb, which is considered contempt. Did I mention I do that on purpose?).

After court, John and I went downstairs to eat, peeking in to DuPar’s to see if anyone we knew was there. Turned out Bob the DJ and his wife S were just about to have lunch and asked us to join them, so we got a booth and had a nice late lunch and a great talk. I love how you never know who you’re going to meet up with at these things, the impromptu meals, etc.

At 5:00, there was Judicial Punishment in Joe’s room. That’s where they have “prison guards” and the women sign up to be “prisoners” and take a designated amount of strokes with either a cane, a paddle, or a strap. And all three are big and heavy versions of said implements. The standard amount is eight, although some do six and others do ten. The prisoners get to choose their guard (there are three), the implement, and the level of strokes — Light, Medium, Hard, or Severe. It’s all done sort of tongue-in-cheek melodramatic; the prisoners wear orange shirts and panties, and we’re each called out, one by one, to take our strokes, which Joe announces very emphatically. I’ve done this event a few times; I kind of consider it a personal challenge. The strokes are hard (I always choose the cane), but I figure I can take eight strokes of pretty much anything. Plus, I always pick SanDiegoCorey as the guard, and he knows I like it harder than medium, but not super hard either. Afterward, each woman heads for the “recovery area” (pillows and blankets piled up on the floor) and the next one comes out.

So I took my eight strokes, bent over a table with other guards holding me down. By stroke four, I was hollering. By the last one, I was kicking my feet. But I did it. 😀 What can I say, it’s a head space thing.

After that, people were hanging out talking, and I was approached by a rather handsome man I hadn’t seen before. He introduced himself (I’ll call him J) and said this was his first Shadow Lane party, but he’d been in the scene for over ten years. He was very polite and we talked a bit; he asked if I’d like to play later, and I said yes. More on him shortly.

John and I have a tradition on Sunday nights at these things: since things don’t really get started until 9:30-10:00, we take a long nap, get up and ready, do some preliminary packing, and then head to dinner around 9:00 at the Oyster House, a charming little restaurant in the hotel. It’s a perfect place to get a light bite, the food is good and we usually end up seeing people we know there. After that, we headed for 960 for the final blow-out.

The room was packed, they’d gotten pizza, and people were playing — the massage tables had various scenes going on, as per usual. I started chatting with Djinn and Mir, which went for a while, until one of them said, “Whoa,” with a mildly horrified face. I turned to see what they were looking at. Behind me, a couple was playing on one of the tables. She was kneeling on the floor, her upper body draped across the table… and he was behind her, kicking her in the back. Hard.

Oh, fuck.

Yeah. That again. The “Your Kink is Not My Kink and It’s OK, But You Still Can’t Do That At A Spanking Party” bit. This couple had clearly wandered in from the BDSM community, both dressed in black leather, and didn’t realize this isn’t a @#$%ing dungeon; this is for spanking/flogging/caning, but kicking and beating the shit out of someone is generally not appreciated in the main room. It got worse… she ended up sprawled face down on the carpet beside the table, and he was stomping on her. With his boots on. On her low back, on her butt, interspersed with more kicks. To be fair, she didn’t look like she was objecting to it. But fuck that. You do not play like this at a spanking party. You just don’t.

People started asking “Where’s Joe?”, but he had left the room temporarily. Meanwhile, I couldn’t stand another minute of this. I looked across the room and saw J, the man who had talked with me earlier. I walked straight up to him. “Still want to play?” I asked. “Absolutely,” he said. “Then, please, do me a favor,” I implored, taking his hand. “Take me away from this awful scene and make me forget I ever saw it.” “I can do that,” he grinned, and he took me into one of the bedrooms.

Oh. My. God. What happened after that was one of the most delicious scenes of my weekend.

We talked a bit beforehand; he had a small toy bag, and he checked in with me about what was OK to use (the only thing I said no to was a nasty looking wooden paddle). He said he liked to build things up slowly, keep people guessing, alternate spanking with massage, things like that. Sounded good to me! So we did an OTK warm-up with his hand, and then he had me lie on the bed, with a pillow under my hips. And then he proceeded to use all his different toys, at different levels of intensity, speed, etc, with long pauses, wonderful massage strokes… I never knew what he was going to do next. He’d lull me into a relaxed state with an extended massage, and then WHACK! he’d snap a strap on me. Sneaky devil! And I loved it.

The scene went on for quite a while — I lost track of time — and when we were done, I was just a pile of mush on that bed. “So, did I make you forget?” he asked. Oh, you betcha. I asked him if he was on FetLife or any other social media, but he said no, he’s very private. So, since he isn’t local, I guess I won’t see him again until next year. *sigh*

When I came back out into the main room, I asked what had happened with Mr. Kicky-Stompy. Several people were upset (so no, it’s not just me!), and someone texted Joe and told him to come back ASAP. When Joe came back, the woman was still sprawled on the carpet, and the man was standing over her, taking off his pants. I do not want to think about what he was about to do. Joe stopped him and said, “I’m sorry, but you really can’t do play like this here. If you like, you can come back after 4:00 a.m. — people tend to do the darker scenes then.” And that was that. Good call. By that hour, the mainstream party has gone to bed and just the die-hards are still up.

I know if I were to talk about this on FetLife, I’d get a ration of noise about it, people telling me I’m narrow-minded and judgmental and non-accepting of other people’s kinks and blah blah blah. But you know, IDGAF. I saw plenty of scenes like this when John and I used to go to dungeon parties… and that’s why I stopped going to dungeon parties and started attending spanking parties. Because I don’t want to see a man kicking the shit out of a woman. Sheesh, draw and quarter me.

Anyway… I had one more delicious scene with Roy, harder than the one on Friday, and we both worked up a sweat, as the bedroom for whatever reason had gotten very warm. I had been waiting for him; he’d come up to me earlier, asking if I wanted to play, and of course I said yes. But then he said, “Give me about a half-hour, okay?” Argh. Figures, while I was waiting for him, two people asked me to play, including John Osborne of Triple A Spanking. I felt so lame, saying I was waiting for someone to come back and play, but it was the truth. I told John, “If he doesn’t come back, I’m all yours!” But then he did come back. Sorry, John, if you’re reading this! Next time!

And finally… how do I end my party weekends, kids? With a flogging from Fineous. The perfect relaxing, intense ending. As luck would have it, one of the tables in the main room freed up, so we didn’t have to use the hot bedroom. I stripped everything off but my panties, stretched out on the table with a wedge pillow under my hips, and gave myself over to the magical Fineous and his fabulous floggers. It went on and on… I could hear the noise around me, the talk, the laughing, the smacking, but somehow it all blurred and receded, and all I could do was feel. I was so relaxed, my arms were dangling limply off the table sides. After the flogging, he continued with a full-body massage, neck to toes, and ladies and gentlemen, I was done. I was in LaLaLand, blissed out, happy, blood thrumming and fizzing, feeling great. Perfection.

I was looking for John, but couldn’t find him. Someone said, “I think he’s in the bedroom,” so I walked in, and what did I see? John on the bed, with Joe’s utterly adorable girlfriend AyleeInTheory (Fet name) across his lap. John never plays at these parties… but apparently she asked him. And this girl is tough — she self-identifies as a masochist and she plays hard, even though she’s a little bitty thing. So she could take John’s heavy hand. I was delighted to see this. 🙂 I like to see John having fun, and I knew it tickled him that this cutie-pie approached him for a scene. He’s actually an excellent spanker, but he never shows off his prowess at these events, preferring to talk and let me do the playing.

And then it was time to go. We had to get up at 7:00 a.m., just a few short hours from now. So, reluctantly, we went around saying our goodbyes, collecting hugs, then went back to our room and tumbled into bed around 4:00.

We were checked out and on the road by 8:00. Made one stop in Baker, and then pushed through all the way home. There was traffic, so it took us about five hours, but we made it without any mishap (and no, we didn’t blow a tire). Good news — when I brought the car back the next day, I told the manager about the warning light and the hassle trying to find a Pep Boys to no avail because of incorrect directions, the stress, etc. She was apologetic and very nice, taking 20% off the bill. Good customer relations!

So goes another Shadow Lane. It came and went too quickly. But it was a fun, pretty much drama-free party. I got to play quite a bit. John had a great time too. Neither one of us got sick. There were several people I really missed seeing, but I did my best to focus on who was there, not who wasn’t. I wish I could see these people more than twice a year. Maybe when John or I win the lottery, we’ll travel to every party. 🙂 In the meantime, I appreciate the good times we get to have, and our friends. To everyone who hugged me, talked to me, played with me, made me laugh… Alex Maddy Adriana T&S Jai Scott Jen Michael Kevin Mark Katy Kate Stephen Kelley Loren Pat Samantha Sarah John etc. etc. etc…. I love you guys. Sorry I can’t mention each and every one of you, but you know who you are. See you next time.

(whew) Have a great weekend, y’all.

50 Freaks 2016, part 3

OK, enough already with this; I need to finish it. No excuses today, as I have finished my work and I’m also feeling somewhat human again. There are still tons of pictures I haven’t gotten yet, but oh well. I have to record this before my fevered brain forgets everything.

Saturday was the most up-and-down day, I think. Poor John has stomach distress during the night and wasn’t feeling well when we got up. There was a gathering Joe calls TTYL (Tights, Thongs, Yoga pants and Leggings) in the suite from 1-3, so we went for a quick bite in the café. (They closed Café Siena, which really bummed me out — I loved that place! But they sorta resurrected it in a smaller version now called, most originally, The Café.) I got John some Pepto-Bismol and he managed to eat some breakfast, but he wasn’t looking good. When we arrived at the suite at 1:20 for TTYL, there were about six people there. I took one look at John, slumped on the couch, and made a decision. “Come on,” I said.”Let’s go back to our room. Nothing is happening here, and we both need sleep.” He protested once, weakly, then gave in.

Damn. I had really cute leggings on, too.

Anyway. We slept through the afternoon, missing all of TTYL. At 5:00, they were having Club Finn, a new gathering for this party, which was to be a kind of a spa setting for the spankees (massages, baths, chocolates and other treats, sensual flogging, etc.). Normally, I would have loved to try this, but I was so worried about John and feeling disconnected again. Had it not been for SC and Alex texting me to ask where I was, I might have gotten back into bed and slept through until dinnertime. SC asked if we were “ready for a bath,” and there was no way I was going to turn down a repeat performance of our bath time last year, so I pulled myself together and met them at the suite, which was now hopping.

Unfortunately, the big tub was already in use. But SC took one look at my face and said, “Let’s go use the tub in our room. It’s smaller, but I think we need some girl time.” So the three of us left the main suite and headed by to SC & Alex’s room. Yes, the tub was substantially smaller, but it was still lovely. I felt myself relax and my spirits perk up as I sat with my besties and had some down time and giggles.

Pictures, you say? But of course. Thanks to E for assuming camera duty.

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Jeez, my poor butt. Me on the right, Alex center, SC left. There is one more that’s a little naughtier, but I haven’t gotten SC’s OK to post that yet. Maybe later. 😀

I came back to our room to wash my hair and dress for our dinner at the Steakhouse. We’ve booked the banquet room at that restaurant every year and it’s always delightful; we’ve even had the same server each year. John managed to get up and dressed, insisting he was OK to go, but I didn’t believe him; he was white as a sheet. When I was ready, we met at SC & Alex’s room, then went to 960, where our group gathered and then trooped down to the Steakhouse.

There was a change this year, which was a bit off-putting. We’d always had access to the full menu, so we could have lots of variety, order sides, share stuff, etc. This year, the management decided to get pissy and tell Joe that he had to accept a limited Prix Fixe menu at a flat $50 per person, beverages not included, no substitutions. Humph! Fortunately, one of the choices was salmon, so I was fine. But still. John, who was getting sicker by the minute, managed to coerce our server into just bringing him a salad, no dinner. However, he only made it through a few bites of his salad before he put down his fork and looked like he was going to face plant right into it. I couldn’t stand it anymore. “Please,” I begged him. “Don’t put yourself through this. Go back to our room and go to bed.” He always tries to be so damn stoic, but this was ridiculous — he was clearly very sick. Finally, he gave up, handed me some cash to pay for dinner, and left.

The rest of the dinner was a little subdued for me. I had good company: Across from me were E and SC, Alex, and Maddy Marks and her man Siq (yes, that’s pronounced “sick”). To my right were Princess Kelley and her daddy MrOMK (who very kindly shared his chocolate cake with me). But I missed John. Still, I was relieved he’d stopped pushing himself and given in to go rest, and my salmon was delicious, so I made the best of it. We all looked really nice, having dressed up. There were many LBDs, but Alex was in fire-engine red and Maddy was in white. Me? I bucked the solid color trend altogether — I wore stripes.

After dinner, I went back to our room to check on John; it was around 10:15, I think. He had been sleeping, but woke up and seemed to be doing a little better. I told him I’d be going to the suite and he should stay and rest. He asked if I was going to change out of my finery into something more comfortable, and I said not yet — they were have a midnight presentation of the Spanking Blogg Awards, and there would be pictures, so I would get into PJs after that was done. He said he would try to make it to that. I went down to get him some more meds, came back up and gave them to him, freshened up and then headed to 960.

What can I say about the awards presentation, other than it was one of the highest points of my weekend? I won 2nd place Creative Blogger and 3rd place Lifetime Achievement for a spanking model. The latter was especially mind-boggling, considering I started out doing this as a lark and never imagined I’d end up doing it for 15+ years. And Joe, bless his heart, had gone all out; he’d had trophies made for not only the 1st place winners, but 2nd and 3rd as well. So he made a nice little presentation of it. And of course, John did make it. The applause that resounded when my name was called was especially gratifying too. ♥

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Afterward, the winners in attendance piled into the hallway where the lighting was better and others weren’t around, so people could take pictures, including John Osbourne of TripleAAA, who put this whole awards thing together on his blog and to whom we all owe a huge thanks! It was a little crazy with so many cameras on us and all the rotations of models, producers, etc. — we didn’t know which camera to look at! But here’s a nice shot of some of us, and someone already gave us IDs. As you can see, Michael Masterson, the kingpin of Real Spankings, was in our midst. It was great to finally meet him. He’s not a party-goer, so this was new for him. I think he had a blast.

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Here, we were clearly confused as to where to look!  🙂 Eve is in the center and John Osbourne is on the left.

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There were many more, but this is all I have so far. So many wonderful winners and I was so very thrilled.

John seemed OK to sit quietly on the couch and observe, so I milled about. Eve Howard shot this pic of T&S and me — I was a bit horrified when she sent it to me. I looked utterly exhausted, my face in shadows. I tweaked with the lighting and exposure and made myself look human, but still tired. I think the lack of sleep and worry over John was taking its toll. Still, it’s a nice shot with a long-time friend. 🙂

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Late in the evening, Michael InspectHerHide approached me and said he was leaving the next day, and he’d love to do a final scene with me. I had not played at all that day, so I happily agreed. Once again he took me back to his room, where he proceeded to pull the padded bench at the foot of the bed into the center of the room, piled it with pillows and bade me to lie over it. He then opened the curtains to let all the moonlight and city lights in, and dimmed the room’s lights. A delicious spanking and strapping ensued. Michael is another one I can trust with anything in his hands — I knew the strap strokes would fall with precision, and they did, every one. Right down to the grand finale — forty strokes on each cheek. So OK, I played only once on Saturday, but it was one hell of a scene. Thank you again, Michael. So many lovely scenes over the years with you and me.

John had left to go to bed a while back, and I managed to stay in the room until 3:30 before I thought, “What the hell are you doing? Go get some sleep.” And so I did.

Sunday, we slept in. John felt a bit better, although we mutually decided to skip brunch and went straight to the suite for Strict Dave’s CP Court at 1:00. I got coffee for both of us and brought John a baggie full of crackers to nibble on. Court was fun and crowded as always — Alex had left early that morning, but SC & E joined us and sat close by. Afterward, SC came and chatted with us for a while, since E went to the roulette table. We were joined by Johnny, who brought us a plate of chocolates and raspberries left over from Club Finn — nice of him!

There’s been a party event the past few years called Judicial Punishment — kind of a role-play, where the tops get dressed up as prison guards and the “prisoners” wear orange t-shirts. The punishments are delivered on the St. Andrew’s cross, and the choices of implement are cane, prison strap, or paddle. I’d always thought it sounded kind of brutal, but then I talked it over with Joe and learned a few things I didn’t know. Not only did you get to choose your implement, but you could also choose the number of strokes, the level of severity (light, medium, hard, very hard), and the guard who would give them. Knowing that I had so much control and it was more of a head space thing than anything, I decided to give it a try.

It was at 5:00 that afternoon, and several women had signed up for it. This time, the choices of tops were Johnny and StrictDave, with Fineous and Snow Mercy acting as guards and Joe doing all the announcements and counts. The “prisoners” were kept sequestered in the bedroom as we were called out, one by one. We were supposed to be very, very quiet, but there was a fair amount of whispering and giggling going on. We couldn’t help it — it’s nerve-racking sitting there waiting! Joe, when announcing each stroke, would make a noise sort of like a “Hup!” After hearing several of these “Hups,” I commented that Joe sounded like he had the hiccups. That sent us all into such giggles that Strict Dave came in to glare at us all.

Finally I was called in, and was handcuffed to the cross. Johnny and I had negotiated 12 cane strokes, medium. But something got screwed up and Joe announced six! Argggh. Six was nothing! But it was still fun and intense and going into the “aftercare pile” (a large area piled up with blankets and pillows) was fun. A fun lineup picture was taken also… nope, don’t have that yet either. (sigh) But soon!

SC & E were going for dinner and a show on the Strip, and John & I were tired anyway, so we decided to sleep a little bit, then went for a late dinner on our own at the oyster/sushi bar in the hotel. John was well enough to manage a small meal, for which I was grateful. It was time for the final night of the party, the ultimate wind-down.

So much chatting that last night. It’s going to be a while before the next party for us, after all. Harley (we enjoyed rehashing the silliness at our shoot the weekend prior), Maddy and Siq, T&S and his lovely girlfriend Bella Bijou, my sweet Pruxie, the ever-spunky and adorable Sarah Rocks, whom we hadn’t seen since 2010 at FMS, Ten and her boyfriend M, Samantha, JaiBug, and so many more. My voice was starting to go hoarse and I was coughing a bit, but I figured that was due to all the talking.

John O. and I did a fun scene front-and-center on the massage table, with his hand, strap and cane. He took me up and down with tap-tap-taps and biting little strokes, nothing horribly hard, because well, my butt was thrashed. It was delicious and I felt like a purring contented cat atop that table. Funny how the cane can be such an evil thing, but it can be quite sensual as well when the top moderates the stroke.

I have yet to experience a party weekend without a Fineous flogging, but I feared this one might be the first. Until he suddenly appeared around 1:30 a.m., sat next to me and said, “I was afraid I wasn’t going to catch up with you this weekend. You got a scene left in you?” Of course I did. Off we went to find bed space in the bedroom, and I got a delicious double flogging over my entire body, like a perfect firm massage to end the weekend. When I came back to earth, I saw that SC had returned and she and John were deep in conversation. We moved into the main room and were joined by Joe. As I sat there in LaLaLand, I suddenly felt very cold and shivery. Looking back now, I can see it was the beginning of my illness, but I chalked it up to subspace. Glancing across the room, I saw Siq on the couch and it looked like he had a pile of blankets next to him, so I made my way over there. I was just reaching for one of them when I realized that buried under that pile was Maddy, sleeping. Ooops! Fortunately, a kind soul directed me to an unused blanket and I swaddled myself in it, returning to my chair.

Strict Dave joined us, and after a while, turned to me and said, “We haven’t played for a while. Have you got anything left in you?” Ah, damn. I didn’t. I really didn’t. Not even a feather stroke; I was done. So, although playing with Strict Dave is a wild and intense ride, I had to regretfully tell him no. “Next time?” “Yes, please!” Shortly thereafter, John and I pulled ourselves together and said our reluctant final goodbyes. We didn’t get to bed until nearly 4:00… and the alarm was set for 7:00. Blech.

I don’t know how John did it — he managed to get up even earlier than that and get a load of stuff down to the car while I slept on, oblivious. His stomach was better, but now he was starting to cough. Oh, we were a pair! But I felt better after a shower, and we got ourselves all packed, checked out, supplied with coffee, and on the road by 8:00. I was tired and my throat was raspy, but again, I figured it was lack of sleep and interaction overload. We made it to John’s in a record four hours (with one stop for Dairy Queen smoothies and their restroom), and I helped him unpack his stuff before I headed home.

So. I managed to get home, refill the gas tank, unpack the car and deliver it back to Enterprise. They took me home, and then I unpacked my suitcases, sorted through the mail, and fired up the computer. By around 5:00, I noticed my back was aching and I felt even more fatigued than before, so I crawled into my bed for a while. When I woke up at 8:00, I wondered how a bus had gotten into my apartment and run over me. I was full-on sick. Stayed up just two hours, then went back to bed at 10. And I did not get out of bed until 3:30 the next afternoon, no lie. Well, except to use the bathroom. Fever, chills, body ache, cough, blah blah blah. I thought about the unbelievable timing. What did I say before the weekend? Something along the lines of “I just want to be well for the party. Afterward, I could get pneumonia for all I care.” OK, so I didn’t mean that literally, but it damn near happened anyway. But I don’t care. The only reason I had to get out of bed this week was because I had work to do. Otherwise, my schedule was blissfully open, and I’d arranged that on purpose, but I didn’t know just how necessary it would be. I managed to get two books edited after I came home this week, but nothing else. Tonight I will straggle over to John’s — he came down with this flu thing too, so we can cough and commiserate. It’s going to be a rainy weekend and we can bundle up and veg out. I am content.

Another 50 Freaks come and gone. (Technically, this time, it was 106 Freaks.) Again, a lot of ups and downs, and some real-life interference encroaching (not just my own, but with friends too, unfortunately), but overall? One hell of a weekend, yet again. Thank you, Joe, and all your helpers/assistants who worked with you to make this happen and keep it going. Thank you, John O., for your wonderful work in gathering our awards. Thank you to my play partners, my friends, people who stopped to talk to me, hug me, smile at me, give me happy moments. SC and Alex, I ♥ you two to bits. And of course… my beloved John, without whom none of this is really possible, because it wouldn’t be anywhere near as much fun doing it alone.

Over and out. Have a great weekend, y’all.

50 Freaks 2016, Part 2

Upon further communications in social media, I’ve discovered there was indeed some sort of plague going around Vegas. With John and myself included, so far I’ve numbered seventeen people who are sick. Fascinating.

Friday morning, I got a text from SC, asking if we’d like to join her group for breakfast. She was rooming with her guy (I’ll refer to him as E for Englishman), Alex, another Alex (known as The Bad Alex), and one more woman whose scene name I don’t know so I will call her A, and the five of them had gone to a nearby restaurant. John Googled the address, but it was still hard to find, not knowing the area, and we took a while to get there. But once we did, it was definitely worth the effort! I love shared meals at these gatherings, where people are relaxed, happy, not in play mode, just kicking back and enjoying with friends. E & SC had to leave early because they were scheduled to do a straight-razor shaving demo (and no, we aren’t talking about E’s face), so A left with them while John and I lingered with the two Alexes. We caught the end of the demo, but discreetly positioned ourselves in back of SC so we couldn’t see anything. We adore our friend, but didn’t find it necessary to view her quite so intimately!! (I think she appreciated that. When John commented afterward that we’d seated ourselves out of the line of vision, she cracked something along the lines of, “Good, so I don’t have to avoid looking you in the eye for the rest of the weekend?”)

We hung out in the suite into the afternoon, and I did a scene with Tom from Chicago. After a lot of chatting and mingling, it was nap time. On Friday evening, a portion of our group was going to Caesar’s Palace to ride on the giant Ferris Wheel that overlooks the city, in a pod that Joe had rented for a half hour. Spanking was allowed, but skirts were to remain down and panties were to remain up, Joe was firmly informed. Afterward, people were going to hang out on the strip, have dinner, whatever. So John and I knew that Friday night we’d be on our own. I think that’s where I first had that disconnected feeling. In fact, I ended going back to our room for a while, feeling teary-eyed and at loose ends, wanting to play but not wanting to ask people, wanting to chat and yet not feeling like it. So silly, and such a waste of perfectly good party time. But it happens. Emotions run high at these events.

With John’s help, I picked myself back up and went back to the suite, and when people started coming back from the Caesar’s event, the party livened back up. I sat at the bar talking with R — I’d taken my glasses off and had them perched on my leg. He picked them up and began cleaning them, lecturing me on how dirty they were. Well! One thing led to another and we ended up doing our second scene. This one was quite lively — he then complained because he could see the tag in my panties. “You don’t like my glasses! You don’t like the tag in my pantie! Anything else?” I snarked. “Why don’t you just rip it out with your teeth if it bothers you so much?” “I would if I could!” he retorted. When he thought we were done, he said, “OK, up you go, kiddo.” No way! “What, that’s it?” I blurted for the second time that weekend. “Lightweight!” Accepting the challenge, he gave me more. Good.

From what I hear, after he got me, R went on to spank both SC and Alex in succession. I’d been telling them how much fun he was to play with, and this was the first time for them both. I didn’t see Alex afterward, but I watched as SC came staggering out of the bedroom with her hair disheveled (he likes to run his hand through hair, it seems), and the look on her face was one I will forever think of as “the after-R face.” Yes, she was pleased.

Soon after that, there was quite the free-for-all scene going on in one of the bedrooms with Alex, Adriana (Evans) and Fun Allowed. Adriana was sprawled face down on the bed, with FA whaling on her bare bottom, while Alex knelt on the carpet at her side, wielding a ginormous Hitachi wand. R and I joined in, sort of — he held down one of her legs, and I sat on the bed at her head, acting as a bumper to keep her from sliding forward as she writhed around. I stroked her hair while she reacted most vociferously to the Hitachi, over and over again. And if I had one picture, it would be of Alex’s face as she gleefully tortured Adriana — how does such a sweet girl look so diabolical?? 😀 I know there were pictures taken of this, but I haven’t seen any turn up yet. Oh, and a side note: While all this extreme hotness was exploding, what did R notice? That the Hitachi wand cord had a knot in it. LOL! Is someone just a wee bit OCD?

The night went on, and at 2:20 a.m., I was deep in conversation with The Artist Formerly Known As Ralph Marvell (AKA Tall & Strict on FetLife). As we chatted, Joe approached and said, “Erica! We had a 2:20 appointment!” I blinked, at a loss for words temporarily, and John chimed in with, “Yeah, honey! I told you about that!” Oh, sure he did. Well, who was I to argue — it was two against one, after all. “To be continued?” I said to T&S, and he agreed.

As it had been in the past few parties, the St. Andrew’s cross was up against the wall. I played on it last Shadow Lane, in an attempt to dispel the bad memory I had of a cross scene many years ago, and it helped. So when Joe suggested we switch things up a bit and try the cross, I was game. I needed to do something bold and different, get out of my head, with a trusted partner. This was it.

I took off my dress and stood at the cross in a brief thong and my bra, my hands gripping the upper part of the X, my back arched. I didn’t know what Joe was going to use, and I didn’t care. If I may, I need to stop for a moment and express just how much of a pleasure it is to know that a top is so good, so conscientious, that I can trust him with anything in his hands and know I can relax, carefree, fully into the scene. Only a select few can go there with me. Once we started, I closed my eyes and hunkered down for the ride.

The scene is a blur. All I remember is Joe’s hard hand, then a very hard strap, and some guttural moaning coming from somewhere. Oh, wait. That was me. More. More. Give me more. I want this. I didn’t care that it was only Friday night. It was Joe. It was OK. All was good. I felt him checking in, testing my skin, pressing his hand into me. I gave myself over to him. I think he ended the scene when he saw that my legs had begun to shake and was concerned that they might buckle.

He gently took me out of position, sat down with me in a nearby chair and held me in his lap while I shook all over and gasped for breath. I made him laugh when my first coherent words were “That’s what I’m talking about!”

“I’ve never heard you growl before,” he grinned. Somehow, with his help, I managed to stumble over to the couch and collapse on top of both John and T&S, and Joe brought me a blanket and a bottle of water. I was toast. Friday was done.

When I went to the bathroom to take a look, I did a double take. That couldn’t be me. I was marked. Not in weird spot off to the side or down below, but on my butt proper, both cheeks, fully marked. Holy crap. I couldn’t believe it. I had John take a picture, back in our room. For those who don’t like seeing marked bottoms, you might want to scan past this.

scenewithJoe

I know. It was Friday night, with two more nights ahead. How do I explain that I was OK with this? I can’t. I just know that because it was Joe, and because I love him and trust him, that this was good. I wanted it. From a casual play partner, no. From a stranger playing with me for the first time? Hell no! But from a friend, a top of Joe’s caliber? Yes. I told him, “Joe, I don’t care if I don’t play for the rest of the party; this is the weekend scene for me.” And I meant it. My head space had been all in turmoil; now I was calm. Now I was fully invested in the party. (And of course, I did play again over the next couple of days. What am I, an amateur? 😉 )

Even if you don’t like marks, you have to give credit to his flawless precision. Not one stroke out of bounds — nothing too high or too how, no wrapping. Equal attention to both cheeks. It doesn’t get any more perfect, kids. And no, I’m not talking about my butt. I’m talking about a top’s handiwork.

John put me to bed with ice packs and we went to sleep around 4:00, I think? And now I’m fading again. Damn this illness. But I should get some work done anyway, before my brain completely disintegrates for the day.

Part 3 coming soon.

Thou shalt not laugh at thy top

Or else thine ass is grass.

On FetLife, one of New Guy’s friends was teasing him on his wall, scolding him for not saying “thank you” to a compliment, calling him “young man,” etc. And he was all “Yes ma’am, sorry ma’am.” So of course, I had to give him a bunch of noise about that, didn’t I?

Seems he took umbrage at that, saying I was spying on his page and making fun of him. I protested that he follows MY activity, and he said, “It’s OK when I do it.” Top logic at its finest, folks. Anyway, he deemed that I was lacking in manners, laughing at him. But I couldn’t seem to help myself. Even after a very long OTK session.

He did take a break in the middle of it — but only to send me to the kitchen to fetch the wooden spoon. After I got up, he said, “Those panties stay down and that dress stays up.” I yanked the dress back down anyway. “Pull that dress back up or it comes off,” he threatened. I pulled it back up.

I’d forgotten how much that @#$%ing spoon hurts. Makes those lovely ovals, too. But that was just the beginning.

Down on all fours on the carpet I went, for his belt and the strap. Had to switch things up, he said. Couldn’t have my readers getting bored, could we? Nahhhhh…

I still couldn’t stop giggling though. So he moved me to the ottoman, where he could really lay into me. I thought for a brief moment I was finally settling down… then “We Are The Champions” came on. When Freddie Mercury sang, “No time for losers…” I started cracking up again. But I didn’t want to tell NG what I was laughing at.

He managed to coax it out of me, however. So I told him that when I heard that “no time for losers” line, I’d wanted to say, “Yeah! So go home!”

“Oh, I’m a loser now, huh?” The strap suddenly got much faster and much heavier. OK, I asked for that.

“I think you need 15 more good ones with this — you’re going to count them and say after each one: ‘You are a winner!’ ” (groan)

We managed to get up to eight when he started critiquing the enthusiasm of my delivery. Wanted more sincerity, he said. Arrggh. He liked my tone after the count of nine, but after ten, he started up with that “Nope, I’m not hearing the enthusiasm” sh*t again.

So after stroke eleven, I hollered with all the energy I could muster: “Eleven — you are a wiener!!”

He started over at number one. OK, I guess I asked for that too.

But finally, he prevailed, I stopped my giggling and mouthing off. “It really isn’t wise to say stuff like that when someone is spanking you,” he reminded me.

Guess I’m not all that wise. A wise-ass, maybe.

Hey! Aren’t my VS Cheekies cute?

Of course, they didn’t stay up long.

Geeeez… why do I bother wearing nice panties for this guy…

Think I was done laughing? Think again. Just before he left, he accidentally knocked a glass of water over, and I went to get some paper towels. I mopped up until a wad of them was saturated… and as he bent over his toy bag putting things away, I stuffed the wet towels down the back of his shirt. 😀

It was cute to watch him dance. He made me dance after that, but it was so worth it.

He won’t be able to make it next Monday, unfortunately. Already I feel a little melancholy, thinking how I’ll miss him next week. Damn, am I spoiled, or what?

Thanks for another great night, sweetie… and for being such a good sport. You know I think you’re the bestest. ♥

Belting in the boudoir

New Guy’s visit this evening had two purposes. Besides the usual, I had recruited him for a favor: to take some artsy, shadowy boudoir photos with me in a filmy nightie. Why? I’m not telling — it’s a surprise. 🙂  You’ll find out soon.

So we experimented with the lights, candles, flash, no flash, and he snapped away.

Kinda neat, huh? When we were done, I was ready to put my regular clothes back on, but for some reason, he said nooooo, I was fine just the way I was. And since I wasn’t wearing any panties, warmup sort of fell by the wayside.

Remember how a couple of weeks ago, I had no pain tolerance? Tonight was just the opposite — I was insatiable. Fortunately, he never seems to get tired of spanking me, so when I’m in that mode, things work out very well.

He was strict, though. I could not get away with anything tonight. Even sounds. “What was that??” “Nothing! I just grumbled.” “Well, don’t. No grumbling allowed.”

So I tried to stay quiet, but another sound escaped after he started up with the strap. “That sounded like whining! No whining either; that’s as bad as grumbling!”

Oh, come on. I started to protest, but he cut me off. “No grumbling, no whining, and no complaining!”

I couldn’t help myself. “And no breathing, and no thinking…”

WHACK!!! “And no smart-ass remarks, either! Do you understand?” Uh… yeah, I kinda saw it his way after a while.

He pushed me off his lap. “Get on the bed, on your hands and knees.” Strapping/belting position… aaaggggh. And John was watching!

Lennon, that is. 🙂

I wasn’t allowed to lie on the pillows until after a long strapping, and I had to count the last 15 and say, “I will not grumble.”

He asked if that got through to me — I answered, “Well, it’s starting to.” Clearly, we weren’t done yet.

More with the strap, his belt, the tawse, and then 10 with the paddle. Then we were done.

Well, for a little while, anyway. We had Round 2 a little later. 🙂 That went on for a fair amount of time, until he really let me have it, giving me a flurry that nearly sent me through the ceiling. As I struggled to regain some composure, I gasped, “That was intense!” He snuggled close to me and whispered into my neck, “Was it good intense?”

And I whispered back, “Yes, you bastard.”

I never learn. Told you I was insatiable. 😀

But very, very happy.

Dramas and traumas are banished once again. I have one of the bestest tops in the world.

First spanking of the year!

Actually, he called and said he couldn’t make it; he had to work late.

KIDDING!!! 

Sorry, couldn’t resist. My bad. 😀

I was in the mood to be pushed. Not sure why, because I wasn’t stressed out or anything. I didn’t feel the need for an emotional release, for tears. But I wanted intensity. I wanted a challenge. I wanted… strict.

We started out OTK, as we usually do. He seemed to pick up on my need and his hand was fairly heavy from the start. But of course, I had to push. So when he said, “I don’t want any of your smart remarks,” I snapped back, “OK, I’ll take a page from your book and make stupid remarks instead.”

Hair grab. “What did you say?” A little nervous but still nervy, I squeaked, “Was I not speaking English?”

Not quite sure how I went from OTK in the dining room to on my feet and bent over the recliner in the living room; it happened in a split second. I didn’t even have time to move the damn gym bag.

To quote my blogging buddy, I’m barely pink here. Not to worry. Once he got me situated over the ottoman, he hunkered down and really let me have it. But not with the wooden paddle! How about that? Nope, it was an all-leather night. Plenty hard, though.

Midway through, he commented about how Zelle had said he should use lotion on me. Of course, she meant to soothe me during aftercare! But he chose to take something lovely and comforting and create evil from it. “I’ll bet if I used some now and then started again, it would hurt more, huh?” “How the hell should I know?” “Let’s find out. Go get some.”

I was already screwed, so I wisely resisted the urge to say, “Get it yourself.” I fetched the bottle of lotion from my bathroom and gave it to him, and he rubbed in a generous amount. That felt wonderful… for about two minutes. And then it was back to the heavy straps and his belt. And yes, it hurt more. Aggggggghhhhhh.

Oh, he was so proud of himself and his little discovery. He couldn’t stop crowing about it. When he gleefully said, “And my hands are going to be so nice and soft!”, I’d had it. “It’ll match your head,” I muttered.

Everything after that is a blur….

Well, I’d asked for it.

But he did use the lotion for goodness instead of rottenness afterward. 🙂 Aftercare was very soothing and sweet. For a while. Then I shot my mouth off again as soon as I’d come back down a bit.

(sigh)  I never learn.

He pinned me to the carpet with my hands behind my back and his legs trapping my own. I could not move… and he let me know quite persuasively that it’s not a good idea to recover and revert to smart-assed-ism right away. No, not a good idea at all.

But damn, was it ever hot.

Thus begins a sizzling new year. Oww. And yummmmmmmmm. 😉


Big ol’ meanie….



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